|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Nov 27, 2018 14:29:50 GMT -5
Humans can be so touchy. Ja'lian think to himself at noting the woman's raised eyebrow. Leosin is half-human, for an elf to call him half-elf would be just silly. "A Dragon-human hybrid named Rezmir The Black was... The reason for Leosin's... Death under such... Extreme methods..." He himself shudders at the memory. It was him and a pirate named Slodwick who dug the hole for Leosin's rest. Being able to take notes on the muscle structure of a Half-human was poor compensation for such a travesty. "She... Rezmir that is... Has faced... Judgement for her trans-... Ah, that is to say, her actions" Ja'lian says quickly catching himself. Two syllables, Ja'lian, don't confuse the poor girl. "From what I... Have learned her... Unusual methods were due to... Being raised by a Black Dragon... I believe she lacked.... The insight of seeing others in a... Humane light" Ja'lian briefly considers writing a study on such things. What does it do to someone who was raised without a humaniod mother or father? To be raised by a creature that believes itself above everything the humanoid races have built? Is Rezmir's story the only thing plausible result? Would she have been as disturbed if she were raised by another? Something to consider. Perhaps if Cyanwrath would permit it Ja'lian could cast Speak with Dead and get the Half-Dragon's story. He shakes his head, something for another time.
Once inside the side chamber Ja'lian will cast Prestidigitation on himself and clean off all the dust and dirt and bugs he caught while flying and walking. Then he'll unroll the sleeves of his shirt, button his cuffs, straighten up his vest and stores his coat in his Bag Of Holding in order to look more presentable. It doesn't change much of his current appearance. Just an armored librarian trying to look presentable. He doesn't care.
Ja'lian expresses that all he pretty much does is collect knowledge and fight evil. He has no wish for personal power save for enough of it to keep himself and his companions alive long enough to complete his book. If the Harpers will have him, he'll happily join and share his knowledge. He proves this by showing her his Notebook.
Ja'lian is very interested in a guide and would like to see said maps.
Ja'lian asks if there is a dragon near that could attack the town and what sort of defenses they have in place against such an attack. Weather or not they are prepared for such a thing Ja'lain imparts his wisdom fighting Dragons. Stressing that one was mentally handicapped and the other wasn't fighting seriously at all, but hopefully what he knows will help.
Ja'lian looks at the woman and quirks his eyebrow with an amused smile. "Heroes of Greenest? Hardly, just a bunch of..." He trails off at that, looking off into the distance for a time before snapping back. "Ah... That is, no. I am no hero, just a Curious Scholar, I need little more of a title than that." He says with a smile of his own. Seeming a little distant. "Yes, mysteries are something of a specialty of mine, I will offer what assistance I have in exchange for the information and help you've provided me" Ja'lian says to the Lord Protector.
(*I'm yelling and cursing every name in the book at why I created such an easily manipulated character* YOU HAVE A GOD IN YOUR HEAD AND ANOTHER ONE YOU NEED TO KILL!!! Haven't you got enough divine freaking problems!? What is wrong with you!? *Character sheet reads: There’s nothing I like more than a good mystery* Damn it all!)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Dec 4, 2018 19:05:56 GMT -5
She thumbs through your notebook, smiling at the page with the fiend, "Ha! My companions and I banished one of those things." She abruptly snaps the book closed and hands it back to you, looking a little disturbed at something. Maybe the sight of all those dissected creatures finally got to her? Maybe she didn't like seeing the baby dragon splayed out to it's musculature? Oh wait, she would have been on the half-human page... After a moment she swallows hard and continues, "You've got quite a talent for drawing there, welcome to the Harpers." She spends about an hour teaching you the symbols the Harpers use to mark out wilderness stashes, or urban locations that are owned or operated by a Harper agent. She nods when you ask about a guide, explaining that she will arrange one for the morning when you leave. Offering you your choice from the following list: Borth Jhandelspar, Ilrin Sharadin, Morth Fartheen, Zandever Eyredanus. When you ask about the maps, she nods and leaves briefly. You can hear her rummage around in the next room. She returns with a collection of maps that detail all of the cities along your route to the North, an overview of the Sword Coast, a map that shows a path to a place called the Crumbling Stair and a map of Gwaeron's Slumber. The crumbling stair map has a notation written in all capital letters in a poor hand that reads, "Much magical treasure here." When you ask about Dragon defenses, she shakes her head sadly, "This is a small place, we don't really have much in the way of defenses against a True Dragon." Seeing your humility about being called a hero, despite just offering her advice about battling Dragons she doesn't press the issue. She shifts the maps so that the map of Gwaeron's Slumber is on top. "This here is Gwaeron's Slumber, a forest just a little ways off to the West." She points at the wall to indicate the direction the forest is in before continuing, "Some consider it sacred, specifically those that worship Gwaeron Windstrom, the God of Tracking or Mielikki, the Goddess of the Forests." She sits back in her chair while you pour over the map, "I've forbidden anyone from hunting or logging around the woods, just as a precaution. That place gives me the creeps, it's always autumn there regardless of season elsewhere in the realms." She leans forward, elbows on knees, "I'm glad I did, because recently woodsmen have been going missing without a trace. Sturdy men that know forest craft. The only thing that unites them, is that they all worship Gwaeron. People have started saying that Gwaeron himself is spiriting away his followers." (Ha, crumbling stair side quest added )
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Dec 8, 2018 19:40:11 GMT -5
Ja'lian takes his book back without much issue, running his thumb over the imprint of the half-dragon claw. "I appre- Ahem... Uh, Thanks for the welcome" He says and smiles. "I'm hardly with talent I simply copy what I have seen" He says dismissively.
He asks what the difference is in the 4 of them.
After a moment of thought Ja'lian offers several alternatives for combating a true Dragon, such as enlisting the service of a Metallic dragon or Giants both of which despise chromatic dragons. He also notes that such endeavors would be costly. Or perhaps getting in touch with a Champion of Bahamut. He recalls that a human existed in the past that had slain several wyverns and a caster, surely there are other such characters who'd relish the challenge of defending a town and defeating a dragon. He pauses a moment at that and recalls the map of Faerun he'd seen. Triboar isn't too far from the mere of dead men... Would Ebondeath... He rubs the gold earring in his ear, thoughtful. "I may know someone who'd be willing to help... But the cost may be high. Perhaps higher than the cult actually attacking" He says ominously. "However it may also deal a blow to the current Dragon cult" According to Blagothkus the old Cult of the Dragon were ones who believed in the power of the Dracolich. Sandesyl Morgia, the elf vampire Ja'lian had slain (Insert Ja'lian whacking me with a staff here.) was one such follower and according to the cloud giant she didn't think this whole summoning tiamat thing would work. If Ebondeath agrees to fight off whatever the cult sends to attack Triboar he may reignite the old cult members luster. If rumors spread among the cult of the dragon of Ebondeath beating a true dragon or even that he exists the ones who believed in the power of the Dracolich may turn against the current cult... Or they might bring Ebondeath under their influence... And if that happens... Ja'lian shudders at the thought. The cult already tried to manipulate Ebondeath through Borngrey, luckily Snapjaw was working for the Dracolich all along. However, if they offer a seat of power to him, if Tiamat does... Its hard to say after one conversation what the Dracolich would do if offered such a deal. He may be furious at the cult but would that be enough to keep him from turning to their side. Does being a lich make him immune to her influence? So many questions... Ja'lian snaps from his thoughts. "Ahh... Well, at the very least it is a... last resort... if a resort at all, someone in your... place of power must know all of their options after all" He says a little weaker than intended. If she asks Ja'lian will tell her of his thoughts but will warn her of the negatives that may come. Even if Ebondeath does not join the cult he may consider this his territory after defending it and demand tribute (Hex battle reference, yay!). Or if not, if he takes his money, beats up the true dragon the cult sends and everything goes great, his appearing here may draw some weirdos and bring up some uncomfortable questions or problematic issues from various factions.
After she explains about the disappearances. "If it always... The fall season, there may be... Feywild... sway at that... place... I will not be able to... figure out anything from... Standing here, would you be willing to... Escort me... There?" He asks as politely as he's able.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jan 4, 2019 23:05:04 GMT -5
"Borth Jhandelspar was cast out of his tribe as a youth, and adopted by a family here in Triboar. Later he served as a guide to anyone who came to the town seeking his services. He is known for traveling from Yartar to Triboar in a blizzard. That is remarkable enough, but he was only wearing a loincloth and boots at the time. Just swinging his sword about while singing loudly. The best part is that he did it just to bring news while Triboar was snowed-in. Borth is good-humored, but can go a little crazy in a fight."
"I have to say that there are terrible rumors floating around about Ilrin Sharadin. I do not know if they are true or not, and I am keeping my eye on the situation." She pauses here, reluctant to say something bad about a person from Triboar, "He has gained a sinister reputation that he might be allied with the Drow."
"Morth Fartheen always knows which way he is facing. I've tested him on this after a long night of drinking at the cabin. Another time after getting him to spin in circles a bunch of times. He was so dizzy that he could barely stand, but he still knew exactly which direction he was facing."
"Zandever 'Nighteyes' Eyredanus earned his reputation for guiding night strikes through the woods against the Orcs during the war. He often deals with wealthy Waterdhavians. He always advises people that if they cannot acquire a ring of warmth, they should instead use a ring of fire resistance and lie in a fire to keep warm. I've never been sure if he's joking or not."
She shrugs when you make suggestions for battling off Dragons, "Do you happen to know any Metallic Dragons, Giants, or Champions of Bahamut?" (Nice shout out to 3.5e Xanadu by the way!) "We do not have the funds for high cost defenders Ja'lian. The people of Triboar are only small time farmers and merchants, not nobles from Waterdeep."
She laughs after you suggest making use of the Dracolich, "Ebondeath defeating a chromatic dragon would be something truly awesome to behold, if we could arrange such a thing. Alas, Ebondeath might as well be an old myth. He's been trapped up in the Mere of Dead Men for centuries." She pauses here, looking at you seriously. The laughing face fades, as does the colour from her cheeks, "Wait, are you suggesting that Ebondeath has been freed from his imprisonment?" When you confirm, she flops back into her chair. You're not sure if she fell, or just sat down hard. "Lord of the Rack see us to safety." She whispers.
When you ask for an escort, she absentmindedly nods. A moment later she asks you what you just asked her, and once you've repeated the question she steps out front and calls for one of her guards. "This here is Richard Millerson, he will take you to the woods. After he gets you there though he will have to return. You've given me much to think on, and much planning is needed."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Feb 5, 2019 16:12:55 GMT -5
After hearing about each of the guides Ja'lian finds himself drawn toward Borth as his description gives him a simple nature and simpletons are always the easiest to deal with. Someone who understands they're foolish are often better than someone who thinks they know better. Although the mystery behind Ilrin certainly has its own unique draw for Ja'lian...
"Lord of the Rack?" Ja'lian asks curiously but then his eyes suddenly become glazed over and take on a luminous glow like that of the moon. The spirit of his God having possessed his brain and spills forth the knowledge of the Lord Of The Rack into his mind like a waterfall... (Religion: 19+12=31. Have Fun Dave XD)
With that episode out of the way Ja'lian offers a polite greeting to Richard Millerson and follows him to the forest in question.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Feb 9, 2019 9:13:31 GMT -5
You automatically ask Darathra about the Lord of the Rack, but the world feels slow like your thoughts are thick and sluggish. Abruptly purple mist pours in under all the doors, and through all the seams in the walls and around the windows. The room fills completely with the mist, then flashes of light so bright that it hurts your eyes blur your vision. After a few moments you realize that the flashes are actually images, and you devote your entire focus to sifting through the bright light to observe the images themselves. Though there are no word, the images fill your mind with information on Ilmater.
Ilmater, also known as The Crying God, The Broken God, The Lord on the Rack, The One Who Endures, or The Rack-Broken Lord. To the Iulutiun people of the Great Glacier, he was known as Ayuruk, and to the Angulutiun people he was Itishikopak. Ilmater's holy symbol was originally a blood-stained rack, such as used to torture a victim by stretching. This remained in use until the mid–14th century DR. However, by 1356 DR, a new symbol entered common usage: a pair of white hands crossed and bound at the wrist with a blood-red cord. After the Godswar of 1358 DR, this was used nearly exclusively. This newer and less gruesome symbol increased his popularity across Faerûn. He is thought to control the portfolio of endurance, suffering, martyrdom, and perseverance with the domain of life. His clerics usually channel his divine power toward perserving life. His worshippers are those who have suffered, the oppressed, and the persecuted. He is the one to offer them relief and support. He is the one that encourages them to endure, and who encourages others to help those that suffer, to take their burdens or take their places.
Ilmater appears as a short man, with a kind and comforting face. He has a balding head, and a burly hairy body that he only covers with a breechcloth. His body is disfigured, mutilated from torture on the rack. He is covered in open cuts, semi healed and fully healed scars, burns, and a range of other wounds. His joints are broken, his limbs ravaged, and his hands smashed, but yet still functional. Simply moving causes him a great deal of pain, and no matter how much he is healed his body still shows these terrible wounds.
Ilmater is the incarnation of compassion, and the eternal foe of suffering. He seeks to offer aid and relief and words of comfort to those in pain, and those who are oppressed, or otherwise in great need. He encourages them to endure their pain, suffering, and abuse, for good things came to those who wait. He encourages his faithful to halt and relieve the suffering of others, and to take it on themselves if they must. Ilmater was himself a willing sufferer, taking one's place to bear their burden, seeking to endure any pain if it would lessen the pain of another.
Ilmater is known to be quiet, generous, good-spirited, and even-tempered, with a kind and gentle nature. He has a good if rather rustic sense of humor, and liked to hear funny stories. Ilmater doesn't come to anger quickly, but when he does he is fearsome in his wrath. He is greatly angered by extreme cruelty and atrocities, and at those who inflict such suffering. He is particularly enraged by those who harm or abuse children and other young creatures. At such times, he sets aside his doctrine of endurance and non-violence, and unleashed his full force to put an end to the cruelty. Although his ravaged appearance or his righteous rage could scare children, Ilmater takes great cares to reassure them and protect them. He treasures all children and young creatures in general.
Ilmater was the most forgiving of beings; it was thought he could even forgive Loviatar, Maiden of Pain, if she repented of her cruel deeds. Though he knew full well the atrocious and horrific acts that wicked creatures could do, he remained forever hopeful that evil beings could one day be turned to good, or destroyed, and so he stayed firm in his goals.
When Ilmater manifests an avatar, Ilmater's Avatar can cast a wide variety of magic spells, and was strongest with healing magic and beneficial necromancy. Only rarely did he cast a spell that injured another, unless he did so in anger and retribution for a cruel or sadistic deed performed by the target, or to protect another from harm.
In melee, he fights unarmed, opened handed or with his fists, and was a supreme martial artist. However, he usually chose not to defend himself, instead simply taking and absorbing the damage, and his avatar was extremely hard to destroy. As with his spells, Ilmater only attacked in retribution or protection, or to deflect missiles or destroy items. He also used nonlethal methods to disable his powerful foes.
Alternatively, he could possess any good and innocent creature that was being tortured. This creature glowed white, all pain was relieved, and any wounds were regenerated immediately. Torture or restraining devices were immediately destroyed, releasing the sufferer, alert and healthy. In the case of extreme torture or associated murder, Ilmater granted the possessed being the ability to cast destructive spells, such as flame strike, lightning bolt or chain lightning, meteor swarm, or imprisonment for a short time in retribution.
When not appearing via his avatar or through possession, Ilmater manifested as an unseen presence that made a howling or whimpering sound yet felt watchful. In this form, he could speak, move objects around by telekinesis, or cast spells.
To act in his place, Ilmater could send devas, einheriar spirits of slain martyrs, hollyphants, incarnates of courage, planetars, and solars. To indicate or suggest his presence or awareness, to show his favor, and to give his faithful encouragement, Ilmater could create daisies and white roses, or send white donkeys, white doves, field mice, or sparrows. A minor manifestation to show favor was in the colors gray and red.
Finally, Ilmater could sense any kind of suffering the moment it took place, anywhere in the world. He also knew whenever a person sacrificed themselves for another being. He could also instantly create any magical item that could heal or reduce suffering.
Ilmater is an older god, he came to prominence during Tyr's Procession of Justice in the Vilhon Reach. In –247 DR, Tyr had led a force of archons out of a gate to pacify the remnants of the fallen empire of Jhaamdath, which had fallen into anarchy, lawlessness, and banditry. Tyr's deeds and sacrifices caught the attention of Ilmater, who allied himself with the Just God in the Year of the Rack, –243 DR. The Procession came to an end in –238 DR but Tyr remained on Abeir-Toril, and the two deities continued to work together.
An ancient and unsupported legend told that the human Khala of Imaskar had devoted themselves to the god Bane the Black Lord and perpetrated numerous atrocities. For their deeds, the gods of law inflicted curses upon them. Among them, Ilmater accused the Khala of tormenting their victims and tearing heart and soul from them. Thus he cursed them with an unnatural hunger, to devour the hearts of their prey so they might live. Out of all the gods' curses was born the Peryton, a vicious, stag-headed, eagle-bodied beast. The female Peryton needed to devour the heart of a humanoid to become fertile—some considered it ironic that Ilmater's curse drove the Peryton to further murder and savagery.
According to legend that is over a millennia old, an avatar of Ilmater once died somewhere south of the Inner Sea some time before the 4th century DR. The only remnant of this avatar was the Iron Helm of Heroes, which became a minor relic of Ilmatari faith.
During the Second Sundering of the late 15th century DR, a Chosen of Ilmater began a passive slave revolt in Calimshan against their genie masters. During this time, he disappeared mysteriously. Though the overlords were cast down, it was only by bloody means. Many humans still longed for the return of Ilmater's Chosen so he could complete the country's transition to a better non-violent society.
Many years after the Procession, Torm joined them as Tyr's war leader. Together, Ilmater, Torm, and Tyr formed the Triad, a long-lasting alliance of deities that believe in the rule of law, and the value of good. The Triad was broken in the Year of Three Streams Blooded, 1384 DR, when Tyr was manipulated into slaying Helm, god of guardians. Ilmater chose to leave the House of the Triad and, at the invitation of Sune, goddess of beauty, he relocated his divine realm to the plane of Brightwater. By 1479 DR, however, Ilmater had returned to Torm's side and reestablished his realm in Celestia.
The ranks of Ilmater's closest allies included Tyr the Maimed God, god of justice, (who was his superior prior to the Spellplague) and Torm the True, god of loyalty and duty. Collectively, these deities were stronger as a united force than individually. In fact, Ilmater could often be found traveling with Tyr, assisting him and teaching him to live without his sight and to rely upon his feelings instead. Ilmater showed Tyr that true justice required a judge to know how much punishment was sufficient, whether it was too harsh or whether mercy was better. Ilmater also had an excellent relationship with Torm. Another of Ilmater's allies was Lathander the Morninglord, god of renewal and vitality. He was also allied with Ibrandul, the Lord of the Dry Depths, the freedom-loving god of caves and darkness.
Ilmater stood against those gods and goddesses who enjoyed causing destruction and spreading pain and suffering for others. In particular, considering their contrasting portfolios, the Crying God and his followers were a bane to Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain, and her worshipers. Loviatar in turn hated Ilmater with a passion, as he protected her victims from her torments. Ilmater also opposed Talona, Mistress of Disease. Among his other foes were Bane, Bhaal, Garagos, Malar, Myrkul, Shar, and Talos.
Ilmater has kept his divine realm on the layer of Shurrock in the Twin Paradises of Bytopia. He called this divine realm Martyrdom, a mountain of reward and peace for suffering in life, where none could feel pain or weariness. Martyrdom has also been found in the House of the Triad, on a lesser mountain of Celestia, alongside the mountain realms of Ilmater's fellow gods of the Triad, Tyr and Torm. Following the breaking of the Triad in 1384 DR, Ilmater moved his domain out of the House of the Triad, and at Sune's invitation he relocated it to Brightwater on the World Tree. By 1479 DR, Ilmater had reestablished Martyrdom in Celestia.
Abruptly the mist is gone, and the screaming begins. Every recess of your mind reverberates at once with the force of the primordial bellow. You blink a few times to clear your vision and find that you're standing a few hundred meters from a massive forest. An armoured man stands beside you, a concerned questioning look on his face. "You okay there?" You take stock of your surroundings, and reassess your mental faculty. Everything seems okay, but you're not sure how you ended up here beyond the pair of horses with reins trailing to the armoured man's hand. Then you realize that the unwelcome voice in your mind is quiet, perhaps too quiet...
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Feb 16, 2019 17:28:55 GMT -5
"Blessed be the Luminous Cloud, wrap me in silver enigma and bless my mind with infinite complexities and knowledge" Ja'lian whispers to himself, an old prayer taught to him during his childhood to reinforce the mind and steady the nerves. He never thought he'd have to use it from a rush of knowledge. He assures the armored man that he is as well as he can be and then makes his way to the forest proper. Reciting the mantra a few more times for good measure as he walks.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Feb 23, 2019 8:33:31 GMT -5
The man seems skeptical, but he also seems like he doesn't want to be anywhere near this forest. He nods to you, and remounts his horse. "Glad you're good. Keep your wits about you in the God's Wood." He nods again and turns his horse around. The horse you must have ridden trails behind as they head back toward Triboar.
Turning your attention to the forest itself, nothing really seems out of place being as it's late Marpenoth (October) right now. From what you've heard, this forest is forever in a state of autumn, but a forest stuck in the season of autumn wouldn't be making seasoned rangers disappear. You reach the treeline, and see a very old growth forest. This place seems completely natural, untouched by the races of man. What's your plan for this investigation?
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Feb 24, 2019 15:31:47 GMT -5
For his part Ja'lian is deeply out of his element, having read about tracking and actually tracking are two different things. He's read lots of mystery novels and the like and the best approach seems to be to find the scene of the crime and investigate to find a lead, but as the forest is magical in nature and the suspect in question is a F***ing god... There's little much else Ja'lian can do except waltz on into the woods and see what happens. Still he readies several contingents just in case, a few spells spring to his mind to for trickery and escape. Trying to overpower a god even in your own mind was all but fruitless for Ja'lain so the best he's hoping for is that this is all a trick by some fool in a mask like so many mysteries he'd read. He found himself wishing for a talking dog at that moment but cast the thought aside For his part Ja'lian reaches into his shirt and fishes out a large draconic eyeball marked with arcane symbols. He touches it and speaks in the tongue of dragons to awaken its latent magic. The symbols begin to glow and Ja'lain closes his eyes and opens them again. A 3rd vision is laid before him with the combined vision his two eyes normally give him. As if he suddenly grew a third eye and that eye was floating before him. He willed the eye to move and it does so, floating forward into the forest to find any signs of the missing hunters or the god. But, Ja'lian has no intention of being idle, mentally he wills the owl sat comfortably on his shoulder to fly off to the left of the border and he himself takes to searching to the right, following the border.
Ja'lian: Action: Cast Arcane Eye (Through his Dragon Eye item, 2 uses left) Move: 30 feet along the border and look for signs of disturbance along the forest's edge Perception: 10+5=15
Tsuki: Action: Search for clues of missing hunters or a God at the forest's edge Perception: NAT 20+3=23! That's my girl!
Arcane Eye: Perception: Refer to Ja'lian
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 5, 2019 18:50:49 GMT -5
You survey the surrounding area to your right, and everything is as one might expect while looking at a forest during autumn. The trees that still carry their leaves, do so with vibrant reds and yellows. The ground is littered with the same vibrancy, but mixed with the brown of crunchy dead leaves as well. Birdsong can be heard, and an eagle soars far above, circling slowly over the open ground between Triboar and the woods.
Tsuki ranges further a field, and finds much the same results as Ja'lian with two exceptions. The first is a mouse that made the mistake of crossing an open area without checking for owl silhouettes first. While that unlucky mouse is ground down in Tsuki's gullet the second exception becomes apparent in the far distance, just at the end of Tsuki's vision. A structure, well maybe structure is too grand a term, perhaps hut would be better suited? Hovel maybe? You stop trying to assign the correct noun to the building in the distance as the images flow from Tsuki's mind to yours.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Mar 16, 2019 22:40:06 GMT -5
Splitting his vision through three different means; himself, his Arcane eye and Tsuki brings a good deal of head pain to Ja'lian so he decides to abandon his own search for the time, continuing to motion his Dragon's Eye deeper into the woods as he makes his way to the hut Tsuki had seen. Even if he's not technically in the God's Domain he'd best be prepared, so he draws forth his Staff of the Python and casts it to his side. The almost 6 foot staff changing from wood to scales and from its usual length to more than triple the size and within a few moments a Huge serpent is by his side, an intelligent gleam in its eyes, the signs of intelligence the elf himself had put there.
During an encounter that had almost cost the life of the Half-Orc Paladin called Feng's, A hoard was found nearby the property of the possibly prosperous Troll. Of the treasures found Ja'lain had taken a wooden staff that resembled a a Python. He'd no idea the staff would come to save his life and be the most valued companion he'd encounter. Hebi, as he'd taken to calling the creature after the word needed to activate its transformation. These days the serpent very little resembles its former self, many modifications had been made. Like the simple scaled hide Hebi had once relied on for safety has been transformed, looking more like plate armor and working as effectively. Ja'lian has also infused Hebi with his Pearl Of Power, giving the creature the ability to hold spells for him, tho not terribly powerful ones, it was always a delight to see the shocked faces of his enemies as they try to put together how Hebi can spit a Fireball. Further ideas had been planned, like a ritual with Trolls to give Hebi the ability to heal itself. But, with Hebi's Awakening Ja'lian had become more aware of his staff considering more of a friend then his travelling... cohorts. He needs to have a conversation with the creature but its intelligence is limited to only as much as the average human and is unable to speak itself tho it can perfectly understand Elvish in all in complexities. So, much to do...
Ja'lian shakes off his thoughts and smiles at the creature like a dear friend. Asking if it'd be kind enough to grace him with its protection. With Hebi's consenting nod the two make their way to the shack to investigate, first to call out to whoever may be inside and if that fails then trying the door, if it has one. Ja'lian will have Tsuki circle overhead the odd pair to keep an eye out for potential threats.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 17, 2019 7:52:16 GMT -5
The forest itself seems perfectly normal, trees of the appropriate type surround your arcane sensor in every direction. As your eye weaves around one tree, there are yet more trees beyond that. The undergrowth is as it should be as well, most of the plants below have a few leaves clinging to life amid the autumn detritus. A little further along your eye comes across a path that leads deeper into the forest at an angle.
You approach the hovel, yes that is the correct noun, and find that it is surrounded by a sprawling garden. The garden itself seems wild, with various vegetables growing in small clusters all around the property as if left to their own devices. The logical part of your brain rebels at the lack of order, but the plants themselves are doing quite well. The building itself is constructed from fallen sticks weaved together and covered with dried mud or clay. Patches of the the woven sticks are visible in places where the mud has fallen away without being patched. The roof is layered with sections of tightly packed thatch, but some of the thatch has dried out, or blown away exposing the branches that support the roof itself. The whole property strikes you as odd, a bipolar juxtaposition. You can see the care that went into constructing the building, and the negligence of not patching the wall, or mending the thatch. A tiny tendril of smoke comes from a clay chimney.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Mar 18, 2019 1:10:49 GMT -5
Ja'lian will motion his eye to follow the path deeper into the forest as his physical form approaches the hovel. He examines the strange structure from a distance before approaching. An old favorite of the gods is to disguise themselves as homely or otherwise strange hermits near their own territory so the Elven scholar remains on full guard as he approaches the door and taps his Staff Of Power against the door to the building. Calling out in common. "Gree-Ahem.. That is, hello? Is there some... One in... This place? I am Ja'lian Moonscroll, a Scholar sent to... Look into the... Strange goings on in the... Forest your hovel is... in the front of" He says in his usual manner. trying to be polite and civil. If this approach fails to get an answer he'll walk around the house to see if there is a window or hole in the wall he can see into the structure with. and lacking any of that he'll just have to release Ozzi to make a way in to investigate
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 18, 2019 21:21:08 GMT -5
You eye follows the natural path until it reaches a small stream, where the path doesn't come out on the other side. Looking downstream you see a few leaves floating on the lazy current. Looking upstream there is a tiny waterfall created by a small jutting boulder. From here you do not see where the trail continues. The moment you tap your staff against the wood the door flies open revealing the strangest looking Halfling you've ever seen. The fellow is barefoot, but still wearing a patchwork collection of leather bits and sections of chain mail armour, all of it studded with bits of wood and bone. A tattered cloak hangs down his back which jingles as he moves because of small round bells sewn along the trim. His pale, almost white blue eyes look wild, and dart around constantly. The right half of his face is growing, but not a beard as one might expect. Instead it's a mixture of moss and feathers. "Come in, come in." He says excitedly before spinning around and vanishing into the hovel. Before you can even take a step he bounds back out through the opening to stand in front of Hebi, "Not you friend. You too big. You break all my things." Just like that the fellow vanishes back inside. Glancing inside, you see a vast collection of objects of all kinds: rolls of cloth, fur and hide. Tools, utensils, and weapons including a large glaive against the back wall. Hidden among the junk are at least five cats, one of them is stuffed. Chests and crates are stacked here and there. Throughout the entire room are dolls, some of them male and some female. There are nutcrackers, and armoured soldiers. Pretty pretty princesses and creepy dolls out of a nightmare. One of them looks like it has an octopus for a head, and is so well done that you would swear that one of the tentacles twitched. Random tarot cards are scattered across the floor, an abacus, a cane, a ships wheel and more besides. This place has everything. There is a Halfling sized path that moves through the room toward where a sheet is hung. The Halfling stands before the sheet near the back wall fiddling with a tea pot that has a lid from a different pot based on the completely wrong pattern. "Come in, come in. Don't be shy Master Moonscroll. My castle is your castle!" All of it strung together with barely a pause between words, and all said in an exuberant tone. "Nothing stranger then me in this forest." He barks a laugh then, "Except of course that it's always autumn there, not that you can tell because it's actually autumn now." He puts the tea pot on top of a broken hooded lantern. The top smashed flat makes a handy place to warm a tea pot though. HalflingHovel, please ignore the witch
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Mar 22, 2019 7:36:04 GMT -5
Ja'lian shares a look with his companions at the expense of the odd Halfling but shrugs his shoulders and enters. At the smaller man's request he Elven Scholar nods his head for Hebi to wait outside but to be ready should something go wrong and enters the house. "Castle. Hmm" Ja'lian says aloud. A thought on how the definition of castle has sunk in recent times, unless the Halfling is referring to the phrase; "A man's home is his castle". Unusual for a Halfling, who are usually such humble and comfortable folk, such grandiose term are usually needed for humans so they feel adequate in their small lives. Curious... Perhaps he receives a lot of humans and simply liked the turn of phrase. Ja'lian considers this and a few other things as he looks about the various shelves. Lots of strange items, many not from here and some seem like they maybe magical at first glance. He concludes that perhaps the Halfling is a wanderer who stumbled on an old Hag's hovel. Perhaps the hag was killed by adventurers and with no one coming home the Halfling made this his home. That would explain the care for the place and its current state of disrepair, halflings are usually knowledgeable in farming techniques and other such things. Speculate as he might, Ja'lian may never know for sure. "Then. perhaps you've... Yet to hear of the string of... Missing persons in this... forest, I would... venture to call... woodsmen who worship a god of Rangers going... missing in the woods where he should call.. Home quite... Strange" Ja'lian would rather not sit on anything in the room as it all seems breakable or otherwise problematic. So, he calls forth the Unseen Servant tied to his book pouch to act as a chair for him and makes himself comfy, letting his staff rest on his shoulder. "Are you a... God fearing halfling?" Ja'lian asks, struggling to find a word shorter for religious. "And what, may I ask, should I call you?"
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 23, 2019 7:26:35 GMT -5
With your attention drawn to the hovel and it's occupant, the feed of sensory information from your eye just slowly rotates in place. A squirrel picks apart a walnut on a nearby branch. Some sort of small river fish stays in place for a moment by fighting the lazy current. A branch shakes from some sort of impact, maybe another squirrel leaping into it? Maybe something else entirely. This place seems to be teaming with life. Hebi coils himself up with his head resting on top of the coil facing the open doorway at your nod. You realize that you said castle out loud when the strange little man begins, "My thoughts by night are often filled, with visions false as fair: For in the past alone I build, my castles in the air. I dwell not now on what may be: Night shadows o'er the scene: But still my fancy waders free Through that which might have been." You're not even sure if the Halfling realizes that he has spoken at all. His hands never stop with fiddling with this and that. Adding a single extra piece of tea leaf to the tea, slowly and with great care. Capering over to one of the dolls and lifting both it's arms as if dancing with it. Stirring a completely empty pot with an imaginary spoon. The Halfling stops suddenly after you've spoken about missing people, almost as if you had cast Hold Person instead of simply making conversation. As the moment drags on with the Halfling stock still, you wonder if perhaps Myrkul had taken over or slipped a spell past you. You get a tiny mental tingle at that stray thought. Come to think of it, Myrkul has been completely silent since you thought about Ilmater earlier today. Another mental tingle, was this one the slightest bit stronger than the last? Those thoughts slip away as the Halfling begins to reanimate as suddenly as he froze in the first place, "Days pass and get colder. Is he out there alone? People follow up sightings, false trails that lead nowhere. Is he missing presumed dead? Presumed what? What can we assume? We assume answers for unanswered questions, fill in gaps in his absence. Oh the stories we'll tell of the day he walked back in the door. Until then, we hope. Grief is on hold." When you take a seat seemingly in the air, he circles around you again and again before asking, "Do you treat all those in your service like this?" He looks out at the coiled mass that is Hebi with a cocked eyebrow. As if he forgot that he just asked you a question he darts back to the tea pot. "It is done." He says with the finality of an executioner. He brings you a cup of tea in a cup with a chip in the rim. He holds the mismatched saucer with two unsteady hands. The cup rattles while he walks, and he sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration. Once you've taken the cup and saucer he begins to speak again, "Horgin Garwrick is my name. I tend to Gwaeron's Slumber. Seems like you want to see where the people go?" ( Castles in the AirMissing)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Mar 27, 2019 16:53:28 GMT -5
Ja'lian divides his mind expertly. But, the situation at its present requires Ja'lian's attention so he lets the eye drift lazily along, paying it half a mind.
The elf muses himself with the bouts of poetry from the halfling. Are all little people this eccentric? he wonders. Of course watching him move about his hovel it seems he isn't quite all here, but then again, neither is Ja'lian...
Upon realizing the dead gods silence and deeply bothered by it. Ja'lian calls inwardly to the god; "Awaken you particle of refuse Divinity, your suppressed presence is disturbing my introspection faculties".
When the halfling questions Ja'lian's treatment of those in his service the elf is calm in asking precisely what does the halfling means by asking such a thing. "Hebi is a... construct given... life by my word and.... thought by my... design... What are you... That is, what do you mean, by asking me such... A thing... Do you... See a.. Way. I can better... Handle, my... comrade. I fear I am... Not too known in the... Care of... Living staves" Ja'lian graciously accepts the tea with a nod and thanks. Waving his hand before him a second hand of ghostly blue appears and takes shape, through a bit of extra thought Ja'lian wills the hand to transform into a spoon of arcane energies and proceeds to stir his tea with it as he watches the Halfling. "Well met, Horgin Garwrick. As... said before I am Ja'lian Moonscroll, you... Tend the forest? The Lord Protector did not... Bring up anyone with such a... Job in our... Talks about the missing persons. What do you mean by 'where the people go'?"
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 27, 2019 22:06:34 GMT -5
Something subtle changes in your mind, like a soap bubble popping. Perhaps like the temperature changing by a single degree. You have no idea what that could be, and with your attention already divided you don't have the time to devote to it now.
The Halfling spins around on the spot to face you, "Not the snake." He gestures down toward your Unseen Servant, "You arcane types pay no heed to the forces you wield." He spins back around the other direction, once again facing you, "You think invisible, mindless, shapeless force." The Halfling picks up a doll, and holds it's arm above it's head. He spins the doll in a slow circle as if it was dancing. "What does the Lord Protector know about tending to Gwaeron's Slumber?" The man moves to the door, he scratches Hebi under the chin and then leaves the hovel entirely. A moment later his voice calls back, "Come, come. I will show you where the people go."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Apr 9, 2019 6:18:33 GMT -5
The Elf remains in his place. His expression darkening... "Arcane types" He says with a forced laugh. Trying his best to put it out of his mind. Pay no heed, huh?. Ja'lian thinks to himself, trying to sort out the words. Trying to see them as something other than an insult; The off handed ramblings of a loon. The exhalation of air from an ignorant savage that just so happened to sound like words that call his arcane knowledge into question. "Arcane types" He says again. More bitterly. Yes, cause linking him who spent more than 70 years of his life dedicated to the arcane arts. To study and hard work, memorizing spells and incantations, learning them backwards and forwards so he can call upon them in times of strain and stress. Putting that much time and effort next to a child who lucked out because one of his ancestors decided a dragon's rump looked like an excellent field to sow their seeds. Yes, THAT little whelp compares to Ja'lian. "Arcane types" He says again. His voice barely under control as the ground beneath him begins to shake and the air begins to crackle. Yes, all you arcane types. Who just have to crack open a portal and make a deal with a devil. Who just have to strum their instrument in a certain way and WONDERS OF THE WORLD, magic just happens. Yes, arcane types indeed. "Arcane types" Ja'lian growls. Does that imply the halfling to be a Divine TYPE. Cause Ja'lian could tell you many things about YOUR TYPE. Being a conduit of magic for Gods and Nature does NOT make you any better. You spend all your time praying to something that might not exist, gain magic that can close wounds and throw your hands up in awe. You rub dirt on yourself, learn a stupid language that you won't share with a passing elf and you can make trees grow faster. How nice for you. I'm sure you in your infinite knowledge can lecture Ja'lian Moonscroll on magic and how it applies. "Arcane types" He growls, all but spitting the words like curses as he finally gets to his feet and moves out the door. Finding the halfing and staring him down. "I grow tired of being told what I am by simple minded creatures, who don't understand the concept of a bath much less the intricacies of magic or managing a group" Ja'lian says in his elvish tongue. One he is much more comfortable and capable with. "I would... Suggest you explain yourself, Halfling" He says in the common tongue. The elf is a storm cloud waiting to rain lightning and death at this point. His wizardry having been belittled by yet another creature that can't seem to keep its mind in a single place. He knows FOR A FACT, that the spell creates a blob of force that he controls directly with his will, it has no will or intelligence aside from being an extension of himself. It is no different than Ja'lian growing his hand to giant sized and sitting on that. So, the fact that this wretch would belittle his knowledge and even lump him together with Sorcerers and Warlocks and Sehanine knows who else, has him ready to find out how many fireballs a halfing can swallow before he expires.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Apr 9, 2019 10:27:37 GMT -5
"Someone is wearing their grumpy robe today." The Halfling says in Elven while laughing, his laugh is a quick chirping sound, "I get grumpy when I'm sleepy too. If you're tired, take a nap." He gestures to an open area near the forest, but not quite part of it, "The shade of that tree is real good for napping." He nods a couple time, as if that settles things. "You need me to explain how sleep works? Don't you Elves meditate or something? How am I suppose to explain how that works?" He says in response to your suggestion that he explain himself. You get the feeling that he has no idea how he offended you, or that he has in fact offended you at all. You watch him walk away for a few seconds before he randomly does a cartwheel. Once he has straightened, he looks to the sky, pointing, "That one looks like a bunny!" He shouts excitedly. "Come, come, you walk too slowly." He begins skipping toward the forest.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Apr 9, 2019 17:20:04 GMT -5
A deep exhalation of breath resounds from the elf. His rage melting like a snowflake teleported to the desert at midday. He's dealing with another moon-blighted fool. Like Fengs'. Getting angry won't do anything except further the elfs fury. It does not accomplish his goal and will not fix what is simple fact; You don't argue with simpletons. You let them breath their words in whatever order they see fit and if they do no harm, you allow them to get on with their small lives. The scholar smiles a little at his unintentional pun and bids Hebi to follow them as he walks a short distance from where the halfling leads. It occurs to Ja'lian that the Protectors lack of mentioning this fellow and the strange creatures behavior seems to incite a trope Ja'lian is all to aware of; The Fool. A previously unheard of eccentric turns out to be the mastermind or some greater entity in the story. With this in mind Ja'lian calls off his Arcane eye and sets about keeping his sense sharp on the strange man. Ja'lian firmly believes this little man holds the key to this mystery and he won't be caught off guard when the man behind the curtain steps out.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Apr 10, 2019 17:26:09 GMT -5
The Halfling leads you into the woods themselves, darting off ahead of you for sometimes minutes at a time before circling back and gesturing emphatically, "This way, this way." A few times he vanishes into the trees ahead, and you see him again a few minutes later munching on a mushroom or leaned up on a tree. Another time you find him laying on the ground with his arm in a hole up to his shoulder. Another time he comes back with a dead rabbit, offering it to you. When you look at the rabbit, it looks like it died by a pretty serious bludgeoning wound to the head. If you refuse the rabbit he simply ties it's long ears around his belt and continues skipping along. After about an hour, the Halfling doesn't show any signs of stopping.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Apr 13, 2019 0:30:53 GMT -5
Ja'lian keeps his guard up, looking about the forest for signs of an ambush or magical interference (using his Glasses Of detect magic). All the while keeping a watchful eye on the halfling. After an hour Ja'lian comes to question Horgin and ask him if they will arrive soon.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Apr 14, 2019 6:55:05 GMT -5
When you look through your glasses, activating their ability to detect magic, you feel that familiar hum in the weave that tells you that something magical is within thirty feet of you. That's not surprising, as you're loaded down with magical items and devices. Glancing to the side you see Hebi and wonder briefly if the snake still counts as a magical item or a creature. Taking an extra moment to focus your attention, discounting all the aura's that belong to you, you find a faint aura around Horgin. Focusing specifically on Horgin, you find that he is surrounded in a transmutation aura, with a separate illusion aura around his staff.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Apr 17, 2019 6:20:47 GMT -5
Ja'lian reaches to the Weave with a motioning of his hand, flipping through the energies like the pages of a book, finding the correct "page" and speaking his Arcane words; "Cigam Lepsid" with the words spoken he releases the energies onto the world manifesting as the unraveling of the transmutation spell that holds to Horgin.
Dispel Magic: Arcana; 13+8=21
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Apr 17, 2019 9:54:48 GMT -5
(Dispel Magic states: "make an ability check using your spell casting ability. The DC equals 10 + the spell’s level. On a successful check, the spell ends." So your 13+Int would be enough to pass the DC in this case.) Horgin's form begins to rapidly expand, the small frame of the Halfling elongating until he stands about nine and a half feet tall. The dark skinned ogre-like giant turns to you then, a glint of intelligence in it eyes. Those eyes focus on you now, without any hint of the insanity that clouded them before. A poem you read as a child springs to mind: "Hide and tremble, little one; The oni wants to have some fun. Hear it scratching on the door; See its shadow cross the floor. The sun won’t rise for quite a while; Till then, beware the oni’s smile." Roll Init. Poem stolen from Here (please don't read the details on this page)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on May 2, 2019 12:18:56 GMT -5
Ja'lian looked up at the great creature 10 feet before him and breathed out... In disappointment. He'd fought a tentacled monstrosity with a memory into the the depths of the past, twin adult black dragons, saved a dracolich from a fallen god of death and even now works to topple a cult who's influence expands across all of Faerun. An Oni is a little underwhelming. Sure an Oni is a creature of children's nightmares but Ja'lian has fought a God and was thinking he'd face off against another. Turns out it was an ogre with innate magic. A formidable foe agaonst your average adventurer but for the Elven wizard he expected worse. He puts it akin to hearing of a treacherous mountain only to find it to be a plateau. It will be a climb but not quite what he expected
(We hear at JJ would like to inform the DM that he elf's feelings do not reflect my own, I know of Oni's and know them to be dangerous foes and probably more so under your control with taht being said, this'll be fun.)
Init: 4+3=7
Arcana for Oni: 13+8=21
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 3, 2019 8:05:20 GMT -5
(This one has been actively hunting down capable adventurers for a while now. I will be playing him to defeat you. This will be fun.)
You recall stories in addition to the poem, and in these stories Oni are said to be able to create blasts of freezing death, put creatures to sleep or turn their minds. They can get into most fortified locations by turning into mist and slipping through the cracks or simply flying over the walls. They're said to be able to summon night itself or vanish from sight completely. They heal from wounds that would fell a mortal man. As you've seen they can also change their form.
The Oni cracks an angry wicked smile, "You should have waited. Now you will never see where the people go." He begins to fade from sight, one second he is there and the next he is gone. Your eyes drop to the ground, where you see the foliage recovering after his great weight was removed. No other footprints become apparent. Your action.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Jul 3, 2019 18:22:12 GMT -5
"Invisibility?" Ja'lian asks to the place the Oni once stood, seeming unimpressed. Though, certainly the Wizard would be hard pressed to deal with such an ability if not for the fact that in his Wizard's duel on the coast his opponent had that same idea and Ja'lian. Ever learning and ever evolving from his every interaction went into Waterdeep and obtained a scroll with a certain spell to disable that advantage. The elf reaches down on his waist where his spellbook is and opens the book turning to the correct page he goes through the motions and words as written and taps once more into the Weave. "Ees Ytilibisivni!" He announces aloud at the end of his spell, his eyes glowing with arcane energies allowing him to pierce through the veil of invisibility. Once he assesses where the Oni is. He will either give chase if the creature is fleeing or will back himself off if its gotten closer to him.
As part of Move: Pull out Spellbook Action: Cast Spell: See Invisibility Move: 30ft bubble with Oni at center
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 4, 2019 7:44:51 GMT -5
As soon as your spell takes hold your eyes shift to the right, and lift to about thirty feet above the ground. Your eyes are drawn to where the Oni is standing in the air, one arm extending toward you with his fingers splayed. What caught your attention was a writhing mass of silently screaming translucent people. In place of their legs, their bodies fade down like smoke that attaches to some part of the Oni. It takes a second to realize that these spirits must be located in the Ethereal Plane. A second is all you have to think before a swirling mass of frost and shards of sharpened ice blast out from the Oni's extended hand. You're hit first by a wall of cold air then the rest tear into your flesh. You take 35 cold damage, DC 13 Con Save for half.
|
|