A visit to Godswalk Park seeking Eagle finds him gone.  He is in the countryside helping refugees return home without too many difficulties between animals and homeowners.  There are several druids there and they do share that the type of magic used in the Glades and Witchlight is different than most, and mostly similar to druidic magic.

The party sets off to check out the seen of the attack, and after travelling through the unique streets of the Witchlight district they pass through the Western gates into the ramshackled village built into the Witchlight Swamp, wooden structures piled upon one another in places, others connected by piers and bridges, and shallow boats tied up throughout.

A careful walk through these "streets", Heasha leads you to the far edge of the Glades where buildings are farther apart and to a larger structure that serves as both a home and restaurant.  There is no name above the door but a plaque with a spoon and fork carved into it.

ooc: Rath, if you wish to try to heal the lady of her curese, please roll at 100d, you want to roll LOW.

Rath bid adieu to Rose, somewhat apart from the others, offering her a peck on the cheek. His hand lingered on her shoulder. When he rejoined the others, Rath looked away, apparently uncomfortable.

At the Glades, once in a private space, Rath set himself to attempt to remove this strange curse from Heasha. "At a temple, this would be a ritual. I ... uh, I don't know the ritual."

Rath stumbles through an improvised prayer, beseeching Pelor and Avandra for protection from affliction.

OOC: Remove Curse.


13:48, Today: Aldo Rathmus rolled 89 using 1d100.  remove curse.

Folke took in the odd sights of the Witchlight district, refreshing his memories of the place and its strange customs, unique musical style and entertaining (if not eerie) folk story history.  As they passed through the city gates and more properly entered the swamp and within it The Glades Folke felt a different mantle drape over them, as though the mossy trees were putting a sheltering arm about their shoulders.  Only it wasn't really a feeling of sheltering, nothing quite that welcoming.

When they reached the restaurant and home of Heasha the skald gave she and Rath enough space to go about the ritual in some privacy.  While his companion essayed that test Folke instead took in the swampy surroundings and pictured the type of creature Heasha had described rising from the murky waters to trudge inexorably into the home to claim its due.  What might have sounded incredibly fantastic in the Rose and Cricket seemed all too possible standing on the ramshackle planking outside Heasha's home.

Saliq seemed visibly uncomfortable in this place. The humid and fetid air felt oppressive to one born to the desert where lush greenery was the carefully controlled beauty of a palace garden. Still he tried to keep his distress from his face in view of the far greater distress felt by Heasha.

Marissa sits on the border between patience and impatience. Part of her wonders why Rath wouldn't do this in a proper temple. But she trusts the man and bides, turning her attention to the surrounds with a merchant's eye, giving thought to how she could get a toe-hold in such a typically insular community.

Perhaps she'd ask Rath when he was done with his ceremony...

Inas, accustomed to weird places so long as they are outside, appears more curious than anything.

He examines the plants and trees, looking for any oddity that might provide a clue as to the creature that visited their host.

The old restaurant is shabby looking outside but fairly cozy inside.  A quick look around shows that the main level is the restaurant, with two flights of stairs leading up, one from the kitchen, one from the great room.  The stairs from the great room lead up to half a dozen furnished rooms, with another stair leading to the attic.

The back stairs lead up to two small bedrooms and a sitting room, this is where the owners live, taking the heat from the kitchen.  The back door to the kitchen leads to a small dock, there is one shallow boat there.  That door was recently ripped from its iron hinges, it has been tacked back into place but not properly repaired as yet.

The dock shows muddy strange footprints, mud, moss, twigs, in deformed shapes.  Inas looks carefully at them for awhile.  They come straight from the swamp and go directly to the door and then upstairs, to one bedroom and then out.  They knew where they were going, there was no "looking around".  The footprints are from a bipedal, and not much larger than a human man seemingly.

Rath tries to remove the curse on Heasha, but nothing happens.  She smiles rather sadly at him, as if to say, thanks for trying, or perhaps, I knew it wouldn't work. Hard to tell with sad smile.

"I don't know what made these prints but: inside each print is print made by a human.  I'm wondering if the whole thing was a disguise and not something fantastical."

The longer Inas stares at the tracks and the glade beyond, he begins to see a path.  The creatures must have just walked through the swamp, even below it at times but it is thick and their disturbances of the natural order seem fairly easy to track to his eyes.

Rath tries to follow Inas' gaze. He can't make out the path at all, but he doesn't doubt the ranger's skill. "A disguise? Or a transformation." Rath was envisioning a creature almost human at the core, but festooned with mud and moss and planty material substituting for flesh.

Rath pats his belt, then he frowns and says to Marissa, "Damn. I meant to buy daggers for us in Stormhaven." He considers the Glades skeptically. "They must sell daggers here. Right?"

Marissa shows fangs, her smile ironic.

"Already picked one up, Rath," she said. "I'll let you borrow it...for a small fee."

The group spends about an hour in their checking out of the story, and the inn and surround docks.  In the end, the story seems plausible, even likely, based on what they see.  As they are talking in the great room, they notice that just about everyone who was there earlier has left.  They got a pretty cold bunch of stares from most, clearly, they don't like outsiders here.

There is a woman who remains behind, older than the group but far younger than Heasha, who makes a symbol, touching heart and then forhead and then goes and confronts Heasha, words are exchanged, harsh ones, but the woman calms, and speaks in heavy accent of the glades speak for a few minutes before spitting on the ground and turning and leaving.

Rose takes a deep breath, and says,

"She is one of the others who lost someone this week.  Her son.  She said Heasha should not have brought me or you into this.  She said her sons was born blue and dying and she called for the local doctor,  he said it meant to be, the boy would go back into that from which he came.  In her distress, she cried and screamed but in the night when the boy was near death, an old man came to the house, he said little but promised to give him a life for a time, but would one day have need of him, and then, he would be gone.  She believes this was foretold and we should not try to interfere.  She got 21 years of her son, it was fair bargain".

"Any idea who this 'man' is?"

Rose and Heasha speak for a few moments,

"All the stories are different but the same, people in trouble, people from the Glades, who some twenty years ago were approached by a man, and given a new start.  They all say the man was robed, small and seemed very old but none got much of a look at him.  One claims he had a pendant with the carving of antlers on it, but the others didn't see that.  It was long ago".

"I'm no loremaster, but I've heard tales told over firelight of a master of the great hunt. I have a vague recollection of antlers being some sort of sign of his...but when I say vague, I mean a 'bare breath of a newborn's wisp of hair' recollection of the tale."

The day grows long.   Spend the night?  Go look for supplies?  Go home?  Head into the depths of the swamp? Other?

"Do we know how many people this mysterious stranger has gathered, or stands to gather now that the score of years has passed?"  Folke's thoughts went to some sort of rite, or perhaps worse, that might turn these people into swamp creatures.  A twisted druidic magic to guard the swamps?  Or to create a force that could attack settlements?  Dark thoughts indeed.

He hoped Heasha or the other woman might have a sense of the numbers.

Saliq stroked his beard, lozt in thought. "This talk of a man surprises me I admit... I had wondered if a hag was behind this business but I suppose not."

In a quick set of questions and answers, it is learned that at least five people have gone missing with similar stories, just in the Glades.  It is unknown if any in the Witchlight district are so stricken, but likely.  Or even greater Stormhaven is possible.

As the group discusses event, there is the sound of a distant high pitched whistle.  The effects on those few still in the inn are immediate, panic, fear.  Rose quickly talks with her old friend.

"Another attack, going on now, deeper into the Glades. Its a warning call to stay away".

"Yeah?" Rath says, standing and grabbing his gear. "Well, I've been warned. Stay here, Rose. I'll be back."

Rath heads for the door and looks back as his company. "You all coming?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:48, Sat 13 Jan 2018.

Marissa sighs, shakes her head, then stands from the table and makes her way toward Rath.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?"

Saliq gets to his feet a wry smile on his lips. "As a member of the gild I am probably duty bound to investigate strange magics... which fortunately was what I planned to do anyway."

"Stay away?" Folke looked befuddled as Rose explained the whistle.  "The people of the Glades don't help each other in times of need?"  The skald shook his head in disbelief as he pushed himself up from his chair to join the others.

"Cone on," he said to the others.  "There may not be much time."

The party moves, as usual, towards the sounds of danger.  Moving out to the back dock, they can hear the eerie twill of the horn in the distance floating through the thick air of the swamp.  There are a few flat-boats at the dock, and many long poles leaning against it.  One of these easily fits five and so the group grabs one, sure to return it to its owner and several poles.

It is a few moments of comedy as the party tries their hands at poling the boat, it is not as easy as it may seem.  Marissa is best at it, Folke quickly becomes second best, and its a two person job.  After a few minutes going nowhere, or in circles, they suddenly get the hang of it and move off into the swamp.

The flat boats move slow but smooth and steady, they glide over things that might seem to be in the way, and don't seem likely to tip unless a giant alligator where to rise up and bite the boat in half, or a 50 foot snake drop down from a tree and sink the craft, both of which have been known to have happened.

Inas uses his skills to point out the deepest smoothest waters, and Saliq seems to have an unerring ear for the direction of the horn.   It seems to take forever and the group passes several other small clusters of homes, built in twos or threes, connected by docks, bridges, even rope bridges, and some having wooden or reed walls raised about them.   In time, they pass through a thick cluster of trees and see in the distance three homes.  A large one built up high, two smaller ones connected but at water level. One of the homes is one fire.  The docks below, silhouettes a battle going on.  A group of men with pikes and spears are lined up against several forms that seem like gnarled trees. The horn is sounding from the upper house.

Even as the party approaches one of the men on the dock is grabbed and thrown some 40 feet into the swamp, crashing into the branches to lie floating in the dark water.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:30, Sun 14 Jan 2018.

The larger home is built slightly off the water, the two green spots are the swamp monsters, the black square is your boat.  The men are trying to defend the dock that runs between the two homes (one on fire) and the larger home.  Just a bit of a visual to help.

"Inas, is that fauna or...living flora?" she asks the ranger. "Will fire effect it?"

Even as she speaks, she untangles her spear from the tie ropes upon her pack.

Inas does his best to hazard a guess as he readies his bow.

"Even if it's plant, it may not burn," he advises as he fires two arrows.

Rath stops at the door and looks back. One might expect him to be smirking, but he's not. He's wearing a serious, almost sad expression, reviewing some troubled memory in his head. "I'm no hero. Let's go."

---

On the raft, Rath is full of helpful advise to Marissa and Folke to get the raft moving in the right direction until he realizes that both of them are likely to knock him into the swap with their poles if he continues talking, and about the time he shuts up they get the little boat moving. While Inas guides them through the waters and Saliq narrows down the source of the sound, Rath stands at the edge of the raft with his trident ready to take on those imagined giant snakes and alligators, but nothing comes of it.

---
As the fire and the swamp creatures come into sight, Rath turns grim. From this distance, he follow's Inas' lead and grabs his bow, sending a couple of arrows at the same target.

OOC: Hit AC 4 for 1 damage. Hit AC -6 for 12 damage (including double damage for critical).

06:01, Today: Aldo Rathmus rolled 10,20,1,6 using 1d20,1d20,1d6,1d6.  attack and damage with bow and arrows.

Question regarding the spell spiritual hammer. Text indicates the spell attacks at the level of the cleric. Would that include Rath's fighter levels, or if he used the spell would he be swinging away with the attack bonus of a low-level cleric?

As the boat is pushed softly up to the wooden dock, Inas and Rath unleash four arrows, three of which slam into the swamp creatures.  Though they hit hard and stick deep, the creatures do not overly react.  And though it is hard to see at the distance, it appears the wooden shafts of the arrows writhe and then weave themselves into the bodies of the creatures like so many vines and twigs.  Another of the men holding the dock is tossed into the swamp.  It appears there are only four left fighting and one smaller man standing behind them directing.

actions? you can be there in one round on foot over the docks. the other men have not noticed your arrival yet.

"Don't throw that spear!" Inas yells at Marissa.

As the party gets within 75 feet or so, Inas comes to a halt.  "I've got a crazy idea; won't hurt to try . . . I hope."  He stretches his hand forth and says some strange, vaguely elfin-sounding words (that aren't elfin at all).

Marissa jerks her head back at Inas' command, bides while he casts his spell.

"We've only been back for a minute, and already I've lost my edge. Time to get back into the swing of things, I think."

Calling upon the Neptune's grace, she casts a blessing over the party.

Bless: +1 to hit, +1 to morale, centered on the cleric in a 50' x 50' circle. 6 melee rounds.

For a moment the pole hung slack in Folke's hands as he watched the men being tossed aside by the tree creatures.  The fate of the arrows shot by Inas and Rath further added to his amazement, but the cries of the besieged settlers and his own companions brought him round again.

Choosing to defend the weakest looking man, he uttered a few lyrical words and a handful of golden sharps went spinning into the swamp monster threatening him.


OOC:

Cast Magic Missile (5 missiles)

20:02, Today: Folke Vanirhalvt rolled 16 using 5d4+5.  Damage - Magic Missiles.

The words of a spell die unspoken on Saliq's lips as the illusionist looks in surprise at Inas. Closing his mouth he waits uncertainly for this 'crazy idea' to work... whatever it is.

As Marissa prays, a wave of good fortune and protection envelope those in the boat.  Folke and Inas both cast spells, Folke sending five fiery missles to slam into the creature on the right, they burn some of the vegetation and the creature looks up in Folke's direction, having noticed him for certain now.  The other creature looks around a moment as the dock it is standing on seems to explode, heavy vines tear up through the dock, splinter boards as they do and grab the creature.  Its own vinelike nature tangles and fights with those whipping up from below, in the fight, both vines and creature vanish into the boiling swamp-water.

The other creature, a moment later, jumps off the dock and vanishes beneath the water as well.

Inas seems surprised at what he accomplished.  "Well, that worked.  Good to know."

A few seconds after the attack ends, the smaller man in the back of group of defenders yells out some commands in that Glade language, the other men disperse, heading for boats to try and find their comrades tossed into the swamp.  The man, however, turns and rushes over to your boat and is yelling at you.

Folke, who is best with odd languages, takes that he is none to happy with you being there.

A moment later, seeing your blank faces, he raises a hand in the air and makes a few strange cries, then looks at you and speaks.

"Did you not hear our horn of warning?".  His language is strange but you understand him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:51, Fri 19 Jan 2018.

"You know, if nobody wants us here, and everyone's ok with the threat of vine monsters, what are we doing here?" Inas asks sarcastically.

"Your gratitude is overwhelming, Sir."

The little man frowns, looks over the odd assortment of men and women facing him, "You came to help?" He seems as if he's putting things together, "Your magic, your arrows?  Who are you, who sent you here?"

The older man turns and walks away, heading back up to the upper house.

As they begin to pull some of the men from the muck and mire, they are worn and sore but otherwise unharmed.  One of them, the last to be thrown, covered in muck, says,

"Thank you, you drove them away, I don't know how, you obviously are not from here or abouts.  Forgive my father, he believes only in the old ways.  Are you lost, do you need a guide or help, we are in your debt, something we do not like to be, how may we repay you?".

"We'd be grateful for a guide." Saliq says, trying to hide his surprise at the lack of recognition. After being feted in Stormhaven proper it was a surprise to be nobodies again so close to the city.

"Do not worry about debts, I am a member of the Wizard's Guild in Stormhaven. I have a duty to investigate the misuse of magic, something I fear is plaguing you and your village."

Rath holds his tongue. The lack of welcoming from the insular locals does not surprise him, and though it grates on him, it's only an annoyance. He gives Inas a questioning glance. "That was new," he says with a smirk. "You been taking lessons from Eagle?"

Though the creatures were driven away, Rath is sure they'll be back. He stays vigilant. "Can you get us to the dock?" he asks Marissa. "We're vulnerable on the raft."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Folke answered Rath on behalf of himself and Marissa.  They'd figured out the poling rhythm eventually, and simple maneuvers like closing in on the dock were within their capability.

"And then maybe we can have a coherent conversation that gets us beyond the cultural suspicions."

Inas actually cracks a crude smile at Rath's mention of Eagle before responding to the one person who appears grateful for the intervention.


"Yes, a guide.  And person who will tell us what the hell is going on.  We know that these vine monsters are coming and collecting on past debts and promises, but not much more than that."

"Maybe the vine creatures collect the kidnapped on behalf of another, who then sets to turning the kidnapped into other vine creatures. Base speculation at this point, I know, but its a starting point to figuring things out."

It takes little time before the group has poled the boat in, and stand on the old worn dock.   Most of the men from the fight seem fine, only one who was tossed into the swamp has a broken nose where he hit the water into some heavy vines.  They quickly disperse, some going to each house, except the one that was on fire.  The fire has gone out during the short fight.  The young man covered in muck stands quietly as the group talks, but it not he who answers.  The smaller man who he called his father, and who seemed to walk away, steps back into view just behind his son. Between this illusion and the fact that everyone is understanding one another, clearly this is a man of magic.

"My son is right, I do not trust outsiders.  I am Hareesh, warden of this place, and I am honored to have a member of the Guild here.   This lady has good instincts, the marshmen, have real men inside them, it why we cannot kill them, they are our neighbors, friends, family.  You clearly know the danger we face, yet have come despite that.  We do not ask for help when it seems no good will come of it, but since you have come, I will tell you what I can.  But if you seek to help, it is noble, but I'm not sure there is any prevailing against the Morde Warlock"

"Ach, good man, prevailing is the preferred goal, but even knowing beforehand of certain defeat, still I would fight."

Inas -- all business as usual -- cuts through the verbiage and repeats the salient point.

"The Morde Warlock.  Start there.  Who is he, what is he doing, why is he doing it . . . and where is he?"

Hareesh listens to Marissa and Inas, and considers.  He takes out a long black stem and chews on it for a few moments.

"He is the most powerful wizard anywhere in this land, his what's and why's, are his to know, far beyond mortal minds to likely understand.  As to where, it is said it lives in a cave deep in the Glades, so filled with darkness, mud, and guardians, none has ever put sight on it and come back to tell.  He owns the Glades, and does as he sees fit."

He turns back to Marissa,  "You would fight, knowing certain defeat, tell me why, to what purpose?"

"Threats to the folk of Stormhaven, even those removed to some distance, present a threat to all. Evil, in all its wiles, would seek to tear down what my family and yours have attempted to put up. This warlock is twisting people for a malign purpose...all of that that defines him as evil. As such, he is a scourge that needs to be removed."

Marissa's speech was impressive and though he might not have quite the same conviction Folke still found her words inspiring.  What grabbed him was the whole concept of the Morde Warlock.  The name was perfect, conjuring up fell, shadowy images in his mind at the mere mention.  This sounded like a legend and quest worth pursuing, not only for the Glades folk but for his own scholarly learning.

"People deserve the right to live their lives free of such witchcraft," he said to the elder, stating his own reasons for aiding the local denizens.  "The natural world has challenges enough without men forcibly seeking dominion over their peers."

The old man seems to shrink as you speak,  leaning back into the shadows,

"You are brave, and determined, and I do not believe you will listen to me, so go and find the Morde Warlock, if he can be found.  But if you listen to one thing I say before you go get yourselves killed, or worse, go forth with open minds, do not look for danger or evil, for you will surely find it.  His story is an ancient one, and most stories, have many sides.  Paint him and his deeds as only black, and black you shall find.  You are welcome to stay the night, have food and drink if you wish, and you may have any of our boats and what supplies you wish to take."

"It seems that he comes to collect a debt; payment for a promise that he fulfilled.  Is this right?  And if so, is there anyone who has dealt with this . .  . man?"

Strangely, Rath seems to take Hareesh's words to heart. At least, he doesn't smirk derisively. The young warrior carries a serious, thoughtful expression, and he scratches his neck. He leans toward Saliq and whispers, "Morde. The Mistress got her prophecy from the Morde Witch, right?"

Rath feels that Inas is on the right track. The swamp creatures had come to retrieve someone, and that someone was probably worth talking to.

"Yes." Saliq whispered back, a frown crossing his face. He had desperately hoped all that business lay in the past.

"A man though rather than a woman, a warlock not a witch... a son perhaps? A descendant? A reincarnation? I know there are certain magics that can change male to female. Or so I have read."

Hareesh frowns at Inas' questions, seems about to object to something, then looks very shaken.

"What you say about collecting of debts, I fear we were unaware of this.  We were warned that the swamp men were on the move, stealing people, and that they were themselves people, transformed by the Morde Warlock.  If what you say is true, they were coming for me.  I am a shaman myself, of some power, but it was given to me.  When I was no older than you all are, I dreamed of having the magic to help my community, I did everything I could to achieve this, but my skills were meager.  One night I dreamed that I went to the docks, took a boat into the deep forest, and ate a strange blue lizard.  I awoke in my bed, and thought it but a dream.  Except, my skills grew quickly.    I suspected some force was at work, but I made no deal, that I remember."

"Curious," observed Folke, noting there was no deal made by the elder shaman himself.  "Didn't the other woman we spoke to mention something about parents making a deal for their child?  Or something like that?"  The skald looked to his companions, seeking confirmation of his memory.

"It may be that someone else wished for your magical blooming without consulting you," he commented to their host, "or that even your unconscious yearning was enough to seal a deal of sorts."

Rath begins to puzzle this out, judging by the deepening furrow across his brow and his squinting eyes. "You ate a blue lizard," he mutters. Turning to Ehridol, he adds conversationally, "He ate a blue lizard."

Rath grumbles, "Maybe they're not coming for you, old man. Maybe somebody else around here has a debt come due." He rubs his eyes and wonders if the others are making any more sense of this than Rath is.

Inas nods, indicating this is what he recalled.



Inas shrugs.  What the shrug may mean is unclear.



"Yes, that is what I was thinking.  I doubt the creatures' target was here on the docks, or else they would have just taken the person.  And if that's right, we should try to figure out where they might've been headin'."  Turning back to the old man, he asks: "Tell us about this 'attack.'"

Hareesh nods and calls over his son, "Gather everyone in the great room who is older than ten years, let them answer freely to these men who have come from Stormhaven to help us, make sure they are honest. Go".


In little time the party is seated in a large hall inside the largest home, cold tea and bread is available, but no feast to be sure.  There are a dozen men and women gathered, who seem shaken by the nights events.  One woman has a baby in her arms.  Whatever spell the old man cast holds, and you understand what is being said and are able to ask questions.  It doesn't take long to grow frustrated, for no one seems to have any connection to this mysterious figure or the swamp men.

After nearly half and hour and few glasses of tea, it seems pointless.  However, you note Hareesh is gone.  A quick search outside finds him truly gone, along with all the small boats except the one you came in on.

Hareesh's son shakes his head, "The old fool has gone to confront the Morde Warlock himself,  I reckon he thinks his magic will protect him".

Inas' sharp eyes can see that most of the boats have just been pushed off into the swamp to slow any pursuit, but a clear wide boat trail heads directly into the deeper swamp.

"C'mon . . . he has a head start we aren't likely to overcome, but we gotta try."

Marissa considers Rath's line of thought but holds her tongue for now. "Let's go see what if we can be any help to these folks, gentlemen," she said instead.

The skald was up and moving in a heartbeat.  If nothing else there was a fantastic tale unfolding here, one that would only get better if they managed to save the elder from his own foolish impulses.

"Right you are," he said to Inas and Marissa, heading straight for the pole he'd claimed as his own.  Though he and Marissa were not experienced they were two against one, and they'd gotten the hang of moving the shallow-hulled craft on the way here.  They might have a chance after all.

With some reservations and doubts, the party moves to their low boat and begins poling after the trail of the elders boat.  Inas has no trouble following it at first, and it generally follows the path the swamp creatures left in the water, with some small deviations.

After an hour, the swamp gets thicker, the trees bent and leaning back to the water, with long strands of moss and willow like branches, making progress slow and uncomfortable.

A few times Inas has to call a stop and search for awhile to find the track.  Several times large creatures flush at the boats approach, some underwater, a few up through the trees.   The air is moist and soon buzzing and stinging insects surround the boat.


Forward progress slows and poling becomes hard work, wearing at the muscles and nerves of those trying to press forward.

It is after three hours of moving forward, that you run across a pocket of open water in the swamp.  Some thirty feet of smooth open water, that lets in a bit more light.  The remains of boat, splintered and chewed floats there.  There is also blood in the water, and the remains of a creature, likely a big wildcat.   Rath, who seems to have it in his mind looks around at the surrounding trees, and notices half a dozen small four to six inch blue lizards lounging the nearby trees.

Saliq sighed at the sight of the boat and creature. "Poor man. We better try and recover that cat creature to examine just what slew it."

It doesn't take much work to pull the large cat next to the boat for examination.  Inas looks it over with some distaste.  Judging by the condition of its face, and then a look at its front feet, Inas concludes the creature clawed its own eyes out and likely drown afterward.   There is no sign of any other dead,  there is another exit from the pool of water that shows signs that it is the direction the swamp creatures went in.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:18, Tue 13 Feb 2018.

"That's, uh ... ," Rath observes. "That's not natural. I mean, animals don't take their own eyes out. Do they?" As for the lizards, Rath points them out to Inas. "I've got a pain in my gut that tells me, whatever's going on, we won't figure it out until it's too late." He smirks and hefts his trident. "Let's just hope there's something we can stab."

When -- and if --they're ready to move on, Rath adds, "So. Anybody think there's more to this old shaman than meets the eye?"

Inas stares at the lizards, curious to observe whether they stare back or otherwise seem aware of his existence.

Marissa also studies the dead cat, and says, "Either the beast was in great pain, caused maybe by some form of poison, or its mind was affected in some unnatural way. I would hesitate to play with the lizards, Aldo, Inas, lest they be the vehicles of the poor kitty's demise."

Suddenly there was a commotion in the shallow-hulled skiff.  Folke stumbled backward and sat down hard in the craft, his fallen pole clattering across the gunwale.  The troubadour's eyes were wide with fear and his hands clawed at his throat, as though trying to remove an unseen noose that choked off his breath. His face flushed as he continued to struggle and his legs began to thrash about in panic, threatening to dump them all into the murky waters of the swamp.

Saliq suddenly stands and begins grabbing at his arms, his face, under his clothes, scraping and scratching at his skin. He even tears off his turban and throws it on the ground and rips as his hair.

Rath grabs Saliq, somewhat violently, and not as gently perhaps as he intends, taking the wizard by the arms and dragging him down from his precarious standing position -- or, at least, Rath tries to -- with the aim of keeping his arms pinned so he can't scratch his own eyes out, and of keeping him from falling into the swamp. "Easy, Musfara. I got you."

With Folke rocking the boat, Rath glares around and snarls, "Ehridol! -- Get us out of here! Eoinsson -- ." Rath just shakes his head. He can't think of anything Inas might do to help the bard.

Inas glances at Marissa to make sure that she is not also afflicted.  If she is, then he takes responsibility for moving the boat back in the direction from which they came.

If Marissa is handling that task, Inas takes out his dagger, expertly flips it over, and strikes Folke in the back of the head with the pommel in an attempt to render him unconscious.

"I've got the boat!" Marissa shouts. "Don't look at the lizards!"

She tries to move the boat aft and away from where the lizards are perched, her eyes toward the rear as she maneuvers the craft with her pole.

ooc: Just when you thought it was safe to skiff on a river...

So distracted is Folke, that it is surprisingly easy for Inas to knock him unconscious.  He slumps to the floor of the boat with a lump and bit of blood in his long fine hair.

Rath, however, has a harder time of it.  First, he is trying NOT to hurt the master illusionist, and Saliq is both highly dexterous wiggly, and pretty darn strong under those robes.  Plus he keeps calling out for Rath to "Get the leeches off him!!" so sincerely, Rath time and time again actually looks for leeches, wonders if leeches could be invisible, and a myriad of other thoughts.  It is a constant struggle to maintain physical control of Saliq.

Marissa pushes the boat quickly past the remains of the other boat and out of the open water pool, following the path Inas indicated that the swampmen took.

It takes about ten minutes before the effects wear off.  They leave as quickly as they came on and neither Folke nor Saliq remember anything of the events.

"I told you, beware the lizards, gentlemen."

As the two party members affected by the poison recover their minds and strength, Marissa and Inas work together to slowly follow the trail left by the creatures moving below the water.   Day turns to dusk, and the hard work is exhausting.   It is still party light out and the group is just wondering where or how they might spend the night in a swamp, it doesn't appeal.  When they come free of the narrow path into a wider area, in the distance, is a house.  Smoke comes from its chimney and there are lights in the windows.   And it looks like the path of the creatures goes straight to it.

A grim smile flits across Marissa's face. In a low voice, she said, "Looks hospitable."

"I suppose we'll have to find out. Shall we enter as guests or with blades drawn gentlemen and lady?" Saliq asks.

As if in answer, Inas draws his sword.

Folke rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head as he came to, groggily realizing first that he could once again breathe and second, that he was lying in the bottom of the boat as his friends poled onward through the swamp.  Sitting up, he glanced about with a look of concern on his face.  "Did we get whatever ensorcelled me?  Some sort of snare spell to choke off my breathing," he surmised at first, until hearing a different story from the others.  Suddenly the cat's clawed eyes made more sense.  Whatever had happened, it was a powerful mind-affecting substance.  Folke hoped he would not encounter it again.

When he felt able, Folke spelled off Inas on a pole as they continued deeper into the swamp.  He was beging to worry that they would have to sleep afloat in the shallow-hulled boat when a light other than the dying sun twinkled through the trees - a house of some sort.  When it became clear the path of the swamp creatures led directly to it, the skald offered two explanations.  "Either another target, or the source of the troubles."  Seeing Inas draw his sword at Saliq's question, the northman nodded.  "Perhaps cautious guests?" he suggested in a soft voice to the master illusionist.

"Let's pole up to the shore and pay a visit, don't you think?" he asked of the boat collectively.  With pole in hand he didn't immediately draw a weapon, but as soon as his feet were on solid ground his blade was in hand.

Marissa waited for the others to get off the skiff before setting her pole down and disentangling her spear from the harness on her pack. "Familiarity and contentment," she muttered, when the others raise eyebrows at the sheathed scimitar.

"Besides, I can throw this a lot further than the blade."

Rath holds his trident like a walking stick. "Very cautious guests," he agrees. "We don't know what the hell is going on. Let's not kill anything unless we have to. Does anyone have a gift?"

The party approaches the lodge in the swamp with all due caution, and rightly so.  Once at the dock, everyone moves forward, most with their favorite choice of weapon.  Though homey, and the wafting of something that smells darn good, everyone also has that tingling sensation that seasoned adventurers get when danger is at hand.

As you move toward the lodge, the front door opens.  There is a small man wearing a brown robe that covers most of him.  He can't be four feet tall at best, and by the looks of his hands, which the most of what you can see of him, he's ancient.

"Ah, my guests have arrived, I was worried you'd run into trouble, come in, come in, you must be hungry!".

"Depends upon the meal, ancient one," Marissa replied. "Nice place you have here."

Rath stands near Saliq, still with his trident, tines up, in his hand, but not threatening. "Trouble? Just the usual." A few questions and a few more snide comments flit about on his tongue, but he doesn't give voice to any of them. He allows Saliq, Marissa, or Folke to take the lead.

Inas follows -- sword still out.

Seeing the others a little reticent to engage with the ancient being, Folke took a breath, sheathed his sword and stepped forward ever so slightly ahead of the rest.

"Good evening," he began.  "I fear you may have us at a disadvantage, for we were not expecting to be anyone's guests.  The sight of your home was a bit of a surprise all the way out here, to be honest."

"I am Folke and these are my companions.  Might I know the name of our host?"

The smallish bent figure turns and heads into the lodge.  There is a raspy laugh,
"My guests usually enjoy my cooking, but its nothing special, just a simple stew, some tubers, blackfish, onions, ramps,  salt and spices.   Ancient one, eh, not bad really, better than most..." he laughs again, at least, it sounds like a laugh,  "Oh, you are invited guests, otherwise you'd be breaking an treaty with the 'Haven, a certain Lord Mayor would be peein' his breeches if he knew you were out here...but lets eat before we get into business, shall we?  You don't need those weapons, really, you are in no danger here.  If you want to call me something, most from the 'Haven call me the Morde  Warlock, but that seems pretty dismal, I prefer Elexi, it was my name long ago as if names mean much".

Moving into the place, it is a very lodge like, lots of flotsam and jetsam from a swamp, interesting pieces of wood, some with amazing carvings born into them,  lots of animal horns and antlers,  Inas looking at them notes that are all sheds, that he sees, there are lanterns hanging throughout that give off a warm golden light but don't seem to be flames.

Rath follows along, entering the house before Saliq. "I'm Rath," he introduces himself, without offering a handshake. "But you probably know that." Rath peers around the lodge. "I got no idea what ramps are, but I'd thank you for a bowl of stew, if it's hot."


He has questions, of course, but the Morde Warlock has made it clear those weren't welcome just yet.

Inas looks about, says nothing, and keeps his sword unsheathed.

Marissa takes a moment to study some of the carvings. "You've talent with the wood. A good sailor knows how to whittle, but you're better than most sailors, I believe. Then again, I suspect most sailors don't know what you know."

The kitchen is simple, a long wooden table set to one side, a big fireplace on the other with an iron pot hanging above a fire.  Your host indicates the wooden chairs that surround the table, there are 12 of them, but he quickly has steaming bowls of stew set out for each of you.  There are copper spoons and forks on the table.

There is a pitcher of a clear cold water on the table and clay cups.

Elexi pours himself some, and has a bowl of stew and sits eating it. For anyone who eats it, its pretty good.  Very good, and the water pure.  Rath finds ramps taste a little like garlic, and a little like spring onion.

A few minutes pass while those who choose to eat, eat, when your host has finished his bowl and glass of water, he says,

"You have questions surely, now is the time, give them all to me and when you are done I will answer them all at once, speak plainly, I'm an old soul and don't need to be buttered"

Saliq clears his throat. "Forgive me Elexi but were you always male?" A faint smile appears on the illusionists lips. "I know some of us blessed with the art can take on other forms and we have heard of a Morde Witch..."

Elexi's raspy laugh again, "Perhaps I should take that one immediately, the female you refer to is my sister, Rinatae".

Rath eats. He figures this swamp witch has a thousand more efficient ways to poison him than by feeding him soup.

And Rath takes the witch at his word that he can be blunt. He lays out his questions, plainly, one by one, not pausing for answers in between. (Rath does pause occasionally for a bite of food.)

"Did you make pacts with the Glades people? Did you cash in their debts by turning them into swamp monsters? If you didn't, who did? And why? What the hell made Musfara think he was covered in leeches? What strangled the bard? Why did the old man eat a blue lizard?"

A longer pause. "Does this have anything to do with the plant woman under Skeleton Isle?"

And again, a pause. "Did you send the vision of the rose?"

Rath glanced at Marissa. "Does that cover it?"

Folke also partook of the meal and enjoyed the simple but tasty fare.  Much like Rath, he figured the warlock could have killed them in much more creative ways than hosting them to death.  After the Saliq and Rath asked their questions, but before Marissa could respond to Rath's quizzical gaze, the skald interjected.

"I would like to hear about the treaty with Stormhaven.  What are the terms and who, exactly, are the parties to which it applies?  And what provisions are we," he gestured to the group around the table, "breaking by being here?"

Elexi quietly listens, taking a sip water.  Waits to see if more questions come, then glaces at Rath.

"And Rath, you have a reputation for being the strong, quiet type.  But your questions show good instincts, I see why.....you are favored.  But yes, I sometimes hear a call of great distress that touches me, and grant limited wishes to those who live within my kingdom.  I also sometimes need help, usually with manual labor, as you can imagine, I am not good at that myself, and my talents cannot be used in that way.  So, yes, I brought a handful of those I helped here, transformed in a way to give them strength and protect them, mostly though I did this as an invitation to get you to come here, but my home needed some repairs, a new roof, a damage shutter, they finished that days ago.  They are all quite healthy and will return home soon, swearing it was you heroes that negotiated their freedom.  You will return even greater heroes, even in the Glades where no one is trusted much, and me, I got you here and got my roof fixed".

"There is a moss that hangs from the trees,  it isn't dangerous but a mold can grow on it, the spores of this mold can cause a man or woman to go mad, do harm to self or others.  It is harmless to the sky lizards who find it tasty.  Because they are often near it, men believe it is they who have these powers and some eat them to try to gain their magic.  Damn waste of a nice lizard."

"I do a lot of work through dreams, and yes, I sent the rose dream."

"The only question I cannot quite answer is that of the plant woman.  She is not from here, and we have not met, and she does not dream".

"My sister and I lived here, even before Syrix came and claimed the land next to us.  We coexisted for a time, but my sister, who was always too greedy, to in want of power, gravitated to him.  She thought she could use him to her own gains.  When his final war came, she allied herself with him.   I agreed to neutralize her help in the fight, and banish her if I were to remain owner of these lands, sovereign and that no one from Stormhaven would tread into my kingdom without my invitation. And so still stands the treaty.  I gave permission for some to settle in the Glades, but keep an eye on it". 

Marissa smirked at Rath's quip. When Elexi finished, she said, "Hmm, I was wrong about the lizards. When next I see them, I'll apologize."

Though Rath and Folke had asked directly what she was wondering, a thought does occur, and she said, "If it is all so innocent as that, why are we here. Of certain, it seems we would not have rushed into the swamp just to have you tell us that you changed some folks into swamp men to fix your roof. Call me blunt, but that just doesn't smell right to me."

She looked at the others. "What am I missing?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:06, Fri 23 Feb 2018.

Inas eats as well, but remains silent.  As usual, the others have the talking well in hand, and there is no need for him to contribute.

Instead, as he eats and listens, he looks about and probes with his eyes in case there is something noteworthy that he and the others failed to notice upon casual inspection.

"Of course, you are correct, Marissa, I invited you here with a reason, several.  First, to say well done on ending Syrix forever, he was vile creature.  Second, to thank you for kindly releasing Scillia, she deserved to face her fate fully as herself.  Also, to warn you that in doing so, my sister noticed you, perhaps one or more of you felt that?  Her vision, even when sleeping, is scalding, scary even.  She is deeply asleep right now, but she can still see things that affect her world.  It is not a good thing she has taken notice of you.  Oh, to be honest, you have angered her were she fully awake.  You have something she would consider hers, something of immense importance, I'd like you to get it for me, in fact, to work for me".

Rath was about to make some observations about this Morde Warlock's recruitment methods -- clearly, the creature is a bit twisted and more than dangerous -- but the comments about Scillia take those thoughts away.

Rath shares a wary glance with his his companion. He waits, with an angry smirk, for someone with a little more tact to follow up on the Warlock's last revelations. But he won't hold his tongue for long ... .

Marissa frowned.

"A note would have sufficed," she said with a bit of temper. "You could've sent one of your walking vegetables to summon us, or, given the tactlessness of sending such a messenger, I'm fairly certain the various locals would've been more than willing to run such an errand.

"No, sir, there's more to this than you're telling. I'm guessing there's something you want from your sister, but are unable or unwilling - or both - to get. But, and this may have occurred to you, we are no lackeys, and if you are true about payment, I suspect more than gold will satisfy our price."

Elexi sighs,  "Of course I want something, but not for myself, but to keep it from my sister, I believe it belongs to you already and will be yours to decide what to do with it.".

None of that makes much sense, but he rises and walks to a cabinet, and open it and pulls out a wooden statue, carved in marvelous details of a very small juvenile dragon.  It is nearly all in wood, but several of the scales on the side are white.  He sets it on the table.

"I think you've met this great dragon before, perhaps even have some of its scales.  These here are from long ago, when it was very young.  You may know, dragons with metal scales are almost always good-natured, and those of non-metal colors are almost always vile, they are all brilliant and complex.   This one was rare, though white, he was white gold.  Very good, and very noble.  But my sister exploited a weakness in dragons, and swayed his brain, using her skills and her magic, she turned him to her will.  So rare are these dragons, that a new egg can only hatch when the spirit of the old dragon departs this world.  Some say the old dragon is born anew.  I believe you released him from his dark servitude.  And he left you both his treasure and his trust that you find this egg, or baby dragon if it has hatched, and take it somewhere safe from the Morde Witch.  You recovered a last will from him, did you not?"

"Oh, crap," Marissa said. "This just got REALLY interesting. You certainly have my attention."

Saliq had grown steadily more pale as the warlock spoke of his sister. "Yes, I believe I felt her focus on me... on us." Despite himself the illusionist shivers, though his expression shifts into a sad smile at the mention of the dragon.

"Even with all the dangers and troubles this will cause I am glad to hear of this new dragon. I have read of the nobler dragons, such wondorous creatures... the world would be diminished for the loss of one. I had never dreamed one might be entrusted to our care!"

Rath smirks warily. Anyone who knows him can easily read the expression: he doesn't trust this Morde Warlock. He leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Your roofers left an old woman with a withered arm."

He leaves that observation (or accusation) hanging.

The little man,freezes, lowers his head, then looks up again,  "I am sorry Rath, I could tell you that her guilt and sorrow did that to herself, that it was not my will, but it was my magic that did it.  I'm glad you confronted me on it though, we must be honest if make a deal.  If you don't trust me, ask those symbols you carry,  I will fix it.  Tonight.  You must know, i have to trust you to do what i need you to do.  Saving the heir of Gyrrallyss is paramount. I owe him that debt, I raised him.   Afterward, I want you all to help me  kill my my sister, and when she dies, I die, so you must believe me how serious I am in my offer.".

"Fix it," Rath nods. "Fix it, and I'm in." He pauses. "With one more condition." Rath uncrosses his arms and leans forward. "Leave Rose out of it. Whatever happens, leave her out of it."

Saliq raised an eyebrow. "Who takes your place here should you die, or will the Glades have no more need of such a patron?"

"Fix the withered arm, release the people unharmed, leave Ms. Rose out of everything, I agree to all of those, go home, think it over, if you agree to help me, prepare yourselves.  I will try to find out where the dragon egg is or the hatchling is.  Saliq, to be honest, I am not sure what will happen to this place without me, but ridding the world of my sister, will be worth the cost"

Folke had been listening so closely, and marvelling at the thought of dealing with a good dragon (and not a formerly good dragon) that he almost completely missed the comment about the last will and testament.

"By the Hall of the Northern Lords!" he exclaimed as it suddenly hit him, and then he was over to his pack and digging through the leather folder where he kept his writing materials and such.  "Aha, this is it!" He said, holding aloft a parchment they had recovered from that horrible island.

"This is what you were talking about, I think.  I was able to read parts of it, but the whole eluded me and, quite frankly, left me with a huge headache."  The skald grimaced even as recalled the unpleasant experience.  "Almost as bad as that mindflayer journal..."

"Do you have a tool or spell that will help us read it?" he asked their host, curious and excited at the same time.  This was about knowledge, and the chance to ride even further into the storybooks of eternity.  Folke could never resist such a temptation.

Rath grunted. It appeared the party had all but formally agreed to help the little warlock. Folke was asking the warlock for the means to read the dragon's will, if that's what it was, but Rath cut in. "I'm sure the guild can help with that."

Rath stood up. "Home, then. We'll prepare, and you'll find the egg. You'll send a message, I'm guessing, when you've figured it out?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:14, Wed 28 Feb 2018.

"Aye, I'm with Rath. This will take a bit to prepare."

Inas emits a nondescript mutter as he stands and prepares to leave.

"But we're here," Folke asked, his enthusiasm a little dampened, "and if he can read it why wouldn't we ask..."  The skald trailed off when the rest of his companions made it clear they were leaving and expected him to follow.  With an apologetic shrug to their little host Folke gathered up the parchment and stowed it back in his pack.  Hoisting that and the rest of his gear he made ready to leave with the rest, though not without a glum expression on his face.

Elexi nods, "We have a deal, and yes, that is the scroll.  I speak a tiny bit of dragon, and I'd be happy to help you translate that, Folke, if you don't mind staying with me a few days.  I could, in fact, send you back to let the rest know when I've located the heir, if you are willing to stay here.  Regardless, let us move on".

Whether Folke stays or not, the party goes to their boat, and poles their way home.  It is a long night but not as dark as one might expect, there are lots of green, and blue, both plants and creatures, that put off glowing light in the deep swamp.  And the moon provides fair light as well.  Inas has no trouble picking the same path back. By morning, you have arrived back at the edge of the Glades, where the smell of breakfast and sight of wooden homes welcomes you back to civilization.

As Marissa waits for Folke, she casts detect evil first on the wizard, than on the Helm she recovered from their last jaunt. Following the detect evil, she casts detect magic.

"By your leave, Sirrah," she said. "I don't suppose you know this helm's properties, eh?"

Folke looked torn, clearly wanting to stay and learn from the wizard about the dragon's will and whatever else he might glean from the ancient one.  At the same time he did not want to abandon his friends for who knew what might transpire on their way back to the Glades and from there to Stormhaven.

After dithering for a few long minutes, he finally announced a decision.  "I shall stay with the warlock to learn what I can about this will and the whereabouts of the hatchling.  I will come for you as soon as we have answers."

He saw the group out to the skiff and bade them farewell, asking them to look after those in the Glades that needed their help and to pass on his whereabouts to his lady friend Averi when they reached the city proper.  He promised to return to them as soon as he could.

Saliq nodded slowly. "I too wish to remain if you will have me sir. I cannot claim any great skill with languages but I know something of magic. Perhaps I can be of some help?"

'Gentlemen, I suspect you'll have every chance to gain whatever wisdom it is you wish to seek in the coming weeks," Marissa said. "I would caution, however, that two of us rowing back through the jungle is a precarious proposition, even for two worthies such as Rath and myself. Leaving even one of you behind to dally in an indulgence is a risk I would ask you not to take. But, I am not Captain out here on this skiff, merely a member of our party. You must make such decisions as you think best."

Her tone is, dare I say, annoyed.

Rath threw Saliq a doubtful glance, but he didn't outright question his decision.

He nudged Marissa and whispered, "Three worthies. You, me, and Inas." Which was, he knew, beside the point.

Folke was surprised at Marissa's tone, but also a little confused.  "If we have not agreed to help then the matter is different, but I understood we will undertake this quest.  That means we need to know what the dragon's will says.  This is anything but an indulgence."  He did not flinch from the Sea Dragon's gaze.  "This is exactly where I can be of use to the group.  I cannot match your skill with the spear, or Rath's with the trident, of Inas' with the bow.  I cannot match Saliq's breadth of magic.  I cannot even live up to the legacy of your friend Ben, in those shady areas where he was most expert."

"But this...this is where I can be of use, and more so than anyone else in our company.  Do not deny me the chance to finally contribute.  To finally pay back after all that has been given."

Ines looks annoyed, turns his back on Folke, Saliq, and the warlock, and whispers in hushed tones to his other two companions.

Despite some worries and differences of opinions, the two wizards decide to stay with the old warlock and see what they can learn of the scroll, or whatever else they might gleen from the mysterious old denizen of the swamps.

It goes against the grain for those who fear dividing ones forces leads to sure trouble.  As Inas, Rath, and Marissa push their skiff back through the Glades, following the basic path they left coming here, fairly sure in Inas' ability to track just about anywhere, they all have a gnawing worrying in their guts that they may never see their friends again.



Meanwhile, Elexi seems accepting enough of the offer of people wanting to stay with him and accepts, showing them each to a private simple room on the ground floor.

ooc: will post more later....

Rath was in a sour mood on the way back. He pressed Inas to find a path back to the Glades that would not expose them to the weird poison that had afflicted Folke and Saliq on the way in. Not happy with Musfara's decision to stay, still he didn't argue with the illusionist.

Instead, he was intent first on seeing himself, Marissa, and Inas safely back to the Glades, and then to escort Rose safely back to Stormhaven. Without knowing where this dragon egg would be found, Rath imagined it might be hard to prepare for all contingencies, but at the very least a long overland or sea voyage could be expected, and they could put their time to use getting ready what they could.

As they skiff back, Marissa shares a few thoughts.

"Three worthies indeed," she said. "My apologies for not seeing beyond my line of sight, Inas. I would share with you some insights, or perhaps not so much insights, rather a, mm, puzzle. I cast detect evil and detect magic during our stay. Do either of you find it confusing that the old man's aura was neutral, and he showed no sign on him or around him of magic. I daresay, a spell could perhaps hide such. I still think it noteworthy and something to think about."

Inas is quiet at first.  "I suspect he, she, or it is a being of significant power.  Makes me angry, because that power's bein' used for good an' malevolence all at once.  Unnecessary malevolence, at that.  But then, that's the way of nature -- to simply act, an' whatever happens, happens.  An' I think that's the explanation for what we encountered."

Inas, Rath, and Marissa make it back to the Glades without an incident, avoiding areas with the blue lizards and therefore, the poisonous moss as well.   They hear noises of swamp creatures from time to time, but none venture near the skiff.

The people of the Glades are as friendly as they left them.  Polite, but seeming somewhat un-surprised that their loved ones were not rescued, despite promises to the otherwise.  They do seem sympathetic that the party has lost two of their own in the attempt.  It isn't long though before the three make their way back to Stormhaven, taking Rose with them.

It has been a long, long day and now deep into the night returning through the streets of a mostly sleeping city.   Night guard are present but the heroes are well known figures now and aren't questioned about their business.

ooc: Assuming you have several days at least, please let me know any preparations you plan to make, purchases, etc.

Meanwhile, back at the lodge of Elexi, Folke and Saliq spend a good bit of time studying the scroll, and also a small old book that the old warlock gives to them which contains some very basic white-gold dragon language translation.  Mostly, they are left alone during the day, seeing nothing of the warlock.  In exploring the house, the find that there are six of the swamp monsters that are just standing out back of the lodge, rooted like statues.  In the evenings, Elexi returns and spends some time discussing what they've discovered of the scroll, and other things.

ooc: Please let me know anything specific besides the translation of the scroll you wish to discuss with the warlock.  Assume this goes on for at least several days.

Marissa makes an attempt to find a mage who can identify the helm.

Rath grunted. "Did you cast detect self-absorbed jerk? 'Cause I bet that one would have set off fireworks. Inas is right. If the Warlock ever was human, he ain't now, and he's dangerous to any that brush up against him." Rath glowered. "And if killing his sister does mean he dies, too ... well, that's reason enough to take up the quest. And I think the Warlock knows it."

ooc: sorry to skip around a bit.

Marissa offers a brief smile at Rath's observation. "Yes, it seems he's very fond of puckering his lips in what he thinks is a serious frown. There is something very off putting about him. Were he a member of my crew, I might throw him overboard out of hand.

"That said, it will be very interesting raising a dragon. For if he's to die (which I think is a load of dragon dung), who's going to raise the critter? More likely he's going to try to get at the beastie so he can kill two, or maybe even three blue lizards with one stone. His sister, the dragon and, dare I say, us."

"If Saliq were here . . . I bet his contacts might know something about this 'warlock.'"

"Yes, I'm a bit put out with Master Musfara," Marissa replied. "More so than Folke, in fact."

Inas' scowl deepens a bit.


"As I said before -- if Saliq sees value in what he's doing, I support it.  He's deserving of that trust."

"No worries, Inas. I'm not picking on Saliq. Just as I am my own woman, he is his own man. Yet I think many of the answers he's seeking will be found once this new endeavor gets underway. I have my doubts about how much he'll actually learn from the old fraud. But I've said my piece. The time is now for bygones."

It is mid-morning on the third day since their return to Stormhaven,  that Rose comes to Rath with news.  It seems that Saliq and Folke have returned to the Glades, and brought with them all of the missing men, even the old conjurer that you feared had met his end in the swamp.  Furthermore, Heasha's arm has nearly returned to normal, it is healing more every day.  Rose has it on good authority that the people of the Glades, so insular, are speaking a different story now about the party.  Even Rose herself has become something special to them, as it was she who brought the heroes to them, she's pretty pleased with herself about that one.

As for Saliq and Folke, they do return triumphantly, at least to those in the Glades, one two skiffs.  It was late on the second day that the men emerged, dazed and sleepy from within their plantlife shells, they had little to no memory of their time transformed, and were fed and given water by Elexi who treated them as old friends.  Saliq and Folke also have with them the mostly translated will, that leaves half the fortune of the old dragon to the finders of the will so long as they agree to find and take the heir of the dragon to a safe place.  As to the location of these treasures, the warlock has only said he has some leads but will contact the group once he is sure.

It isn't long after that, Saliq and Folke are back on the dry hard streets of Stormhaven..

ooc: You are able to locate 5 extra healing potions, and 5 regular healing potions (5 x  250gp, 5 x 100gp, total of 1750gp).    The only rings Inas can find for sale are +1 protection, and one ring of telekenesis. 

Rath had, of course, explained to Rose earlier that they had contacted the Warlock and had some assurances that the villagers would return and that the arm would be unwithered; but he was visibly relieved by the news that these things had come to pass. He still had no trust for the Warlock, but it was something. Rath was not forthcoming to Rose about the details. The less she knew, the safer she would be. That might piss her off, but whatever.

Rath hid his relief when Saliq and Folke returned (not well, perhaps, but he hid it) behind a familiar smirk. "You survived the clutches of the Warlock. What'd you find out?" Rath grunted. "Half the horde, eh? Who gets the other half?"


Then, to business! Rath muttered up a little divination, casting detect charm on both Folke and Saliq (and, what the heck, extending that to Marissa and Inas, along with himself, just in case), along with a detect magic to pin down any lingering effects, if any, from their sojourn in the swamp.

Folke spent most of the daylight hours at the warlock's home studying the will and learning as much as he could of the dragon tongue from the tome of translation.  Not only was he interested in the scroll itself, but learning a new language - the language of dragons! - was reward enough itself to the skald.  With his curiosity driving him, the days went by quickly.

In the evening when Elexi returned, Folke was less consumed by the scroll and more interested delving into the warlock's knowledge of dragons, his relationship and history with his sister, and his thoughts about what fate the hatchling should receive.  Lastly, he poked the warlock about the men in the back yard, still trapped in their swampy shells despite doing nothing more than standing around.  When would they be released?  Why were they still here if they weren't doing anything?

In the end he was glad they were sent back to their families with he and Saliq.  If nothing else it demonstrated some goodwill on the part of Elexi, and made Folke feel a little better about the decision to help.
~~~~~~

He smiled broadly when he and Saliq met up with the others, any misgivings from their parting left behind.  "It was all very interesting," he answered Rath, before launching into a stream of details that would but most to sleep.  "That's a good question about the horde.  I'm not sure who gets the other half.  I would assume the hatchling, as its birthright."

"I'd like my share of the hoard in platinum, if you please," Marissa said with a coy smile.

"In all seriousness, I'm of the understanding that a dragon's scales can get dried out. Might behoove us to procure some oils that will soothe a growing dragons hide."

Saliq had also wrestled with the translation issues, even if he lacked Folke's natural aptitude for other tongues.

The talk of dragons thrilled him more. His homeland had splendours aplenty but the great beasts were not among them, save from strange dusty tales he had heard in passing of blue scaled monsters that breathed lighting who lived so deep in the deserts a man might pass from boyhood to decrepitude without once feeling rain on his face.

Learning about the warlock's sister was less pleasurable, though more necessary perhaps.

---

"Yes, she gets the other half," Saliq replies at Rath's question. The illusionist is looking thoughtful, but smiles in greeting at the others. He blushes but stands still as Rath using his magic to detect any charms on him.

"Maternal instincts kicking in?" Rath smirked, bracing himself for a well-deserved punch.

[OOC: waiting on results from the divinations before proceeding much further. Other than oil, and maybe diapers and lots of steak, is there anything else we should plan to acquire? Not that we know yet where we'll be going or what we'll need ... .]

In reply to Aldo Rathmus (msg # 143):

PM

The group of re-united comrades begins making preparations for a trip that they do not know where it will lead.  They begin the uncomfortable period of waiting on news they hope will come sooner than later.  On the second morning after everyone has been united again, the group is meeting for a breakfast to discuss what they have already purchased and what might still be needed.

ooc:  I have one +1 ring of protection (Inas), one ring of telekinesis(Inas), 5 xtra healing potions (one each), 5 healing potions (1 each), scale oil (Marrissa), plus the usual resupply of food/water, etc.

As they meet up on the street to head towards the merchant district, a black shadow blots out the sky for a moment, and the screech of vultures rip through the air.  Looking up, several black shapes streak by.  For Rath, Saliq, and Inas, their hearts jump, for they have seen these creatures before. Demons. Vrock.  They are headed to the east.   Even as it dawns on some what they are three more streak by.

"None of you are charmed," Rath judged. "I'm not either. But if I was, I wouldn't tell you."

---

Rath felt a discomfort in his gut. Demons over Stormhaven. Brazen. "Can't really just let this one go, can we?" he said, with a smirk, readying his trident and starting down the street in the direction of the flying demons. He tried to guess where they might be heading.

From where they stand, the forms could be just flying past, going somewhere far east of the city, but if not, they will go over the Bazaar, cross over either the Narrows or Seaside, and then to Eastgate.  Anywhere in the city they could cause a lot of injuries and deaths, in a matter of minutes.  But, Rath's instincts though tell him exactly where they are going, because the Rusty Nail sits just on the edge of Seaside and the Narrows.

Rath froze. "The Nail." His voice was thick. His shoulders slumped. His eyes closed. When he opened them, they were dark and bright. He wasn't smirking. And he unfroze. He glanced quickly about for a horse he could steal, and either went for the horse or, if there were none, he took off at a quick trot in the wake of the vrocks.

"I've been told I have the maternal instincts of a dragon. I've heard they eat their own young."

When the demons fly over, Marissa readies her spear. "I am with you, Rath!" she declares, following her companion as he makes ready to wage war with the beasts.

Saliq glared at the distant vrocks. "It seems to sister won't wait for us to come to her."

He sprinted after Rath and Marissa, already thinking of what magic to use.

Folke joined in the chase, his harp slapping against his back as he raced through the streets with Saliq, trying to chase down Rath and Marissa.  As he ran he furiously poured through what the Morde Warlock had told him about his sister.  Was the summoning of demons in stride, or could this be something else?  And why were they headed for the Nail?

As everyone dashes to the east, two more black figures flash past.

Within a few minutes, it is obvious, whatever is going on isn't "just" aimed at the Nail, screams of citizens come from many angles, left and right.

<Orange>ooc: Please let me know, do you stay on course to the Rusty Nail, stay together, or if you hear citizens screams, do you split up.  I'll wait to hear from everyone before I post the beginning of this battle.. can't drag this out too long ,  but you can all go to the nail or  each take on one in two s or alone
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:01, Mon 12 Mar 2018.

The screams to the left and right gutted Rath, but they could wait. Rath would have plenty of time to deal with them in the nightmares of sleeps to come. He strode ahead, intent on reaching the Rusty Nail. He knew first-hand what vrocks did to human flesh, and the vision of Rose under such torture drove him on relentlessly.

The others would do what they would do; but, gods, Rath nearly prayed they would peel away and help the nearer victims.

Marissa's pace remains steady, close behind Rath.

Inas will follow the others, BUT if someone is in danger in route, Inas will break off to help.  He will not bypass someone in obvious need of protection/help in favor of going to the Rusty Nail.

The group of adventurers races off to the east following the flying Vrock, however, Inas quickly darts off to the left on hearing a commotion down one of the side streets.

Inas comes out in a small square, where a bunch of people are all huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, there is a young man in the middle who wears simple brown robes but has a holy symbol in his hand.  The Vrock is circling the group, screeching at them, but unable to get to them, held at bay by a protection of evil spell, much to its anger.  When Inas arrives, it looks almost happy.

Rath, Marissa, Saliq, and Folke continue east, catching a glimpse from time to time of dark figures flying above.   At one point, a streak of lightning, followed seconds later by a streaking ball of flame explode into two of the forms sending them spiraling down to crash into buildings.  As they cross into the heavy merchants area of the Bazaar, they find two Vrock in a large market.  There are several injured people lying around, but about half a dozen town guard are doing their best to fight the creatures.

Inas has initiative,  Everyone else does too if you wish to fight here, or you can continue to the Nail, it is not clear now if any of the creatures actually have gone there or if these are the ones you saw.

“Damn it,” Rath cursed. Avandra’s coin of fortune spun as Rath made his decision. Maybe he’d get lucky. Or maybe  everyone would lose. “Let’s make this fast.” He uncovered his coin of light, to undo whatever darkness the vrocks might throw down, and he hustled in to the fight. He called to the guards, “Fall back! Defend the injured!”

To the nearest Vrock, he growled: “You’re here for us, right? Well, here ... I ... am!” Rath thrust twice with his trident.

OOC: trouble with the dice roller on my tiny phone, so I’ll post the attack results later.


One hit for 12 damage.

05:54, Today: Aldo Rathmus rolled 13,14,8,12 using d20+3,d20+3,3d4+4,3d4+4 ((10,11,1,1,2,3,2,3)).

This message was last edited by the player at 12:59, Thu 15 Mar 2018.

Saving her breath for battle, Marissa heaves her spear at the nearest Vrock.

To hit 17

Dmg 12

'I hope I get my spear back,' she mutters to herself, drawing both scimitar and dagger in preparation for the beastie's counter.

Remembering how the battle went last time, Inas tries one of his new tricks.

OOC: Cast Faerie Fire on it.  I don't know if the magic resistance works because it's not an attack, but I'll let the DM wrestle with that philosophical question.

Folke did his best to support Rath, firing two arrows at the demonic creature.  The first flew high over the tall creature's head and stopped abruptly against the wall of one of the shops lining the bazaar.  The second flew true to strike the demon, though the skald was not sure how effective his weapon had been.


OOC:

20:47, Today: Folke Vanirhalvt rolled 7,17 using 1d20+1,1d20+1.  Attack Rath's Vrock.  One hit.
20:49, Today: Folke Vanirhalvt rolled 4 using 1d6+1.  Damage to vrock.

There is a flicker of silver in the air as Saliq draws and throws his enchanted dagger at one of the vile demons, the nearest. His blade flew true, though the illusionist doubted so slight a weapon could do much harm to such a monster.

---

OOC:
20:43, Today: Saliq Musfara rolled 21 using 1d20+1.  Attack with Jambiya Moonblade (Thrown).
20:43, Today: Saliq Musfara rolled 5 using 1d4+1.  Damage.

Inas faces a single Vrock, alone as a ranger, but with a crowd watching inside the protective spell of a cleric.  He casts his faerie fire just as a globe of darkness envelopes the creature and it charges.   The spells causes the outline of the creature to show within the darkness, though details are lost in the black, the form of the devil can be seen and stuck out without difficulty.

For its part, the creature is fast and throws itself on the ranger, with a barrage of claws, talons,  and teeth, drawing multiple points of blood (-12 hps).


The rest of the group makes it further through the town before coming upon two of the devils, already cloaked in black, these are facing multiple town guards.  Rath charges the closest and when getting in close, his coin of light negates its sphere of dark, making it easier to hit.  Hit strikes it twice with his trident, even as arrow slams into it.  It turns and appears ready to attack when a silver dagger thumps into its chest, causing it crumble into ashes.  The other Vrock, seeing the danger presented, flings itself at Rath.  As it does, it catches a spear its side.

Despite the injury, its ferocity of attacks brings back bad memories to Rath, being hit four times in a matter of moments.  (-17hps)









Inas' Vrock   AC:0  HP's:  x/x    attacks: 1d4, 1d4, 1d8, 1d8, 1d6

Party Vrocks: AC:0  HP's:  x/dead   x/-7

PC       AC    HP   AP  0  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10   Notes

Inas     1   83/71   3   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Rath     2   67/50   2   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Saliq    7   26/26   3   18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10  9  8
Marissa  2   57/57   3   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Folke    2   39/39   4   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4


End of round one: players are up!



This message was last edited by the GM at 20:49, Mon 19 Mar 2018.

Inas isn't quite used to the rhythm of casting a spell and then attacking, which causes his first strike to miss.

But he adapts quickly and, focusing on the outlined figure, thrusts at its center.



14:04, Today: Inas Eoinsson rolled 6,9 using d20+5,d8+6.  Round 2A (14 to hit).
14:04, Today: Inas Eoinsson rolled 23,10 using d20+5,d8+6.  Round 2B (14 to hit).

1.  I left out the bonus from the faerie fire, but the first one missed anyhow.

2.  I assume man-sized and not large?

3.  My AC has improved to 1. :)

Marissa draws her shiny new Scimitar and charges the Vrock attacking her mates.

Her first effort with the new weapon is...disappointing:

16:53, Today: Marissa Ehridol rolled 4 using 1d20+2 ((2)).

She recovers quickly, however, and makes ready for the next round.

OOC: any chance she can recover the spear yet?

Rath grunted, impressed by Saliq's dagger-work, and danced around the second demon with something less than grace. Ehridol's scimitar might not have struck true, but it did serve as a distraction. Rath was himself distracted momentarily, too, by the spray of his own blood in his face, but he gathered himself and plunged his trident deep into the belly of the thing. He was all business, intent on ending this quickly, and he didn't even call out with his usual inarticulate battle-cry.


One big miss, one CRIT for max damage (16).

16:26, Today: Aldo Rathmus rolled 9,23,11,12 using d20+3,d20+3,3d4+4,3d4+4 ((6,20,4,1,2,2,3,3)).

ooc: They are Large.  Marissa can retrieve her spear, if you roll a dex check, you won't lose any part of your round, otherwise, it'll take one of your 2 attacks. 

The skald shifted his aim to the second vrock and fired another brace of arrows at the towering demon.  Again one sailed high, a little too cautiously aimed by Folke, but the second solidly struck home.


OOC:

20:09, Today: Folke Vanirhalvt rolled 17,6 using 1d20+1,1d20+1.  Attack Rath's Vrock. One hit.
20:09, Today: Folke Vanirhalvt rolled 6 using 1d6+1.  Damage to vrock.

Inas recalls the speed and danger of these demons, and even so, stands firm and strikes back, delivering a single, but hard blow.

The creature is un-phased and continues attacking the ranger from every angle, and most of them draw some blood or bruise.  (-11hps). 


Rath lands a heavy blow on his opponent, and despite her best effort with the new scimitar, Marissa misses wide.  Folke sends in two arrows, careful not to hit his friends, landing one solidly in the demon.

Despite the injuries,  the Vrock continues its assault on Rath, landing two hard hits of its own.  (-13hps)

Even as the party prepares to counter-attack, the Vrock smiles, if a demon vulture can smile.  One of the best-loved, alright, maybe hated and feared, abilities of demons and devils, is there ability to gate in friends from time to time. Even in this moment, another Vrock materializes next to a group of townsguard, taking one by surprise, it tears him into pieces.





Inas' Vrock   AC:0  HP's:  x/-10    attacks: 1d4, 1d4, 1d8, 1d8, 1d6

Party Vrocks: AC:0  HP's:  x/dead   x/-29   x/?

PC       AC    HP   AP  0  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10   Notes

Inas     1   83/60   3   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Rath     2   67/37   2   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Saliq    7   26/26   3   18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10  9  8
Marissa  2   57/57   3   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Folke    2   39/39   4   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4


End of round two: players are up!  (Saliq, you can act twice since I pushed the battle forward)

With a sick tightening in his gut, Rath endured the frenzied assault ... he could take a little more of this ... and planted his trident into the demon again.


One hit for 10 damage
17:03, Today: Aldo Rathmus rolled 11,17,11,10 using d20+3,d20+3,3d4+4,3d4+4.  Kill vrock please.

Rath's next hit on the Vrock is enough, it dissolves into fire and ash, leaving naught but soot and ash on the wind and the taste of sulphur in the mouth.

Even as a new Vrock gates in, Marissa somersaults to gain her spear. It is a smooth tumble, her effort successful, her attacks seamless on the second vulture-demon.

"I have your flank, Rath," she tells him as she strikes. "Let's send these birds back to the pit."

00:15, Today: Marissa Ehridol rolled 9 using 1d8+5 with rolls of 4.  damage 2.
00:15, Today: Marissa Ehridol rolled 10 using 1d8+5 with rolls of 5.  damage 1.
00:14, Today: Marissa Ehridol rolled 19 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 15.  to hit 2.
00:14, Today: Marissa Ehridol rolled 21 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 17.  to hit 1.
00:14, Today: Marissa Ehridol rolled 10 using 1d20 with rolls of 10.  dex check.

Dex check: rolled a 10

to hit 1 & 2: 21 & 19 respectively

damage: 10 & 9 respectively - total 19

His spell's effects notwithstanding, Inas fumbles around in the dark.

10:42, Today: Inas Eoinsson rolled 12,13 using d20+7,d12+6.  Round 3 (14 to hit).

The priest who is standing guard over a small group of civilians cries out, "Kord, god of war, lend your might to the brave who stand against the darkness"

ooc: this adds 5 to Inas' to hit for this round, so he hits!!


Meanwhile, at the other battle site, two of the town guard swing swords at the newly gated in demon, one of them a large muscular chap, lands a solid blow on it (7hps).

From the crown, a smallish girl steps clear of the retreating crowd and raises a hand at the creature, speaking softly, two fiery bolts streak unerringly into the Vrock, but fizzle and die as they reach close to it. (no damage, resistance check made)

ooc: I'll await Folke and Saliq's actions before the next round wrap up.

On seeing Rath's demon fall, quickly switches and fires two arrows into the one Marissa is fighting with, both arrows hit and do damage.

8:59, Today: GM Bard, on behalf of Folke Vanirhalvt, rolled 8 using 2d6+2.

18:58, Today: GM Bard, on behalf of Folke Vanirhalvt, rolled 16 using 1d20+1.

18:58, Today: GM Bard, on behalf of Folke Vanirhalvt, rolled 17 using 1d20+1.

Saliq strokes his ring and mutters a sentence of command: "Noble El Kabah, servant of the ring I request your aid in battle against this vile demon."

Inas swings again against the demon, and though, he feels his swing a bit wide, the Vrock unluckily steps right into the path of his blade, taking another solid hit.

The demon is beginning to feel the effects of the rangers hits, and responds with only two minor hits of its own.  (-6 hps). 


Rath lands a heavy blow on his opponent, sending it to ash and fire.

Marissa, in a move of great skill, retrieves her spear and punishes the newly gated demon with two heavy blows.   Folke adds a pair of arrows and a large towns guard lands a hit on the beast as well.   Saliq summons El Kabah, the spirit djinni, who immediately flies over to the black form of the demon, who is already staggering under the beating it has gotten in way of a greeting,  and pounds it HARD on its vulture-like head, sending it too back to the pits of hell.

Rath, Marissa, Saliq, Folke, and the Djinni, have cleared the square of the demons, the many citizens that have retreated to watch from doorways and windows, stand in wide-eyes awe.




Inas' Vrock   AC:0  HP's:  x/-23    attacks: 1d4, 1d4, 1d8, 1d8, 1d6

Party Vrocks: AC:0  HP's:  x/dead   x/dead   x/dead

PC       AC    HP   AP  0  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10   Notes

Inas     1   83/54   3   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Rath     2   67/37   2   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Saliq    7   26/26   3   18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10  9  8
Marissa  2   57/57   3   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4
Folke    2   39/39   4   14 13 12 11 10  9  8  7  6  5  4


End of round three: players are up!



This message was last edited by the GM at 18:29, Thu 22 Mar 2018.

Marissa touches Rath's shoulder, mutters a prayer to Poseidon, "Sea lord, hear my prayer."

9 points of healing to Rath.

Saliq gives a weary smile at the Djinn. "My heartfelt thanks noble son of the furthest winds. Can you take to the air and tell if any others of that bird headed beast's kind are abroad in the city?"

Rath nodded grimly and gratefully to Ehridol, but he didn’t wait around. As soon as the demon collapsed into ash, Rath was of again at a fast trot, toward the Nail. The bloody carnage he left behind for that priest of Kord to mop up.

The djinni asks, "Do you wish to join me, all of you?  I can get you whereever you wish to go quicker than you can run".

That stopped Rath in his tracks. Normally, he would defer to Saliq. The djinn was his to command, after all. In this circumstance, though, Rath did not hesitate. "Take me to the Rusty Nail."

Kabah does not take his eyes off the illusionist, but a slight nod from Saliq brings a smile to the large djinni's face.  Instantly, the ground below the parties feet feels like its turned to ice, and looking down a swirling of dust at incredible speed is moving beneath them.  Kabah sits in the center of this swirling mass, and everyone begins to rise quickly from the ground as a spiral like a small tornado erupts below them.  In seconds, everyone is 70 feet in the air and moving quickly down the streets, the whirlwind travels in a straight line, up and over buildings, it is exciting and a little dizzying.  But as quick as it started, it ends, dropping down in a matter of mere moments, you find yourselves landing in the square outside the "Nail".

There, in the square, are two patches of black burned dirt.  As in the square you just left, citizens are staring in awe and fear at what they've seen, but a single soldier is standing in the center, wearing strange armor, a mix of metals, scales, horns, and a lance that must be 8 feet or longer and glows even to those who cannot see magic.  No one seems injured and whatever battle was here, is over.

Meanwhile . . .

Sensing that the battle may be tilting in his favor, Inas grimly sets to ending this fight on his terms.


19:59, Today: Inas Eoinsson rolled 16,11 using d20+7,d12+6.  Round 4A (14 to hit for sure, maybe less).

20:00, Today: Inas Eoinsson rolled 10,15 using d20+7,d12+6.  Round 4B (14 to hit for sure, maybe less).

Inas' next hit was the critical one, sending the demon into an explosion of ash and fire, leaving naught but a burnt patch on the ground.

With its death, the crowd of civilians actually applaud!!

The figure with the lance looks up from where it was studying one of the burnt black patches, watching as the party lands in spectacular fashion from a swirling tornado.  In a voice that is low but feminine, it says, "Quite an entrance".

Inas is panting slightly.  His concern that more needs to be done overshadows his embarrassment (irritation?) at the accolades.

"Is everyone ok?" he asks, although a quick visual glance proves that the citizens are safe.

Saliq blinks as he looks at the armoured woman standing so proud nearby.

"Indeed so madam, though I see you need little aid." Saliq gestures at the twin dark patches on the ground. "Your weapon work I presume?"

"Are there more of those things?" Rath asked the stranger in passing. He was already heading toward the tavern. He called out to Marissa, "Where the hell is Inas?" He didn't wait for an answer. Rath was on the move.

The tall warrior ignores both Rath and Saliq's questions, and walks directly over near Marissa.  Hard to tell what it is looking at behind its helmet, but it stares at her for a few moments, then turns and heads back to the tavern.

Rath finds everyone, including Rose, safe within, and not really that worried about what has happened outside.


Meanwhile, the cleric, states, "I prayed to Kord to protect these people, and he not only did that, he sent a warrior as well.   Blessings on you, I am Klaroj, if you would allow us, we can heal your wounds".

If Inas allows, this cleric and three of his young acolytes who have been near him, all cast healing spells and he is quickly restored to full points.   It does not take him long to meet up with the others at the Nail.

Folke openly stared in wonder at the female warrior, perhaps seeing something more than the others in her arms and armour, or the way she carried herself.  His head swivelled as the woman walked past to gaze intently at Marissa, then reversed to follow her departing form as she headed toward the Nail's entrance.  To her backside he said one word with a mixture of reverence and awe.

"Sigurdsdottir."

He followed the woman and the rest of his friends into the tavern, where he was a little surprised at the calm aplomb that engulfed the place.  Maybe they didn't realize what had just happened across the city?  No matter, he thought, there was a legend he wanted to verify.  So he approached the imposing female warrior and bowed gracefully before her.

"I am known as Folke, skald of Vestfald.  You are one of the Sigurdsdottirs, are you not?" he asked expectantly.  "A wyrmslayer?"

The warrior, who is seated alone, looks at Folke for a few moments,  "Saracutti".

He takes that as her name, she pushes a seat back with foot, an obvious invitation to join her, and removes her helm.   Long cinnamon hair falls out, her face is strong and angular, her eyes green.

What she says next, is hard to say.

ooc: Folke roll a d100 to see if your language skills help at all.
This message was last updated by the GM at 23:49, Sun 25 Mar 2018.

"Yes . . . I am glad you are all alright," Inas says; the words don't seem particularly grand for the occasion, but this is Inas.

He waits until the healing is completed, then warns: "I don't know what brought those monsters, and I don't know if there will be more.  It would be wise for you all to seek shelter somewhere."   With that bit of advice imparted, the ranger dashes off to the Nail.

Upon arriving, he heads to Rath and the others.  He takes notice of the female warrior conversing with Folke.  Facing Rath he allows his eyes to dart to the stranger and then back to Rath and, with a cock of his head and a raised eyebrow he non-verbally asks "Who's that?"

With a shrug Saliq turned to his Djinn. "A thousand blessings for your aid noble son of the winds. Return to your ring for the moment, leaving with my grateful thanks."

Afterwards he followed the others into the inn, curious about this strange and rude warrioress.

Rath, brandishing Devilsbane,  burst in to the tavern, all intense and ready for violence , so he was taken aback by the lack of emergency within, and he probably drew some pretty odd looks. He surveyed the scene, furrowed his brow, and approached Rose. "You okay? You ... you look okay. I mean, you look better than okay. You're okay. Good." He looked around and smirked a self-effacing smirk. "I. Uh. I'll explain later. Can I get a godsdamn beer?"

He realized that the warrior from the street had entered the Nail, and now just about everyone was here. Rath responded to Inas' nonverbal question with a nonverbal smirk and a shrug to convey his ignorance and moved to join the ranger.

Marissa finds a seat with Folke.

"You've ruined my joke, Lady Saracutti," she said carefully, enunciating each syllable. With a rueful shake of her dark tresses, she added. "I was admiring your lance. You can imagine where the joke went wrong, I suspect. That said, I mean no disrespect, and I am rarely glib. 'Tis not often I see a warrior fight multiple demons alone and survive, much less a woman. You have my honor as a compatriot."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:09, Sun 25 Mar 2018.

Folke took the roughly offered seat and settled in, cocking his head slightly as the woman spoke in a strange language.  Those listening in heard him respond in kind, though his efforts seemed more laboured.


When Marissa approached and then sat, Folke made room for her and cut off his questions.  He sensed that the strange warrior would expect the conversation of two women to take precedence, so instead he stayed silent, listened and watched.

Outside, Kabah merely nods and vanishes back into the ring as requested.


The cinnamon haired warrior nodded at Folke, and spoke again in that very odd language



Looking to Marissa, she speaks in common, though roughly, "Do not apologize, I mistook you for a sister, you wear dragon scales and have a dragon killing sword, both tell me I'm not here by mistake.  The abomination of Gar-ylllia-sus is truly dead, and the time to find and kill its dread offspring is at hand, as I suspected.  I guess you are here for the same purpose"

Rose gives Rath a smile and nods, "We heard some ruckus outside, and then that woman went out, but there is always some ruckus in Stormhaven these days,  I'll get you a cold beer, you are bleeding again..." she shakes her head seeing his wounds.  "Off saving the world again huh?  That deserves some stew too, we have a great one today".
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:39, Mon 26 Mar 2018.

When Rose returns a few minutes later with beers, food, and other sundries for all who have ordered them, she moves over to Rath and leans in close.

Marissa deflects the question, asks instead, "You are a tracker?"

"No need to be humble,  I am jealous, I admit it freely, naturally, I've eliminated two dozen wyrms
But all common, juveniles, you killed a one of a kind, special and rare, but if I kill
The baby,  I end its kind forever,  for that I will be remembered "
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:38, Mon 26 Mar 2018.

"Mm, yes, I can see the allure," Marissa replied. She looks at Folke, then Saliq with an amused smile.

"I expect our adventure to be interesting, gentlemen."

Saliq said nothing but frowned at the dragonkiller.

Rath was distracted from the conversation at large. He leaned close to Rose, clasped her hand, and muttered something to her.


Rath took an enormous drink of his ale, then stood up again. "Be right back. Nature calls." Rath departed for whatever qualified as the restroom around here.

PM

A silent "O" formed on Folke's lips when the warrior revealed her ruse in the strange tongue, and then he had the decency to look a little sheepish for the next minute or so.  As the conversation continued with Marissa he grew curious, and interjected when there was a lull.

"You must forgive the limits of my knowledge, but I can't recall the full tenets of your order.  Are you to kill any and all dragons you can, or is there leniency granted for the so-called 'good' dragons?  Those with the metallic colouring, I mean."

Saracutti stares sharply at the bard for a moment, then laughs, "How poetically I have
been repaid for my little jest, you have talent Skaald, I almost think to truly hire you to tell of my great quest. As every Sigurdsdottir knows from the time we can learn, there are NO good dragons, when none draw breathe again forever more, only then will we rest."

Marissa hides her distaste behind her ale. White froth adorns her lips, which she wipes away on the back of her wrist. When she's done grooming, she says, "It is apparent that Master Folke is aware of you. I, however, am not. I would learn of you before coming to any premature conclusions. Who are you, and where do you hail from?"

Saracutti looks away a moment, "I have a room and need to sleep, my dreams are leading me to my prey.  Marissa, if you wish to know more of my people, our ways, I find you vexing and strong and fine, something exotic beyond my own sisters, that is rare, if you wish to join me, I'm in room four upstairs".

Rath rejoined the others, picking up his tankard and drinking even as he sat down and peered at the others. He had clearly missed something. He eyed this Saracutti with a narrow gaze. It sounded like she might be leaving. The others would fill him in, Rath was sure, once the dragon-slayer was out of ear-shot.

Inas merely hovers, listening impassively.

Marissa watches as the woman departs up the stairs toward her room. Her frown is pensive and somewhat troubled, then her shoulders square and she looks at Folke with a keen eye.

"Tell me what you know of Saracutti's folk, Master Bard," she said plainly, her voice couched low, her face intent. "She presents a potential problem - I would blunt that if I could."

"I don' like her," Inas offers.

Folke raised an eyebrow at Saracutti's offer to Marissa, but managed to supress a smile until the dragonslayer had left for her room.  Then. despite Marissa's businesslike approach, the skald couldn't help but grin.  "I hope my answers don't unduly influence your decision."

Settling down, Folke nodded and marshalled his thoughts.  "All right, where to begin.  My people call them Sigurdsdottir, which has a mythical origin that isn't important here.  They are an order of women wyrmslayers.  They hunt dragons with the express desire to rid the world of them, and they are very good at it.  As you heard, they do not discriminate between breeds either.  A dragon is a dragon, and therefore must be slain."

The skald leaned back and toyed with his mug of ale.  "You have to understand that in the North, there is a long and painful relationship with dragonkind.  Our histories, our myths, our sagas often feature dragons, and none in a heroic role.  They are always the villain, always."  He looked chagrinned, almost.  "My friends and I were on that island where you rescued me for that specific purpose.  To hunt down and kill the dragon.  It wasn't for the same reasons as the Sigurdsdottir, but in the end our desires for the dragon were the same.  Death."

He looked from Marissa to the others, his gaze taking in Rath, Inas and Saliq before returning to the Sea Dragon and summing things up succinctly.  "If she hunts the hatchling as do we, she will have only one end in mind."

"I'm open to suggestions for dealing with her that have nothing to do with feeding your fantasies, Master Bard," Marissa said a bit crossly. "If we don't take steps now, she'll likely dog our steps during the coming journey and she seems savvy enough to follow us in secret if we're careless. I'd rather incapacitate her now, than wait until we're vulnerable in the wilds."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:21, Wed 28 Mar 2018.

Rath grimaced, unhappy and angry, and pulled out a tattered, dirty white cloth from his pouch. He glanced around, warily, watching for prying eyes or approaching tavern staff. With a lowered voice, he growled, "Warlock dropped this off for me." He unfolded the cloth, showing a map of sorts, displaying a C-shaped set of cliffs and several waterfalls. There wasn't much to indicate where this place might have been located, at least not to Rath. "Here. The egg is here. Wherever here is."

Inas looks at the map, in case he recognizes the area it depicts.

Saliq has been silent, lost in thought. "Folke do you know if these Sigurdsdottir have any magic... defense against magic?"

He glances at Marissa, hesitates, then says: "It seems she has taken an interest in you Marissa."

"You think?" Marissa replied, her raised eyebrow indicative of her current state of mind. "Hmph, if that's the best we can collectively do..."

She trails off, then looks at Rath.

"Do you have anything to add to the conversation?"

PM's

Ignoring (or oblivious to) the topic under discussion, Inas says:

"I know where that is.  Been there a lot.  It's in the Northern Hinterlands."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:05, Wed 28 Mar 2018.

Hesitating only long enough to fill his mouth with food, Rath answered: “Well, if Ben Sristos was here, I’d say Musfara should doll him up to look like Ehridol and send him up to ply the secrets from the wyrm-slayer. But Ben ain’t here, so I say leave well enough alone.”
This message was last edited by the player at 01:02, Thu 29 Mar 2018.

“Huh,” Rath grunted, secretly impressed. “Then let’s get there, and make sure the sigger-doter don’t follow.” He finished his beer. “No coincidence that the Warlock was here this morning, and the wyrm-slayer, and the vrocks. We got our work cut out for us. Musfara, how far can your new familiar carry us? We should go now.”

In reply to Inas Eoinsson (msg # 221):

"If there's a limit, we might want to save him for later.  We can take horses part of the way, but most of the way would have to be on foot."

"We don't need Ben, I could make myself look like Marissa quite easily," Saliq said quietly.

After an awkward pause he glanced at Rath. "I fear I do not know all the djinni can do. I do know his whirlwind would leave an easily seen trail, at least over land. What we'd gain in speed we'd certainly lose in subtlety."

" if we start the journey by horse and put a couple of days Travel In, the start of your servant's Trail may not be easily discovered.  Either way, starting immediately is a good."

Folke wasn't bothered by Marissa's comment, but he had the decency to nod his head in a sign of capitulation.  Morals were somewhat different in the South, after all.

"I have not heard nor read of any specific resistances for the Sigurdsdottir, Saliq," he answered the illusionist.  "Maybe some extra tolerance for dragon breath?  But even that is conjecture."

When talk turned to a new destination, Folke peered at the map along with the rest, and then nodded along as Inas and Rath began describing an immediate departure.  "Putting space between us would be useful, but I wonder if that will be enough.  Saracutti made some reference to dreams that guided her.  It could be that the Morde Witch is lending her aid supernaturally."

"Nevertheless, no one ever complained about a head start."

"Hold," Marissa said. "I am going upstairs."

Her tone is preemptory, as if expecting her wish to be their command, but her expression is distracted as she stands from the table. She checks her gear; with the spear shaft sitting lazily upon her shoulder, she makes her way to room #4.

Knocking once, she awaits the invitation to enter. Her opposite hand is on the hilt of her dagger, just in case.

Inas interrupts Marissa's contemplation before she departs.  "Why?" he growls.

"Why not?" she challenged, her eyes flashing real anger now. "You would rather we have a committed and clever foe dogging our heels? I'm not going up there for pleasure, Inas. I'm going to see if I can neutralize her."



She ignores further questions and moves up the stairs.

"Wait!" Folke called after Marissa, now seriously concerned.  He did not know if she would listen though."How?"

He was pretty sure he knew what she meant, but the conclusion was dangerous and distasteful at the same time.  Especially when they had no idea how things would turn out in the future.  A pre-emptive strike supposed so much knowledge that they simply did not have.  And the implications were grave.

Despite protestations, Marissa disappears up the stairs from the common room of the Nail into the overnight rooms.

Inas' sub-audible muttering (the words "damn fool" can be heard) conveys his irritation.

Inas walks to the tavern's door, seems to pull something out of his pocket, toss it, then return.

Rath stared after Marissa. He was less judgmental then Inas, but perhaps equally concerned. He waited a minute, then stood up. "Well, somebody's got to sit at the top of the stairs and listen for trouble." He made a move to do just that.

Rath moves up to the top of the stairs, and sits in a spot that has been worn smooth by the countless people sitting there over the years, doing just what he is doing.

As everyone sips their drinks, nibbles on the food, but minds are wondering what is going on above, senses sharp waiting for some sign of trouble, the doors to the Nail open and Inglebern, Seneschal of the Lord Mayor walks in, followed by two iron plated soldiers.   Seeing the party, he moves straight over.

"All is quiet here I see, I suppose the black smears outside are your doing, thank you for that.  I was asked, should I see you, if you have any theories on why Stormhaven was swarmed with demons, we, so far, do not".

"Inglebern," Folke nodded, greeting the seneschal politely but as an equal.  "How widespread is it?  We saw three groups on the way here.  Were they everywhere?"

"As to the reasons for it," he continued, deciding Inglebern could answer in another second, "we have nothing definite to offer.  We did visit the swamps the other day, to deal with an issue in the Glades.  But I don't see any connection that would explain attacks against the city at large."

"Though there was a mention of a pact between Stormhaven and a denizen in the Glades," the skald mentioned, suddenly curious.  "You wouldn't know the terms of that agreement, would you?  It doesn't mention demons at all, I trust."

Inglebern listens, nods, "They came from everywhere, we have have a dozen citizens dead, four times that in the hands of the clerics, and we got off easy, so many of the guild were in town, and you, and some others..." he wipes his forehead, "we could have lost more people, so far we've counted seventy five demons killed, I don't think the swamp folks had anything to do with it, if they had, well, it would have been much worse.  Let us know if you find anything".  With that, he leaves, clearly flustered.

Marissa returns from upstairs, having issued her warning to the unnaturally sleepy dragon-slayer.  The group feels it best to get started sooner than later given the odd meetings and events of the past day.  The rangers idea that the first few days would go quicker by horse, makes sense and so the group makes plans to slip away from the city quietly, near sunset when many of those who come to sell goods in the great Bazaar head home for the day.  It will be easier to leave without notice (if such a thing is possible).  And Inas can find a route in the right direction even in the early night to a private glade some many hours away from the city to camp for the first night.  And, there are just a few hours to say goodbye's, grab any last minute goods before heading out on the road.

ooc: You can continue to post here for a few days if you have anything left to discuss in this thread, then I will close it.  I will open The Quest for Seven Fall Canyon tomorrow.

Marissa exits the woman's room to find Rath at the top of the stairs.

"Did you lose something, Rath?" she asks with a small smile. "Come, let us make plans to be away."

She slides by him as he rises from his perch and heads down to the commons. Noting Inas missing, she asks Folke and Saliq, "I suppose our good ranger was watching my back as well?"

She grins slowly, nods once and says, "Thank you, all of you. It is good to have such faithful companions."

Inas lingers outside the tavern for a few moments.  Eventually, he returns.  He directs a glance to Marissa, but only says: "We are agreed then? -- a quick departure by horseback?"

"Me?" Rath says with a smirk, looking up at Ehridol. "Heck, I got nothing to lose. How 'bout you? Lose anything?" He stands up and follows Marissa down to the common room.

Folke nodded to Marissa with a small smile.  "He stepped to the door shortly after you left.  I think he had a friend keeping watch."

"And you're welcome.  Just don't scare us too often, right?"

"Hmph, lost that a long time ago, Rath."





"Were you really afraid for a little ole gal like me? I'm flattered Master Folke."


"A quick departure sounds perfect, Inas."