As Drake Taubron sat in the taproom of the Silver Stag he watched the other patrons, rather shifty looking owner, Padraig..he recalled, with corded arms and a long dark, grey-shot, ponytail was speaking with a merchant called Artair Buids who was headed back to Glissom City or so he was saying.

The rest of the crowd within was a rough mix of farmers, tradesmen and reavers mostly men but there were quite a few women scattered about as well.

Drake had seen a lot of the reavers, or Borderers as they called themselves, in his time in the Pagans and it had been with care that he had threaded his way through their lands and steadings to make his way here.

Padraig and Artairs conversation moved on speak of others, it seemed he had come here with a large group of caravan guards who had headed into Siren Woods across the Shadowspin though he didn't know why.

Other merchants were arriving to sell southern merchandise and purchase salt beef, wool and other borderer produce.

As he sat a large group of Borderers that had been staying at the inn the last few days after delivering a load of salt beef. He tried to recall their names...the group of reavers was composed of a dozen or so individuals, roughly half men and half women and running the full gamut of ages.

The oldest one came over to greet him, " Well met, Fergus mac Róich.".

Though his hair was grey and white his arms were still corded with muscle and he wore a number of bronze and copper pins through his plaid that Drake knew were tokens of service and war.

His interest piqued by the conversation between the bar owner and the merchant, Drake unconsciously leans forward almost imperceptibly as he strains to hear more above the din. But as the reaver approaches, he sits back, turns and gives the older man a cool appraising look-over with a trained eye, noting his armour and weapons.

"Hadrik." he replied with a cautious but polite nod, indicating the empty chair opposite.
"A good-sized company you have back there. And a cheerful bunch too!" Drake breaks out into a cautious but good-natured smile.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:58, Thu 01 Dec 2016.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 2):

The older man sat, " Cheerful? Aye, we sold all our beef and wool and got a fair price. We're headed back across the Shadowspin and along the old forest road to home in the morn."

" Your a cart guard?"

In reply to GM (msg # 3):

"Be glad to be one...if the price is right."

Drake paused to take a draw of his mug of ale.

"Ever heard of Siren Woods? What's in there anyway? Overheard one of the lads shooting crap about a bunch of em cart guards went up there looking for trouble. Know anything about that?"

He roared with laughter, " Best be asking the city folk...though they'll likely be heading back to Glissom City. We borderers have no need of guards."

" Yer not Gliss...Thulish? Cornumbrian? The old forest was called Siren Woods by those bronze chested bastards from our ancestors time.  Tis a fell place, but its a full six months to go round and the old road is safe as long as you follow the traditions."

" Aye, I met them at Mimirs Well. Its a settlement in the heart of the forest, odd folk live there but they're kind to strangers."

" If your heading that way, don't step off the path. The Good Folk don't like that...and they're not backwards about expressing their dislikes."

He grinned, " Those cart guards...though there were some odd fellows among them....were heading into the old ruins outside the settlement the rumours said...not sure we'll see them again."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:03, Fri 02 Dec 2016.

Drake guffaws, joining the old reaver in his mirth,
"Them scruffies would have to either have balls of steel, or brains so far up their arse they can't think straight, to even consider laying a paw on your goods!"

Another round of guffaws ensues! Drake wipes tears of mirth from his eyes...



Drake nods, his mannerism friendlier now that he has warmed up to the old barbarian.
"Cornumbria. Just came in few days ago with a couple of salt caravans."



"Ruins eh? What of?" Drake asks curiously.

" The ruins? Don't rightly know...but theres a few of the homes in Mimirs Well with old stone walls in part."

" I ken I heard the headman there say there used to be a city named Mimir as well, perhaps the village is whats left of it and more lies off in the green?"

" All I know is you wouldn't catch me out there. Men I'll face well enough...but bogies and the like I'll leave to others."

Drake nods in agreement, crossing himself at the mention of bogies.

Returning to his ale, Drake changes the topic,
"So...when do you leave?"

"Mind if I tag along? Work here's a little thin. Wonder if I might have better luck elsewhere..."

" We leave on the morrow."

" We're headed back into clan lands but if you can swing an axe or use a spear you'll not be treated any worse than any other outsider."

" There won't be much in the way of silver, but food and drink and a bit of raiding can be found in abundance."

Drake nods again in answer, lifting his mug to his lips, his face thoughtful.

All this talk of the ruins in the middle of the fey inhabited forest has intrigued him and he means to explore it. Who knows what treasures or secrets such an adventure might yield? But first he will need to assemble a suitable party and kit up for an exploration trip...

OOC - Ok I am assuming that you intend for Drake to join up with Colm and the rest soon, possibly even inside the ruins. Hope what's coming up below will not cause too much trouble or inconvenience for your plan. :P

If Fergus has nothing more to say, Drake will just let the conversation lapse, allowing the reaver to take his leave. He will go back to observing the people in the Silver Stag, mentally picking out suitable individuals (men who look like they can handle themselves in a fight out in the wilds) who might be interested to join his treasure hunting party to the old ruins in the old forest. He will also chat up the bar owner Padraig and see if he can drop some names or point out some suitable candidates who might be interested.

If any candidate turns up in his search, Drake will discreetly approach each of them for a closeup evaluation before putting forth his proposal:
1. Form a party of about two to four men to explore the ancient ruins and do some treasure hunting.
2. Everything found to be equally split among the party.
3. Hadrik(Drake) as the leader with the final word on decisions, disputes and all other matters while on the trip.

In all his interactions, Drake will prudently and carefully NOT mention exploring the ruins as the ultimate goal unless and until absolutely necessary. Hence the candidates he "interviews" will eventually know at the end when he judges them suitable and invites them to join him. Padraig would NEVER know what Drake is really forming a party for.

Whether or not he has a party formed by midday, Drake will go hunting for common equipment:
1. lantern oil
2. rations (enough for the party for 7 days)
3. rope (2 good lengths if there is at least one other party member, else Drake will just get 1)
4. a lightweight staff suitable as a weapon, javelin (and pole-vault?)

He will then rest early. The next morning, Drake will bring his party (if any) to join up with the reavers and journey with them until the village of Mimirs Well where he will cook up an excuse to part ways with the reavers.

Does this all look ok to you?
I can RP all this if you deem it necessary or desirable. ;)

This message was last edited by the player at 08:49, Fri 02 Dec 2016.

OOC - Over the remainder of the day Drake is able to locate a couple of likely lads...in truth the pickings are not that great. Most of the Reavers have gone for the season and would be reluctant to sign up anyway and the vast majority of men of military or 'enforcement'bearing are already on their way to Glissom City with the departing urban traders.

In the end he is reduced to approaching two native Gliss men with somewhat unsavoury characters.

Lute Lilywhite: A hulking man with barely the wits of a five year old....a badly behaved five year old. He is currently replacing a millers donkey and eager to stop walking in circles all day.

Jon Tehatima: a quiet introspective fellow that wouldn't have looked out of place among the other ravens of Drakes childhood and youth. He seems happy to go whereever Drake wants to go....a little too happy.

All the below are easily purchased in Rosmuillean:

1. lantern oil
2. rations (enough for the party for 7 days)
3. rope (2 good lengths if there is at least one other party member, else Drake will just get 1)
4. a lightweight staff suitable as a weapon, javelin (and pole-vault?)

All good.

Actually, yeah do a little IC and then we'll move straight to the journey with the Reavers.

Drake glanced in disgust at the two before him. The best there is. They will have to do. The big oaf would do fine, though Drake hopes he doesn't cry for his mum and scream for home at the first sign of trouble. The other guy is a different story. Drake looks him over again, from head to toe, searching his memory. Tehatima. Jon.

OOC - 15:21, Today: Drake Taubron rolled 17 using 1d20.  Remember.

Nope. If there is anything here, Drake certainly doesn't remember it at all. Shrugging, he turned to the task of the moment - testing the men.

OOC - Drake tries to determine what each man can do. In game terms, can I have some rough idea of their likely skills and rank?

A short time later...

Drake sheaths his weapon, bids the two men sit down, and begins his briefing.
"The village of Mimirs Well lies somewhere along the old forest road. Apparently, it is built on top of some old ruined city. City of Mimirs according to rumour. We will be paying the ruins a visit and pick up some gold for ourselves. And perhaps if we are lucky, we may even find some treasure fit for a king."

Pausing to glare sternly at his two associates, Drake continues.
"Gentlemen. The ruins have probably lain untouched for some years. We dare not assume it will remain uninhabited for long. Bring your best weapons. Keep them oiled and ready. Once the journey begins, keep your eyes open. Your ears peeled. Be ready for anything. Anyone who slacks off, wanders off, or falls behind..." Drake's face turns grim, "He will be left behind."

Glancing sharply at Lute, Drake continues.
"The rules are simple..."

"Number One. Everything we find, we split equally among us. And Number Two..." Here, Drake turns his gaze to Jon. Intense, dead serious, scrutinizing. "Throughout this trip, I have the final word. On all decisions. Disputes. Every matter."

"We good with this?"

Deep inside, Drake is rather disturbed by the appearance of the quiet man Jon Tehatima. No one leaves the Clan. No one alive that is. This was one of the first things he learned as a boy from the Clan trainers.

Glancing at Lute again, Drake sighs inwardly. The expedition does indeed need a third member. Two is too few. Too risky. Especially with a halfwit. Besides, keeping Jon close by where he can keep an eye on him would be way more preferable than to let the man wander freely out of sight.

Taking special note of the man's equipment, weapons, and armor, Drake makes a mental note to do some digging on the fellow Jon Tehatima, his background, when did he arrive in town, who did he come with, for what purpose, etc.

OOC - At first convenience, Drake discreetly chats up Padraig, any Solver Stag patron open for a chat, and perhaps Fergus as well. About Tehatima.

Need a roll? What does he discover?

Drake decides to keep a careful eye on the man at all times.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:33, Sun 04 Dec 2016.

The two men shrugged apparently not particularly fussed about such things. Lute was used to being ordered around and Jon....well Jon didn't seem to care about anything all that much...




Polite chatting with Padraig and Fergus and a few other locals indicates that Lute wandered in off of an outlying farm a few months ago naked and covered in blood....he was almost killed as an ogre of some sort but began asking for food when he was challenged and the townsfolk soon realised he was indeed human.

He was fed and clothed and put to work by the miller, folks soon learned to not rile him up as he tended to break things and occasionally people when he had a tantrum...but due to the Millers influence he was kept around.  The Miller is happy now to see him go as he has young children and doesn't really want them playing with Lute as one mistimed prank could end very badly indeed.

Jon is an enigma to most in town, no one seems to know where he came from he just appeared in the market square one night and hasn't left. He speaks little to anyone and has earned his coin fixing thatch and slate on roofs seemingly happy to work at heights.  Most are amazed that he is leaving as its been difficult to get more than two words out of him since he arrived.

OOC:

Lute: Str 18, Int 3, carries an axe and is dressed in a woolen kilt and sheepskins in a rough sort of cloak.
Jon: Has a number of Assassin skills...Climb, Jump etc. carries a number of throwing axes and is dressed in black wool and leather.

Fergus and his family/companions eyed the trio approaching them with some interest.

" Well, you've found some friends...we're off now. Try to keep up.", he grinned.

The group crossed the Shadowspin and headed off on the Old Forest Road and under the dark eaves of Siren Wood.

This message was deleted by the player at 15:51, Mon 05 Dec 2016.

Drake raises his hand in greeting to Fergus and his companions/family. He gives them a wide friendly smile and nods.

Turning back to his companions, Drake tells them in a low quiet voice,
"Our journey begins here. We will travel with these borderers a little ways, until the village."

His face turns stern, glaring especially at Lute,
"Do not talk to them! Do not fraternize with them in anyway! They do not know where we are going. And may not take kindly our intentions to visit the ruins."

"Do not wander off on your own. We stick together. Watch each other's back."

Here, Drake breaks into a smile, giving an encouraging nod at each man,
"We go together. And we get back here together."

OOC - Drake has purchased:
rope 10m, staff, waterskin, flask of oil x3, rations for 7 days for 2 persons.

Oil and rations carried by Lute.

Have made the necessary adjustments to charsheet.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:06, Wed 07 Dec 2016.

Throughout the journey, Drake keeps an eye on his two fellows Jon and Lute. In particular, he is careful not to allow himself into a situation where he is alone with Jon and exposed.

OOC - Jon is armed with throwing axes...and what else? Is he dressed in padded armor (AF2)?

Also, if chatting is possible, in the brighter areas before entering the Siren Woods, Drake will walk (or jog) alongside Fergus and, keeping his voice low, try to find out more about the old forest, the denizens dwelling within (ie: The Good Folk...what else?), the "traditions" they need to follow to be safe, and the consequences if they don't.

Once the party enters the Siren Woods, Drake will be silent and watchful for any sign of danger...

Before they pass fully into the Forest proper Drake peppers Fergus with quiet questions to which he gets answers...some are quiet...but mostly Fergus doesn't seem to understand subtlety.

" Forest has been here since the beginning they say, before the Pagans and Bracks even in some tales."

" The Good Folk? Oh, best we not talk too much about them...they take an interest if you take an interest its said. They're Aes sídhe, the first folk...here even before the Fomoire walked these lands. Treat them with respect and treat the folk of Mimirs Well the same...it can go badly otherwise."

" We're to stay on the road, don't go under the trees...those are the rules and I stick to them.  Short while back some young Borderer men harmed a girl of the villagers at Mimirs Well...still haven't found all their parts...".

They walked silently for a while then, about a mile into the forest a shimmering white
tower could be seen to the right through the trees. A path lead off towards it. There is no one visible anywhere nearby. You can see an arched entrance at its base.

Fergus and his folk ignored the tower and walked on....






OOC: Jon is dressed in little more than a simple leather vest in terms of protection. So AF 0. He also carries a dagger.

Drake stops to gaze at the tower. He calls to Fergus,

"Strange tower...who lives there?"

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 20):

Fergus looked back over his shoulder at Drake, " Dannae know, dannae care. Its off the road."

Drake's gaze lingers for a moment on the structure in the distance as he retrieves his waterskin from his pack and takes a good long drink. Replacing the waterskin carefully, he loosens his weapons in their scabbards, takes a quick final glance around, then turns to rejoin the party and continue their trek through the woods.

Perhaps the good villagers at Mimirs Well know something about it. Drake makes a mental note to ask when they arrive.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:15, Fri 09 Dec 2016.

A few miles after the tower, there is a sudden hissing sound in the air and a volley of darts fly over your heads, narrowly missing Drakes group and the Borderers. Drake sees a group of vague lithe shapes barely visible, moving away through the trees.

Fergus laughs loudly, " Our friends are a little frisky this day it seems.....", the other borderers look about warily but make no moves.

Jon hisses under his breath and without a word, draws two axes and begins to lope after the retreating shapes....

OOC - Without leaving the path himself, Drake tries to grab and restrain Jon before he leaves the path.

10:07, Today: Drake Taubron rolled 11 using 1d20.  Run after Jon and grab his arm.


"No Jon!"

Drake cries out in as low a voice as he can.

"We stay on the path and keep moving!"

Drake grabbed Jon by the arm before he left the road, the man swung around to face Drake with his axes raised and angry eyes....but he lowered them and nodded, falling into line to walk beside Lute once more.

Lute for his part was far too distracted by a butterfly to have noticed anything....

Inwardly, Drake breathes a deep sigh of relief, even as outwardly he maintains his expressionless demeanor. He gives a light pat on Jon's and Lute's shoulder.

"Let's keep moving lads. Village is near. Can have ourselves some hot grub and rest."

OOC - Any chance Drake can pick up some of the darts without getting too far off the road, like one to two metres? If yes, he quickly glances around. Seeing no one watching, he quickly bends over, grabs the darts using a piece of cloth, wraps them up, stuffs them inside his pack, then continue on...

Drake will examine the darts at leisure later when he arrives at a place of safety, ie: the village.

Giving the surrounding a quick cautious glance to see if any of the dark shapes approach again, he quickly falls in with the band and continues along the road, eyes peeled, senses alert. His pace is noticeably quicker.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:11, Sat 10 Dec 2016.

Drake tucks the darts into a piece of rag and puts them away for later.

With no further sign from the attackers except some distant laughter and bird calls the Borderers and Drake and company moved on.

The day dragged on and it was late afternoon before they saw any change in the scenery.

The road entered a green dell,its grassy sward dotted with coloured flowers. Birds sing from the trees and a feeling of intense peace settles over you. In the centre of the dell you see a pool some distance off the road.

 A bower of honeysuckle and climbing roses separates it from you. Cavorting in the pool is a group of scantily clad women and men, all of them beautiful and all in the prime of health. They call out merrily to you and point to a tree at the centre of the pool. It bears a number of golden apples along its boughs. They wave in a friendly manner and invite you to come and join them.

Fergus and the others regard the bathers with interested looks but they do not answer them or slow their pace.

Jon seems completely uninterested, Lute however smiles widely and begins to lumber towards the bower with almost a skip in his step...

As the party enters the dell, a feeling of peace washes over Drake, taking away some of his cares, fears and burdens. He closes his eyes briefly, allowing himself to enjoy the warmth of the moment as it envelops him.

The inviting calls of the revellers ringing in his ears, Drake's eyes snap open and he turns his attention to the pool and the revellers inside. He observes them curiously.

The revellers in the pool, the tree in the middle with golden fruit hanging from its branches, the birds singing, the soft green grass, the peaceful feeling...they all seem...right. They seem to belong together. But the whole scene itself seems totally out of place here within an old forest rumored to be enchanted and populated by fey folk and perhaps more frightening creatures...

These last thoughts jolt Drake awake like a splash of cold water in his face. Just then, he catches the strange sight of the giant Lute, pouches and pack bouncing, carefreely swinging his battle-axe, skipping his way off the path towards the bower of flowers like a child off to play!

Reaching into his belt pouch quickly, Drake withdraws three shiny silver coins. He calls out to Lute, trying to get his attention. As the giant turns around, he begins to juggle the coins, starting slowly, but going faster and faster and faster until the movement of his hands becomes a blur and the coins themselves blur into a silvery hoop. As the movement of his hands accelerates towards impossible speeds, he tosses the coins up one by one where they disappear into thin air! Smiling slyly, he walks over to the big man, reaches out and seemingly plucks out a coin from inside Lute's ear!

OOC - Drake tries to attract and hold Lute's attention by juggling and doing some fancy tricks with the shiny coins.

12:46, Today: Drake Taubron rolled 9 using 1d20.  juggling and fancy tricks with coins - Ref 15.

Ending his little performance with a flourish, he holds up a single shiny coin, a wide smile on his face. Using friendly gentle tones, Drake invites the giant to come back to the path and continue their journey.

"Come on big man. It's this way..."

"That's good Lute. That's a good lad."

"The village is just up ahead. Hot food, clean clothes, warm beds...you like that Lute? Sure you do..."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:03, Wed 14 Dec 2016.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 28):

Fergus raised an impressed eyebrow as Drake lured Lute back and they continued on their way.

For their part, as the group moved away, the frolicking youths seem to forget their presence almost immediately and go back to their play.

After a little way along the road, evening begins to draw near they see a low burial mound within the trees and shrubs a little way off the road to the left.

Fergus doesn't even bother looking back this time and simply continues walking...

Drake nudges Fergus as they pass by.

"Tis a mighty strange place to bury a man. Right beside a road. Would not a more secluded area some aways off be preferred? More peaceful less likely to be disturbed?"

Drake stops and studies the mound from his vantage point on the road. He looks for any other man-made structures nearby that might give a clue to who, if anyone, is buried here.

OOC - What can Drake observe about the mound? How recent is it? Any indications who is buried here? Any signs of recent visits?

" A man?", says Fergus with a raised eyebrow.

The mound is covered in ancient layers of crowberries and moss and appears as old and undisturbed as the trees around it...though it seems no saplings have sprung up upon it.

A slight shiver runs down Drake's spine at the suggestion that this is no mound for a man. Seeing as there is nothing more to do here except to dig up the grave, and not fancying himself as a graverobber, Drake decides to leave quickly.

He casts a few nervous glances around, then falls in with the company and resumes the journey.

The group moves on, ahead they see the snow­-covered, purple Mountains of Brack rising up in the dim light through the trees. .

They note ahead a settlement of wattle ­and ­thatch houses, with some older stone walls mixed in, straddling the forest road.

 As they draw closer, they see a village ­size settlement with a large Moot Hall set next to a well at its centre.  A plume of smoke is coming from the chimney of the Moot Hall.

Fergus smiles broadly, " And we have arrived at Mimirs Well. We'll be going on through the night as I've a grand bairn on the way at home. Don't pester the village folk too much, they're an odd sort but friendly enough."

Drake nods at the old borderer, returning his smile with a friendly one of his own. He reaches out to grasp the older man's hand in a friendly gesture.

"Thank you for the company. Safe road ahead friend."

Raising his hand in farewell to Fergus and his company, Drake turns to his companions.

"We will rest here for the night. Get some hot grub and few hours shuteye."
"I will do some asking around about the ruined city."
"We will leave on the morrow at dawn."

"Questions?"

He pauses for a moment, looking at the faces of his companions. Then motioning for his companions to follow, he turns and walks on, making straight for the Moot Hall.

Lute looked at him uncomprehendingly and Jon just sneered...then they turned and followed him.

Within the hall torches burn brightly and you are suprised to find no watch upon the door.  Within are low trestles about which stand people who seem almost of a kind, at least in part, with the youths you saw in the glade...though these folk show the scars of work and the lines of age upon their faces.

An elderly man, dressed like the others in a pale woolen shift, points at you as you enter, " A blessed eve!  More road-weary souls come to our table."

" Eat! Drink!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:17, Fri 16 Dec 2016.

Drake glances cautiously around the hall, noting the layout, as well as the people within. He takes his time to size up each person, measuring the threat each might pose to himself and the party.

He nods politely and smiles at the elderly man.

"Thank you for your welcome good Sir."

Spying a small table at the side of the hall, he motions his fellows forward while he continues with the elderly man.

"We are from Rosmuillean. Travelled in the company of Fergus mac Róich and his borderers. We parted ways just outside your village. Certainly we did not expect to find such a welcome here in the middle of Siren Woods."

"What is this place Sir? And who are you?"

"We have seen some men and women with your likeness but younger in the forest. They called to us but we did not stop for them."

" This place? Our village is called Mimirs Well, young one. It is named after the great god Mimir who dwelled here in the ancient times."

" My name I gave up to the winds when I took my vows, most here and our visitors simply call me Elder or Old One."

" Fergus? He's a good sort, keeps his people in line. We're glad for the company when the borderers pass through but some of their folk can be a little wearing at times."

He smiled sadly when Drake mentioned the youths, " They are the lost. Most of our children know enough to not walk beneath the trees except when the snowdrops are flowering but every now and then one disobeys and the Good Folk take them away."

" You saw them at the lake?  Some of the parents travel there sometimes but they do not know us anymore and they cannot and will not leave their play...it is how it has always been."

" You are bound for the Bracks?", he looked at Drakes two companions curiously.

Drake bows in reverence to the old man.

"Old One."

"I am Hadrik. And these are my associates."



Drake's gaze soften in compassion. He lowers his eyes and bows his head in empathy.

"I am sorry for your loss. You and your village. I cannot begin to understand how terrible it must be to lose one's children, without hope of their ever returning.."

Drake takes a brief moment to study the old man standing before him. He furrows his brow slightly in curiosity.

"You are a servant of Mimir?"

"Mimir...I do not know this god. Pray tell who is he?"

"And what service do you perform for him here in the middle of an enchanted forest inhabited by fey folk?"

"I have heard tell there is an ancient city named for him. Is its whereabouts near here?"

The old man smiled broadly, apparently on to one of his favourite topics, " Mimir is the ancient god of knowledge and thought, his people dwelled here in the ancient days before even the Fomoraig came down from the north.  His people were wise and they dwelled in the City of Mimir and brought forth knowledge of the earth, stars, building, physic and other such things."

" We are the last of their descendants and it is my duty to watch over and care for all my people until the last of us passes or I pass myself."

" The city? You stand within it, Mimirs Well once supplied waters to the great city, you can see some of the ancient walls within our homes.  There are many parts of the city hereabouts, the section most untouched by the forest is that which lies around the monolith and the ancient temple of Mimir....there are some visitors there even now dealing with...some unpleasantness."

Drake's eyes glitter with interest and curiosity.

"Tis hard to imagine truly, that a great city of a learned and wise people, once used to sit right here..."

"Old One, if you are so inclined, I will be most honored to hear you tell of its tale."

He makes a gesture of invitation towards the small table where his fellows are gathered. Lute, his face split in a wide childlike grin, is attacking a haunch of venison with gusto, while opposite, Jon wolfs down a steaming platter of potatoes. Watching his fellows enjoy their food, a loud drawn-out growl issues from Drake's belly and his mouth suddenly fills up with saliva...


Drake raises a brow in (feigned) surprise and bewilderment.

"Visitors? In the ancient temple now? Isn't the city in ruins and abandoned?"

"What manner of unpleasantness?"

" The tale of the city....there were cities here in Glissom many centuries before the bronze-chests arrived.  The city of Nem beyond the mountains, founded before the rise of Nuada...and the great city of Mimir...now fallen which lies on our doorstep."



" In the ancient days of my grandfathers grandfathers it is told the great man Fabius went to see the city it is said despite the wishes of the bronze-chest commander. The tales of our village say that he and the men that went with him did not return...but the bronze-chests left soon after...so i think it likely he did."

" The city fell into ruin many centuries before the Selentine arrived here....to raiders from the Bracks it is said...."

" Mimir blesses us with his wisdom....perhaps he will bless your endeavour? He has always watched over those who sought knowledge...."

" As you know, this village was built around the well but the well used to water the city of Mimir. Most of the near walls are lost to time and the forest, or used to build the houses and hall but there are more ruins nearby in the forest."

" We do not tresspass there out of respect for our god, but Mimir would not begrudge outsiders searching for knowledge."

" The visitors are there destroying some evil left behind by those who destroyed the city in the ancient days...it killed one of their fellows."

Drake takes a seat opposite the old man as he begins his tale. Helping himself to generous portions of the food and drink, he watches the old man intently, giving his full attention to his tale. Knowing that the party could be spending weeks and months looking for the city, or wandering around lost within its ancient ruins, he pays careful attention to the old man's words, here and there plying him with questions, seeking clues to the ancient city's lost treasures, knowledge, and secrets.

"Such a great civilization fallen to ruin, its vast knowledge, wisdom and achievements lost with the passage of time... Are there any surviving records Old One? Perhaps books, scrolls, writings, diagrams, or maps?"

"Old One, you mention that here we are already standing within the city limits. But coming in, we did not see any sign of it..."

At the mention of ancient evil, Drake exchanges glances with his fellows,

"What manner of evil? Sorcery and black magicks? Or perhaps creatures from the Abyss stalk the ancient ruins?"

"On the way here, we passed by a pristine white tower with a fancy arched entrance. Seeing as it lay off the road someways into the forest, we did not dare tarry to find out more. Know you something about it?"

" No, the knowledge of Mimir was carried within the mind and passed on from father and mother to child. All that was written was given into keeping in the temple...or so it is said...it may lie there still..."

" Well, theres not much left of the city....you can see some of the old stones among our village, and the well of course....but there are many ruins within the trees. The forest has reclaimed nearly all of it except for the area around the monolith."

" The visitors spoke of a creature of shadowy aspect, a great terror of darkness....some remnant of the invaders no doubt."

" The tower? I have not ventured that far myself, but Reavers have spoken of it...those who enter do not return...or return somewhat changed in body..", he frowned, "..one of the two..it has been many decades since one has left the road and entered it. I believe it is a lure set by the Good Folk."

Drake nodded thoughtfully as he chewed absently upon a ribbone.

"So...the monolith is the entrance that leads to the temple?"

Setting down his food, he opens his pack and carefully pulls out the Fey Folk darts he picked up earlier. Unwrapping the cloth around the darts, he sets them on the table before the old man. Picking one up carefully, he examines it closely, studying its construction, gauging its effectiveness, trying to see if there's anything about the design to be learned here...

"What do you make of these Old One? Found them in the forest..."

OOC - Drake studies the darts. Are they of a different design from usual darts wielded by humans? Is there any design feature Drake may pick up and perhaps use in his own dart construction?

"We also passed by a strange burial mound right by the old road. There was no headstone nor any indication of who lies there. Know you who is buried there?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:47, Sat 24 Dec 2016.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 44):

Drake is quite puzzled when he unwraps the darts to find the contents of the parcel now consist of three acorns, dry beech leaves and a dead spider...

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 44):

The Elder chuckles lightly.

" The mound?  It has been there since before I was born....one of the Good Folk chieftains perhaps?"

Drake's question catches in his throat as he stares shocked at what the darts have become. Suppressing a sudden chill that is running down his spine, Drake sweeps the bundle off the table, strides quickly to the fireplace and casts everything into the roaring fire. Returning to his seat opposite the elder, he grabs his mug of ale and downs everything in a single gulp.

"Blasted Fey sorcery..." he mutters under his breath.


Casting a nervous glance at the elder, Drake fills his mug to the brim and again downs everything in a single gulp.

"More Fey black magic..."

Drake suddenly finds the warm and comfortable Moot Hall chilly. He quickly switches topic.

"These visitors...who are they? And how did they know where to find the temple? Did they already come here seeking it?"

The Elder tutted, " Aye, the Good Folks ways are not ours.....but how long would we have remained here if not for their good graces...."

He frowned slightly at the mention of the visitors, " A strange group....some Borderers among them and some foreign folk...and a Hearth Father.  If not for his presence I would have taken them for ne'erdowells...but he was among them so I believe they have good intentions....well...most of them..."

" They are following the lead of a strange southern man from Ongus or thereabouts i think. He was the one most eager to explore the ruins."

Drake glances sharply at the Elder. The old man's words suggest a most unusual positive, even friendly, disposition towards the Fey Folk and their mysterious frightening ways. Perhaps these villagers are more closely linked with the Fey than they look... His caution heightened, Drake studies the Elder more closely, but not in an unfriendly manner, as he chooses his words carefully.

"Old One. You seem not to be afraid of the Fey Folk. Considering that you live here right in the middle of their forest, this must be a most happy state of affairs for you and your village... I take it they have not bothered you much. And perhaps may have even had some dealings with you?"


The Elder's description suggests these visitors aren't scholars or seekers of knowledge. More like grave-looters and tomb-raiders. And either these strange foreigners have somehow managed to fool the old man with regards to their intentions, or perhaps they have come to a deal of some sort...

"And they have agreed to perform some task for you in return for your help in locating the temple?"

" Afraid? Hmm, I still fear them...but I suppose one grows used to things..."

" No, nothing like that. Mimir is the god of knowledge, he would not want me to stand in the way of folks seeking it.  I can take you to the temple as well if you wish."

"We thank you for your offer Old One. Perhaps we might just take you up on it. What of the visitors themselves Old One? Have they been gone to the ruins only these recent days past? Are they to be expected back anytime soon?"

Drake studies the old man carefully. He seems very friendly and obliging. A tad too friendly to outsiders in these dark times where strangers usually herald ill tidings and no good motives. Too friendly and embracing in a village located right in the middle of an enchanted Fey inhabited forest. And very much too obliging to be so willing to bring strange foreigners with dubious intentions to places where his ancestors had lived and worshipped. Places that by all reasonable expectation would be considered sacred to him and his fellow villagers. And throw into this already strange mix an offer as a guide without payment of any kind? These villagers must be well provided for and not lack anything indeed...

Which reminds him of yet another who had been rather too obliging thus far, one close by. Drakes casts a furtive glance at Tehatima...

He glances around at the other persons in the Moot Hall, taking note of those who appear to be locals, and those who appear not to be. He observes their dispositions and interactions.

OOC - Does Drake notice anything interesting in the Moot Hall? Whether among the persons there, or the furnishing and layout of the place?

It is somewhat a surprise to him that in such a place as this, this past hour since entering the village, Drake had not seen any villager bearing arms or displaying a readiness to defend themselves from bandits, robbers or strangers bearing ill-will towards them. Perhaps these people possess defensive capabilities yet unseen...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Wed 28 Dec 2016.

Drake takes a generous bite out of a large piece of roasted venison haunch. Munching heartily, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve before taking another generous bite.

"This is delicious!"

"I take it that your people did not hunt this beast in the forest around you? Or do the Fey Folk willingly share the bounties of this forest with you?"

As Drake glances about he notes that many of the villagers are discussing their crafts and projects with animated faces and much laughter and good cheer.

" The visitors? They have been here only two nights, they slept the first here before venturing out then returned with the news of their fallen comrade then headed out again this morn."

" Share? No....but often we will find our quarry upon the road or upon the village green...I suspect they may well be a gift of sorts..."

Looking up Drake sees a great object of wood set into the rafters of the hall, though he cannot determine its purpose...

"Mayhap we will meet them before this day is through. Hopefully without another corpse to mourn and bury..."


OOC - What sort of projects are they discussing? Home improvements? Irrigation or farming works? Mining ventures?

Drake looks around the Moot Hall smiling. He turns back to the Elder with a friendly grin.

"You are a generous man Old One. And your people seem a peaceable and cheery bunch with nary a care in the world. It seems Mimir's blessings on you have been abundant and that you lack nothing. And over your lives and property he has kept watched, keeping you safe."

"Do not troublemakers sometimes chance upon your village threatening lives and property? How do you deal with such as these when they appear?"


Carefully, without drawing attention to himself, Drake looks closely at the object of wood in the rafters.

OOC - Any features, shape, handles, holes, depressions, lids, cracks, paints, smears, marks, scratches he can discern?

Still watching and waiting...

Drakes observations bear some fruit.

The villagers appear to be discussing their crafts, a smith speaks with a weaver, a woodcarver speaks with a basket weaver. He notes their wares around the hall and is impressed with the quality of the work...it is of far greater skill and higher quality than he has seen before.

Indeed some of the conversations he has trouble following as they get into the minutiae of their respective endeavours.

The old man frowned, " We do have troubles, yes...and it saddens us when they occur both for the difficulties brought upon ourselves and those the troublemakers bring upon themselves."

" I have spoken of the Good Folk and the watch they take over us.......they also punish those who bring harm to the village. A theft will be nothing more than perhaps a disturbed wasp nest on the journey home...or a tumble into the brambles when there was no stone to stumble a man.", he chuckled lightly.

" But violence visited upon us....they repay in double measure. Visitors, young Reaver men, have taken women by force in the past...the men vanished and parts of their tortured bodies were left along the roadway for their companions to find...it does not happen often but the memories of mortals are short."

The object in the rafters draws Drakes attention and the old man seems to notice, " It is a harp....when we open the shutters in the roof the wind blows through and plucks the strings within the sounding box."

Tehtima appears to be taking no notice of the people in the room, rather he seems to be intently studying the spaces between them and the dimensions of the hall itself...if he notices Drakes attention he gives no sign.

Drake shivers at the tale. He shakes his head, his expression somber.

"Mighty terrible retribution there..."

"Ain't no way for a man to die no matter what he's done... ain't no way..."

He lifts his mug and gulps down the last of the ale.


"Ya have an alchemist amongst you, Old One? One whom you bring your young un's to when the fever don't go down..."


Drake's eyes widen in curiosity.

"A harp for the wind to play! How splendid! What d'ya use it for?


Discreetly, Drake gives Tehatima a quick glance, eyebrows slightly raised, a questioning look in his eyes...

The Elder shrugged, " If the punishment is known, then a man would be a fool not to think it will be carried out. But all men are fools...."

" I have some small skill with herbs as does Aibhilin, our brewer, and Neala, who tends the garden."

" Use it for? For the sound of the wind, to lift our hearts and better our moods. What use has a poem or song but to rouse ones emotions?"

Tehatima regarded Drakes query with a rather bored expression  and a slight shrug.  Lute was playing rings with some of the children near the hearth fire.

Drake takes another slow glance around the hall at the villagers so animatedly discussing their projects and enjoying each other's company. His gaze ends with an intent look at the Elder.

"Your lives here are days of peace with much joy. May it always be so for you."

"Not so our journey. For it is long and dark. Fraught with much danger from men and beasts."

He shakes his head angrily as if to clear the somber sentimentalism that has come over him. Raising his head, he regards the Elder again with a friendly smile.

"If ya be willing Old One, I would procure bandages, ointment and medicines for our journey. I seek the kind useful for staunching severe wounds...I am particularly interested in a special kind of medicine whose efficacy is such it can revive those who are unconscious from too much bleeding..."

"And if you have anything that can help with poisons, whether imbibed or from a wound, I would be interested too."

Drake takes another glance at the villagers in the hall.

"And if you have anyone who is familiar with chemicals and compounds, I would like to see if he has anything I can use. If he is willing that is..."

" To revive those who have bled too much? I would tightly bind the wounds and attempt to stop the blood flow by either stitch or cauterising. Though a judicious use of mandrake or henbane...and vinegar to wash the wound would help."

" Our Smith often asks the borderers to bring him unusual stones or ores, and our weaver uses many different dyes and treatments for the wool. Is this what you mean?"

" There are few poisons here that one is not taught to avoid at a young age...toadstools, hemlock and the like....I have a number of herbal emetics and some herbs are known to combat others."

Drake looks slightly confused at the plethora of recommendations by the Elder, but he regains his composure quickly.

"I know how to quickly bind a wound with cloth but little beyond that. As for the venom of snakes and other viler creatures, I know not how to treat the victim. That is the extent of our skill and knowledge in this area."

"Do you have mixtures, ointments or medicines we can carry on our persons. That we can quickly apply or consume on the move. That will have the same effects as the treatments you prescribed?"

Drake pauses to glance shrewdly at the Elder.

"Other than treatments for wounds and poison, I have heard there are certain rocks and minerals, that when ground to powder and mixed together, produces volumious smoke to blanket a whole room. Others produce a great flash like that of daylight that dazzles the eyes."

"As for wools, perhaps your weaver knows how treat such that the wearer blends in with the shadows."

The old man looked at Drake seriously, " A raven should probably caw a little quietly when it travels with an scorpian."

" The last...yes. She has many wools of deep blue and black, I'm sure she would not mind to make something for you."

" My treatments do not travel well, perhaps ask the Hearth Father when he returns from the ruins?"

Drake meets the old man's gaze calmly. Choosing his next words with care, he replies in a low voice.

"You can see into the hearts of men Old One. You are able to know their natures...who they are...what they are..."

He allows a brief moment to pass before continuing. He leans forward towards the Elder, speaking in such a low voice that only the Elder could probably hear over the din in the Moot Hall.

"I ask your advice then. If you are willing to give. Should the raven continue travelling with the scorpion? Or perhaps an end should be put to it soon?"


Drake nods his understanding.

"My thanks Old One. I will speak with her then."

OOC - Been taking my time here, waiting for the party to come back to Mimir's Well to join up. Should I continue doing so? Or should I just get on with it and move out to the ruins?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:40, Wed 04 Jan 2017.

OOC - If you head out now you will meet them on the way back to the village. :)

OOC - Any reply from the old man? :)


"My sincere thanks Old One."

"For me and my associates, your welcome has cheered our souls. Your food and drink has revived our bodies. And the conversation with you has been enlightening and pleasurable."

Drake bows to the Elder in respect and thanks.

"May the blessings of your god continue to rest upon you and your children in abundance."

Drake nods at the far table across the hall, in the direction of the Master Weaver the Elder has indicated.
"Would you introduce us Old One?"

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 65):

In reply to the query about Jon the Elder simply shrugs and spreads his hands.

" I will.", he led Drake across the room to a middle-aged woman with strong, supple hands and graying hair.

" Good Eve! This young visitor wants to talk with you about some clothing and materials."

THe woman looked up and patted the bench next to her, " Sit, I don't bite.....much. I'll look after him old one, go get some wine to settle you for bed."

" An invitation?", said the Elder with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

The woman laughed very loudly and suddenly, startling Drake for a moment, " Get away with you!", she chuckled smiling.

Drake murmurs his thanks to the Elder as he shuffles slowly back to his seat near the fireplace. Turning back, he takes a brief moment to glance around the table at everyone seated there. Seeing no unwelcome in their eyes, he breaks into a grin and plops himself down upon the bench indicated by the woman.

"Don't mind if I join you!"

"Good evening Madam.." Drake nods in greeting at the Master Weaver.

"And Sirs..." He gives a friendly nod to the other villagers around the table.

"Walking in here, I could not help but notice the exquisite craftsmanship of wares in this place..." Drake gestured at several items around the hall that had impressed him with their fine workmanship and quality.

"Pray tell are these your work?"

" They are, we have had a long time to work on our designs and techniques.  Most of the borderers don't much appreciate things of beauty...more of a function over form concept up in the mountains. Which I suppose is not to be unexpected."

" You've come to go into the city?"

Drake nods in appreciation as his eyes lingers for a moment over a couple of the well-crafted items in the hall. Turning back to the conversation at hand, he looks at the woman, the Master Weaver, who had posed the question. Grinning broadly, he replies in a half-jesting tone.

"Rosmuillean? Ah no...we just came from there."

Chuckling, he continues in a friendly but slightly more serious tone.

"Looking for work. Me and my associates." He nods his head in the direction of Lute and Jon's table.

"I have an eye for good craftsmanship and am handy with a sword. My quiet associate there can handle himself on heights. The other one, the big one, is strong as an ox."

"Travelled from Rosmuillean with Fergus and his borderers through the forest road. They pushed on ahead through the night. Us? We thought such a nice cozy homestead would have friendly people who would not begrudge us some dinner and a warm bed for the night."

Grinning broadly again, Drake raises his mug.

"Your welcome has been overwhelming in warmth. Our sincere thanks."

"A toast! To the good people of Mimir's Well! May your days of peace and joyful work last to eternity!"

Downing the contents of his mug in a single long draw, Drake wipes the white foam off his mouth, a glad satisfied look on his face, a beaming grin at the villagers at the table.

He turns to the Master Weaver, still with the friendly smile and demeanor, but his tone is serious.

"Our journey continues tomorrow into dark places and uncertain future. Would be in your debt if we could acquire some clothing that can help hide us from unwelcome eyes."

Eyes twinkling, he adds.

"We are interested in the really special kind. That only those with your knowledge and skill can make..."

"Would you have or could you make anything that could be helpful? We will pay for it."

OOC - Drake is looking for stuff that, in game terms, actually helps to improve Stealth scores. He will assess any offer the weaver makes, if she makes any at all, before making a decision to get it.

He turns back to the table, his gaze falls on the bigger, muscle-bound man whom he guesses might be the village smith.

"Some of our foes will be fell creatures, vile fiends from the Abyss... And our weapons are pitifully inadequate. Would you know of weapons we could wield against these effectively? And where we can find these weapons?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:52, Mon 09 Jan 2017.

Drake waits for a brief moment, watching for the reactions of the villagers to his request for their aid. Chuckling, he places his mug lightly on the table and sits back. His hands, lightly clasped together, comes to rest on the table.

"If my request sounds strange to you Madam, and Sirs, or that you know naught of what I speak, please ignore me. Consider these the drunk ravings of a foolish outsider who doesn't know what he is saying."

"I'll be most happy to join you in your drinks and merriment...if you will have me."

He lowers his eyes and, for a sombre moment, seems to be talking more to himself.

"Though having heard of your ancestral origins as descendants of a once great people of Mimir, I had hoped that some special or wondrous craft might have been passed down to you. That perhaps you might be able to help us..."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:56, Mon 09 Jan 2017.

The Weaver considers his words and her brow furrows, " Forgive me, it is not a way I am used to thinking. Most of my wares are made to be seen, bold patterns and soft treatments for comfort and to raise spirits."

" But I will see what I can do....shadows are not black...they are blue and purple and gray...I will need a pattern that does not repeat..so as to not stand out from a background. Thankyou, an unusual challenge. I will do as I can."

The smith sighed, " You are not the first to come here...even in the last two days asking me to make weapons and speaking of spirits and witchcraft. And I do not much like it if I may speak plainly."

" My first love is fine work..jewellry and silver foil and platinum...electrum...
and other metals I can make from what I am brought. You seek weapons that carry dweomers or blessings of the gods..that is not within me.  I make bullrings and latches and braces and bars and I do repairs on some of the borderers belongings."

" I can make you knives as light as a feather...in exchange I would ask you bring me unusual metals, ores and precious stones you find."

As Drake is speaking with the two craftpersons the doors of the moothall swing open and a large group enters.

There are two borderers among them...no three..no four...one a young woman with a large hound at her side, two sturdy looking warriors and a slight youth with a ready smile. Accompanying them is a noble looking man with some kind of stone on a thong about his neck.

Following the four are a rather severe looking fellow dressed in travelling robes and a man the likes of which Drake has not seen before with olive-brown skin and armour and dress from far flung lands.

The Elder approached the group smiling broadly, " Are you well? You are safe, this is good."

In reply to GM (msg # 74):

Kores is covered in dried bloodstains but otherwise looks intact.  He nods in acknowledgement.


"I had hoped to find more traces of the past, these Demons bring nothing and leave little behind.  It can be hard to get their names.  …Then again, some don't talk much."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:58, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

Eyebrows raised, eyes wide open in surprised wonder, Drake stares in surprise at the villagers' replies. Perplexity, irritation, cold rejection or even angry hostility, all these he had half-expected. Certainly not such kindly and generous responses.

He quickly regains his composure and quietly bows his head in sincere humble thanks. Raising his head, he looks at the Master Weaver and the Master Smith, a heartfelt look of thankfulness in his eyes.

"Thank you Sir, Madam, for your kindness and generosity."

"Memory of it shall be a light to us in the days ahead, no matter how dark they become."

Filling his mug to the brim, he raises it in toast.

"To Mimir! And to friendship! In unexpected places!"

Raising his mug to his lips, Drake glances out of the corner of his eye at the imposing group entering the hall. Trained eyes appraise the newcomers one by one, noting their dress, their weapons, their gait, and their demeanour. His gaze lingers in particular on the large hound and its comely mistress, the man in the middle who wears a rock around his neck and carries himself with a noble bearing, and the olive-skinned foreigner with an ill-favored look.

Setting his mug down, he wipes the foam off his mouth on his sleeves and continues looking at the party with interest. He asks his companions at the table.

"This is the party that lost one of their number exploring the ruins?"

"The man with the rock around his neck...he looks important. You know him?"

"And some talk too much." Trivel grunts as he passes. He tries to find someone pouring drinks or an unattended beverage.

Finding neither, he rather sheepishly lounges against the wall, eyes surveying the room as if it were a plain. It does not take him long to notice Drake's inquisitive looks, and to fix a suspicious and unwavering glare upon him.

OOC: Editted to reflect that we're in a Moothall, not a tavern (D'oh!).
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:41, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

Drake's attention is caught by one of the party, a tall powerfully built man, wrapped in furs and hides, and sporting a painted face, glaring daggers at him. Unperturbed, he looks the man over from head to toe, noting a strangely shaped bow on the man's back. The weapon, the like of which Drake has never seen before, is curved back onto itself in a fashion that yew branches could never be without snapping.

Running his gaze over the rest of the party, he notes that the party looks worse for wear. Most of them are injured in some manner. Torn and ripped clothing here, bloodstains there, crude bandages already soaked through with blood. Their eyes however are bright and alert, and their hands are never far from their weapons.

Smiling, Drake raises his mug and calls out a greeting to them.

"Tough day on the road huh... You look like you have been through the Abyss and back."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:51, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 79):

Entering the moothall, Lann nods to the villagers and calls out,"finest ale for us!".

Walking to the table, he glances around seeing if anyone unusual is around.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:39, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

Trivel is caught off guard by the comment. Should he have a drink of some sort? Should he return the greeting? Or is this some sort of insult?

He looks uneasily to his nearest ally for guidance on these strange customs. Unfortunately for him, this happens to be Kores.

Dann smiles politely back at the Elder and thanks him for his concern. Seeing the newcomer approach, he looks at him from head to feet, not sure what to expect from him. "You might be closer from the truth than you think." he answers.

Gale was feeling back in his element, this was no demonic monstrosity nor fey lord but a gathering of men and he could handle this well.

He kept silent for now, listening and watching, there was a stranger in the hall and Gale wanted to get the feel of the hall before he will speak. Beside, he figured that if he will allow Kores to speak first his task of repairing the old sorcerer blunders would be more challenging and thus tenfold rewarding.

In reply to Gale Surefoot (msg # 83):

Looking around the hall the companions note two other strangers other than the one that has approached them.

One is a thin, severe looking man dressed in dark leather and a black woolen cloak who seems to be constantly scanning the room.

The other is a massive behemoth of a man playing rings with a group of children near the firepit.


The Elder lowered his voice so that only the companions ( and the talkative stranger) could hear, " You have removed the evil that had crept into the holy city?"

Kores grimaces at the question.  He notes Trivels unfamiliarity and gestures to him to sit.

"A surprising day, we accomplished what we set out to do and made some interesting discovery...  Truly man is not alone even if he feels that way.  And there are many who watch from a distance and share gifts.  It has been a long day, but not an unwelcome one."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:31, Wed 11 Jan 2017.

"You would be surprised at what we accomplished, after the ages, and how some may watch for generations without getting personally involved.  I would prefer not to speak so much on the subject, but it has been…  resolved."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:32, Wed 11 Jan 2017.

Drake bows again in sincere thanks to the Master Weaver and the Master Smith. With a warm smile reflected in his eyes, he expresses his thanks.

"I thank you again for your generous kindness. If this is alright with you, I shall come by your place tomorrow morn to pick up what you have prepared."

"The least I can do is to pay for your material costs Madam." He nods at the Master Weaver.

"And I shall bring you all the unusual ores and metals I find." He nods at the Master Smith.

Standing up from the table, he gives a friendly nod and a grin to the other villagers at the table. He picks up his mug and takes a slow walk towards the party of newcomers. Smiling, he keeps his hands clear of his weapons and maintains a slow but deliberate pace that will allow them to look him over and decide if they would object to his approach.


And all the while, he keeps his ears peeled for what the Elder is saying.

Gale take a step forward "Fear note my lords and ladies for the evil was vanquish by might of sword and soul... our brave heroes have fought the demonic being whose name should never be utter out loud and remove it presence from the holy city. They have cleanse the city of the foulness that invaded its holy realm and return victorious and satisfied that the blood of Thobias our dearly departed friend was avenged and justice was served."

Following that Gale dive into an epic tale of the battle that involve sorcery both foul and divine, acrobatics and feat of heroism and bold bravery.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:01, Wed 11 Jan 2017.

Dann looks at the audience while Gale is talking, interested in their reaction.

Colm goes close to the man, so that they might whisper and none shall overhear them.
"Trusted Elder, all is well.  We have removed the curse from the land, and the Good Folk have reclaimed it as their own.  Never again shall man born of woman venture into the ancient city.  Always shall travellers remain on the path.  With this covenant, the Good Folk and the people of Mimrs Well shall live in peace."

OOC: The business done, Colm will continue on his path to global domination...
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:18, Thu 12 Jan 2017.

Trivel listens uncertainly to Gale's tale, his eyes still watching the newcomer carefully. He realises that Gale must be using some archaic dialogue, belonging to storytellers, as he does not remember Kores being quite as acrobatic as described...

The villagers pay rapt attention to Gales tale even accepting some of the more implausible heroics involved.

Its end is greeted by spellbound cheering.

The Elder looked momentarily troubled but recovered with a broad smile, " Then that is how it shall be. You have our deepest thanks!"

Drake nods in a cautious but friendly manner to the tall man wrapped in furs and hides who one moment ago was glaring daggers at him, and the next was glancing around in an uncertain manner at his companion the olive-skinned foreigner.


As one of the newcomers steps up and begins his telling of the party's exploits in what sounds like the ancient city of Mimir, Drake listens with a half-smile, clapping his hands lightly in appreciation at its conclusion. Though the tale sounds generously embellished and exaggerated, he listens carefully, picking out bits of information about the city that might be useful.


Several metres away from the party, Drake stops and lounges against a nearby table.

"Greetings! Tis good to see fellow travellers once in awhile. The road is too dark and gloomy to be walked alone."

Chuckling softly, he introduces himself and his companions, gesturing towards the black-clad man looking over the hall like a hawk, and the giant playing with village children near the firepit.

"Hadrik's the name. And my associates..."
"We are looking for work. Heard about an ancient city nearby. Thought we'd come have a looksee ourselves."

He continues in a slightly disappointed tone.

"Looks like you came from there yourselves. We are late then..."
"What's the city like? Looks like some rough tumble you men took in there...
This message was last edited by the player at 08:05, Fri 20 Jan 2017.

Dann looks at Drake and his companions. "I am not good at descriptions, but in this case it does not really matter. We saw little of this city and none from our kin should go back there, so you might as well find another target for your curiosity."

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 95):

"City?  More like a sacrificial chamber.  We drove away the inhabitants, but it is still a place to be avoided."

"Perhaps a strong arm will be of use to him."

Kores looks in the direction of Colm briefly before returning to holding his drink.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:10, Sat 21 Jan 2017.

In reply to Kores Varias (msg # 97):

Drake's words seem to agitate Trivel. He nods sagely as Kores speaks. "It is a grave. No place for the living, as we found to our cost... These spirits are not for mortals to truck with. We were fools to go there!"

He slams his hand down hard on the table to emphasise his point, and stares coldly at the others.

Dann nods silently as an answer to Trivel.

Disappointment written all over his face, Drake looks back at his companions Jon and Lute. He turns back, shrugs, and puts on a friendly smile, albeit a forced one.

"Well, if a party like yours comes out bloodied saying the place is dangerous...we would do well indeed to steer clear of it!"

"Mind if we join you?"

He pulls a chair over from a nearby table, then looks up at the newcomers expectantly, waiting for their reply.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 100):

Kores looks at the others and coughs....

Colm observes the three closely, reflecting on their usefulness to him.  The big man by the fire looks like some king of idiot, playing with the children! He was huge and clearly very strong, but without wits to control the strength made him a liability.  The man in black was the complete opposite.  Quiet, watchful, with quick hands and bright eyes, he seemed disciplined, but was just as likely to murder someone in their sleep. Then there was their leader Hadrik.  Clearly intelligent enough to marshal these two and spin a yarn to the Elder.  They could be just the people that Colm would need...

"Salutations Hadrik, I am Colm, Hearth Father of Gliss.  You are welcome to sit and talk with us." Colm finds some refreshment.
"We have indeed just returned from the ancient city.  All that you will find there is death, and it is now forbidden to visit."
Colm sits close to Hadrik and speaks quietly to him, so that their conversation is discrete.
"You are from Thuland, judging by your accent?  Are you and your companions looking for employment at the moment?
I have a unique opportunity available to a select few, depending on their particular areas of expertise."

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 102):

Trivel mutters darkly, and watches the newcomers cautiously. He has little interest in the conversation and instead turns his attention to the room.

His outburst has attracted some lasting attention: a nearby man looks up from his conversation, and watches the group with interest. Trivel pretends to look away, but hisses to the others: "We are being watched..."

OOC: This'll be a bit tricky, as I'm trying to introduce myself new character while writing Trivel out.

Drake notes with interest as the noble looking stranger sizes up himself and his associates. Perhaps he might present some employment opportunity that might make up for their prematurely ended expedition.

Signalling to his two associates to come over, he drags his chair over to join the Hearth Father and his companions.

"Cornumbrian. The big fella is Lute. The other Jon."

"And yes we are interested. If the price is right."
"What sort of opportunity?"

Drake takes his time to study the Hearth Father.

There is something fey about the man. The strange green eyes. The pale complexion. The slightly hooked nose.

His good quality clothes and noble bearing suggests a high and privileged birth...probably a scion of the ruling class in Glissom. And yet he travels like a common sellsword with this ragtag band. Must be a story in here somewhere. Perhaps related to the afore mentioned employment opportunities.

A sword of splendid craftsmanship hangs from his belt. From time to time, his fingers stray to touch a strange looking helm on the table beside him.

"Family trouble back at home?"

Drake's tone is half-joking, and his expression is friendly. But he watches Colm's reaction carefully.

Drake turns at the hissed warning from the furbound stranger. He takes a quick look around the hall. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he looks at the furbound man again, shrugs, then returns to his conversation at the table.


OOC - No worries and lead on. I'll just play along. :)

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 106):

Lann trudges up with his wine, listening to the conversation.

Dann looks at Trivel when he speaks his words of warning, and watches around looking for the one he is speaking about.

Catching Dann's eye, Trivel nods carefully towards a man sitting nearby, who has turned to watch the conversation.

He is approaching middle age: tall, and straight-backed, with an almost regal bearing. His hair and beard look like they were - until recently - well-groomed, though his cheap clothes are travel-stained, and his hands are calloused, with dark patches on the fingers. About his neck, he wears a chain, carrying the symbol of Brigantia, Goddess of the Hearth-Fire and Glissom.

He is doing nothing to conceal his interest - as if he were weighing up whether to break in on the conversation.

"Fortune and Glory my friend, fortune and glory... if you can avoid a horrible and certain death that is."
Colm cups some of the gemstones in his hand, retreived from the black powder chamber. closing his palm quickly.


Colm slinks in close, almost whispering into Drake's ear,
"You could say that.  The kind of trouble that you conquer, or that destroys you utterly."
Colm lets the gravity of a bloodfued sink in...
"I am looking for disciplined, loyal retainers, who are looking to make their mark in the world.  Who want to achieve greatness, and be rewarded in silver and have songs written about their might!  I demand absolute loyalty and will be a generous and gracious patron."

Drake's eyes widens at the sight of the gemstones. These few are easily worth a small fortune! Now if there were more of these to be had...


Leaning back into his chair, he regards the Hearth Father with a thoughtful look.

"Family bloodfeud eh..."

"Hearth Father. Your trouble is one of the most vexing kind. The kind that takes a terribly long time to resolve, if at all. The kind that demands full commitment from poor souls like myself. The kind that most often ends up costing our lives but giving back little or nothing in return..."

Drake pauses for a brief moment to consider his next words.

"Me and my lads, we take poorly to orders and structures. Furthermore, you don't know us. And we don't know you. Let's get to know each other first why don't we? Before we enter such a binding commitment as lord and retainer..."

"Let's just say we work for you. As paid mercenaries. You give us the task, you pay us what it's worth, and we get it done."

"How's that for a start?"

Kores speaks almost inaudibly…

"….material things…  *sigh*"

Dann casts an amused look at Kores. "Wise you are, 'mercenary'. he answers to Drake, and turning to the middle-aged traveler he adds: "And maybe there are others who would be interested to make the same bargain?"

Drake takes a moment to study the young blond borderer who had spoken candidly. Clad in a garment of furs and skins that does very little to hide his superb physique, the warrior wields a well-crafted sword that looks like it can cleave a man in half with a swing. His youthful face is marked by harsh lines of suffering and bitterness, and his eyes are dark and angry.

"You have the same arrangement with the Hearth Father?"

Colm keeps close and his voice low.
"I had suggested to Dann that he would be our Chieftan, but I have yet to receive an answer.
With Dann as General, our Household would soon gain power.  Warriors need a Warrior to follow after all.
With Gale as Skald, our legend will spread across the land, as well as build diplomatic relationships.
Kores is here to provide a constant source of amusement, I mean arcane knowledge.

Mercenaries are always useful, of course...  What is your particular area of expertise Hadrik?"

The stranger's face breaks into a broad grin at Dann's words, and he straightens up, walking the short distance to the group. "My apologies." He offers a bow. "Forgive my curiosity. Let me introduce myself: my name is Brannon Darrow. I'm a historian and a scholar from the Temple of Flame. When I heard there were others following in the footsteps of Fabius, I knew I had to ask them what they'd found... you were not hard to pick out from this crowd." His eyes settle on Colm. "Though I'll admit, I hadn't expected to find a ghost..."

Colm's face contorts into an expression that no one has seen before - a genuine smile!
"Librarian Darrow, is that you!  I thought you never left the Temple Library after dark" chuckled Colm.
"What are doing all the way out here?  Following Fabius!"  The smile drops and the usual dour expression returns.
"You're not alone are you?  Who is with you?  It may not be safe, for them..."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:39, Wed 25 Jan 2017.

Kores sits up attentively, taking an interest.  Not inclined to interrupt, not at this point, but it is good to meet other literates...

"Your army looks a little sparse at the moment Hearth Father. But those you have with you look like capable men. And as the old legend goes, five lions are all you need to defeat a thousand sheep..."

Drake winks at Kores in a friendly, half-jesting manner, seemingly enjoying the other man's discomfort at the gesture.


Drake sits up and leans in close.
"Sneaking. Scouting. Snuffing."

Sitting back, he laughs out loud and regards Colm with a grin.
"We work together, me and my lads. Jon here is handy with sharp objects, thrown or otherwise. And he's a real smooth operator working at heights. Lute on the other hand...well here's the biggest hammer you will ever need. He is unbelievably strong."

"As a team, we are most effectively used as a probe to discover points of weakness and greatest leverage. And after these points have been found, as a sharp and precise instrument, to apply the greatest force on those points of vulnerability or weakness."

"That sound useful to your ambitions Hearth Father?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:49, Wed 25 Jan 2017.

Drake lifts his mug to the newest newcomer in greeting.
"Greetings Brannon Darrow!"


"Old acquaintances eh...how splendid! To old friends and good cheer!"
He lifts his mug high and drinks a good lengthy draught.

Brannon offers Colm a big grin, and claps him on the shoulder. "It is good to see you, my friend! I had feared I would never see you alive again, after... well..." His face darkens. "After what happened. I was not sure how openly you were travelling. As for myself, I am alone, I fear. I came as far as Rosmuillean with a merchant, and when I heard that there were folks out headed for Mimir, I hitched a lift with a farmer out here in the hopes of catching up with them. It was an opportunity too good to miss." He is becoming quite animated, excited at the prospect of discussing what was found in the ancient city, but he checks himself abruptly. "Anyway, I began my pursuit of Fabius and the Selentine largely as a way of getting away from the Temple. Things are... tense there."

"So you have an interest too?  We pursued what clues we had but I feel that we have lost all further leads on the lost legion.  Perhaps it is something we can revisit later.  I believe Colm is more interested in acquiring some 'tangible assets' in the near future."


Kores clutches his beer.

Dann starts a mild smile when hearing the question from Drake. He approaches his head and answers in a low voice: "Will it change your decision to join his team?"

Drake smiles back. He is beginning to like this young borderer whose words are few but who speaks from his heart.
"Not really. But it is good to know I will be working with good men like yourself if I were to join the good Hearth Father."

He turns back to Colm.
"Hearth Father, I hate to interrupt your reunion with your old friend. But do we have a deal?"

Dann keeps looking at Drake, keeping to himself what he thinks about his flattering words.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 124):

"I don't think he will be employing you, so you can't expect a salary.  But if you think you can be useful you are....   ..free to join us."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:42, Thu 26 Jan 2017.

In reply to Kores Varias (msg # 126):

Lann appraises Drake and thinks that he could be a valuable addition to the party, though given his slick tongue he may seem slightly unreliable.

Wine was drunk, songs were sung, deals were struck and the celebrations of the Cleansing of Mimir went on through the afternoon and into the evening.

Sometime during the evening Trivel took his leave, the stranger from a far land slipping out into the shadows perhaps to make his way back to the far flung lands of the horse-folk....he was not sighted in Glissom again.

Of Drakes trio he was certainly the most garrulous; the one called Jon merely examined each of the companions as one would a hunting dog one was thinking of perhaps purchasing...some apparently he did not think worth the coin from his expression.  Lute, the hulking child-man, merely smiled at them all and went back to his play under the watchful eye of the villagers.

Gale and Colm did there best to make sure Kores did not say too much of a troubling nature, the morrow would tell how lenient the fay would be in their interpretations.

Lann and Dann felt more at ease among living people, even those with as strange a heritage as these villagers apparently had, and drank well and ate heartily.

....................

When morning came and with the sun rose the companions.

PM...

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 129):

During the afternoon Colm will talk with the silversmith, to ask if they could complete a simple and quick task before they all leave on the morrow.  Taking thirteen of the two inch silver rods from his pack, Colm would like the silversmith to fashion thirteen simple necklaces, a leather thong with a simple fitting suspending the rods.

Colm also wants all thirteen rods to be engraved with a simple phrase in Lughwyd, which Colm writes down for the silversmith.
"United, Unconquered, Unceasing."

This all being well, Colm can negotiate a price, and hopefully the silversmith will have finished by morning.  Hopefully the Silversmith will respond to this quirky request and come through swiftly.  Colm intends to gift a necklace in the morning to Dann, Lann, Gale, Brannon, and also Kores, in that order.  Colm will explain what the inscription means, and that the meaning shall remain a secret to anyone who can't read Lughwyd and is not in the Inner Circle.

"Wear these necklaces at all times, beneath your tunics, as a secret symbol of our fellowship.  We were forged here together at the City of Mimir, clothed in the silver of Mimir, with our motto written in a language that can never be spoken.  Among our Fellowship all are equal, but all are different, each bringing their own abilities to benefit the Fellowship.  We will each gain what we seek, reclaim what we have lost, and together we become stronger than our parts.  United, Unconquered, Unceasing."

Finally, Colm addresses Drake, giving him one of the necklaces. "In order to gain trust, one must first give it, therefore I give you this token of my trust.  This necklace marks you as a member of our Fellowship.  You have shown yourself to be an able leader, and I'm sure you will not let us down. You will continue to control your men and also obey the will of the Fellowship.  Should you chose to leave the Fellowship, you will not disclose the nature of the Fellowship to anyone."

OOC - Only active PC's can join the inner circle.  Colm takes a Necklace for himself, and has giving six more away, which leaves six more necklaces for the future.  Inactive PC's and NPC's with remain as troops only.

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 131):

Are we leaving without healing up?

Ooc: Lann casts heal injury to restore his health points and expends the rest on e companions before sunsets

Drake silently accepts the necklace from Colm, fully realizing the gravity of the gesture and the trust it symbolizes.

Perhaps he had been mistaken about the Hearth Father. Perhaps he isn't the same as the countless dispossessed nobles always roaming the lands seeking ways and means to regain their "rightful inheritance". Whom, on the off chance of success, almost always immediately turn around and become ten times the tyrant and usurper they had just replaced.

"I'm honored, Hearth Father." Drake whispers.

He takes a short moment to examine the ornament, before clasping it around his neck and hiding it beneath his tunic.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 133):

"So these are restraints?  Maybe a gilded cage wouldn't be so oppressive?"

Kores remarks before accepting.  He will not wear it but will keep it on his person.

"Tell me Colm, would there be interested parties who would take an interest in your 'activities'?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:19, Sun 29 Jan 2017.

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 131):

Lann accepts the necklace with both hands, gives thanks and examines the necklace in a corner.

In reply to Toirneach Lann (msg # 135):

Brannon accepts the necklace solemnly, and places it about his neck. He seems relieved that the others are doing so: that here at least, he can be open about his loyalties. "Hearth-Father Cernach, to restore your rights, to avenge the shameful wrongs done to your family and to overthrow Kilnded would be an honour." He follows this with a cold grin. "And a pleasure."

"That's why it's a secret Fellowship.  The Royal Steward Kilnded would certainly be interested!
Keep it to yourself Kores, as there will be a high price to pay for disloyalty."

Dann takes the necklace and keeps it, without putting it around his neck. "Hearth Father", he says, "I accept this necklace and I accept your terms. I welcome the fact that you acknowledge the possibility for us to part at one point. I choose to follow you because I find you worthy of trust, however I have my own objectives in this life. If they can match yours, all the better. If not, I will not break this covenant and I will keep this secret between us."

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 137):

"I hope that this doesn't inspire our bard to create fictionalized accounts.  He has already shared an account of events, acrobatics and all.  Pretty unbelievable but then again, the audience didn't seem too smart."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:44, Mon 30 Jan 2017.

"Very well, We are the Fellowship of Mimir.  Shall we return to Rosmuillean?"
Once everyone is out the village and back of the road due south, Colm share his thoughts

"We need gold.  Gold to improve our equipment, appearance and status, as is befitting.  Gold to recruit troops and buy horses.  Whatever idealism and loyalty can't secure, gold will.  We do not need to resort to common robbery, just yet, as there are several avenues open to us to achieve this.  There will be plenty of opportunity at Rosmuillean.

I believe Baron Ughain is always looking for Wardens!  We can pretend to be Mercenary Adventurers, not a difficult pretense, and offer him our services.  Once we have the legitimate authority of the local lord, we can then establish Rosmuillean as our base of operations, leaving us free to do whatever we want.  We can hunt bounties, fight Rievers, explore the forests and mountains, develop trade deals, impose taxes and fines, gather all the gold we can.  When we have complete control we can even recruit Baron Ughain himself, along with his Housecarls."

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 140):

"I had hoped that some of these creatures, that survived through generations of men would have accumulated greater riches.  Some of the dead lords over the ages have accumulated riches and built tombs that rival contemporary palaces.  Perhaps others have heard of such tales?  We would serve the public by restoring wealth to the living."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:59, Tue 31 Jan 2017.

OOC - Is it ok to assume that the party is on our way back to Rosmuillean, that we are taking the old forest road through Siren Woods, and that we are having this discussion around a campfire one night?

Perched comfortably on an ancient oak stump which serves as his post as sentry for the night, Drake turns towards the discussion around the campfire. The crackling flames casts dancing shadows off the huddled forms of his comrades, each wrapped in his thickest cloak that somehow still seems barely adequate to keeping out the chill emanating from the surround forest inhabited by the Fey Folk...

"Our common goal is one, though the pathways there might be many."

"Hearth Father, no doubt you are thinking of direct armed uprising or rebellion against the Steward. That is certainly one option."
"There are others we can consider too. More subtle pathways..."

"Perhaps evidence of the Steward's treachery can be uncovered, overturning his lies against the Cernach family, and exposing him to the King. And making these known to the other lords of the realm, we might try to win their support, whether political or military."
"And perhaps attempts can be made of the Steward's own life as well..."

"Our way forward could take a multi-pronged approach, incorporating several of these and other ideas, executed in parallel."

In reply to Kores Varias (msg # 141):

"In short, we become tomb robbers? I'm all for it but I must express my discomfort with draugr. Those dead are more powerful than they seem. Still legends has it that great magic can be found and with great magic, we can accomplish great things. We might even be able to single-handedly take out armies!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:54, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

"NOT tombs from the Gliss heritage, or those that belong to the Good Folk.  I will not allow that!  But Selentine Tombs, Albish Tombs, and Thurlish Tombs maybe.  Do not worry about the Mummies Lann.  We were extremely unlucky last time, and we all survived that one.  I have had time to think of ways to remove those Doom Curses, that don't require boons from the Good Folk either.  Kores, you may actually be of some use to us!  Old Selentine Tombs...

Hadrik is right.  We should decide which clans and lords are worth alliances with, and which ones we want to control ourselves.  Either by mutual consent, or force of arms, it matters not as long as we gain gold and power."

Kores laughs to himself at that remark...

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 144):

"That is certainly assuring my friend. Still we need a plan fast before we waste our lives doing nothing here and healing too."

"Anyone hear tell of any legendary place we can loot here?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:53, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

Dann smiles at the same time as Kores does at Colm's remark.

Brannon's interest perks up at the mention of tomb-robbing. "I've had cause to dig through a few of the old sites, though few this far from the City. A Selentine tomb would be quite a prize... I did hear tell of an old Selentine villa out in Ereworn, though that'd be quite a journey..."

Lann knows, as all Borderer Clansmen know, that there are places in the mountains and in the far flung moors that contain ancient mounds and strange stones....though he is more familiar with the Mountain tales himself.

Wracking his memory for tales from his old mentor he remembers a story she called 'The Broken Mirror' about a place near his childhood home where there was a great cliff of shining black stone with a long crack running through it. It was said that if children ventured too near they would be pulled through the mirror and into the lands of Tech Duinn.

Brannons researches have led him on occasion to examine a few of the old Selentine era villas that house the more well to do among the Gliss nobles and merchant-nobles...though he rarely finds anything more than a walled off section of cellar or the like. There has been word of some tunnels being discovered but he does not know who by or their extent.

In the roadside camp, the companions sat and considered their options before they returned to Rosmuillean. Who they knew, who they could trust...who they couldn't trust.

Colm especially puzzled over his first and most important move...the Sheriff or the Reavers...or the Common Folk.  Which would best suit his aims and how to convince his companions of their aims.

Jon and Lute sat off to the side, they had followed 'Hadrik' on the promise of gold ( well Jon had....he still wasn't quite sure of Lutes cognizance of anything really) and that had evaporated with the companions news.

Hadrik admired the new items he had received from the villagers and remembered his promises to them.

Lann and Dann considered Colms words and what they would mean for themselves and their clansmen.

Kores stared off into the distance and puzzled the mysteries of the universe...or possibly indigestion...

Brannon and Colm became further reaquainted, sharing old memories.

And Gale considered how best to sing the praises of one who wished to work secretly...
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:30, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

PM...
This message was last edited by the player at 11:56, Sat 04 Feb 2017.

PM...
This message was last edited by the player at 11:44, Sat 04 Feb 2017.

In reply to GM (msg # 151):

Lann thinks to himself that the group seems to be a pretty powerful force but it seems that everyone has his or her own agenda. For Lann, power is something that is a means to an end- to make oneself great and powerful. The consummate warrior- wizard that only exists in lore is his dream. Perhaps, one day Gale will sing of his deeds, he muses to himself.

The companions discussed their options and it seemed for a time that they would be returning to Glissom City when Colm suddenly ventured his support of Dann and Lanns suggestions.

When they broke camp the next morning they turned north instead of south and made their way back past Mimirs Well but did not enter the village, staying on the road.

Through the light mists that clothe the forest in the early hours of the morning, you can see the purple Bracks becoming clearer as you draw closer. After about two miles you stop at the bottom of a high cliff face.

Above it soar the mountain peaks of Brack, you have to strain your necks backwards to see their summits.

The forest trail here breaks into dozens of smaller trails some leading left and some right avoiding the sheer cliff face before you they undoubtedly find their way up into the Pagans or bracks at some point and are the trails that the Borderers use to get to the forest road.

In front of you, you can see the dark slash of a cavemouth in the face of the cliff. From it you hear ghostly ululations on the wind, such as would make the spines of men to shiver.

Kores sits down on a large stone and suddenly jumps with excitement, he has found a Selentine date mark scratched into the stone...though it is too worn away to determine exactly which date it once read.

In reply to GM (msg # 156):

"Look..  Look!  Traces of the lost legion!  Mysteries that have eluded men through the ages!   I can't make it out, but it was good that the Selentine documented and recorded as much as they did!  A habit of the civlized!"

Drake shivers involuntarily at the eerie sounds emanating from the cave. Without taking his eyes off the unusually shaped opening in the cliff face, he reaches for his waterskin and takes a good long drink. He gives a brief nod acknowledging Kores' excited discovery of the old Selentine marking.

"So this is where they came..."

Replacing his waterskin, he retrieves his hand lantern, lights it and holds it steady in his left hand. Loosening his weapons in their scabbards, he draws his sword with his right hand and turns to his companions.

OOC - GM, the cave allows 3 men to enter abreast together?

He beckons for Dann and Lann to come to the front.

"Come my friends. Let's enter ready to fight. I propose that we proceed three abreast. First Lann, Dann, and myself with the lantern. Next Colm, Brannon, and Kores with the backup lantern. Gale, Jon and Lute shall bring up the rear."

"Are we in agreement?"

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 158):

Kores traces the lines, trying to guess at the numerals that were formed but no, too worn out.

"Please proceed."

In reply to Kores Varias (msg # 159):

Brannon regards the numerals with interest, and pulling out a sheaf of paper from his pack and a lump of charcoal from his pocket, he begins to take a sketch.

"Fascinating." He murmers. "I wonder why they took the trouble to do this? Navigation perhaps? Or did they expect others to follow?" He looks up to the cave. "Do we want to chance the cave? Belike it is home to bears or wolves, and if the Legion sheltered there, I doubt they left traces. You wouldn't carve this into the rock if you weren't moving on...:

"Good point Brannon. But the Selentines could also just as easily have marked this place with the date of arrival since they were exploring a new area, then entered the cave here, and never came back out..."

"Let's at least explore the cave alittle ways in? We can turn back out if we find nothing."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:05, Fri 10 Feb 2017.

Dann shrugs. "Of course, it had to be in a creepy howling cavern..." he says, disillusioned.

Seeing little harm in doing a bit of exploring Drake, Lann and Dann ventured into the cave mouth, trying to ignore the wind doing its best impression of howling from beyond the grave.

Peering in they note that the cave seems to extend back some way but it is pitch dark inside and hard to make anything out.

Kores lights his lantern to provide light for the group and they head in.

About 15m inside the cave there is a sudden furious squeaking from above and a large flight of bats disturbed by the light wheel out over the companions heads.

Looking ahead at the edge of the lantern light some of you think that you can see bones lying on the uneven stone floor of the cave.

In reply to GM (msg # 163):

Brannon is not much of a fighter, but he has an arrow knocked loosely on his bow. He looks a little uncertain - he's proficient enough with a bow, but clearly has little experience of moving in formation, and looks more worried about inadvertently shooting the front row in the back. "I could try lighting an arrow with some oil?" He suggests. "See if that gave us a view? Though I daresay we have moe efficient ways of getting flame to where it needs to be...""

Drake keeps his blade before him as he stares into the darkness, trying to pierce the deep gloom of the cave with his eyes. The light from his hand lantern shines forth in a controlled ray of light, illuminating the rock ceiling, walls and floor of the cave. Extending his senses forward, he reaches out into the shadows, scanning, probing...

OOC -
10:40, Today: Drake Taubron rolled 10 using 2d10.  Perception roll.
10:46, Today: Drake Taubron rolled 8 using 1d20.  Psychic Talent roll - Inner Sense.

Drake senses anything? Any smell, as is typical of the cave of an animal predator?

Catching sight of the bones, Drake continues advancing at the same cautious but steady pace, keeping formation with Dann and Lann, using his lantern to illuminate the area around the bones. As he comes nearer, he flashes a quick look at the bones again.

OOC - Are the bones fresh, with blood stains and other grisly remains around them? Do they look eaten, with some flesh still stuck to them? What manner of creature do they belong to? Human? What manner of predator has left these remains behind?

Drake nods at Brannon and adds in a low whisper: "Wrap a rag around the arrow head. Then pour some oil on it."

He gestures with the light ray from his hand lantern.

"There. Beyond those bones. Right into the middle of the cave..."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:56, Sat 11 Feb 2017.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 166):

Brannon nods, and sets to wrapping an arrow and dousing it in oil. "You might want to step aside..." He suggests to the front row. "Don't want to risk setting you on fire..."

He steps up to the front row, and lights the arrow against Drake's lantern and takes the shot.

He clearly doesn't fire many flaming arrows, for the shot is wide of his intended mark...

 21:34, Today: Brannon Darrow rolled 17 using 1d20.  Flaming arrow. vs Attack 13.

OOC: Other than a slight mustiness and the smell of bat guano there are no other scents in the cave.

The bones appear to be human and are very, very old.

Luckily Brannon doesn't actually have to hit anything in particular....the arrow lodges in the rear wall of the cave some 20m ahead.

The flickering rag gives some illumination to see by which is aided as Kores comes up with the lantern.

You start to make out a large number of skeletons covered in badly verdigris and corroded bronze armour.

Looking up, you see a dark funnel leading upwards through the rocks. A very faint glimmer of light can be seen at the top. A very rotten rope, almost completely gone, attached by large, antique pitons snakes up it.

The skeletons lie in a heap and seem to have fallen during the ascent.

The cave ends in a rock wall a further 20 metres down the tunnel. A lone skeleton lies at the end of it, having apparently dragged itself here after its fall.

There is a vast monolithic carving of a figure cut into the rock face at the end of the tunnel. The symbol of the eclipsed moon is carved on to its forehead, just beneath a colossal crown of stone. Its eyes are sunken and seem to produce the deepest shadows
imaginable. The statue’s face is lean and melancholy looking. It is carved into a sitting position, with its two arms stretched out into the room. In one it
holds a disc carved into the shape of a stylised sun; in the other is what looks like a similarly stylised representation of an eclipsed moon. The hand holding the sun symbol is raised about 45 degrees from the horizontal, the other 45 degrees in declination.

In reply to GM (msg # 169):

To Lanns eyes it seems that they were trying to perform a ritual. Lann tries to recall if his wise woman had told him anything about these things.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:03, Mon 13 Feb 2017.

In reply to Toirneach Lann (msg # 170):

Kores reluctantly kicks away at the pile of armour and decayed corpses.  He's looking for anything that might distinguish them, possibly which legion that they belong to or even just personal possessions that may have survived time.

Lanns Clan had few tales about the Selentines, and none of them mentioned caves or statues.

As Kores kicked at the bones of the fallen legionnaires the sighing winds picked up again and shadowy insubstantial forms rise up from the bones...

Drake stares for a moment at the shadowy forms rising up from the corpses. Unreasoning fear grips his heart with icy cold fingers as his mind struggles to make sense of what he is seeing. He backs off from the forms with a strangled cry.

"What's that?!
This message was last edited by the player at 02:50, Mon 13 Feb 2017.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 174):

OOC: Yeah, Kores is retreating too...  He'll cast HOLD OFF THE DEAD in round 2.  Then retreat some more....
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:15, Mon 13 Feb 2017.

In reply to Kores Varias (msg # 175):

Lann is perturbed to see undead again. He moved backwards and protects Kores despite Kores being an abrasive person.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 04:16, Mon 13 Feb 2017.

In reply to Toirneach Lann (msg # 176):

The ghostly shades of the legionnaires simply stand in place their plaintive moans echoing in the cavern.

In reply to GM (msg # 177):

Whilst cowering behind Lann, Kores greets them in Angate…..


ANGATE: "Ancient spirits, were you of the 10th legion?  Many generations have passed, have you not moved on in the afterlife?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:15, Mon 13 Feb 2017.

In reply to Kores Varias (msg # 178):

Lann does not draw his weapon and keeps his shield by his side

Colm is looking up the funnel, trying to work out how high it is, when the legionaires are awoken.  He spings back, retreating behind Lann. "Bloody idiot Kores, gonna get us all killed..." snarls Colm.

Dann stands his ground and tries to not move a muscle.

In reply to Dann of Clan Valin (msg # 181):

Brannon regards the shades with interest, fascination overcoming any fear. "Fascinating. If these truly are the Lost Legion... Assuming, of course, that they can speak." He shoulders his bow, and with his free hand lifts his Symbol of Brigantia, and begins to intone a prayer. "Brigantia, mother of the Hearth Fire, whose light reaches to even these dark places, protect and guide us, that we might bring your light to those denied it..."

OOC: Bulwark, just in case of Fright Attacks. I don't imagine the bow would do much. 

Seeing that the shades have not advanced or made any hostile movements, Drake halts his retreat, waiting to hear if they might respond to Kores' words or Brannon's prayer. He stays in position beside Dann and Lann, keeps his blade in front of him, his hand lantern shining on the shades.

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 180):

Colm determines it is about 20m up through the funnel to where he can see the faint light, the rope is obviously not safe but the legionnaires pitons seem to be still secure.....it would be a difficult climb for whoever goes first though.

In reply to Brannon Darrow (msg # 182):

The shades do not react noticeably to Brannons words but they are already beginning to fade from sight, Lute has retreated almost all the way back to the cave entrance and is hiding behind the mule while Jon glares at the moaning spirits with derision.

In reply to GM (msg # 185):

Eyes wide, with an expression of desperation and anger Kores reacts to the fading sounds…

"No!  Wait!  Why are you trapped here!?!  Arrgh!  Bound to the lands and unable to ascend, or descend, or even to move horizontally!  They cling onto our realm and yet I cannoth fathom what troubles them!!!  I guess they fell and could not figure out where the rest of the legion went!" 

Kores sulks.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:41, Wed 15 Feb 2017.

Drake's initial fear gives way to awe as he realizes what these shades are. He whispers in a low voice.

"These must be the restless spirits of those ancient Selentines who came here in a time long past! They never left this place but died here!"

Looking up past the shades at the funnel leading upwards, he wonders out loud.

"What's up there that caused the lot of them to get down in such a hurry..."

Lowering his head, he stares at the crowned figure carved into the stone at the back of the tunnel, and the lone skeleton lying crumbled at its base.

"Perhaps the Selentine crawled his way there to activate a switch of some kind..."

OOC - Waiting for the shades to either start a conversation, or to fade away completely. Then Drake will want to go below the funnel to look at it more closely, see if he can climb up. Also to go look more closely at the carven crowned figure and the skeleton at the back.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 187):

As the spirits fade, Brannon draws his prayer to a close. "That's a shame. I had hoped they would be more talkative. Perhaps the remains will communicate more..." He cautiously follows Drake, ignoring the funnel: he is clearly fascinated by the body and the carving...

Inquisitive, Dann makes one step in the direction of the fading shade.

Regaining his composure, Colm follows Brannon to the back of the cave, where the last man fell at the foot of the statue.
Getting close, Colm will examine the statue carefully, feelling the stone under his palms, the chisel marks and grooves.

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 190):

"Perhaps we should bury them.  I wonder whether they would accept being laid to rest under any faith?  I myself wouldn't be suitable as I have none but perhaps one of you would be better suited."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:03, Fri 17 Feb 2017.

Drake looks over the opening overhead, looking at Jon as he does so....it is likely either of them could make the climb..though not without difficulty. Once he reached the first piton he could attach a rope to assist the others upwards....

The moaning shades of the dead men finally faded from view though their voices carried a while longer.

The cave ends in a rock wall a further 15 metres down the tunnel. A lone skeleton lies at the end of it, having apparently dragged itself here after its fall.

The lone skeleton slumped against the wall next to the statue has scratched a message into the rock with a stone, Kores recognises it as Bacchile but he has no idea what it says.

Drake carefully turned the legionary’s skeleton over to find an ancient
iron dagger wedged in his rib cage.

There is a vast monolithic carving of a figure cut into the rock face at the end of the tunnel. Colm and Brannon frown at the symbol of the eclipsed moon carved on to its forehead, just beneath a colossal crown of stone.

Its eyes are sunken and seem to produce the deepest shadows imaginable. The statue’s face is lean and melancholy looking. It is carved into a sitting position, with its two arms stretched out into the room. In one it holds a disc carved into the shape of a stylised sun.

In the other is what looks like a similarly stylised representation of an eclipsed moon. The hand holding the sun symbol is raised about 45 degrees from
the horizontal, the other 45 degrees in declination.

As Colm feels the grooves of the statue he gets the feeling that the two arms are seperate pieces to the rest of the carving. There is also a section of different stone in the centre of the statues chest though he is not sure why.

Drake breathes a sigh of relief as the shades fade away to nothingness.

"Dann, would you take Lann and Gale with you? Sweep the cave and clear it?"

"And Jon, would you look at the skeleton at the rear of the cave? See what you can find...

He gingerly approaches the pile of skeletons at the bottom of the funnel. Slowly getting down on his haunches, he stares at the remains for a few minutes, visually appraising and studying with a cool expert's eye. He glances briefly at Dann and whispers.

"What do you think? Cause of death the fall?"

Sheathing his sword, he draws his dagger and using it carefully examines the skeletons, conducting a quick autopsy of sorts.

OOC - How many corpses there? They fell on top of each other? Was the fall the cause of death for each of them? Are there signs they were in a fight before the fall? Any other wounds, injuries, burns, etc detected? Any sign that they were in a hurry right before the fall? Did they jump or did they fall from halfway up the funnel shaft?

Looking up, Drake calls out in a whisper to Colm, Brannon and Jon at the back of the cave.

"Find anything interesting?"

Noticing that Lute is not with them, he sighs and walks to the entrance of the cave. With a mixture of gentle encouragement and threats as if with a wayward child, he coaxes and brings the big man back inside to join the rest of the party.

Joining Colm, Kores, Brannon and Jon at the rear of the cave, he squats down to study the skeleton slumped against the wall. Carefully prying loose the ancient dagger lodged between its ribs, he examines the blade closely.

OOC - Was the dagger wound the main cause of death? Fractures to the legs from the fall? Any other wounds, fractures, burns? Is the dagger Selentine in design and make?
This message was last edited by the player at 04:58, Fri 17 Feb 2017.

Done with his examination, Drake turns and walks back to the pile of skeletons, motioning for Jon to join him. Removing his cloak, he retrieves his coil of rope from his pack and slings it over his shoulder across his chest. Securing his cloak, staff, bow and quiver to his pack, he hands it over to Lann with a nod. He turns back to Jon.

"Jon you have another coil? Good. Blades only. Light and easy. Leave your pack with Lann."
"I have my lantern. You carry a torch in your belt? Yup."

He looks up at the funnel shaft and the faint light glimmering at the top.

"I'll go first. You follow behind."

Wedging his dagger between his teeth, Drake takes a short run up and leaps high into the air to catch hold of the rock wall and begin his ascent.

14:18, Today: Drake Taubron rolled 4 using 1d20.  Reflexes roll - Climb up funnel shaft.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:23, Fri 17 Feb 2017.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 194):

Lann takes the items. 'Careful guys, he whispers.' I will pass you the items once you are up.'
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:43, Fri 17 Feb 2017.

Dann gives a shrug as an answer, marking his ignorance. He approaches the scratched message on the wall to check if he recognizes something himself.

In reply to Dann of Clan Valin (msg # 196):

Kores hoists up his lantern, as if a few inches of height might somehow extend his light further up....

In reply to Kores Varias (msg # 197):

"The sun... the moon." Brannon murmers. Then to Colm: "Do the arms move?"

If the arrow still burns, he'll try to retrieve it and use to illuminate the eye sockets.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:53, Fri 17 Feb 2017.

OOC - How many corpses there? Approx. 20
They fell on top of each other? Yes.
Was the fall the cause of death for each of them? As far as can be told, the bones are very old.
Are there signs they were in a fight before the fall? Nothing from the bones, and most of the gear is too perished to tell....perhaps? Maybe?
Any other wounds, injuries, burns, etc detected? Nothing definite.
Any sign that they were in a hurry right before the fall? Impossible to tell.
Did they jump or did they fall from halfway up the funnel shaft? You would say from the injuries they wer a fair way up.
Was the dagger wound the main cause of death? Lung puncture, likely.
Fractures to the legs from the fall? Yes.
Any other wounds, fractures, burns? Can't tell.
Is the dagger Selentine in design and make? Hmm, not sure Drake would know but it is a plain iron dagger without design or decoration.

Drake slowly and carefully makes his way up the ancient rock, searching for hand holds.  He eventually reaches the first Selentine piton and secures his rope there. Jon is close behind him and secures his rope to Drakes letting one end fall down into the cavern below where their companions await.

Drake is relieved to find all the old pitons are still secure and not too corroded and feeds his rope through as he ascends, looping it through his belt as he moves so to only fall as far as the last piton if he loses his grip.

He and Jon disappear from sight of the others, though his small lantern can still be seen high above until it too vanishes.

Brannon finds he does not like the statue at all, especially the darkness hinted at by the symbols it carries.

Jon lights his torch from Drake's hand lantern, and the two men proceed to quickly sweep the cavern. Satisfied that it is clear of hostiles, they return to the chasm and crouch down beside it. Jon keeps a watch out for dangers, a look of cynical amusement on his face, while Drake looks down the chasm and tries to communicate with the rest of the party. He grimaces at the effort and the loudness of his voice.

OOC - Not sure how voices carry in these caves. Drake doesn't yell but speaks louder trying to project his voice down to the party below. He uses short words and phrases, pausing between each message.

"Round cave. Four tunnels..."
"North. Steps down..."
"East. Slope up. Blocked..."
"South. Large cave..."
"West. Steps up. Big steps. Platform. Buried statue..."


"One by one. Up..."

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 202):

Kores goes fourth.

"Aye, it appears that the arms do move, as well as the abdomen?  They are made from different stone." Colm points out the joints to Brannon.  "Perhaps there is a secret compartment in the belly, activated by moving the arms?"

Brannon frowns at the insignia on the statue. "Worshippers of Darkness. Bad news, no doubt. Though whether that had anything to do with our missing Legion's unfortunate demise, remains to be seen..." He pulls his notes from his bag, and hurriedly begins to sketch the statue and copy the Baccile scrawl.



"A secret compartment, but for what? Something banal, perhaps, or treasure. But might it hide something we don't care to meet? What would our dead friend scrawl on the wall but a warning?"

Dann acknowledges the voice from above, but will stay a while with Colm downstairs. He will help whoever wants to go up to climb.

In silence, the two men keep a lookout for danger as their companions make the climb one by one. As each climber nears the top, Drake reaches out, grasps his arm and helps him up through the hole in the floor.

OOC - Once Kores, Gale and Lann come up safely, Drake retrieves his possessions from Lann, then leaves the three companions to guard the hole and help the others. He goes with Jon to scout out the tunnels alittle ways ahead, starting with the West tunnel with the buried statue, and then the Northern one, the Eastern one, and the Southern one. The two do not go far however, but return within 20 minutes for the party discussion once Colm and the rest make it up safely.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:24, Mon 20 Feb 2017.

"On reflection, perhaps we should leave well alone my friend.  The presence of Darkness is not a welcome one.  The Bronze Chests did not fare well, and may have tried to warn others.  I make it a habit not to disregard warnings."

OOC - Does there appear to be any other recent activity around the statue, apart from us?

In reply to Colm Cernach (msg # 208):

OOC: Perhaps the statue is a demon in its inanimate form?
I say we try to shatter the statue and see what happens! hehe
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:13, Wed 22 Feb 2017.

In reply to Toirneach Lann (msg # 209):

Seeing no sign of anyone having passed this way in hundreds of years Colm and Brannon headed to the rope and ascended with the rest.

The companions ascend the slopes of the chasm itself until they are able to pull themselves up and into a cavern of sorts. There are four rough tunnels leading off from this roughly circular area. The tunnel to the north leads to a flight of rough steps leading down. That to the east slopes upwards and is littered with boulders and scree. That to the south seems to open out into a large cavern. To the west, a massive set of cracked stone steps leads upwards to a platform. The ceiling has evidently collapsed at some stage in the past, as the top of the dais is covered with large boulders.

You can make out the hand of a buried statue sticking out of the top of the rubble.  Jon and Drake are just returning from having inspected the rubble to the west.

All of you pull you cloaks a little tighter as the wind that whips through this cavern is bitterly cold and you guess that somewhere above the caverns are open to the icy slopes of the Bracks upper peaks.

The companions gather around on an empty patch of ground a safe distance from the chasm. Drake nods at Jon and Gale, motioning with his hand that they should watch for danger.

He turns to Colm and Brannon.

"Any findings? From the carven figure or otherwise?"

As the two men share their discoveries, the companions ponder the meaning of all this and consider their options from here.

Drake nods thoughtfully at Colm and Brannon's report. He too shares his discovery.

"Steps in the West lead up to a rubble-strewn dais. Air in there is freezing cold. There's a large ice statue in the middle, about three metres tall, holding a large ice key in its hand. Some time in the past, the roof appears to have collapsed onto the statue, covering it with rubble."

"Behind this rubble covered statue, we saw an iron-bound wooden door set into the west side of the cavern. There's a prominent keyhole in it. Looks just like a normal keyhole, but the area around the keyhole seems to be fashioned of ice."

Turning to look at Kores and Brannon, he adds. "Beside this door, there's a smashed coffer with scroll cases spilling out. Thought you might like to take a look..."

"Jon, anything more to add?"

OOC - Let's consolidate what we have found out. And then decide what should we do. :) Up front, there seems to be two options here:
1. Explore the West tunnel with the ice statue, the door and the scrolls.
2. Scout out the other 3 tunnels alittle ways ahead, compare findings, and then made a more informed decision.

And if anyone has other ideas you want to explore, pipe up. :)

Thoughts anyone?
This message was last edited by the player at 14:35, Sat 25 Feb 2017.

Dann votes to check the ice statue.

Kores gets excited and starts to head in the direction of the ice statue....

"There is no doubt the statue below is a totem of Darkness.  I have no wish to examine it further."

Colm is only slightly more enthused about ice than he is about Darkness, Ice being the elemental opposite of Fire.

"So there's a key frozen in an ice statue, and a door with an ice lock?  Fascinating."

Kores scrambled off to inspect the coffer and was pleased with what he saw.

Five intact scrolls lay there: One for turning to stone, One for freezing in place, One to summon a dread steed, One to conjure great flames and another he could not quite make out.

OOC: Fossilize; Stasis;
Destrier; Firestorm; and 'Mysterious'.

It occurs to Colm that the dweomers of Water Elementalists were usually fleeting in nature....though those who were aspected to Darkness had ways of making them permanent.  It was likely whoever had worshipped below was responsible for this above.

Little can be made out of the statue through the rubble but the icy hand appears to be human shaped at least.

In reply to GM (msg # 218):

Kores's eyes are wide.  He hastily grabs what he can.  He avoids eye contact with the others but mutters "...ancient arcane..."....
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:49, Mon 27 Feb 2017.

Seeing that Colm, Dann and Kores had already gone forth to conduct their own exploration of the West cavern, Drake looks at his remaining companions, then nods and motions for the rest of the party to follow suit (ie: into the West cavern).

"Gale, Jon, would you search the cave? See if you can find anything."
"Lann, would you keep a lookout for danger?"

Drake and the rest of the companions gather at the rubble-covered ice statue. Using his hand lantern, he studies the ceiling, looking for possible causes of the collapse.

OOC
- Only a section of the ceiling fell down? Or the whole ceiling collapsed?
- Is there another cavern or tunnel above that is now revealed by the collapse?

Drake turns his attention back to the rubble-covered mess that is the ice statue. He sighs.

"Let's look at this more closely shall we?" Lute and Dann, help me remove the rubble..."

OOC - Drake together with Lute and Dann, clears the rubble covering the ice statue. They examine the statue more closely.

- The statue looks crafted (eg: presence of tool marks, rough edges)?
- Does it look human?
- The ice key is part of the statue or can it be picked up?
- The ice key looks like it fits the keyhole on the door?

He steps back to look at the statue with a critical eye.

"Heathfather what do you think? Craftsmanship or sorcery?
This message was last updated by the GM at 02:02, Tue 28 Feb 2017.

Dann will help remove the rubble from around the statue.

In reply to Dann of Clan Valin (msg # 221):

Kores opens a small chest that he was carrying which contains 3 crystal flasks chased with silver and gold which you may have seen before.

"A fine beverage, touched with the blessings of Apollo and Dionysus, but not so much intoxicating but as a restorative."

You probably seen it before if you saw Kores dripping with blood earlier.  He passes a bottle to Dann, offers one to Colm...  and....   looks at the others before passing one to Lann....

He then sticks the scrolls he found into the chest and hopes that it is waterproof.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:58, Tue 28 Feb 2017.

Colm takes the crystal flask, chased in silver and gold, admiring the ancient craftsmanship.

"Kores, I am humbled by your gracious gift.  I will keep it safe and only use it when in dire need."

PM...

"This place is certainly a temple of evil, dedicated to the forces of Darkness.  It is just as likely the statue is not a statue at all, but a Water Elemental trapped by Dark powers.  I have heard of such rituals, but never seen them before..."

"If you fancied a practical experiment,  we might see if fire melts any of it. Or the lock." Brannon peers at the statue, uneasily. "Though it would seem strange to have a lock that was undone so easily. Why put it in ice and not the door? If this is the work of  a ritual, I imagine a natural flame would make little difference."

He opens his lantern and holds it close to the lock, to see if the heat will have any effect on the ice.

Drake opens his eyes wide in surprise. Quickly, he places his hand on the Brannon's arm, lightly restraining him.

"Hold my friend. What if the lock actually melts and leaves us stranded and unable to get through the door? Let's try the ice key on the lock instead?"

Drake looks at his companions in turn.

"Heathfather is right. This place reeks of fell magics. Shivers my spine..."
"Let's stay alert. Keep our senses peeled for any clue or hint that provides more information about what denizens and dangers lurk here..."

Shivering, he grips his cloak and wraps it more closely around himself before adding under his breath. "And perhaps we may escape the fate of the Selentines whose corpses litter this place..."

"Thanks Kores. So it seems that not everything you are dealing with is about death, destruction and dusty treasures." He smiles.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 228):

Brannon chuckles at Drake's dismay. "Rest assured, I have no intention of melting the lock open. Indeed, I suspect it would be impossible. I wanted only to see if this ice will melt at all. One must be willing to make these experiments, in a spirit of inquiry."

And so saying, he resumes lifting the lantern...

OOC: Unless anyone stops him, natch! For clarity: Brannon intends to briefly bring the heat of the lantern close to see if any water forms from the ice of the lock - not to melt the lock open!

In reply to Brannon Darrow (msg # 230):

Kores thinks about putting away the chest, but then he clutches it warily whilst he watches the others...


"There were many Selentine Warriors, skilled engineers who came by.  They may have conquered many obstacles in the creation of their vast empire, but there is still so much that they were unprepared for..."

Lantern is on the floor, Kores will pick it up when he relaxes his guard....
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:07, Tue 28 Feb 2017.

For the briefest moment, Drake frowns uncomfortably at Brannon's words. But the frown quickly disappears as he nods, withdraws his hand and does no more to restrain him.

Taking another look at the ice statue and the lock, he shudders and turns back to the Brannon and Kores.

"Certainly you would know best how to handle such as these..."

He turns his attention to the statue, staring at it for several seconds...

OOC - Does the statue look anything resembling the Selentines downstairs? I know it is 3m tall...
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Tue 28 Feb 2017.

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 232):

"I wouldn't say I know best.  At best I can read and that is a gift that eludes many people.  Perhaps I have...  ...limited understanding of arcane, drawing forth energies from the cosmic flux and other planes of existence but that doesn't assure comprehension of all earthly phenomena."

"But I have recently acquired some 'tools' that may help us.  Careful if you see any statues, they may have trapped souls within."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:13, Tue 28 Feb 2017.

Drake steps back from the statue with a nod to Kores.

"Sir you may begin when you are ready..."

In reply to Drake Taubron (msg # 234):

"Well, right now I have something that can work with stone statutes.  For the aqueous sort, I think Colm might be more accomplished than I."

Brannon brings the flame near the ice lock and notes that though the heat has a lesser effect than it normally would there is still the slightest beginning of a melt on the locks surface as he pulls it away again.

As they examine the lock Lute pulls away the last part of the rubble from the partial collapse revealing the statue to the others. While it is indeed human shaped...for the most part, though its features are rough and unfinished...there is something strange about its proportions that sets their teeth on edge.  Certainly having a ton of rock fall on it has done almost no damage at all.

In reply to GM (msg # 236):

Seeing the statue that has features that 'are rough and unfinished...' Lann wonders what could have made such a statue. He doesn't think it is a human unless the statue has been in this state for many years and water and elements have eroded the features.

He examines the statue closely, looking for signs that may tell more about the statue.

"Good job Lute! Good lad!"

Drake claps Lute on the back, nodding approvingly at the big man. Turning back to the now uncovered ice statue, he stares at it for a few seconds. He stretches out his hand slowly, cautiously, reluctantly, towards the statue...

OOC
- Does the statue look crafted (eg: presence of tool marks, rough edges)?
- The key in its hand, does it look like it is proffering up the key, or more like the being was frozen while holding the key?

- Drake attempts to pick up the key...

Intrigued by the fact that no damage was done to the statue, Dann approaches it to check on its fabric.

While Lute stands back and the others examine the lock and their new scrolls, Lann, Dann and Hadrik inspect the statue, it is composed of ice and there are no tool marks that can be seen...though it has been here for centuries at least judging by the dust layers on everything.

The key is also of ice but a lighter colour than the statue, the two obviously not of one piece.

Hadrik reaches out and takes the key from the statues fingers, almost immediately that the key comes into his grasp he feels it begin to grow wet, it is beginning to melt.

More alarmingly the statue suddenly rears up before them lashing out at the nearby men with its icy fists.

OOC:

Combat Time.

Lets just do round 1 first.