The grig's vow sounded serious enough, and bound to things important enough to him, that Dante believed Stumpkin would hold to it. Narthian's agreement was reassuring as well, so Dante inclined his head slightly to the grig. "I accept your vow. May you travel from here in safety, Stumpkin."

He was glad Lantamori had thought to ask about lingering "traps" before the grig departed, however; they sounded unpleasant enough that Old Rue and his lady would be glad to avoid them.

The elven woman was satisfied that Stumpkin would at least stay away for a good while.  They'd tell the old man about the last few traps and he could take care of them.

She nodded to the Averdante and turned to address the hairy man.  "How far behind you is Bruenor?  He needs to deal with his horse."

Farian arrives as Averdante gives Stumpkin his blessing on the oath. "Farewell Stumpkin!" she calls between wolf howls.

"That went better than I expected," she says once the grig is gone. She collects her horse, Lux, and mounts up. She looks around as if missing something. "You know, I think that we need a pennon. I saw this flower back there, I think that it's called a sword lily, with a single golden bloom. Wouldn't that be appropriate for the Leafblade Company provided that it had 8 leaves?"

Breunor rejoined the group, taking Demons reins.  He grinned and chuckled
"Did my naughty boy scare the mean little man?"
He talked baby talk to the monster horse, as if he were a proud father encouraging a precocious young boy.  He scritched the horse's neck affectionately

Dellas looks to Farian "yes a Sword lily, with a loaf of bread" he seemed excited at the possiblities he looks to his own friends "And we can make you a little surcoat and you a color with a leather thong with our symbol on it. Oh yes"

Volsh shrugged at the question of a pennon, whatever that is, he thought to himself.

"Whatever you think is good for that Farian, I'm not any good with those kinds of things."

He chuckled at Bruenor with Demon and patted the frisky horse on his side also.

"That went well, and we didn't have to kill anything which is different. Do you think they'll stay away?" he said as he started walking with the others back to the main part of their camp. He laid Widowmaker down and moved to check on Eagle to see if how his own horse fared in Stupmkin's raid on their camp.

In reply to Volsh son of Vor (msg # 349):

Bruenor looked at his big friend with a smirk
"They will if they know what's good for them'

Lantamori wondered whether the halfling confused a one word for another between his native tongue and common.  She was pretty sure he wasn't suggesting the human woman wear a leather thong.

As was her policy, she ignored both humans and halfling as she vaulted into Cloud's saddle.

"Time to head back," she stated, turning her mount in that direction.

Farian laughs at Dellas's suggestion. "There is no need to make a new surcoat! Shundahar!" The last word reverberates slightly with magic and the image appears on her golden-tan silk tunic. A bright golden sun-like blossom supported by a stem surrounded by 8 sword-like leaves. At the base of the stem is a large pebble - perhaps Dellas's loaf. "Added to a pennon upon a tall staff, and all will know that the Leafblade Company has come to right the wrongs! And the next wrong to be put right is our friend Volsh. Lead on the the Ruby Conclave!"

Not to self - prepare a Sending spell to have Sir Aberlayne place the order with ... the guild? A tailor?Twenty-five words: Please make arrangements for a pennon to be made for our company. A sword lily with 8 sword like leaves and a single golden blossom. ... Provided that dealing with the grigs contributes the 72 XP she needs to learn a 4th level spell.

Narthian, in wolf form, waits for everyone to mount up, then leads the way back to the trail. If he has any opinion on the pennon, it's impossible to say.

After accepting the fiddle as Stumpkin's pledge, the much-subdued grig scampers off, looking over his shoulder warily.

Demon takes Bruenor's praise as his due, snuffling his rider and only trying to bite him a little.  Affectionately, of course.

Message sent to Sir Aberlayne about the group's new symbol and design for a pennon, the Leafblade Company can circle back together and break up their temporary camp.  Old Rue quickly gallops to Stellana's grove and back as the group finishes gathering all of their things, and returns with his face wreathed in smiles.

"That was a fine thing you've done and no mistake. Clever of you to turn his pranks against him and his kind! A fair trade, my friends, a fair trade indeed.  Now, this is from Stellana, for a bit of a thanks."  He hands out several small woven grass bowls of berries, one for each person, and an extra for Aberlayne.  "Goodberries, eh?  Heal your wounds and good as a full dinner. They'll last about a week or so, so I hope you get good use out of 'em!  The best of luck to all of you, and Obad-Hai's favor on you, Volsh."

--

If the group so wishes, they can continue on and reach the Ruby Conclave just after dark.  In the dim light, the torches illuminating the gate are a crimson red, giving an unearthly sanguine glow to the forbidding walls.  The skeletal guardians atop the gates look particularly sinister as they move into position for the guardian priestess to look the party over.  While not immediately identifiable, she seems to recognize the party after a moment and opens the gate.

"Sister Lar said you were coming.  Come.  Rest and meditate this evening, and we shall see you through this ordeal," the guardian sister says solemnly.

The group is met by an acolyte in gray robes, a thin girl with a narrow face and dark hair, who will bow to them and guide them to a stables and guest house near the communal hall.  The guest house is austere, but there are simple beds and chests for one's belongings, and tables and desks and lamps for study.

Though dinner time is past, there are simple provisions of vegetables, fruits, bread, sausage, and cheese available in the communal hall.

Sister Lar will come to see Volsh and the rest of the group by the next morning, after a breakfast of porridge and fruit.

"We have two days to the next full moon.  Volsh, I suggest meditation of what techniques you have learned from your various teachers, focusing to prepare to become solidly one with the beast within your blood.  And for the rest of you, I can only offer you the pastimes of religious scholars, reading, research, lectures, spell-scribing, debate, and sermons.  Or if none of those suit, the sea is a few hours' walk south, and the forest is all around.  As the full moon rises in two days' time, though, I'm certain you would wish to add your strength to Volsh's attempt to master his curse.  We are preparing a place of safety for his attempt, one that, should the worst happen, no harm would come to innocents."

He’d smiled at Rue when given the good berries then nodded solemnly at Rue’s best wishes for him. “I will take the favor of any and all the gods right now in this trial. Thanks... again for how you helped me. I still owe you a debt no doubt.”

---

Volsh grunted at the gate guardian's recognition of him and the party and followed the woman to the guest house they had prepared for the party. He ate heartily of the food provided and took his rest for the evening. His heart was a mix of heavy and light both. They had done a good thing helping Rue, but he was anxious for this first transformation to be complete and so it weighed on him as he tried to sleep.

After a good night's sleep he started to eat when Sister Lars came in, "morning."

Volsh's eyes this morning were heavy of lid as though he didn't sleep well the night before, but he was soldering onward.

"Thank you again for your temple's help with this Sister. I hope all our preparations will not end up worthless in the end." he said.

"I'll try to do my best to practice and meditate. Two days of meditation is a lot to ask but there is a lot riding on this, so I'll do what I can. "

He left Widowmaker in the room he'd been given and found a nice quiet place to practice. Soon enough his exhausted body dropped him down to slumber and the wolf dream began.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:06, Sun 08 Mar 2020.

Haazheel has been accompanying the group lost in his own thought.

During the ride, he remarks I remembered: the sword lily also is called gladiolus. It symbolizes honor and remembrance, strength of character, faithfulness, sincerity and integrity, infatuation, and never giving up. Good choice.

He thanks Old Rue for the goodberry.

Haazheel's choice is to visit the library. He also asks what the spell scribing entails and what debates are scheduled.

Mystique' choice is to hunt.

Lantamori spent her time stalking the surrounding forest to familiarize herself with her hunting ground.  If it came down to it, she had a score of silver arrows to finish the task.

"This is a gift beyond measure!" Farian tells old Rue when accepting Stellana's gift. "When I eat it I will remember the kindness and friendship of Rue and Stellana.

---

"I did not know that, Haazheel. Thank you for sharing!" She recites a prayer of thanks, one of the shorter ones that only takes about a minute or two.

---

Farian is uncomfortable among the Jasians and their reckless use of necromancy. Skeletal guardians indeed! If anything, she sits more upright in the saddle and tries to will Pelor's Light to shine ever brighter from her mace. But having been forewarned, she bites her tongue. She leans close to Lux's ear and whispers. "[Language unknown: Witandear no k unson us caast, Kor p ouslinous, derpr tin ponot nti chmo pa wiles lisan fiinme e derntewer tr earectnot ck oul estanyillout nocaer day hoioro issan is. Ai a ncpre io, newil ortiv arek te ha vor essromous.]" All of her interactions with the Jasians are polite, but curt, so as to not be drawn into a debate while in "unfriendly" territory. Her night is restless and full of prayer rather then sleep. During the day, she rides to the beach to work out and catch up on her sleep in the warmth of the Sun Father.

Pelor help us if it should be a rainy day! That would be a poor omen indeed.

Narthian wags his tail and barks a thanks to Rue, assuming that the werebear would understand. He doesn't return to elf-form until outside the gates of the Ruby Conclave. He collects his Goodberry from whichever companion carried it before taking his rest. In the morning he prepares his spells and breaks his fast with whichever companions are available. "I'll be visiting Stellana's grove today," he says. "To repay her gift. I will place Ehlenestra's blessing upon her grove that it might have a year of superb growth. I will be back by night fall." Soon afterward, he transforms into a wolf and he and Thunder disappear into the forest.

Haazheel smiles at Farian's remark.

Dante wraps the little fiddle in his spare shirt and stows it carefully in Mask's saddlebags when they return to the horses. What is he supposed to do with it now? he wonders, double-checking that it's as safe as he can make it. What happens if the fiddle is broken? He's going to need to return to the Grove in Port Lyalee for advice on that.

He's thus quiet when they meet the wearbear again, although he's properly appreciative of the dryad's gift.

He stays quiet on the road, too, keeping an eye on the sun, and glad to have the safety of the conclave for the night. The skeletons roaming the place are disturbing, however docile they seem to be. He's not sure about the propriety of disrupting the natural cycles of life in such a way; at the very least, the earth is being denied nutrients that will enhance the soil.

Thus the next morning, he saddles Mask again and rides out to the beach. It's not hard to find some driftwood to use for target practice, to practice loosing arrows from the horse's back while she's moving. When he needs a break from that, he finds a quiet, sunny spot to sit and watch the sea. Is it safe to warn the others while they're at the Conclave? The shadows weren't undead, but all the necromany is troubling.

Volsh can easily find a quiet but wild place to give his wolf dream deep consideration.



The library of the Ruby Conclave explores the mysteries of life and death and deals with truth and transformation.  Here Haazheel and Dellas can find texts and spellbooks on necromancy, transmutation, divination, abjuration, and evocation. The fees to the Conclave are similar to those of the Mage's Guild, fifty gold times the level of the spell, and the inks, powders, diagrams, and elements needed for scribing are available at the normal rates of one hundred gold per page (and each spell takes up one spell per level, of course).  The scholars of the Conclave have some unusual spells in their shelves, reflecting the scholars who have devoted their lives to knowledge and magic over the decades.   



Lantamori spends her time familiarizing herself with the woods around the Conclave, noting paths that a creature the size of a werewolf might take, and places that would be good for ambushing or making a stand. Hopefully such information wouldn't be needed, but a wise adventurer made certain to cover every contingency.



The Jasians recognize that their philosophy and practices are at great contrast to those of the Peloran sun priestess, and are quite happy not to press or bother her, if she does not insist on lecturing them.  Space given all around, Farian can find the sunniest spots on the Conclave grounds (or outside of them) to do her prayers and spend time with Lux.  The newly-named horse is quite happy to be away from the skeletons, which clearly unnerve her even more than her mistress.

Bruenor can, if he so pleases, spar with the Temple Guardians, the living ones, who are always ready to test and hone their skill so that they will be ready against any foe who threatens their sacred spaces.  Demon is also ready to gallop off energy, if Bruenor wants to travel in the nearby woodlands or down to the sea.



Narthian's return visit to the grove is greeted warmly by Rue and Stellana, and his sound form of aid in the form of grown magic is welcomed warmly.

"A kind and wise gift to us," Stellana says, helping direct the rich growth as the grove slowly begins to unfold it bounty.



The sea, at least, is soothing to Averdante's senses while he and Mask work on their skills together.  The brightness of the sun is an antidote to the somber gloom of the Ruby Conclave, certainly there is enough room here to stay the evening, if he would prefer to rest in less strange places than a Jasian stronghold.

--

The next day passes peacefully, much like the first, and the day stays clear and bright. By afternoon, Sister Lar comes to bring Volsh and the others to what seemed to be a strongly-built stone building, perhaps that of a dairy (usually built with thick stone walls to keep the milk and cheese cool).  But inside the stone room has been stripped of any mundane tools.  Heavy bars of iron fill the two small windows, the bars wrapped in fine silver chains.  The doors are ironwood, the locks have silver keys, and a circle is inscribed in the middle of the floor, in silver, iron, and blood.  These are protective circles meant to thwart malign influence and focus the abjuration magic meant to protect both Volsh and the Jasian priestess during the ordeal.

There is room enough for a dozen inside, allowing for the group to position themselves within or without as they see fit.  The windows are aligned with where the moon will rise, ensuring that the moonlight will bathe the circle.

"This space has been consecrated to keep out evil.  I will bolster that effect as the moon rises.  If any of you have additional spells to assist Volsh in his attempt to wrest control, I will give you warning when to cast them.  Then, my wolfish friend, the rest lies within your heart and mind. If the worst happens, the building is strong and should contain you.  If that fails, the walls around the Conclave are high and our skeletal guardians are watchful.  We will be able to keep you away from the unwary.  If you run wild this night, we can make another attempt the next night, or we can attempt to remove the curse entire.  But we should resolve it sooner than later; our sisters of Ehlonna would not be pleased to know an uncontrolled werewolf roams the woods.  Nor, quite obviously, would you!  Prepare yourself, Volsh, for the sun will go soon, and not long after that, the moon will rise."

Everyone in the group can prepare or position themselves within or without of the ritual space as they need.  Anyone with magic to aid Volsh can cast it Sister Lar finishes her own spells, as daylight fades and the first cool rays of moonlight fill the room.

As wolves howl in Volsh's ears and his body starts to rebel, he must try to hold to the wolf dream, not of that of the vicious loner, the stalking killer, but instead that of the loyal pack member, the strong hunter who runs with his pack.  This is what he has prepared for for weeks, with meditation and dreams, with amulet and favor, with his friends' aid, Volsh strives to master the curse within his blood, to turn it from bane to boon!

Bruenor enjoyed a relaxing couple of days.  He rode Demon to the coast, laughing as the big horse galloped through the surf, and saw the sights of the nearby Woodlands.
He was still a city boy at heart, he knew, but the change of scenery was a good thing
And he sparred with the temple guards, always enjoying the brotherhood of warriors whenever he could, especially after the frustrating magic shenanigans of the fey in the grove.


When it came time for Volsh and his test of will over his curse, Bruenor was back to being all business.  He stayed out of the room of containment when the time came, but stood nearby to help if the beast within Volsh went rogue
He didn't want to fight his friend, but knew that was preferable to letting innocent people getting hurt

Farian spends the second night in a library reading about Lycanthropy, and finds that there may be something that she can do should the worst come to pass.

Well rested in the warmth of the afternoon sun, Farian enters into the containment area. She lays a reassuring hand on Volsh's shoulder. "Pelor's Light will gird your Will for this ordeal," she says before looking at her companions. "Should the Evil of the affliction still take hold, however, I ask my companions to refrain from doing anything to Volsh other then to restrain him. I have prepared three prayers to remove this curse, which must be cast in the full moon to have a chance to cure him." She turns back to Volsh and looks him in the eye. "If I must cure you, it will be an additional test of your Will, so I ask you to put your effort forth on that. I will only try to cure you if the Evil takes root. The cure will be better then your destruction, even if it means the loss of your Wolf Dream. There are other methods to achieve that dream, as Narthian can well tell you. Have faith in your pack, I swear by the Holy Light that we will not fail you."

She will cast Owl's Wisdom on Volsh within 7 minutes of the transformation. As the transformation begins, she will cast Detect Evil and concentrate on it for up to 70 minutes. She also has prepared a Guidance and a back up Detect Evil in case this is a situation where a timely intervention might help.

With her bow, Lantamori positioned herself outside of the ritual space.  This whole thing reeked of demon summoning to her.

Narthian spends an hour of so enjoying Stellana's now peaceful grove before hustling back to the Conclave. He'll ask Lantamori to show him the lay of the land in the day leading up the The Event. When the time comes, he follows Volsh and Farian into the containment area. He nods and smiles appreciatively at Farian's oath. "Farian thinks of so much that I have but two things to offer. The first is the Guidance of the Natural Order. It's not powerful in and of itself, but Ehlenestra often wraps great things in small packages. The second is that Thunder and I will be at your side, Wolf Brothers in form as well as spirit to inspire you." He turns to Farian, sharing a look of concern as if to say "let me know if things are going poorly". Then he transforms into his smaller version of Thunder.

If Farian gives a signal, or he senses things are amiss, he'll (Natural Spell) cast Bull's Strength followed by -if time permits- Greater Magic Fang on himself (spell sharing with Thunder).

Dante takes a place inside the building, Prreet on his shoulder as usual. He has his bow, but it is something only for last resort. Overall, it does seem as if the Conclave priests, whatever their strange proclivity for undead, have been thorough in their preparations for Volsh's transformation. Ehlonna willing, it will be enough. He will pray for that outcome while things commence.

As the spells are cast at Sister Lar's warning, the moonlight stretches into the room.  Volsh's body warps, his clothing ripping asunder, but the shimmering circles hold as he writhes in the pain of having his form shifted.  For agonizing moments his bones shift, his face stretches, teeth lengthen, and fur grows.  All remnants of civilization are gone but the talisman from Old Rue, the protective magic of the circles, the spellcasting and wary guardianship of his friends, and the determination of Volsh, son of Vor, the last of his people.

With a howl, not of a hunting wolf, but a triumphant mingling of man and lupine, the moonlight illuminates a man-sized wolf standing calm and proud, his eyes that of a hunter with human sense and intelligence, a master of himself!