Fading Memory

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

That’s just dandy and fine. No harm in that.

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

@Neianna86

Dag'Tyr at the Apothecarium

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

Iris at the Smith

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."

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

Alrighty it's saturday! I'll have a post up responding to anyone who has introduced themselves so far later today!

The Yurazen Prince - A Tale of Redwall

Yoooo wrapping up finals is awesome. The last time I had finals I failed a computer science second level class and nearly aced my english and philosophy courses, setting the tone for the rest of my life! Props and kudos!

The Wild Beyond Witchlight

I legitimately have no idea if any of our plans even align but this eighth hour better be wild.

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

I’ll try to post at least once a week unless folks specifically need more time than that. During combats or if everyone else posts within that time I should be able to respond more frequently, but my general self-rule is to post on saturdays so folks aren’t left waiting on each other in situations like this starting scenario.

In that vein, I have a vacation for the weekend of the 27th, so I may be absent that weekend while I try to submerge myself in an anime convention despite not having watched any anime this calendar year.

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

We are up and running folks; let's have a good time.

As an update, I run my real-world D&D games on Sundays like today, so aside from early in the mornings like when I started writing today, I need to focus on that obligation and may not be as available as usual.

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

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.

---

The Noctem Shanty and Western Gate

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 Information

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 Market Plaza

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.

Passive Investigation

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.

Passive Perception

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.

The Palace Courtyard

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.

A History Check

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.

---

OOC

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.

The Yurazen Prince - A Tale of Redwall

There we are. Proper Ellis time; be loud, obnoxious, and distressingly brazen. That ought to stir the pot.

The Yurazen Prince - A Tale of Redwall

Falling still at his companion's sides with their own discretion, Ellis shut his eyes and let out a soft breath as the raptor cried out its exaltations from the Abbey Gate. The words travel'd the air and, to the elder hog's perception, seemed to fill him from the tips of his paws to the farthest reaches of his spines. Unbidden to his senses, his spikes rose slowly as the raptor spoke- the threat of its words working their predatory call into the very instincts of Ellis of the Tap and overriding his bodily control.

"...We must be taking an unproven beast at their word." He said quietly, in response to Marigold. "Don't be looking for lies when the rest is plain scary 'nuff. Stay still, stay quiet, young cousins, but keep your eyes and wits- we must try to give time for others to scurry away and seek refuge 'afore we can properly bargain with this beast."

He opened his eyes, his spines settling, before he rose from their hiding spot and set himself upon the road striding towards the Gate with a lumbering, oafish, gait. His voice cried out, rising high and strong;

"Hark, listener, to these words!
They carry within them a warning of old
A warning, dear listener, of a dibbun so bold!
This youth, this youth, oh this blessed youth!
Nary a thought nor caution was felt
Nary a grown'un nor mother was behel't

This little one was reckless, tis true!
This little one was a fool, too!
He feared not a bruise nor scratch-
But the rumble of the stomach was too much for the lad!
If ye learn anythin' from this tune, let it be
'do not be bad!'"

His song carried high into the air, his deep baritone rumbling through the air as the large hedgehog approached the Gate brazenly, heaving against it and casting it open before him. Solidifying his message to any goodbeast within earshot, for all of the abbey were familiar with his songs and tales, he skipped stanza and shifted to a separate part of the tune. To the raptor he was just a hedgehog who may have had too much to sip- to those who may be in the area, he was calling upon memory and learning of danger and warning;

"They ran, they swam, they bounded, they leapt
The great Rat's nose sniffing as they went!
Soon the great Abbey walls rose in their eyes-
But the vile rat soon would have them as his prize
If not for the walls! Oh Redwall, Oh Redwall!
The Walls of Redwall and its great tower Bell!

The Rat leapt from hiding, scooped them young'uns up!
But right as he did, the bell was struck!
The spirit of Martin rushed to their aid!
The Warrior of Redwall always saves the day!
While battle was set, the Dibbuns made their haste!
For within the walls of Redwall, there was dinner to taste!"

The message was clear; listen to the elder beasts, seek safety, danger was afoot.

Ellis swayed forward, remaining in the shelter of the gate itself, and cast a paw over his eyes as if the sun was a bother.

"--Eh? What...Whatzallthisthen? Fear? Summa...some-kind of greatbeast? Ho! Ye be in the right place then, friend!" He called up to the air, attempting to draw the raptor's attention to himself. "Redwall Abbey welcomes all beasts! Harken, new friend, harken to me- tell this humblybeast more of this..this...this prince fella!" He laughed so loud and boisterous that he almost seemed as if he was to fall over upon himself. "I think I'd like to shake 'is paw, sounds like a proper generous lad!"