The Grey Dust

D&D 5e - Titan Hunters

Dinner was Served.

A grand hall from around the corner, once more under the gaze of the elvish lords of yore. For long was the planting of the library, and longer the harvesting, with baskets filled with information carried upon their necks. It was only it were so easy to digest the volumes piled atop Kethan's desk working at a leisurely pace. Such books were treasured things, and Lawrence did his best, but a sheet of paper was quickly filled with annotations regarding the condition of the Mavros' collection. Half the penned calligraphy was written as notes of the old cleric's findings, while the other half were recommendations on repairs to be made to some of the shabbier volumes. Folded pages, nibbled-corners, worn-down bindings, and faded ink & illustrations in dire need of retouching. Preen through his spectacles to see just beyond his nose for whatever scrap and tidbit of information could be gleaned as the wax wanes and hours pass without much realization. Lost in the sorted piles of books at his desk, several editions of compendiums of bestiaries and field reports on the Northern Mountains including a traveller's guide to Mavros & Vael Turog. And curious of all perhaps a colouring book belonging to Ada of which was reflected in Kethan's notes as Young Lady Mavros did not stay within the lines as she colored. NB color selection, use of warm tones for frost giants. But as the Duke invited them as gracious host to sup, Kethan's attention peered up from the latest cartography spread to accompany the Duke and Others to dine as proper guests.

There in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast. There arranged before them, a feast for the hungry eyes, and meal for the weary soul. A hero's feast, with exotic dishes pulled from around the lands as fine and hearty for the well-traveled and well-cultured fellow. Froth and bubbles of Dwarven ale from the undermountains in pewter tankards touched by the very same artisans no doubt. Darkwood a basket of Elven lembas, the sylvan silver-leaves blossoming open to reveal the baked bread. Roast suckling pig charred whole on silver platter, adorned with skewers of beef and mutton doused liberally in spices. Golden quail sauted with a rainbow of vegetables served with a bath of veloute supreme. Strong farmer's goat cheese, pungently paired with the upliftingly mesmeric Gnomish goodberries. Lightly friend Lakefish filets battered with Halfing honey mead, and aromatic bowls of jasmine rice and boar-belly. Oh how many more courses of such extravagance was there as the company took their seats with the duke and dinner began rather silently as everyone took his or her share of the meal. Kethan himself only took a bowl of lentil soup, a simple dish commonly found but alas never quite as savored more at his advanced age. If a man was willing to trade all that he had and would have for a single bowl, who would dare insult lentil soup, sweetest of delicacies?

"Caelmarth. I see. Well done, Miss Lonett of Caernath. I Trust your instincts. I am not yet prepared to scry tonight, as the hour is late, and I'm afraid I don't have the stamina of my youth. However we do have that orb with Miss Ann'leah... Who appears to be my senior if I recall her jest..." Anything you like Miss, if you think me quite the young man, but dare I request you not call me late to dinner. The irony of the earlier line in response to the ancient elf's inquisition to Kethan's name. A bit of wit for wit returned in kind,
keeps the mind sharp and heart light, but quickly turned into a solemn regard as Kethan gave his name to the elf. "Sir Lakeltia, I believe you were assisting Miss Lonett of Caernath, did you by chance ask His Divine Justice of Caelmarth? If there is a circle there or within close travel, I can teleport us there with knowledge of the appropriate sigils. Else, I fear we may be required to take the long journey there."

A bit of a pause for an old man to sip his quaff of dwarven ale from his personal tankard, one carved with a rather stern face bearing a somewhat similar resemblance to the drinker. It was no time to be be caught drunk on their asses, as this very night there could very well be a dragon or army of giants at their front door. And all this feasting and eating in excess was a terrible binge to indulge the sensorium. A good night's rest would be a blessing for the old man, but vigilance was still needed, not as far as to purify all the food and drink suspecting Lord Mavros had tainted the meal, but enough to know that not all poisons were designed by nature to be foul.

"For those heading North, I caution both the cold, and the danger. I advise visiting the old city of Vael Turog. It is a bastion for travelers with many folk adapted to the cold. Pick up some warm clothes and supplies there, Prepare yourselves for coming to Winter. And more so, local knowledge, there are isolated reports of powerful giants in the far north mountains. I suspect these paragons of giantkin are ones capable of taming dragons. Given the amount of information on these giants..."

Kethan's silence said more than his words ever could. Looking at Lord Mavros brother, acknowledge the dangers his sister may face with a nod.

mechanics

Research Results with Advantage & Guidance:
15 on Giants & Northern Mountain Range
16 on Giants & Northern Mountain Range
15 on Giants & White Dragons
24 on Northern Mountain Range Geography

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

Dire tidings. This would not end well. This glorified tentacular beast had lashed out on all sides, striking with dark tendrils not unlike Noriam's own shadow lash. The tickle of the necrotic embrace, washing over the fallen Aasimar like a familiar caress. The bittersweet pain of bloody binding, caught in a tug of war, the darkness entwined like the tethering chains which bound his tarnished light. His sword arm caught like by Promethean chains, struggling to free himself from the pull as burning eyes watched Koan's cyanosis turn into the frigid frost for frozen finery freely flowing flakes armed arctic armor anticipating adversarial attacks and amorous adventures? Snow maiden to a tzar. Her spells would blast them away from afar, and his blade would reap their pitiful lives. What a team they could make, if it were not for this accursed Kraken who may devour all of them yet. The even the raging merfolk seemed to be a little worse for wear, having taken the brunt of all the attacks thus far, 'Sauron' was unsure how much fight their guide had left in her should the monster keep squeezing her in a death choke, was it a strange envy perhaps?

Yet even in the darkness, there was light. For a shadow cannot exist in total darkness. Only in the light does it take form, embodying the innate darkness behind every light. As such it was his epithet, the shadow, for there is both darkness and light within the umbramancer. Jill's healing spell bathed them all in the blessed light, a gentle presence that felt so strange to one who reveled in pain. Yet it was not quite enough. Even Jill's belief in his inner light could not break the hold of darkness, if not even his celestial guide could pull him back, then how could her agent? Gritting his teeth by and by, still the dark one wrestled with the tendrils, caught and bound by the tethers to his tainted soul.

Not yet ready to embrace the light within. Still the other aasimar struggled alone. Devil and Angel upon his shoulders. And silenced still from the injuries to his silver tongue. Was it hopeless?

mechanics

Action: Acrobatics check to escape from grapple: 1d20+1=(4)+1=5, No use of Bardic Inspiration - Fail.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Thomas Richard Harrison

Location: THE FLOOR IS LAVA! (Floor 2)
Interacting with: The Wild Hogs, The Group, Little(r) Pig A.

Turn the hourglass,
Ten thousand grains,
Time to slowly pass;
Trickle down drain.

It seemed that Ash had come to, after a bit of roughhousing with Kyra, but they weren't out of the doghouse yet. This mysterious man, Leo, seemed to be more magically inclined than he let on. One moment he was there guarded by Nor, the next, well... Elsewhere. Enchantments could be broken by some application of some escape mechanism, usually traumatic stimuli that would snap a mind to revert to a more primal state usually untouched by enchantment spells. But teleportation was a finer art that required a caster to not only know where they are and where they desire to be, but also where they will be during transit. There were some cases of transpositions resulting in spellcaster deaths, usually involving spatial complexities of the first nine dimensions which turn the magus inside out at the destination. Thomas himself used a method that bypassed the limitations of the first nine dimension by jumping beyond them and into the far realm where the dark stars ruled. But enough theory, this was a situation based in reality. A reality in which the floor was melting. Dissolving like the sands of an hourglass, pulled through the eye of the needle, and there Ash, Kyra, and Satilla were sent crashing down.

"Fistandantilus' Grave! Sat-" A mild exclamation as Thomas took a step towards the sudden sinkhole, but the boy was too late. All three were gone, well four if you count the enemy magi. And in their stead two big bad pigs. Porcine pummelers, although by the looks of things they weren't boring old boars. No, a farm boy know his livestock, a boar or two wasn't too uncommon out in the countryside, lost pigs after a few years did get wilder and more aggressive after generations as their feral side took over. These weren't as much feral as demonic, and were as demonic as they were ugly, they were Ugly. Still though, since it seemed to be part of Thomas' niche to identify what it was they were facing the sorcerer gulped and turned to face the smaller of the two large hogs trigger hand ready to cast. "Fiendish Boars! Sana, I'll need some help with the small one.."

Without a confirmation, and instead putting a good amount of faith and trust into a teammate, Thomas unleashed his long held spell. His eyes darkening as emptiness turned his sclera black, swallowing all light from the usually brightness of his eyes. In turn the boar would feel a force tugging at its body, just behind the bashed bookcase where Ash and Kyra played, the gravitational void cast. A tear in the universe, a hole to be be filled, a hunger for anything within range it could consume. Though Thomas could not see the spells effects,
the gravity did its job in pulling the smaller boar back into the furnishings, battering it about to its fiendish ruckus as blood seeped out from the split hide the injuries made The greater the darkness blinding the boy, the greater the force of the gravity well until Thomas' vision was gone leaving him open for a counter attack. It was the price for the spell. Of which, was the price their enemy paid to summon these boars here? And warping the floor like... That.

Hopefully Satilla, Ash and Kyra would be okay. Especially Satilla since she'd be the one to patch up Kyra and Ash...

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

So... Koan and Jill have brought themselves into the fray. Cynthia charged in screaming to attack a mass of writhing muscle. The tiger had turned the prisoner into a fish and back. And a burned tongue sought to taste the blood in the waters. To battle then. Sword of shadows drawn and ready, the bloodlust in his burning eyes betraying the nature of his injuries. Death was a possibility, seeing how the great beast had attacked their mer guide. From there perhaps they would lose against so terrible a beast, far greater guardians than those they had encountered in the open sea. Of which the flailing tentacles made the warlock raise a brow at Dyn once his dark lady Koan had shrugged back from her place between them. A slight head nudge towards the gloried squid should have been enough of a jest for the beholder, surely the ego of Dyn would urge the 'perfect' being to attack an tentacular rival.

Swimming forward from tactical cover, the umbramancer rushed forward into the fray, once more the cloak billowing in the waves like the wings of a manta. Casting a quick glance at Jill who seemed to be harm and heal, commanding others at will, he wondered what she would think if he unleashed the darkness within him and show her the black feathers of his soul. Then like the Dracula of the seas, a thirst for blood and darkness in his glare. These animatronics seemed empty, hollow without the sensation of pain, how lackluster. But seeing the ravaging the kraken's tentacles did on the raging fish girl, well perhaps it did tickle the sadist's interest to feel those hooks tear into his flesh. But for now they had to defeat the templars, with what little energy he had left, a few spells still stored in his ring to hopefully protect him from his chosen opponent's wrath and save himself for the octopod. Thus a wispy dark saber slashed the construct from right to left, striking true as the blade cut across, yet the backswing was far less successful as the horizontal stroke failed to connect as the swordsman attempted to ready his guard to intervene between the next attacks.

Mechanics

Move Action: swim 30 feet to square above Templar B.
Shadow Sword Attack 1 on Templar B = 1d20 + 11 = (7)+11 = 18 - HIT
Shadow Sword Attack 2 on Templar B = 1d20 + 11 = (1)+11 = 12 - MISS
Attack 1 Damage on Templar B, 2 handed= 1d10 + 5 + 2 = (7)+5+2 = 14 Slashing

[5e] Outrealms

Alexandra the Valkyrie

---

How great are the dangers I face to win a good name in Vahalla.

The men were armed and ready. Their painted faces marked with the blessings of battle, shouting their prayers to the heavens above to witness their glory. Their strong bodies lined in rank and file, axes and swords, shield and armor. Warriors trained for battle, warriors born to die. Three rows of fighters, and crew of archers to rain death upon the enemies. The war drums beat to the chant of skalds, the seer had foreseen this day. Behind the temple walls the villagers remained, the final bastion against the demonic horde. For the rising dawn lit the sky with the colors of war. Of red blood that the earth drank, of orange flames which burned their city to ash, of yellow eyes of the demon lord. This was the final stand against the balor and his armies, this wall of metal and flesh, of arrows and spirit were all that remained. But there at the helm ready to lead the charge was their champion. A woman given the epithet of The Valkyrie, the greatest of the shield-maidens, sitting atop her saddled warhorse Adalwin. The steed was no ordinary horse, for he was a unicorn that bore his rider into battle and back, the only man that she was rumored to allow to carry her. There surveying the demonic army advancing the great rider Alexandra prepared herself for a glorious death in battle. The gods had always sent her back, denying her Valhalla with every resurrection the priests had done to recall her back to fight. But with the priests dead...

"The time has come. Are you with me brother?" The soft pats of a gentle hand against the noble unicorn's side.
Always. The telepathic reply, they may die together this time, though more often than not he had saved her, and she had saved him. Together they would venture into this battle for one last ride. She would never abandon her duty to protect the temple that had taken her in, and he would never give up on her. Though the might of her brawn may fail her, though the spirit of her hearth may fail her, and though the gods she fights for may fail her. He would not, for just as she allowed him to carry her, so too did he allow her to ride him. A woman of pure heart and body who bore the sacred spear Svar, marked by the gods to fight forever. And now it seemed this is where story would end, their tale to be told, the legend of Alex and Adal. A touching moment for such a Valkyrie to share a moment of peace before the storm with him. They would face death together, but not before the balor would feel both horn and spear pierce its foul hide.

"Fight well today Warriors, for tonight we Drink in Valhalla!"

The unicorn reared and the warspear raised in a cry to victory or death. And then from the heavens above, a beam of celestial light poured out upon the mount and rider. Engulfing Alexandra and Adalwin as they they bathed themselves in the radiance, what was this strange blessing? A sign of the gods bestowing their champion? A boon to purge these demons out and save them all? Yes, it must be. The gods were with them, their ethereal forms shimmering in the cosmic light as watchers to witness their champion defeat these demons. The drum beats and war cries of the men seemed so distant now, as the light seemed to mute out the rest of the world beyond it. Surely they would cheer at this omen of light. Forward to battle! Charge!

Gone were the demons. gone were the men. All of it gone, save for Alex and Adal. In lieu of rubble and ruin, windswept grass, and instead of armies, five others. There poised in a circle, a few paces from each other were strangers. The first to her right was a demon-kin bearing the horns as clear as day across her revealing robes, was she the enemy's wizard? The second to her left seemed to be some halfling shield-maiden with a strange mechanical frog-like beast beside her, was she in mortal peril?. The third directly across was another small-folk a strange gnome who seemed wear the robes of a possible demon summoner. The final two seemed like armorless warriors just as she was set on either side of the trifling gnome. The dwarf the only male fighter by his wildlands beard and sword & shield, perhaps he was an ally? While the other was a female mer-kin with a frigid stare and battleaxe, perhaps she was a worthy rival? Where was they, and who were these people? Everything was so unfamiliar, and yet...

I think I would prefer to return to what I was previously doing now

Return? Return to the battle? What of the battle? She was needed at the front! The demons they were attacking! This was not Valhalla. This was not the work of the gods. This was trickery, foul magic. Who summoned them here to this strange place? Who did Alex have to run a spear through to get back? All the questions demanding answers, flying through her mind as she and Adalwin stood there waiting. Spear drawn to one side and hooves ready. The demon-kin disappeared from sight, possibly disappearing back to the battlefield? Was that was she meant when she was referring to returning? But it seemed the dwarf had no idea just as well of what had happened, and took to negotiating with the other ladies. It was the gnome or demon-kin, or maybe even the halfling with her strange contraption. Certainly it was not Adalwin who teleported them here. Nor was it the gods. Or was it?

"We did not summon you dwarf. I am Alex and this is Adal. We too seek passage back to a battle against demons assailing our temple. Who was it who summon us? Speak now!"

D&D 5e - Titan Hunters

Gramps.
Cleric.
Uncle.

Three names he had been referred to, and yet none so far called him by name. Either he had fallen into obscurity, or perhaps the young ones cared not to know him. Which was all well and good, let the fate of the world rest on the shoulders of the young and able, and less people pestering him for this or that. But it appeared everyone was keen on two things. The first was the division of heroes as Kethan had suggested, the second was that there was no reason to rush so eagerly into certain doom. They had only heard of the threat, but neither knew the whereabouts or the specifics. Thus far no dissent within the group, even the rascal that Kethan planned to keep a close eye on during their travels. The two younger men that would accompany them the old cleric had little familiarity of, for the tales of modern young dashing heartthrob heroes are not for saintly scholar. Nor are the tales of wizened old men for the young impressionable women, although the surprisingly affectionate squeeze Kethan found suddenly wrapt around his old bones was comforting. "Indeed, Lady Mavros, if only the circumstances weren't so dire. Sir Lakeltia but I fear the Gods have spoken. What Tyr and Valkur may not know, perhaps my goddess Ioun can divine. Yet I am not ready to come before her insight, not without an attempt to gather the information myself as her follower."

Gifts for gifts in kind. It seemed only Kethan presented the Dukes with a small token of court etiquette. For now the favour was returned, with fine earpieces of many colors. To which Kethan gave a bow of his head as elder fingers uncurled to select such a device. Though he did not clip it on instantly, instead placing it in a side compartment of his pack with the other enchanted items he acquired over the years. There was no need for them to have such relays at this moment, although they would make the battlefield communications much more effective. The sending stones perhaps the paladin would find better use for if not the demon huntress. The crystal ball perhaps best to the elf woman who introduced herself, for Kethan and Marcus had other means of divination. Ellenara Ann'leah, where did he know that name from? It mattered not, they would know each other soon enough by rubbing elbows. How blessed are elves and their legendary longevity, and youthful beauty. And as for the deck of cards that carried the warning of Ada, Kethan was instantly wary of their power, though unsure of their exact nature like several others, the cleric had the wisdom to avoid tempting fate. Sure there were fabricated tales of legendary hopes being nothing but a false promise, some made to inspire courage and valor within the heart of one who thought to use such a boon. But more often than not, such relics are a box of pandemonium, bearing both curses and blessings in ill proportions. Place your faith not in these, but the Gods. And if the gods themselves fail...

"Ah, no, no, Miss Ann'leah, such an item is left best in the hands of Lady Mavros. I have no use for a deck of cards, not one with such arcane power. Youself, my dear, may however benefit from the Crystal Ball. Ioun bestows upon me my vision. And besides, I entrust the safety of Lady Mavros to you and your party, although she is no delicate flower..."

And as the old folks chatted away in their wisdom, a fool had challenged fair warning. The rapscallion bard, of which Ada had hinted at knowing the true nature of his being, had drawn a card from the deck. The test subject was rewarded at once, as reality seemed to shift maliciously. A disturbance felt by all those in the room as the legendary relic was invoked: Talons. Instantly did the card vanish, and so too did the items the bard had carried, his weapons and cloak disintegrating, his armor wisped away like smoke leaving him bucknaked to pick up the scattered remains of his bag of holding. Such indecency, although Kethan had no reason to stop and stare, he could only hope the bard had had some manners to cover himself before Lady Mavros. Such ruination of a hero, stripped of his treasured items, how a benefiting fate to see a thief scramble to collect his odds and ends. Justice it seemed, for one who intended to steal with so already so much, now how the fates had stolen from him. it is as they say: A fool and his money...

Thus with a knowing smile Kethan's staff clicked once more into the rhythm of his waltz. He could attempt to reverse the events that had occurred, but there was no treasure greater than wisdom. There was a lesson to be learned here, and the cost of tuition was merely his worldly possessions and not his life. Had he died in such a time of crisis, Kethan would have attempted to intervene given the divines had chosen for this other human to journey forth on this quest. Now, then the library awaits, as they all passed from the courtyard into the hall of Mavros. The gilded faces of ancient rulers looked down upon them, possible saviors of the kingdom they once lost. A nod towards the Duke on his throne within his throne room, yet the greatest room in Kethan's view came past the side door that Ada led them. There the familiar sight of shelves and musty tomes, scattered and littered about the desks. There another old bookkeeper came bowing towards them, as proper as every library has its guardian no matter how great or small the collection. To which Kethan, a familiar figure amongst bookkeepers and scholars, knew just who the bespectacled half elf was.

"Ghouls Kings and Dragons, Lawrence. Whites in particular." Ah the emphasized wit, although wights were not ghouls per say, the humor should not be missed by his elderly colleague. "Anything you have on the demon Orcus and his undead servitors, the more obscure the better. Cast a wide net, perhaps a compendium of demons and undead, but anything you suggest Lawrence. Geography of the northern mountains would also be appreciated, both modern and ancient maps please. And how was that chapter of the manuscript on I had sent forward to you? I had to make sure the Grand Librarian of Mavros had seen it before the writer publishes such history of the Verraryne region.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Thomas Richard Harrison

Location: Level 2
Interacting with: The Situation, Ash, Kyra

Did you hear the clock strike high noon?
Did not the raptor cry and dust blow?
Did you hear the wind whistle the tune?
Did not the sheriff come to face his foe?
Did you hear the beating of their hearts?
Did not the climatic end begin to start?

The standoff. Hero and villain, good and evil, law and chaos. The musty tower air was tense, heavy with intrigue, and perhaps even laced with magic. Something had turned Ash astray, the dire wolf turning against them (and not just by ruining Thomas' robe) fur raised and ready. The unseen undead Bob stirring at last, and it seemed doing something to the bear and a terrible ripping sound was resonated like the belltower chime. The unidentified figure, Leo for the sake of the reference, had done clearly something. But still something was not right about it all, something they had surely missed since they weren't dead yet. The vampire fart nearly killed them after a bout of explosive undead. If indeed Leo was responsible for all this, then why the restraint? Was it still too much daylight to prevent the dark arts from working? A wild theory, but right now Thomas was more focused on keeping his spell ready taking into account the presence of Ash looking readier to maul and maim like a dog that bit the master's hand. Holding his action and his tongue until a critical moment to pass, a hair trigger as he kept himself on edge. If Ash did leap into the fray, then summoning the void would at least pull the hound back. Although Kyra and Nor would have to be on their toes to avoid getting too close into the cosmic cyclone, Bob and Leo would certainly be fair targets to be sucked into the vortex.

"Easy boy." Thomas' farmboy background evident in the tone of his voice. A quick glance at Kyra as his outstretched hand aimed his focus at the wolf. He wasn't going to hurt the traveling companion, but, well the wolf might be pulled back into a wall for a moment. And being thrown against a wall wasn't the best feeling in the world, so the farmboy looked at Kyra for her blessings to keep Ash from going berserk on them. After all, the way she shot daggers at him for nearly killing Sana was more pressure than Thomas could handle. Nearly killing a bewitched Ash, well...

Actually maybe if the Puppeteer's concentration was broken...
Thus with a slight tilt of his waist the young sorcerer found a new target.
The space visualized just infront of Nor. A greater chance for the dwarf to be pulled in.
But hey, the metal barber had his armor so he should be okay.
And now Ash and Leo would feel the greater effects of gravity.
Maybe. Assuming Thomas' spells didn't fail him.

[5e] Outrealms

Alexandra the Valkyrie

---

Zealot Barbarian 20

Skål!

[5e] Outrealms - play by post

*hops on board*

D&D 5e - Titan Hunters

The peak at last. Here the Seat of Mavros, from here all could be surveyed from below. How the people they had passed become like ants to the majesty of the mountaintop, busying along they daily lives as the purple sky dimmed into the evening's indigo streaks. There a heavenly painter's cool palette brushed across, the azure gradient into the lavender fields, and the warm glowing embers of the celestial eye gazing rays of sunbeams through the clouds for one last glimpse before sundown. How they below could not see past the stonework masonry, the protective walls that enclosed as a bastion for her people, but here at the summit such pleasures were afforded the Twin Dukes amongst the courtyard greenry. Indeed this motley crew of gathered sheep were not ordinary lot, and though they hardly knew each other, perhaps their reputations preceded such knowledge that escaped Kethan's memory and failure to keep tabs on the young and old. Nevertheless, with a musing chuckle to the raven-elf's reply to his matrimonial comment, none were certain as to why they came. What calamity was upon them that required a gathering of such giants amongst mortals? What did had Ioun and the other divines see?

Ah there they were, the Twin Dukes. Lord Mavros always so stately dressed in his regalia, and Lady Mavros was almost a mirror image in hers. They were young, for elves, but the old cleric knew the Lady for some time now. Some people leave a more lasting impression, even on the feeble memory of an old man. That said, as the Dukes appeared, Kethan tapped his cane before him and bowed his head in acknowledgement of their titles. Perhaps he was the only one who still bore some respect to the reigning powers that be, even despite holding his own high-ranking position in the order of Ioun's clergy the hoary librarian considered himself just that: an wizened bookkeeper. It did help however that the Duke and Duchess were also more than just inheritors, they too where great mortals of skill to praise. For which a fading smile turn into a knowing stoicism at the arrival of the high elves. So, Lady Mavros was going to join them, then indeed there was no wedding to be had, but indeed as Kethan feared a great threat once again rises. One poised to bring ruin upon all nations such that someone had gathered them here. And there the darkened sky and crashing thunder was the very omen Kethan expected as he gaze drifted from the moment the Duke spoke of how the others had been summoned without the knowledge of Mavros itself.

There spoke the gods, as the booming voice of the celestial being rang out from the mountains. There the old man braced his ears for the deafening blast as his grip tightened across his cane's intricate handle. The voice of thunder cracked the very air, the resounding storm of Valkur, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing more than mere dramatis for all the world was a stage to the gods, And all the men and women merely players. Pawns in the games they play, or knights, or bishops or rooks, or whatever have you, the worth of a single being to be measured against the common soul perhaps. But they were just pieces, they have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many part. Kethan was once commanded in his meditations to journey the world, and only relatively recently did his pilgrimage end at the place it all started. But now, as the celestial spoke of dragons and undead armies it seemed once more the gods bade him play his part. Now exit, first the messenger who came to use a tongue to spoke quickly, then the Duke for anon the trees began to move, and so only does the Lady here remain.

And the young bade their questions, without letting the gravitas of the message sink into their bones. Not one, but two threats, one from the north, one from the west. There are minor threats which rise and fall everyday, many to lesser heroes than those gathered here, an army of undead is no match for an army of united faiths, but this Ghoul Emperor, this Kethan himself had not heard of perhaps either it was so new that it had yet to be documented, or so obscure that he did not know. but dragons were common knowledge, but of giants, he had no dealings with such beasts, yet knew of the bitterness of dragons and giants. It was indeed surprising to hear such a threat come from the cold north, but if indeed it was a white dragon, then either the dragon had become so desperate to deal with giants, or the giants were the real threat beyond the incapable dragon that had to swallow its draconic pride. Regardless the old man gave Ada an approving look at her wisdom, the library was a wonderful place to start. There the safeguards against the failing memory, inked upon the pages of ancient lores and histories. It was no Great Library of Archimagos, but it will do for a man who had spent days without dusty shelves to roam through. There Kethan would be in his element. Ah there the reason why he was summoned, to be the librarian they needed.

"I see we are already dividing our numbers. I suggest an even split, five to North, and five to West." Kethan grip relaxed as he began to walk forward towards Ada, "I fear the mountains will be too cold for my old bones, and Sir Lakeltia here may find me more useful in dealing with the undead should he raise arms to his sacred duty. I am too old for dragons and giants, I leave that to the young and able-bodied." A gesture towards Marcus, before a nod towards Ada, the Halfling, and the Druidic Elf. "And if we are indeed dealing with Orcus and his ilk, then I suspect Miss Lonett will join us. And I see the young man will also join us, making four. And though I suspect our Warforged here can surely turn the tide of battle against the undying armies, perhaps it would be more useful culling giants with someone to provide maintenance as indeed." A gesture towards the Warforged and the Gnome, before turning with a glare at the other human in the group. "Thus, leaves me with keeping a watchful eye on our bard. Who I suspect will be more useful in keeping up our morale against the living dead, rather than as a thief in mountainous dragon's treasure vault. But I am just an old man with no power here, little power left, and little time left in this world so I certainly have the least to lose."

"I do however, have a gift to bear for yourself Lady Mavros, Ah here it is." A book retrieved from his satchel, the leather binding stroked and the cover brushed before being presented. "Manual of the planes, fifth edition, by J.B.Ram, two thousand and two pages over which the coastal wizard describes the cosmos. Relatively new addition to our library, I hope it will find a home in yours." The book handed wholeheartedly, bestowing the gift to an old friend from an old friend. "So, shall we venture into the library then? Or does any amongst us care to rush so eagerly into defeat without knowing who our enemy is?" Spoken like a true master, surprisingly long-winded, but often aren't these old timers just so?

Mechanics

Arcana on dragons = (7)+16 = 23
Nature on giants = (2)+4 = 6
Religion on ghouls = (4)+10 = 14