Prologue:

The moon loomed over The Swanmay at half past Three, a black circle against a somber sky. Amara McKeel, the ship's Captain, looked up with a sigh. “That looks like Shar’s Moon,” she said to a powerfully built man who wore exotic headgear. “No good comes of that phase of the moon, Telric. I hope the Night White Lady will keep us from her sister’s wiles.” Amara quietly whispered a quick prayer to Selune. She was not a religious woman, but she honored the beloved Moon goddess.

A gentle breeze blew strands of her night-dark hair around her face. For all its gentleness, though, the breeze arrived with a chill that Amara found discomfiting. Amara stared out from her observation point on the foredeck at the trees that stretched into the beginnings of the Vast Swamp. The trees which had swallowed the away party that she’d sent for supplies needed badly for The Swanmay’s repairs. “They should be back, soon,” Amara said.

“What do you think, Telric?” Telric Televentor had joined her crew before they left their last port. He’d proven valuable in aiding treatment of any injuries, bolstering Moonsong’s ministrations as one of the ship's resident Healers. However, Telric offered a skill set beyond those possessed by even the mysterious Druid from the Northeastern islands of The Realm. His esoteric talents helped protect the ship from the roving ghouls who’d clambered uncomfortably close. “Then we can finish our repairs and finish our route.”

 Perhaps she addressed Telric, or perhaps she said so in hopes of reassuring herself.

In reply to The Dungeonmaster (msg # 1):

Telric adjusted his goggles as he scanned the seas. "We need sailors capable of night sight to keep watch. Ether than or a better light source. I won't trust the ocean staying quiet during the dark hours, and I only have one of these goggles to spare." He shook his head. "I should have gone with them, but I needed to oversee the repairs. Blast it." He shook his head in annoyance with himself.

“Heed your instinct, Artificer.” The speaker was a pale woman with long hair that fell like a flaxen sheet to her waist. She wore a green robe that identified her as a Druid. Her face was like the full moon currently hidden in the sky, her crystalline blue eyes troubled as she approached in a slightly swaying walk. Her name was Moonsong, a passenger who also served as one of the ship’s Healers in recent days.

“I dreamt of our missing companions, Captain. In my dream, I saw them approach a dead tree, and a battle with three Crones. Then, I saw a return to the tree. Then, death.” She leaned onto a rail for support, looking weary for one who’d just awoken. “I awoke with a dire foreboding for their safety, perhaps even for us all.”

Moonsong looked away from Amara to Telric. “I woke with a troubled heart that would not let me sleep again. So I cast Auguries to discern my best path for action. I would go to my companions, but…that way lies Woe.” Her gaze intensified as she stared at Telric. “There is a possibility of Weal if you leave the ship and find them.

Your Craft may protect them and stave off more deaths.”Moonsong looked away from them, out at the Swamp that separated them from their missing friends.

In reply to Moonsong (msg # 3):

"Sounds pretty vauge... I much prefer concrete numbers. But I understand the lack of accuracy magics sometimes provide." Telric sighs.

He turns to the captain. "I should most likely go on my own. The more people who come with me, the less there are to defend the ship."

Amara grunted in frustration. Both Moonsong and Telric had proven themselves as they sailed unfamiliar waters. “I’m usually wary of prophetic dreams and soothsaying,” she said with a side glance at Telric. “As wary as I am of sending our best defense to traipse off into the Swamp.”

She paced a small circle as she pondered the requests put forth to her. Soon, she stopped with a muttered profanity. “Very well. I know that neither of you are given to frivolous impulses. I know neither of you would ask for this if you weren’t certain. Go. Just be careful.”

In reply to Amara (msg # 5):

"Aye, aye, Captain." He saluted her with his rune scribed staff. His belongings where always on him thanks to his handy bag of holding. His armor concealed under his tunic. Of course he would need directions and a rowboat to make it to shore...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:39, Mon 17 Jan 2022.

A clinking of chain mail pulls the attention of those guarding the boat towards the trees marking the edge of the Vast Swamp. A familiar minotaur stomps back from between the trees, leading a horse pulling a cart with the long promised supplies. Curiously, on top of the pile are two dead crocodiles.

He arrives by the side of the boat, and shouts up: "Supplies here! Put where?"

In reply to Grog (msg # 7):

Telric gets out of the rowboat, making sure the other sailors there who planned to row it back to the ship did not get wet. He waved over to the minotaur. "Oi, hail the crew! You can give these folks the supplies. I think I am supposed to come with you to the rest of your fellows. I am Telric Televentor, Artificer. Our Druid Moonsong had a bad dream, and said I needed to make sure you lot don't get all dead or something..."

Grog gives the odd looking human the once-over, focusing on their runed staff a few seconds longer than anything else. He turns to help unpack the cart on the rowboat, and says back: "If you want. Druids not always right, but good people." As Grog works, Telric may notice a rune inscribed on the back of his right glove, or the side of his backpack. They are most likely simpler than the artificers, but still clearly powerful.

In reply to Grog (msg # 9):

Telric places his staff on his back in its sling. He then proceeds to assist lifting the cart so the minotaur does not work on his own. While not as strong as the bull man, he was more healthy then the typical artifcer locked away in his lab.

"Rune Knight, eh? I was thinking of following that route myself. But my mentor was trained in arcane science. I have no complaints, but as they say the grass is always greener."

ooc-23:09, Today: Telric Televentor rolled 18 using 1d20+5.  Arcana. What do I know about the Rune Knights?

Telric remembered tales of warriors who studied the secrets of Runes from the giants. Rune cutters carved sigils of prodigious magical power into armor or weaponry. As he examined the symbols on the glaive, he realized that Grog literally held powerful Magic in his hands. Perhaps Telric could compare notes with Grog for his next work project?

Amara supervised the loading of the supplies. She nodded in satisfaction when she saw that Cela followed her instructions faithfully. As the last timbers were hauled up, Amara shouted to Grog. “We’ll need a few days for the last repairs. Spread the word to the rest of them that we’re sailing when we finish our work here.”

When the work is done, Grog swigs a gulp from his jug of ale. He then nods in reply to Amara, and says: "Might stay. Got work."

OOC: Not sure if Grog's inventory has been kept up to date, but it had such a jug marked. If he'd already drunk it at some point, he would have had it refilled before coming here.

"You can have Moonsong send a bird with your plans when you decide on your next destination." Telric shouts back. He had seen druids send animal messagers before.

He then gestures to Grog to lead the way. "With any luck we wont have to trudge through too much swamp."

As Telric gestures for them to leave, Grog turns back towards Amara to ask: "Take horse back?"

Amara yelled back, “Yes, take the horse back! They probably need it.” She resumed supervision of the unloading, looking excited to soon complete the repairs her beloved ship needed. Grog began the journey back to Deadwater. Maybe he’d add another crocodile to his trophy collection.

Back at the Hag’s Lair…

Seth Sskith trudged through the swamp, finding that particular area difficult terrain. Vines hung like a massive net from the tree limbs. Moss dripped like a shroud, seemingly there to irritate any walking through the woods. Roots jutted up from the swamp bed as if the swamp itself plotted to trip any unwary traveler.

However, Seth soon found a trail that emerged from what felt like an impermeable stretch of swampland. The Lizardman found it in part because of a sharp smell that drew his attention. An odor stung his nostrils, harsh and acidic. Underneath it, another smell. The stench of scalded meat.

Sskith drew in a deep breath, allowing the scent to fill his nostrils.

He'd been away from the Tribe for two days now, hunting with little success. He'd shot down three ducks, but they'd been lean things after he'd stripped them of feathers, unworthy of the honor of being named Prey. That hadn't stopped him from eating two of course, one raw and one cooked. Duck was good, and he had the third hanging from his belt. It simply wasn't enough to satisfy the Matriarchs should he return. He wore little, as his long trek through the swamp had left him mud caked, though unlike many of his Bloodkin he kept a set of clothes and a cloak within his pack. One never knew when one might encounter the Scaleless, and though their ways were strange, Sskith had learned to accept them. Smelling the charred and blackened meat, he set his back down in the mud and reached for these now. He pulled the dark leather vest over his shoulders, spent a moment weaving legs and tail through the rough hide pants he'd had made in the village last Winter, threw the cloak over his shoulders, and drew the hood down over his frills. He was quiet enough as he worked, but clothes were cumbersome things, and he could only do so much while getting dressed.

Beside him, his Echo of Sesskrith hissed in a mixture of frustration and anticipation as he finished, instincts screaming to stop wasting time and go investigate. He had summoned his Echo of Thunder during his morning meditation, and the little Dragon's jaws crackled with lightning when he opened his mouth. Sskith reached out a scaled hand, crouching to soothe his companion with a reassuring stroke to the spines along his back, and then drew and strung his hunting bow.

Creeping forward, Hunter and Echo sought the source of the smell.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:32, Tue 18 Jan 2022.

Seth’s natural gifts and Ranger training enabled him to slip through obstacles posed by the swamp that would have impeded lesser travelers. He crept through the natural cover provided by drooping trees and moss strands. Two ravens perched nervously above him on a higher limb, but failed to notice him. Seth realized that the immediate vicinity had recently suffered dire magicks. Some force exerted corruptive influence on that portion of the swamp. The land would need days, if not a week or two, to fully recover.

As Seth mentally noted what he saw, he follows the stench to their source. Whatever could cause such a scent had to be gone. Seth was the most powerful predator in the area. With bow still ready, he tentatively emerged from the trial, still remaining close enough to the trees for ready cover.

He almost gagged when he discovered the body. Whoever it was had been a large Scaleless One, judging by the undamaged leg. The rest of the body looked nearly melted to the bone. The body’s skin was dissolved in bubbled ruins, exposing the meat and bone underneath. The grass nearby still sizzled from tiny pools of grayish-black liquid. The javelin lying nearby hinted that the former owner had been a warrior.

Before Seth could investigate the body, he heard a loud snort a little over fifty feet ahead. When he looked at the creature, he immediately revised his observation that he was the only predator around. An enormous Boar grunted over a small form. It looked at Seth and stepped over the form. At first, Seth thought he’d interrupted the beast’s dinner. However, a moment of observation told him that the creature stood protectively over the little form.

Now that was a prize worthy of a Hunter.

Yet his people had wisdom as well as pride, and he knew well that to kill a Mother with her Birthlings was to ensure that there were two less of the beasts upon the Earth, and yet only the meat of one for his belly. A fool's hunt, no matter the size of the prize on the other end. He instead did his best to stalk towards the corpse, keeping within the foul odor of rotting meat so that his own scent would not anger het. Yet the underbrush was thick, and as he and his Echo crept he could not help but snap a few branches beneath his taloned feet.

He felt his gullet grow hot as he did, the Word of Power forming on his tongue even as he made ready to speak it. Although it was hidden beneath the collar and hood he had woven around himself, the scales at his throat still glowed with the Magic of his blood. His intent was just to investigate the rotten meat, but should the Mother take offense to his presence, he would seek to drive her away. A voice of Thunder, to match that of his Echo.

It felt right.

When Seth took his first step, the Boar shifted restlessly on his hooves. He squealed and Seth almost spoke the words of power. However, the little form that lay as one dead reached up slowly and weakly patted the Boar’s massive leg. Then, the arm flopped on the ground. The Boar stopped fussing at that soft touch. The Boar lowered his tusks, staring quietly at Seth, almost as if examining him. The creature’s nostrils flared to scent the air—Seth knew it meant to smell him. For a heartbeat, Ranger and Boar remained cautiously rooted in place.

Then, the Boar stepped aside. He lowered his snout, gently prodding the little form. When the Boar looked up, he squealed, but it sounded pitiful now. Seth saw that the Boar wasn’t protecting a newborn. He stood guard over an unconscious humanoid. He stared at Seth, squealing again, as if begging for his help.

Well now, that was curious.

His Echo trailed behind twenty paces so as to not spook the Beast, for he no longer knew if it was honored as a Mother. It might be, it might not. Such knowledge was wisdom whispered in the wind, and not for his ears.  He kept his bow out, but drew closer, curious to see what this new creature was.

The Boar stepped back so Seth could approach. He stayed near, but seemed to understand on a primitive level that the newcomer needed close contact if he was going to help. Seth saw a Halfling woman, her right side badly burned. The lingering smell on her told Seth it wasn’t the burn of fire. The little Scaleless One needed help badly if she was going to live, a decision now in Seth’s hands.

He had already made his choice.

He had no sprig of mistletoe, no curative salves nor pungent herbs. Yet he'd sat long at the Matriarch's feet, and had learned much from them in his time. Strips of cloth he had, and could make more from his cloak if he needed, as well as fresh water to clean muddied wounds. He'd need to light a fire if her flesh had become putrid, to burn out the rot with steel and flame, but such thoughts were ash if he did not first stop her heart's blood from feeding the swamp.
This message was last updated by the player at 03:31, Wed 19 Jan 2022.

Seth lacked medicinal herbs, but he still possessed his training, plus a healthy amount of good sense. He cleaned the small female’s wounds as best he could. She needed  treatment from her own kind, but Seth bought her enough time for the journey. Carefully, he wrapped her and placed her on the Boar. The animal seemed only too willing toserve as her mount…and moved with a purpose toward the trail…



Meanwhile…on the Elemental Plane of Air…

Within the gargantuan oval fortress known as The Citadel of Ice & Stone, Sarraamosh, the Sultan of The South Wind, floated atop a gorgeous cushion of azure, gold, and white. Smaller spirits of the air blew frantically around his head. The blue-skinned Djinni listened with great concern. “Ah, yes. The peril you described needs my immediate attention! A thousand blessings upon you for bringing me this news. May your gentle breeze soon blow into a mighty whirlwind, little ones!”  With a grateful nod, the Djinn stepped off his cushion. There was no time for indulgence; his beneficiary needed his aid.

So it came to pass that Sarraamosh left his suites in The Citadel of Ice & Stone. His gigantic blue form shimmered, his very matter separating like leaves scattered on the wind. The blue swirled faster, transforming into a whirlwind. Swiftly, the whirlwind blew toward the Waterspout, that funnel of wind-tossed water that connected his Plane to the Plane of Water. Lesser beings souls have been buffeted mercilessly on the spout, but Sarraamosh merely laughed like a child on a joyride!

In mere seconds, Sarraamosh was ejected from the Bubble Net, the term for the elemental portal on Water’s end. Sarramosh emerged within sight of a coral reef that circled the top spires of The Citadel of Ten Thousand Pearls. Strands of kelp drifted lazily on the warm waters that surrounded the reef. Sarraamosh flew toward the copper gates, which opened as if anticipating his arrival.

A humanoid-looking female with sea green skin and hair the color of sea foam floated up from the water, nude except for strands of pearls and seashells that formed a half-skirt. Nahlazan, a Marid often called the “Gentle Lady of The Sea”, smiled at her visitor with open arms. “Sarraamosh, it has been nearly seventy times seven years since you last came to see me! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Sarraamosh laughed and kissed the Marie’s hand. “O’ Gentle Lady of The Sea, She Who Blesses The Waters & The Sun When She Smiles, I both delight in once again seeing your countenance, and beg one thousand pardons for bringing an unpleasant tide your way.”

Nahlazan laughed, a sound much like a bubbling brook. “Oh, please stop apologizing (tho’ I love your flattery)! I saw the reason for your visit in my Scryings.”

“Yes, indeed. I am newly appointed Patron of a mortal Warlock with as much talent for getting into trouble as he shows for Magic. He has died nearly twice, and I would feel sorely amiss (and aggravated) if he died thrice. A minor Air Elemental told me of an even greater threat that arises. One that befouls Water & Air alike, so it occurs to me that one who commands the Water could represent your Element as a natural ally to my own.”

Her face darkened, her voice sounding like the echo of a gull’s cry when she spoke. “So have I also divined the threat of which you speak, Sultan of The South Wind. I owe you a favor from that time you aided me against that pesky Efreet. And so I shall send not one ally, but two who I consider suitable for your task. Come with me beneath the waves, and I shall show you of who I speak. Then, I shall arrange a meeting of my Great-Granddaughters (Three times removed) and your Warlock.”

The City of Umlaspyr

A thug clothed in black and purple leather armor groaned and flopped facedown on the street. The plump street merchant who sold blown glass baubles fell on his knees and thanked the Genasi women brought the thug low. “Oh, bless you both! He threatened to break all my glassworks if I didn’t swear that Shar was the one true Goddess!”
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:36, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

The two women stood there, images of each other almost like a mirror. The one that was more in front stood over the man, a grim look on her face.

Both women were obviously sisters - they were near identical. Standing 5 foot 6, they were not tall, but both shared the tell-tale signs of blue skin, light eyes and white hair. The woman in front, though no taller than her sister, looked stronger and leaner of build, and where her sister had her hair flowing like a cascading river, the one in front had hers tied.

The way they stood, their demeanour was different. The one in fro t was serious, and always seemed ready for something to come.

...that's why she reacted to this thug.

Tempest was almost bored when her sister stopped at the merchant, admiring the trinket - she was never one for fancy things like sprinkle. She looked around and saw the thug engage he man.

Finally...some excitement she thought to herself.

She didn't intend to start anything. She asked nicely to leave the man alone, clearly distressed by the thug. The fool made the mistake of thinking tempest a simple woman with loose ideals. That's when she told him he should leave. He tried to grab her.

Her warrior instincts kicked in and he was down on the ground before he knew. Standing up, he tried again, this time to attack her. Again he went down....this time holding his wrist in pain  where tempest almost broke it.

The third time he came enraged, even landed a blow on her which pushed her harder.

Now the man was on the ground, unconscious.

Tempest wiped the blood from her lip and looked at the man, her expression and tone serious."Stand up for yourself fool, or this will keep happening."

She bent over, flipped him and took his dagger from his belt, ha ding it to the man. She tapped into her heritage, summoning a small globe of water over his head, and let it go.

SPLASH

As the man gasped, she crouched next to him, noting with some satisfaction that he grasped for the dagger that wasn't there. She looked at him and smiled....a menacing smile that made her all the more scary. "You come back to this town, try and bully the shop owners, and I will come back - and next time I won't use my hands." the sheathed longsword at her back made the comment pointedly clear.

She stood up and sighed, arms crossed, looking at the man.

The blue skinned woman straitened from her battle pose, but there was no use for it, as her hotheaded identical sibling had things well in hand. Turning her white eyes to the wide eyed merchant that had assisted to the martial display, she shook her white hairs out of her face, the water droplets covering them threatening to fall down. But of course, they never did and her flock of tresses started to gently float around her face and shoulder. Of an average height, the Water genasi spared a look to the writhing form on the ground and smiled to the human.

Be at peace, good sir, I think this one has had his lesson.

Her voice had a strange watery quality to it, like listening to the gentle sound of a spring stream, and she picked up the glass bauble that had attracted her attention before the thug rudely interrupted them. Bringing it to her eye, she marveled at the swirls of rich colors deep in the glass, before showing it to Tempest.

Look how pretty it is! See, that shape on the side, it looks like a pink dolphin!

Not giving her sister time to answer, she asked the shopkeeper how much he wanted for the small glass sphere. Her coin purse was light, the nomad life the sisters had lived for the past few years not conductive to accumulate riches, but she just needed to have that bauble!

Then they could explore this coastal city her whims had brought them to. There was already so much she wanted to see!
This message was last edited by the player at 13:48, Wed 19 Jan 2022.

Many of Skitth's Tribe fought with Javelins, and like all good Hunters, he was skilled in their use. Yet he could fashion proper weapons with ease, he did not need to pillage whatever arm had felled the rotting thing.

Its blood though?

He reached into his satchel, pulling forth vials and beakers. Whatever was causing the grass to sizzle and burn, he could turn to potent venom to coat his arrows. He was skilled in such Wisdom, and would put it to good use. He was practical in the way of his people, and would not let such go to waste. Only when he had filled the precious glassware that he contained did he depart for the Scaleless Village, leading the Boar and the unconscious wounded one.

The merchant stared mutely at Tempest. He appeared taken aback by her gruff rebuke, but unwilling to argue with the woman who’d just saved him. Still, he answered her chiding gently. “They strike terror amongst all the merchants, even a few of the acolytes devoted to other gods. My thanks, though, for your aid.” He shoved the dagger into his snug belt.

When Sprinkle asked about the price of the glass dolphin, though, his demeanor brightened. The cadence of her voice and her manners visibly delighted him as much as her sister’s had deflated him. He gently pressed the dolphin into her hands. “Please, I cannot charge you. May the dolphin brighten your home, as you have brightened my day!”

He waved the sisters off, refusing any payment with a courteous smile and shake of his head, and a decisive turn of his back. As Sprinkle held the glass sculpture, she heard the lapping of the waves against the nearby pier. From the waters, she also heard the playful voice of a dolphin. No doubt the glass blower found easy inspiration every day. Sprinkle felt drawn to see the dolphin who chattered insistently. Almost as though calling here very name…
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:41, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

Tempest sniffed as he man spoke. She heard nothing but excuses from him, but given his words, these thugs harassed all he merchants and some of the clergy. Tempest allowed a smile as she thought what would have happened if he tried to harrass her sister.

...she'dove to have just watched that.

Still, the warrior had to concede that the men were a problem. Perhaps she had been too rough with the merchant, but he needed to be aware. As they left, she nodded with a half smile. "Be well...and your welcome."

As they walked, her pack slung over her shoulder with her sword and shield at her back, she heard the waves and thought of her childhood. Training with her mentor, time with her sister - all good memories for her.

Even as Sprinkle admired the bauble, Tempest shook her head. "Typical sis....I do all the work and you manage to get something free from it. Remember that coastal village that had the shark....I killed it and they fed you the fish."

She snorted as she walked. "Keep it up and you'll have so much crap in there, you'll have no room for food - and I've already told you I'm not your Pack mule "

By the time the merchant had dismissed them, the thug also had fled, which disappointed Sprinkle. Giving her thanks for the glass ball, she listened to Tempest as the pair walked towards the town, after putting her new acquisition in her belt pouch.

I'll remind you that I'm the one that healed those fishermen after the shark attack, and saved the life of the mayor's son. That's why they insisted on serving me, not you. I did not ask for it!

As much as she loved the banter with Tempest, something was not right, the squeals of the dolphin insistent.

Wait a minute, sis.

Stopping, she turned towards the port, and frowned. Dolphins did not squeal like that in the middle of a port... something must be wrong. With her determined frown, she started walking back to the wharf, without waiting for Tempest. Arrived on the pier, she located the dolphin, that seemed to be looking at her, casted a simple spell, then jumped in the water without hesitations. Swimming toward the cetacean, she started squealing like him.

(In dolphin) "What is the matter, my friend? Slow down, I can barely understand you. Are you hurt? Is one of your brethren caught in a net?"

OOC : Cast Speak with animals

The dolphin squealed excitedly when Sprinkle jumped into the waters. He capered on the wave, eager for one so different, yet so like him. When Sprinkle spoke in Nature’s Tongue, he answered her as he swam closer. ~No, Two-Tailed Swimmer! My pod swims freely on the waves. I bear you a message from The Gentle Lady of The Sea. You and your pod-mate are needed away from the sea.~

Tempest snorted at her observation of the situation. Tempest helped as many out of the water, and while her healing helped the mayors son and the fishermen, it was a team effort.

She was about to say something when she stopped them both. She knew enough about her that her tone had some urgency - they had their fun, but when they needed to, they were in sync.

She walked with her sister and watched as she spoke to the dolphin z amazed how she could do that.

Sprinkle was stunned for a few seconds... The Gentle Lady of the Sea was a legendary Marit, her stories told in every gentle cities under the sea. She had played at being her when she was barely 5 years old, with Tempest as her battle-master. And she had a message for Tempest and her?!? There must have been a mistake.

(in Dolphin) "Are you sure? Tempest and I are needed? Where, what is happening? How can this be? What do we have to do?"

She realized she had started babbling, having a tendency to do that when she was excited. The Gentle Lady of the Sea! She couldn't believe it! Taking a good intake of oxygen through her gills, she tried to calm down.

(in Dolphin) "My apologies my friend, it not everyday that we get such a call. Where does the Lady requires us? Do you know why?"

Suddenly, the waters around Sprinkle churned furiously! From the deck, Tempest reflexively assumed that a shark or an even greater monster of the sea attacked her sister. The dolphin swam away, momentarily confirming the fears of both sisters. At least, until the next thing that Sprinkle saw.

The water shaped itself into a gigantic face framed by bubbles of sea foam. A delicate, feminine face lovelier than even the fairest Elf that Sprinkle or Tempest had ever seen! “Greetings, my lovely Great Granddaughter many times removed! Greetings to you and your equally lovely sister! I am pleased to finally see the faces of they who inherited my Spirit.”

As Sprinkle and Tempest stared with mouths agape, the face spoke. ”I am Nahlazan, She Who Dwells in The Citadel of Ten Thousand Pearls! An ally approached me for aid for one dear to Him, so I reach out to two most dear to me. Will you aid me, Great Granddaughters?”

Tempest stood by bored as the dolphin and her sister 'spoke', the water Genasi bordering on frustration with her twin. probably talking about shiny seashells she mused to herself.

Moments later, the water exploded with such force, that tempest boredom was gone, her battle reflexes ever present, she had Frostbyte in her hand in a flash, looking with a frown, expecting some sea monster to take them.

she relaxed and let the sword drop when she saw the face. Then the voice came, and her usual demeanor dropped and she was visibly stunned, the magical sword at her side. Tempest knew of Nahlazan....her mentor told her of the elemental planes, and it's lords. Of them all, the twins felt a kinship for the queen of water. Sprinkle spend days playing the part of the primordial, and even her master had great respect for her.

...and here Tempest was face to face with her.

With the revelation of them being related (if distantly), she held more awe for the great Nahlazan, and replaced her sword sheepishly. She didn't understand how they were related - perhaps her sister knew. She held the information in her mind, determinded to follow up on that. "Forgive me Mistress - My battle instincts are....well, instinct." She stood there and listened to the woman. She expected her sister to answer the same, but nodded.

"Tell us what we can do, and we shall aide you how we can."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:47, Thu 20 Jan 2022.

If hearing a sea creature telling her that it had a message from the Lady had stunned her, the demonstration of power that she witnessed now left her petrified, mouth agape, incapable of moving or speaking.

It was the Gentle Lady of the Sea! She had seen enough pictures in the library to recognize her anywhere!

Wordlessly working her mouth, like the simplest of minnow breathing, Sprinkle manage to look towards Tempest, that looked as stunned as she was. At least she wasn't the only one seeing this!

Concentrating on the water flow through her gills, she gradually manage to retake control of her thoughts and body, awkwardly assuming a kneeling position in the water, head bowed.

(in Aquan) Command and I'll obey, Great Lady.

As she waited for her orders, something that the Marit had said gradually made its way in her mind.

Did she really say we are her great-grand-daughters?

While Sprinkle (& Tempest) marveled at this wondrous vision, the growing crowd on the dock soon made it clear that any bystander could also witness it. Fishermen & merchants flanked Tempest, crying out at what they swore must have been the manifestation of a sea goddess! The water churned excitedly, Nahlazan laughing, a sound like porpoises and mermaid song. ~”Prepare yourselves for a journey like no other!”~

The onlookers grew agitated when the water itself spoke. A few dropped to their knees and praised their gods. Still others prayed for mercy, while others pointed and called for a priest.

However, Sprinkle & Tempest felt no fear. They felt a giddy flutter in their hearts as this Elemental claimed a family bond with them. Each sister in her own way felt her spirit answer Nahlazan joyously. Nahlazan heard their spirits, and laughed in delight. ~My Great Granddaughters, now you will ride the currents which run between the Planes!”~ Her face washed away as a wave rose high, lapping up Sprinkle! The wave reached the dock, engulfing Tempest, touching only her as the small crowd recoiled! The wave crashed on the boards, splashing the legs of the onlookers.

When the wave receded, the Genasi twins were nowhere to be seen…

Seth would navigate the Swamp effortlessly on his own. The anxious Boar accompanying him hastened the journey. The creature retraced its path home with the accuracy of a domesticated herd returning after a day of grazing. Seth checked on his charge periodically with a stewardship that belied the stereotypes of the cold-blooded Lizardfolk. Soon, the Ranger & animal companion arrived at a clearing near the river Darkflow. Wooden gates stood before him.

Within minutes of Seth’s arrival, a small group also emerged. Grog learned a shortcut from one of the loggers, and reached Deadwater in short time. The newcomer, Telric, escorted him. The horse drawn cart that transported the lumber now bore different cargo. In the bed of the cart was Azatch’s body, covered with a plain sheet. His javelin was laid beside him.

In reply to The Dungeonmaster (msg # 37):

Telric was used to soggy boots. Granted ocean damp and swamp damp where two very diffrent things. For one, swamp damp smelled and had a lot of tiny horrible living wiggling things around in that fetited water.

"Looking forward to camping and cleaning the boots..." he said to Grog as he looked ahead to thier destination. He shook the boots even as he walked.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:18, Thu 20 Jan 2022.

Gog and Telric saw a rather odd sight before them.

A figure stood perhaps twenty feet in front of the wooden gates of Deadwater, staring at the group as they approached. Taller than most men, though smaller than a Goliath, the truth of its features were obscured largely by the mud stained cloak it had wrapped around itself. The hood had been drawn up and then low, and it appeared humanoid, but hunched in a way that suggested it must belong to one of the bestial races. Perhaps some Hobgoblin or Orc, though at that distance it was hard to say. Whatever it was, it had a longbow strung over its back, and the hilt of a short blade sticking out of its quiver. However, it had reached for neither as they had drawn closer.

Stranger still was the creature at its feet. It appeared to be, of all things, a Dragon. Perhaps the size of a large dog, its scales were black as night, but there was no mistaking the form. It was wiry without being gaunt, lending it a feral and lean appearance. Two forward jutting horns extended well beyond its snout, and these combined with its sunken eyes gave it a distinctly skull-like appearance. Rather than spikes, a large frill adorned its head and the upper portion of its neck, and if they drew close enough to see its feet they could see that they were webbed. Yet as they looked, they noticed there was something insubstantial about the Dragon. Something about which the way the shadowed light of the swamp seemed to pass right through it.

On their other side stood a much larger creature, easily identifiable as a boar. It was similarly mud stained, with fur matted with something that perhaps hadn't come from the swamp. Something was slung over its back, the form small and broken looking.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:22, Thu 20 Jan 2022.

Laredon stood atop the gate with a new watchman. “Grog, welcome back!”He waved at the Minotaur, and frowned slightly when he saw Telric. Then, he shrugged, assuming that perhaps Grog brought back someone from their ship.

As he saw the Saurian stranger, though, his frown deepened. “You. What is your business in Deadwater?” The Sheriff hitched his belt over his slight pot belly as he stared at the Boar. Then, his eyes widened and he shouted across the trail to Cela, to any of the adventurers within earshot. “The Lizardman brought back Spit—and he has Skye with him! And she looks half-dead!”

Cela is quick to approach the newcomers - leaping down from a tree near the gates.  "What happened to her?"

In reply to The Dungeonmaster (msg # 40):

Telric was about to answer the call, when the watchman makes his statement about the body. Now even more curious then before, he causally walks towards the lizardman. Trying to pass his staff off as a mere walking stick so there was no call to violence.

He does want to get a closer look at if the body is actually dead. Even so, he does pause when the feline monk leaps down from the trees. "Ummm...I'm with Grog." He said to her.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:46, Thu 20 Jan 2022.

OOC: Telric, give me a Perception or Medicine check.

In reply to The Dungeonmaster (msg # 43):

Ooc-14:53, Today: Telric Televentor rolled 11 using 1d20+4.  Perception . It would be 12 with an investigation check.

Telric felt the tiniest breath exhaled from the diminutive woman’s nostrils. She breathed, but her severe chemical burns would soon change that status. Wet wraps on her wounds still kept her alive. Telric knew that the Lizardman had applied those bandages, and that the Halfling needed more intensive treatment soon if she were going to survive.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:03, Thu 20 Jan 2022.

In reply to The Dungeonmaster (msg # 45):

"May I? I think I can help her..." he said to the lizardman. Assuming he steps aside, he points the end of his staff at the woman, which proceeds to change its shape. Clicking and unfolding until there is a crystal orb facing the woman at the end of the stick. Then it bathes the woman in glowing light.

OOC-would lesser restoration work or cure wounds?

The Lizardman, for that was indeed what he was under his muddied cowl, turned to regard Cela with a sudden snap of his head. He'd never seen Catfolk before, and at first thought she was some sort of strange furry Goblin, but as he looked closer he saw there was more too her than that. She looked like prey, but she moved like a Hunter, and he had not seen nor smelled her up in the trees as he had approached. She was the first to have a clear look at him, though the others soon did as well. His scales were black, but they could see a bright patch of red at his throat through to collar of the vest he wore beneath the robe. He opened his mouth and let out a hissing growl at her, the sound deep and low....

No, that wasn't it.

He was speaking the common tongue. It had just been so guttural, so bestial, that it had taken a moment for their ears to recognize the words for what they were.

"... ound her sunward of Three Toesss. Found a corpsssse, rotten and foul, putrid ssssmell corrupting the earth. Nearby stood a Mother guarding her own. No, no Mother at all, no birthling like I had thought. No, the one you name Spit stood guard over thisss. Half dead, and I had no missstletoe to mend her flessssh. Brought her here, sssso she might breath."

He stepped back as Telric drew closer, letting the man work.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:46, Thu 20 Jan 2022.

Telric studied Skye’s injuries, meticulously examining the severity of her burns. Quickly, he concluded that the curative Cure Wounds would best treat her.The violet light from the crystal bathed Skye’s still form. Skin & muscle magically knit themselves over the bone that had been exposed. The blackened skin faded to angry red on her burns.

Spit squealed happily, or at least those who’d encountered the beast before may have assumed such. Gratitude was expressed by the Boar licking one of Seth’s hands. Though not truly sentient, behavior made it clear that he was still smarter than the average Boar, and devoted to the mistress who’d summoned him. He shuffled in the direction of the gate. Telric kept Skye from falling over the precipice, but she needed another Healer if she had any hope of a full recovery.

Cela lets Telric step in to help Skye - he can likely do more to help her than the potion she can offer.

"Is this tongue easier for you to understand?"  Cela says in the gutteral Goblin language, which must only confuse Seth's first opinion further, whether he understands or not.

He narrowed his eyes at the words until they formed two thin slits hidden beneath his hood.

^Goblin:"No."

He answered back in a clicking bark of Goblin.

^Goblin: "Ghukliak is easier to speak than your Scaleless Tongue, simpler, but how many here know it?"

If she had the ear to hear it, the Goblin language of Ghukliak was considerably easier for him to pronounce, yet he switched back to common anyways.

"I do not seek to hide my words from them."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Thu 20 Jan 2022.

Cela switches back to common.  She seems comfortable speaking either.  She looks at Skye.  "Tell me more about where you found her.  There was a Half-orc with her.  Were there signs of him?"

Jennet had spent a couple of uneasy days in Deadwater-- it had been years since... since he'd slept the night in a human town-- trying to make himself useful and settle into the routines of small-town life. Of course, Jennet didn't have many marketable skills, so when the call for a healer at the gates reaches him, he makes all haste.

He sees Cela and Skye and the two newcomers... and that terrifying pig-thing... and his heart sinks into the pit of his stomach.

He rushes over, and though his cure wounds is likely no better than theirs, he pours his daily reserve of healing energy  directly into Skye's injuries.

The gate opened, allowing Jennet & Laredon to greet the arrivals. As Jennet poured divine energies into Skye, the angry reds of her burns lessened, leaving only a small percentage of her body covers in the worst burns. Skye’s odds of living vastly improved, although she still remained unconscious. Jennet’s intervention made a crucial difference, though.

While the mysterious Half-Orc healed Skye, Laredon noticed the body in the back of the cart he’d loaned Grog. The Sheriff walked over and lifted the sheet. What he saw made him gag, and lower the sheet. He answered Cela with a grave tone. “He’s…over here, Lass.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:49, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

He made a snorting noise which among his Tribe meant "no," though there was no way any present there could know that.

"Ssssunward by a quarter day's march from the Hill of Three..."

He pointed in the direction from which he had come, and the small Dragon at his side shook its head in the same direction. Whatever he was to say next was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Jennet. That, at least, explained why the Cat thing knew Ghukliak. A halfbreed? He couldn't say, the Goblin blood was strong, whatever he was. He knew Healing Wisdom though, that was good. By the time he had found his words again, they were no longer needed.

Lenelle Toreth arrived relatively late.

Her mouth opened askance at the reptilian.  Remembering that pitched encounter with those folk, when the party had first set out to Deadwater.  The shaman leading them, full of dire intent.   The one she'd burned a hole through...

But, the lack of anyone else having a negative reaction prevented her from having one.  She caught the words between Cela and Laredon.  And gasped, hurrying over toward the townsman.

"Azatch?  Is that Azatch? No, It - it can't be!" She walked up near the sheet, but couldn't bring herself to touch it...
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 23:00, Thu 20 Jan 2022.

Joshua peeked over Lenelle’s shoulder, gasping when he realized who lay under the sheet. He laid both hands on her shoulders, making the gentle circles one used when trying to comfort another. “Poor Azatch,”” he said quietly. Like Lenelle, Joshua knew  Azatch from a time before the adventure. He stared at the body of the warrior whom his mother had sheltered when he himself was merely a boy.

Telric watched the amassed people, clearly in shock at the body. "Sorry for ah...everyone's loss. I was told to come by the druid Moonsong and my captain. I'm Telric. Telric Televentor. Is there anything I should know? Might help..."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:14, Fri 21 Jan 2022.

The Lizardman pointed at himself and made a clicking noise that sounded like "Sskith," but was virtually impossible to pronounce when one did not have a prehensile tongue.

"I have named myself 'Seth,' when I was lasssst here."

Which hadn't exactly gone with good fortune, as the last time he had been to Deadwater, it had been one of those times he had found need to flee an angry mob of villagers. This time though, this time he had brought the Scaleless one of their own, and saved her Heartsblood. Surely that would earn him some favor among them?
This message was last edited by the player at 02:44, Fri 21 Jan 2022.

The magic of the powerful Water Elemental being swept up Sprinkle and the laughter of the Marit had her smile, before she started to laugh also, the feeling contagious. Looking around her, she was surprised by the speed the water flowed around her, or they through it, but she did not feel any discomfort, or the scouring of her entire being that she should have felt. She knew how powerful water could be when gaining such speed.

Yet the magic kept both the Genasi safe and sound.

For a few minutes, she simply enjoyed the ride, before her curious nature took over, and she looked at the laughing Marit. Would she dare ask her question? The hesitation did not last long.

Nahlazan, I have a question, maybe in your infinite wisdom you would know the answer.... You say we are your great-grand-daughters, and I can believe it. I know we are not sea elves, although our mother is one. Tempest has her strength in the martial arts, she works so hard at it, and she's the best I've ever seen.

She waited for a moment, collecting her thought, a hard endeavor with the dizzying speed they were traveling at.

But me, I gained powers, magical powers over life and death, over animals and natural phenomena, and I don't know where they come from. I saw mages study in their tomes, clerics pray to the gods and sorcerers play with magical energies with ease. I don't do any of those things. I asked, but no one can tell me where my powers come from.

She looked at the Marit, expectantly.

Would my magic come from your elemental greatness?

Lenelle shook her head, tears glittering in her eyes, glad that Joshua was there, and knowing he'd had a connection with the slain half-orc more than she did. She reached up to put her hand on one of his.

Azatch had been a true comrade; directly saved her own life, on one occasion.  She did her best to focus through the shock of this...

She eyed the man in the unusual garb.   He'd been on Captain Amara's ship?  She was sure she hadn't seen him.  But...

"We recently routed out a coven of Hags," she supplied. "We believed we got them all."  She grimaced. "But, maybe not? Or, some creature of theirs, that was left behind?  We still have one of them prisoner. And she can - should be questioned."   

She glanced at the one who called himself Seth.  In spite of all else, impelled to ask  "Are you one of the lizard folk of this land?"

Between the Planes

Sprinkle & Tempest traveled with the speed of the latter’s namesake, yet they existed in between the Planes in the comfort of the former’s. They gentle waters of Nahlazan that enveloped the twins felt like the safety of the womb. Nahlazan herself manifested a visage in the bubbles that seemed delighted by Sprinkle’s inquisitiveness. ~”As all Life flows ultimately flows from Istishia, so does His benevolence through me to you.”~

Tempest was straight and ready, though she knew she was completely safe within the confides of Nahlazan  .and wherever they were bound for. She felt the strength of the Marid, heard her voice in the water as much her head. She even felt the presence of her sister, like feeling the currents rushing around a rock.

Even as her sister spoke, she heard her as well, a little more distant in the water and mind, but still audible. She rolled her eyes at her sisters impudence, but took solace in Nahlazan  reaction. She mentally locked the words her sister said - Tempest has her strength in the martial arts, she works so hard at it, and she's the best I've ever seen.

...she'd use that against her sister

the woman smiled as they traveled. She had no questions...she had faith that wherever they were going was where Nahlazan needed them, and as long as she remained with her sister, she would be happy.

Distractedly, Jennet introduces himself in turn, "My name is Jennet of House--" he catches himself "no house worth mentioning-- and I was in her debt. Now I'm in yours. Thank you for returning her to us."

"Never before has reading caused me such a headache!" Simon complained to Tara as he rubbed his temples.

"I see you have managed to finish copying the spell, while I am not sure what I have discovered from this book!"

The warlock stands to stretch the kinks from his muscles when a villager runs into the tavern, "Azatch is dead! And Skye is nearly dead! And a lizardman is here!"

Simon's eyes widen, "This does not bode well, Tara." he mutters as he quickly packs his belongings and heads for the door.

---

Finding the group near the gates, he quickly looks about. "Grog, have you any idea what happened to him?" he asks the minotaur as he lays the sheet back down over what remained of the half-orc warrior.

Seeing Lenelle and Cela speaking to some newcomers, Simon moves to stand near them to listen and learn what had happened.

Sprinkle wanted to slap herself... of course! It was so obvious, so under her nose that she completely bypassed this simple explanation! Her magic had to come from the Water Lord, to whom Nahlazan was bonded... and she through her. Istishia was a deity that gave its power without caring, and she had not needed to pray to him to receive hers... but he could remove them on a whim.

She would need to be careful now, not to lose the favor of the strange and fleeting god of water...

There is was, the question that held a knife behind its back. Yet he had come here with purpose, and he would not shy away from it now. He blinked slowly, which again meant nothing to these Scaleless. Some expressions were simply too engrained in the blood to be set aside, even when those before him had not been raised to see.

"Yesss... our tribe hunts in the ssswamps Ssstarward."

He pointed North, almost on instinct.

"I am of Sesskrith's blood, and carry his Echo."

He gestured to the Drake that leaned against his knee, and the boney faced thing snorted derisively. As it did, lightning crackled from within its narrow maw, a strange sight indeed for the black scaled beast.

"The corrupted dead thing might have been thisss Hag you ssspeak of.



That was good, the path he had hoped to walk when he had come here.

"I hear your wordsss, and will honor them, Healer."

Beijor sauntered out of the inn towards the crowd gathered around the broken body of the halforc. He knew him not at all, and for his own part he harbored the common elfish distaste for orkoids: their cruelty lacked any elegance whatsoever.

Nevertheless, he looked up at those surrounding and voicing concern and disbelief. This was not hags' doing, but something else. Something more dangerous? He had not, it seemed, been too late for the game after all. But perhaps... these people needed a bit of a push...

Imitating the bass monotones of orkoid chants he sang in low tones,

   "Lamentations turned to vengeance vowed:
     no other hope of victory for warriors to win."

Lenelle nodded to Seth. "Then...I think we need to speak with you.  About the raids that have been conducted in Deadwater's territories. By your people.  At least, we were told it was your people."   Lenelle watched his reaction carefully; albeit his scaled visage was harder to read than any face of flesh.

She glanced at the little dragon like creature, with what looked like mini-scale lightning in its maw.  She had never seen anything like it before.



"What?  I think I got here too late for that.  Can you ...describe this corrupted dead thing?"    She glanced to Simon and Tara as they neared, figuring they'd best be able to make sense of whatever the lizard-man described.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:25, Fri 21 Jan 2022.

"Itssss ssscent was of rot, and metal touched by sweat. The breath of Sesskrith filled the air..."

He paused, recognizing that these Scaleless Ones probably did not see the word through their nose like he did.

"Charred meat burned by acid, black blood spoiling the grasssss."

He reached into his satchel, and pulled forth a vial filled with a viscous black substance. Had he really harvested the Hag's blood?

It appeared that he had.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:54, Fri 21 Jan 2022.

OOC: Seth, Simon, Telric, & Tara give me Arcana or Nature checks, please. Telric & Tara get advantage on Arcana here.

21:42, Today: Seth Sskith rolled 20 using 1d20+4.  Nature.

Grog didn't know what to think. Two friends hurt; one dead, and the other as good as, until the others managed to heal her. Yet still not back to normal... And the lizard that had brought her: thankfully civil, it should prove useful when they finally got started on their work, yet he could still remember the taste of its tribesmen that had attacked them so long, but still so short a time ago. Too much, too quickly. So he took a swig from his jug, and stuck to letting the others lead like he usually did.



Finding normalcy in just answering questions, Grog was quick to reply to Simon: "No. Found on shortcut back." He looked pleased with himself.

"We could ask the grove for help.  Marigold could track this and find what happened." Cela feels like if she'd gone on the expedition instead of that useless meeting with the Baron maybe she could have stopped this.

"We might have to.  Traill and Azatch are our best trackers.  Thank you Seth, for bringing them here."

In reply to The Dungeonmaster (msg # 70):

OOC:
11:51, Today: Telric Televentor rolled 19 using 2d20+5, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 14,1.  Arcana with advantage.

Lenelle nodded at Cela's words. "The Grove...yes, that's good thinking!"  And then to Seth again:  "And as she and others have said, thank you for your act. We do owe you something for that.  Your arrival may be a blessing for other reasons, too."        She was still waiting to hear from Simon or Tara on the matter, after study of the book. But had a growing sense that Seth's people were not at all to blame...

Simon watched the lizardman, carefully as he interacted with Lenelle and Cela. On the face of it, he was civil...not threatening or aggressive as the last group of his clan they had met.

The warlock moves even with Lenelle and speaks to the lizardman, "I am called Simon." He reaches out an empty hand to see if the handshake was as universal a greeting as most believed.

"You said that breath of Sesskrith filled the air where you found our friend Azatch...and that you are of Sesskrith's blood...and this...pet of yours is Sesskrith's Echo.

Is the breath of Sesskrith acid?"

Simon pales as he continues, "And, is...is Sesskrith a black dragon living in the swamp?"

Looking to his companions, he adds, "Recall the Hag's Tome said that Mercion and Pockets and their friends defeated the black dragon and one hatchling. And that Irma was raising the other hatchling.

Perhaps, that is the Abattoir Granny Grim threatened us with when she escaped."

---

Simon rolled 21 using 1d20+2 for Arcana check.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:15, Sat 22 Jan 2022.

Sskith watched silently as the one that named himself Simon put the words together like a Hunter finding scat, prints, and fur upon a run. When the man guessed at the nature of the breath, he slowly blinked his red eyes.

"Yessss. The Breath is as you ssssay."

He did not understand why the Scaleless One's skin paled, but the words were dangerous. He could not know how, but this moment was what Sskith had prepared for. He was never going to have a more opportune moment, and so he struck. Yet then the man said something that shocked the very root and stone of him, and almost caused him to lose his feet as he considered the weight of the words.

A Hatchling? Could such a thing truly be?

"Who is this Irma of which you sssspeak?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:05, Sat 22 Jan 2022.

Eventually, the commotion reached the temple, and the new Priest came downhill to see the cause. “My friends, I heard the excitement uphill!” Sundos greeted them all with the friendly smile that endeared him to Mercion and the town. “Grog, Seamus, welcome back! I see you brought new friends!”

Sundos walked to greet them, but his smile faltered. He couldn’t help but notice the glumness of Lenelle & Cela, and the agitation in Simon. “Simon, what stirred such…oh.” First, he saw Skye sprawled unconscious across Spit’s back.

Then, he saw the body. “Azatch.” He made the sign of his god, and drew his hand over his heart. “Sweet Pelor watch over his soul.” His mop of loose blond curls nearly covered his face as he solemnly whispered a prayer for his fallen friend.

However, the loving needed him the most at that moment. “Joshua, Cela. Help me move her up to the Temple. Mercion and I will treat her injuries.”

The sound of the cleric calling his name, interrupted the warlock's thoughts for a moment.

"Sundos! Of course...Skye needs your halp, immediately. We were distracted by the arrival of this...lizardfolk...and of course by Azatch's death.

Please treat her...I'm sure we will all attend the temple shortly...we will bring Azatch as well.

I would like Mercion to see his injuries."

Simon turned back to the lizardman, and another thought struck him, "I'm a damn fool!"

He looked at the lizardman, and spoke to him again, this time in a strange tongue, [Draconic: You did not answer me, is Sesskrith a black dragon? Is she the dragon that was killed long ago? Or is she the dragon that is alive today?

As to Irma, she is Hag that until her recent death, was part of a coven that was corrupting this swamp and trying to destroy this village.]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Sat 22 Jan 2022.

“No harm done, Simon. It looks like an eventful morning, and you no doubt seek answers to the questions still on all our minds.”

“What’s all the yapping out here? I’m sleeping off a hangover that could…!” Pockets stopped griping when he saw her. His mouth fell open in a silence uncharacteristic of the Halfling trickster. His lower lip wavered tremulously.

Then, he found his voice. “NO!” Pockets ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. When he reached Skye, he cradled her head gently, moaning as he saw the severity of the wounds that still lingered. “NoNoNoNoNO, how did this happen?!”

His voice cracked as he looked up at anyone who could help the most. “Lady Lenelle, Sundos…you gotta help her!” Eyes wide, desperate for whatever would save Skye.

Sundos felt moved by Pockets’ expression of worry for Skye. He reached down and touched Pockets on the shoulders. Gently, but firmly, he redirected the little man’s attention to him. “Pockets. Skye will live. This I swear to you in the name of Pelor.”

The Cleric looked at the group. “Cela, could you help me carry her uphill? Lenelle, I would appreciate your help with her treatment.” Next, he looked at Grog. “Simon will need help bringing Azatch, Grog. I would be grateful for your strong arms. After Mercion & I ensure Skye’s full recovery, we will make arrangements for his funeral.”


OOC:

Well, y’all definitely met the DC! Anyone who rolled higher than 15 remembered that Hags generally don’t bleed acid, unless an Auntie or Granny went to great pains to do so. Like a brutal regimen of drinking the nastiest unguents, getting snake-bitten, and undergoing lengthy rituals. Telric & Seth realize the same is indeed likely Black Dragon saliva,all but totally confirming Simon’s theory (tied together by his observations in the woods and studying Tara’s new Grimoire).

 
This message was last edited by the player at 05:33, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

In reply to Sundos Brightblood (msg # 82):

"I assume that we want to go after the acid spitter, right?" Telric asks the group. "Before we do so, I could cook up a chemical base that may be able to neutralize the burn of the substance...maybe. I dont want to overpromise. I could use some assistance in making the stuff."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:28, Sat 22 Jan 2022.

Lenelle's mouth gaped at Simon's deductive work, and the dire revelation that it wove.

Deadwater's first evil...rearing its head again, like a grisly, though plainly all too physical, specter.

"Irma was one of the Hag coven," she supplied to Seth, "One who was slain," before speeding to Pockets' side.

Having arrived at the moment Azatch's death was made known, she'd paid less attention to Skye's condition.  Which was apparently worse than she'd thought.   She placed a hand on Pocket's shoulder.

"Oh, Pockets! I swear, we will not lose her too! Mercion and Sundos can both work miracles, and I'll do anything I can. We just need to get her to the temple."   

And, to all in general, none in particular:  "Priestess Mercion knows more of this Draconic death-bringer than anyone," she amended, "any non-lizard folk in Deadwater!  She must be told and consulted."

So said, she joined the small procession that was en route to the temple...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Sat 22 Jan 2022.

Beijor stood back as the others began to carry the wounded halfling to the temple -- he'd heard another avenue that might be best walked alone...

He backed up slowly then returned to the inn as if none of this concerned him and began to think of ways to persuade the imprisoned hag to divulge secrets of her coven. But first he'd have to gain access to her. Little matter, Bathsheba would aid him, he was sure of it. But he wanted to be sure of being sure.

---

OOC:
Cast Enhance Ability: Eagle's Splendor
Looking for Bathsheba, find out where's hag is being held, head over there to talk with her.

“You may work on that treatment in the Temple,” Sundos told Telric. “Let’s move her.” Sundos bore Skye up to the Temple with any who would accompany him. Spit ambled toward the far part of the hill because the stairs were too narrow. However, the Boar never took his eyes off Skye as he climbed the hill, grunting as much from his separation as from the climb itself.

Soon, Sundos guided them to the Temple yard. A woman with lustrous blonde hair strode the garden, pacing the brightly colored mosaic tiles as she practiced her next sermon. She smiled when she saw Sundos. “My dear Sundos, each new day seems brighter now that…oh.” The Priestess saw that he’d brought company and stopped herself. A blush lit her fair cheeks with crimson. “You brought our friends…and a new friend, perhaps?”

Mercion smiled in greeting to Telric, but stopped when she saw Skye, and a distressed Pockets. “Oh, no.” She rushed to help bear Skye to a bed. “We’ll lay her in one of the beds, then we must prepare one of the bathtubs with water from The Well. The sacred waters will enhance our ministry to her wounds.

Fear not, old friend,” she told Pockets. “Tho’ she was grievously hurt, it appears that someone tended to her wounds already. They kept her alive long enough to reach me.” She frowned at the others. “How did this happen? Who or what hurt Skye?”

Lenelle wasted no time in telling the Pelorite priestess everything that'd been learned; most especially Simon's deduction, and what evidence and events backed it up.  Concluding:

"I fear it's a matter of that original evil, clawing its way back to life.  Or some unholy mockery thereof."   
This message was last edited by the player at 19:47, Sat 22 Jan 2022.

In reply to Mercion (msg # 87):

Telric nods in greetings to Mercion. Then he heads within the temple, looking for some place to pull out his mini lab he kept in the bag of holding. There where certain plants that would be helpful in this regard, and quickly devised a small crystal that began projecting an image of the weed. "This is firebase, also called mesfit. I fear I am no wilderness expert, but if I can get the plant I can make a paste from it that will assist in repelling acids and some forms of burning posions."

Arcana 15; will post pending results

In reply to Telric Televentor (msg # 89):

Lenelle’s fears were reflected in Mercion’s shocked expression. “By the Sun Father, no!” She clasped her holy symbol, as she stepped away from Sundos & Skye. “The battle had been won. Strongheart’s sword found Byrsiss Blackfang’s heart. Deeth slew the hatchling, and Pockets helped Peralay smash the remaining eggs in her nest.”

Mercion’s eyes met Lenelle’s with profound contriteness. “We were arrogant after our victory. Not as thorough as we should have been in our examination of the Dragon’s lair. The Hags seized an opportunity from our carelessness and now your friends have suffered for our complacency.”

Slowly, almost half-heartedly, Mercion picked up a bucket. “Your Artificer may use our Vestibule and Infirmary for any supplies.” She headed toward Eldath’s Well. “We need the Well water for Skye’s treatment, then we must plan our next course of action.”

Between the Planes

The waters around the Genasi twins swirled faster around them like a waterspout. Nahlazan’s voice sounded louder and urgent as the waters picked up speed. “~Our journey reaches an end, Granddaughters. Within moments, you will arrive and the Favored of Sarraamosh will need your aid. Find the Warlock. Aid him and his friends against that which threatens all.~”

Sprinkle and Tempest seemed to see Nahlazan’s face all around them in the waters. The Elemental smiled proudly at them. “~I am pleased to see the faces of my descendants at last, and know that you wield my power well! May the Tides flow ever in your favor!~”

The waterspout bore them upward, toward an opening filled with sunlight…

Back at Pelor’s Temple

Just as Mercion walked near the Well, the surface of the water stirred. The waters bubbled excitedly, and the Priestess took a cautious step back. Suddenly, the Well water splashed up in a furious burst nearly twenty feet high! The column of water hung but a second, before splashing down like a mighty wave against the shore!

As a flabbergasted and drenched Mercion hacked up water, the water which soaked the tiles surrounding the Well receded back to their source. Steams of water trickled around two women suddenly standing there: Sprinkle & Tempest!
This message was last edited by the player at 23:20, Sat 22 Jan 2022.

Standing there were two women, almost identical in every way. Both bore the features common to the genasi race related to water - Blue skin, white hair and silver/white eyes. Both stood a dimunitive 5 foot 7

But both had some differences. The one on the left seemed more toned from years of manual exercise. While the other had her hair flowing like a silver waterfall, the one on the left was more practical, her hair tied with what looked like some sort of cured leather from a sea animal. Even their armor, though made from the same material, the one on the left had scale mail armor made of the unusual green material, with a single shoulder guard.

On her back was a shield of hexagonal shape, rimmed in the same green material with a simple pattern. Her hip has a dagger of simple design, again then same green metal. The only two items that seemed bore from the surface (Other than a pack wrapped in an oilcloth), was a handaxe that had some minor pitting from the water, and a unusual longsword at her back, the scabard light blue and white, the pommel and handle gleaming white with accents of blue and silver, and having sapphires inlayed to the pommel and cross guard.

But even her demeanor was different. the other seemed warmer and friendly, while the one on the left was serious, scrutinizing the area with a trained eye. Those trained as a warrior recognized one of their kind.

....she was a fighter.

The woman looked at the other woman with hands on her hips and spoke to her. "You could have warned me who we were meeting!"

“Who are you?!” Mercion asked with a wet cough. “How did you do that?!” She pointed at Eldath’s Well.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:39, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

The ride had been exhilarating and the other Genasi coming out of the well had a slight purple flush to her cheek. With the same height and facial features as the warrior, this one was not as stocky, manual labor not quite her cup of tea. Her white hair floating in the air around her face and shoulders, possessing the same shield as the fighter, she was armed with only one dagger attached to her mother of pearl encrusted belt. Her armor was of the same intricately carved greenish substance, but seemed lighter.

Not even realizing they were not alone, she was looking at the fighter and spoke with her calm watery voice.

And you think I had time? That dolphin only told me that She wanted to see us, before She came! Now we need to find that warlock and help him with whatever his troubles are, wherever he is... wherever we are.

Taking a step towards the well, she looked down for a moment, smiling. Raising her head, she was startled to see they were not alone.

Oh! Hello!

The cleric asked her questions, round eyed, and the genasi smiled.

Oh our Great-grandmother brought us here. This is Tempest and I am Sprinkle.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:17, Sun 23 Jan 2022.

Tempest snorted at her sister with arms crossed. "Not talking about shells and fish...that's a change. You'd think that meeting someone that important you'd at least warn me....and what's with us being related to that? And while I'm at it...."

She paused when Mercion spoke, and she uncrossed her arms and turned yo the group. Their was a vast lot of people...strange ones, not only humans.

When Sprinkle spoke, she rolled her eyes with a groan. "I think they need a bit more that 'our great grandmother brought us here.'

She shook her head and she stepped forward. "We were sent here by someone powerful to assist a warlock associated to the elements. This person who sent us says that he and his friends may need our help."

She looked back at her sister, again shaking her head, then back, muttering something about baby fish. Looking at Mercion, she stood there. "Do you know who this could be?"

“Simon is a Warlock,” Sundos stepped forward with a dry washcloth for Mercion. He handed it to her with a bemused smile. “Here. Our latest arrivals doused you with their entrance.”

Tempest looked at Mercion and Sundos, as he offered the cloth. The woman forgot how these land dwellers disliked water - so strange. The woman placed a clenched fist over her heart and bowed her head slightly. "My aplogies if our entrance has caused....discomfort. I am Tempest, Warrior of the Silver wave, and this is my sister, Sprinkle."

She looked at Sundos. "My sister and I would like to talk to this 'simon' if possible"

Sprinkle mouthed something behind Tempest back as she introduced herself to the two landwalkers and made a face, clearly mocking her sister.

Sis, why do you have to always be so formal! Your name would have sufficed, you know.

Looking at the clerics, she raised a eyebrow.

And who would you be? Can you please bring us to this Simon?

Tempest didn't look back at her sister, but spoke. "Says the person who holds back. 'Oh, hello dolphin friend....pretty shell. By the way, a great and powerful primordial wants to speak to you!"

She sighs. "You'd think she'd respect some protocol?" She shrugged. "Be that as it may, she is right...." She held a finger up. "Shhh....yes, i am agreeing with you as shocking as it is. But we need to discuss things with this warlock. It would seem his patron and our matron would like to assist him and his friends."

Sskith drew himself up to his full height, facing Simon and speaking the words of his blood.

"Sesskrith was, and is, many thingsss."

Which was an ominous thing to say, if it was truth.

"But even with all hissss power, HE was never a Matriarch, never a Mother."

Every word he spoke was truth, and yet every word was so much less than the truth. The story of Sesskrith and his Thralls was not for Sskith to say, and yet in his Hunt he would need to sing it anyways.

His head snapped around at Telric as the man spoke of hunting and butchering a Hatchling.

"Do you kill babesss in their huts for meat when you hunger, Scalelesssss?"

The Lizardman's voice was already so rumbling and deep, it was impossible to say if he had lowered further in anger.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:18, Sun 23 Jan 2022.

In reply to Seth Sskith (msg # 100):

Telric blinked, or at least he seemed to. It was hard to tell through the goggles. "Ummm...what? I need help gathering a plant. Not a young creature. The plant will help neutralize the acid, if we come across the creature who spit it at the good lady halfling. I make it into a paste you apply to your skin ahead of time."

He paused. "To be fair, I am a bit of a fisherman, as all sailors are. However, mostly I buy my food at a market or inn."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:27, Sun 23 Jan 2022.

Sskith closed his eyes, dropping his head and falling into a crouch. It was a strangely passive gesture, considering a moment before he had appeared angry, all the more so because the Echo beside him mirrored him.

"I am a foolissssh creature, following a path you had not forged. I should not have ssspoken so."

He waited to see how his words landed before he rose.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:44, Sun 23 Jan 2022.

In reply to Seth Sskith (msg # 102):

Telric looked around uncomfortably. He was not used to formal apologies...much less informal ones. Most drunken crewmates useally just got him an ale and that was that.

"Ummm...of course. It's nothing. No problem at all. Please, there's no need for all that..." he felt like there where a million eyes on them both, even if that was not the case.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:48, Sun 23 Jan 2022.

After Mercion dried her face, she listened to the twins introduce themselves. She nodded, if a little befuddled by their eccentric manner as much as their unique arrival. “Yes. Well. I am Sister Mercion, Priestess of The House of The Sun Father, a temple of Pelor.” She gestured at Sundos. “This is Brother Sundos Brightblood, who recently joined me as a fellow Cleric. The others are Pockets, Lenelle, and Cela.” She gestured at each as she introduced them.

Then, she frowned because she didn’t quite know the latest newcomers as well. “I am sorry. I do not know their names yet.”

Sundos chuckled and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Once we ensure Skye’s safety, maybe Lenelle could take them to meet Simon?” He stared at Sprinkle & Tempest. “If you could tell us who sent you first. Who is your Matron, Er, Great-Grandmother?”

In reply to The Dungeonmaster (msg # 104):

Telric, now thrilled at the change of subject, quickly gives a informal bow of his head. "Telric, Telric Televentor. Artifcer and crew of Captain Amara."

Tempest nods as everyone is introduced. She looked at Simon. "Our matron, and apparently our great grandmother, several times removed is Nahlazan, A powerful arch Primordal, known as the mistress of the house of pearls. For those not familiar, it is a powerful water entity."
 

Sskith had tailed the group as they had made their way to the temple, but retreated away from Telric and almost halfway down at the sudden explosion of water. Only when he was sure the threat was gone did he emerge from between the buildings, his Echo hissing his discontent at his side. He watched from behind the group, unsure of who these people were, or if their sudden appearance was a normal thing in this space.

Tempest is right, but for the record, we didn't know we were related to Her before... oh, an hour or two ago. Then She brought us here, from Umlaspyr.

Sprinkle made a face, thinking.

And where is here, exactly? We did seem to travel a great distance with Nahlazan.

Seeing a small pool of water, leftover from their splashy arrival, she almost absentmindedly said a few words. Her hand suddenly seemed to be covered with a film of water and she gestured, the water forming up into a ball, that she casually directed to fill the bucket Sundros had dropped on the floor.

I guess you were coming to get some of this water?
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 06:15, Sun 23 Jan 2022.

Simon listens carefully to the lizardman's explanation.

[Draconic: I do not mock Sesskrith. But when you spoke of an acid-breathing creature the black dragon in the swamp is the first thing that came to my mind.

If Sesskrith is your clan's deity or totem spirit no actions are needed. But if Sesskrith is the remaining black dragon we may be at odds...it is likely that Hag-raised dragon will be looking to destroy this village and the people in it.]

Seeing the rest of the group already on their way to the temple, Simon turns to follow them.

"We can speak more, later."

---

Entering the temple, Simon is surprised to see two blue-skinned women standing in front to the Well, speaking to the group. He listens as they explain how they arrived in Deadwater, and that they were looking for him!


"I'm here, Sundos. I was just speaking to...er...Telric...and..."

Turning to Seth, he looks a bit sheepish.

"Damn! I don't know your name! I was so focussed on Sesskrith..."

Speaking to the group, he adds, "I don't know these two ladies and of  Nahlazan, all I can recall is she is a powerful elemental of water.

I know of no connection to Sarraamosh...but my...patron...is not always punctual in providing me with his plans for me."

---

I'm pretty sure that Seth's name was not used when Simon was around. Apologies for the long post, I think the space-time continuum is back in order! :-)

Tempest looked at Simon as he spoke with a neutral, assessing look. She, out of habit, always assessed what was in front of her. She surmised quickly the cleric woman was someone of power in this place, both in terms of faith and respect. Her friend, the male cleric seemed newer, but she respected him and treated him as an equal.....a close equal.

She looked Simon up and down, and his simple words, she determined he was one that favored words. She looked at him. "She is indeed powerful in the world of water - like you master with Air. She approached us saying that herself and your master may have a common enemy, and that she requested we help."

She looked at her sister, then back. "I'll admit I know little of your Sarraamosh other than they are a patron of air, just like Nahlazan is of water. Judging from your friend...." Indicating the unconscious form of Skye. "....you may have needed us sooner."

Telric watched the lizardman go, very confused. Had he offended Seth by not accepting his apology properly? He spent most of his time in the lab, so social taboos among most groups of people where unknown to him.

His own mentor spent most of his time  in his cabin, working at the lab himself. It was the closest thing Telric had to a father, and while a excellent artficer and decent human being, he was unskilled in child rearing. Still it was a far, far better life than growing up on the streets.

"Uhhh...should I go...talk to him?" He asked anyone present, gesturing with his staff the direction Seth had gone off in.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:42, Sun 23 Jan 2022.

Oh! Tempest, you should have told me there was an injured child here! You never tell me the important things!

Slapping her sister half playfully on the shoulder, she said to the others.

I do have some notions of health care, let me have a look.

Her relaxed demeanor changed in a flash to become much more energetic, as the Genasi move to Skye and knelled beside the halfling, gasping to see this was not a child but a adult... a very small adult. Quickly, she evaluated her injuries, seeing the new skin associated with recent healing. Nodding to herself, appreciative of the efforts to heal the small person.

What happened to her? I see she was healed, nicely done, but there might be something else.

Closing her eyes, she started muttering and water seemed to flow from her hands to cover Skye's body, leaving  the face free of the liquid.

Today: Sprinkle rolled 22 using 1d20+6.  Sprinkle medecine roll
Sprinkle casts Protection from poison, eliminating potential poisons in Skye.

Lenelle approached and touched Telric lightly on the arm, advising, "While I don't know how to advise you on that, I will say-  let's make all efforts to understand, and befriend that one.  Alliance with his people will serve us well in what lies ahead.  That much I can tell you with certainty."   

Like the others, Lenelle was completely and wholly taken off guard by the sisters.  Enough so the water dripping from her hair into her face went unregistered, unless somebody offered a towel.

In her very limited arcane vocabulary, she possessed only a single word for such beings:  Elementals!   That they'd come through Eldath's well spoke volumes for her.  Far more than the names and terms bandied about, all of which were unfamiliar.

But emerging through that font of holy power meant for sure they were clean.  At least in her mind.   And that it must truly be some form of divine intervention.    She stood watching, as the one who'd named herself Sprinkle, approached and performed some sort of Aquarian (was that a word? She knew not what else to call it) magic, to minister further to the stricken Skye...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:47, Sun 23 Jan 2022.

“If what I fear has truly come to pass, then little Skye was attacked by a Black Dragon.” Mercion watched Sprinkle offer her own treatments with a quiet awe. “If the Hag Irma indeed secreted a hatchling away after my old party’s battle, then it seems she nurtured it with the intent of raising her own living weapon. That Skye survived may mean that it hasn’t grown into the fullness of its power yet.

May Pelor let it be so.”

Under the care of three dedicated Clerics and a concerned Sorceress, Skye would heal from her injuries. Sprinkle delivered the promise of her namesake, a gentle touch of water that eliminated any toxins still lingering within the Halfling. Skye remained unconscious, but several days rest and a few extra prayers would heal her fully. “She will be whole soon,” Mercion said with a relieved smile.

“Unfortunately, your group ended one threat, merely to be immediately stricken by one that I failed to end a few years ago.” Her lovely face held shame for that oversight. “I must don my battle armor once again, and find the dragon and end its life.” Sundos turned worried eyes to the Priestess when she uttered that vow.

Meanwhile…

Beijor remained downhill, preferring to pursue his own agenda. The Bard sought out the Tiefling barmaid, Bathsheba. He intended to sweet talk the woman for the answers he wanted. Given her fascination with the charming Elf, he needed only the most natural magic to aid him. The Bard’s movement caught the eye of Tara, who’d remained behind to resume her investigation of the Grimoire. Not that she could make substantive progress with Gwyl’ s incessant hoots.

"Agreed. We will need everyone if it is indeed a black dragon. Although, I think Seth's concern was the dragon may be newly hatched. Not sure. Is Skye awake enough to speak to?" He asked the Clerics.

Stepping away so she could check Skye’s condition, Mercion returned and shook her head. “Not yet. She may be the only surviving witness. I fear that we may delay her healing if we disturb her rest.”

Sskith had drawn near enough that he overheard his name. He had blinked his eyes slowly at Simon's request, drawing his hood back up and over his frills and settling his about his brow. His questions were a dangerous thing, but the first lead he had heard since arriving here. He worked to memorize the Scaleess' face, ensuring that he could pick him out of a crowd.

His reverie was disrupted by the Mercion was saying, and he pushed himself through the crowd to speak.

"If there issss a Hatchling, it hassss already been sssslain by the Hag ssseeking to enslave it."

He shouted loudly enough so that the crowd could hear him, his voice a savage barking growl. It was dangerous, what he was doing, yet what had been the point of bringing the bloodied Scaleless back to this village? Would he ever truly have a better chance than this? He wished he could have consulted with the Matriarchs in their raised huts. He was on his own now, and this was the path he had chosen.

Tempest seemed to ignore the slap from her sister as she went to work. As much as her sister Infuriated her at times, she was good at what she did, so she did not interfere. When the talk went to dragons, the warrior looked at the Mercion. "If what you said is true, this is no fault of yours - and to focus on that is useless. If a hag has found this egg and raised it, then you need to focus on what has to be done."

The genasi was ever practical....focusing on the past achieves nothing.

She looked at her sister, helping the half person, narrowing her eyes at the strange beast at her side, but then looked at Mercion. "If this is the evil our mistress has sent to help with, then we will help. My sister is a capable healer and skilled with magic. I am a warrior, but even then, we have an advantage over such a dragon - acid does not harm us as most others"

She crossed her arms nodding. "I have but one question for the moment....what is that." She pointed at Spit, standing at Skye's side

“He’s Spit. He’s her animal companion and…protector.” Pockets spoke up, seated on a stool he pulled near Skye’s bed. “Spit kept her safe long enough for the Lizardman to find her.” Indeed, Spit grunted from the foot of the sickbed his mistress lay upon. The Boar refused to let anyone but Mercion, Sundos, Cela, Seth, Pockets, or Sprinkle near the bed. Anyone else was met with a warning grunt.

When Seth insisted that the Hatchling was killed by Auntie Irma, he shook his head insistently. “Nuh-uh. The Hags kept a book that says otherwise. That old Witch kept the Hatchling alive, and raised it like her own. Connie treated Elise like her own child…maybe that’s how Irma thought of the baby Dragon.

The Dragon was probably mightily angry when it found out you guys killed the Hag who raised him.”
This message was last edited by the player at 00:52, Mon 24 Jan 2022.

Sskith absorbed the new information with a flick of his tongue. A Hatchling changed everything, and yet these mosquito bitten fools were determined to slay it. Yet if the Dragon had killed their Birthmate, there would be no talking them out of their thirst for blood. He tried what was last open to him, the only path that he could see before him.

"Are all the Hagsss dead then, or do ssssome yet live?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Mon 24 Jan 2022.

Tempest looked at Pockets, sincere in her words. "I hope your friend is fine. I'm just curious....I have never seen a 'spit'. It seems protective of the little one - an admirable trait. For what it's worth I have never seen such as animal....but I have never seen many on my brief time on the surface."

She glared at Spit with arms crossed, then smiled. "These 'spit's' have a fire. I like that."

"That animal is a champion, and a cherished comrade, make no mistake," Lenelle said to Tempest. "And will staunchly guard his mistress, till she makes full recovery, no doubt of it."  (or maybe not, if he transfers over to the new character)

What Pockets pointed out gave her a clearer picture.   She really should have spoken to Simon or Tara for clarity on a few things...

"A hatchling is almost a relief. I was under the impression we might be dealing with the original dragon in an undead state." She shivered. "A nightmare I'm so glad we needn't confront. A living one is sufficiently awful."

"Irma is the only one of the three who died," she supplied for Seth.

"And, one is a prisoner here.   And the third - their leader, and the most powerful - escaped.  Perhaps back to the Fey realm?  I don't believe we know for certain.  But if anyone has an idea where she went, then it's likely Tara, who understands the most about their nature."     
This message was last edited by the player at 03:53, Mon 24 Jan 2022.

Sprinkle had the satisfaction of seeing the water surrounding Skye turn green, signifying that the spell had indeed captured and removed a poison from the body of the short person. Touching Skye's brow, she sense that the halfling had a fever, so she picked a cloth, wet it in the bucket then put it on the patient's forehead. Gesturing, the water impregnating the small cloth suddenly froze. Addressing the clerics with her, she said.

Leave the cloth there for a quarter hour, I'll refreeze it after

Now that her patient was out of danger, she started to actually listen the conversation. The melodic, if harsh, voice of her sister caught her attention.

A Dragon? An actual real dragon? I've never seen one, Mother refused to let us go closer when that Sea dragon threatened the city. Fortunately it got repelled.

And what are those hags you are talking about? What happened?

Tempest rolled her eyes at her sister. "If you payed more attention to your studies, you'd be more conserned. The surface dragons are bigger, more dangerous and hold some magical sway. And as for the water dragon - you were nowhere near ready for that."

"As for these Hags, yes, please clarify what these beasts are? They sound sentinel"

Sskith did not draw attention to the Echo of Sesskrith beside him, regardless of what the Half-scaled thing said about seeing "an actual real dragon." For while he was indeed something altogether smaller, it was still the blood of dragons which infused the magic which empowered him. The Lizardman was glad that his Echo could only speak Draconic, else he might have taken umbrage with her words.

Tara had been unsure about how to introduce herself into this conversation, with so many new people, so many strangers, but...

She cleared her throat.

"We took care of the ones that we know about in these parts," she said, "but there might be more.  Wouldn't be surprised.  They had their claws deep in the town here."

In Pelor's Temple:

Simon expands on Lenelle's explanation, "There were three in the coven...the leader called Granny Grim escaped us...the second, Irma we killed...the third known as Connie is in the village jail waiting for a trial for her crimes."

"Don't forget, Lenelle, it was a hatchling when Mercion and Pockets defeated the matriarch, if I recall that would be close to two years ago. Not an adult but not just out of the egg, either."

Lenelle nodded. "Oh, believe me, I know we're not dealing with a baby.  I meant 'hatchling' only in terms of its relation to the original."   

She didn't think the elemental priestess' question had gotten answered, and so supplied:

"The Hags got a toehold here because of the selfishness and lust of a local man.  Who struck deals with one, in order have his twisted, petty desires fulfilled.  The Hags worked in the background, and preyed on both the human and fey population.   They had quite a game going, for years. Impersonating and incriminating innocent people for their own dark deeds."   

Stepping beside her sister, she listened to the group as they spoke. She knew a little of dragons - what her master taught her. A hatchling would not be capable of such destruction....and given this half person's condition, the corpse that the others mourned and the description of the area, it was something not to underestimate

At the mention of the coven, she tensed a little. Such items existed underwater, sea witches who were equally manipulative, deceptive and destructive. If these hags were similar, then tehy could be as bad a threat as a dragon. She nodded to Lenelle and her description.

She looked at Simon, then the rest. "I do not speak for my sister....gods know you can usually never shut her up! But i for one will join in this task. Such an enemy as this dragon and the Hags will be hard fought, and my skill will help you."

She shrugged with an ironic smile. "...plus, our 'great grandmother' has asked us to help this man..." Indicating Simon, "...and help him i shall. You have my sword."

The other Genasi looked at Tempest with an annoyed look, sniffed and whispered for her hears only

(in Aquan) You have my sword? Really? That is so cliché, you are so stuck up sometimes. I just see an sea elf saying "you have my trident" to follow up... good thing I'm not a sea elf.

Shrugging, she smiled to the rest of the party.

Like my too formal sister says, we were sent here to help, and with the condition this little one ended up here, you'll need my arts. You can count me in.

Turning her fully white eyes to Simon, she took a few steps toward him.

The Hag you captured must know more, I would suggest we go talk to her.

[At the Sulphur's Spit]

Beijor strolled up to the bar where Bathsheba was fussing with her platters and silverware. "Looks like they didn't quite clean everything up; they brought back a wounded halfling and what was left of a orc. Your resident witch left a surprise for them, it seems. Spiced cider, if you please, dearest."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:16, Mon 24 Jan 2022.

Telric decides he will need to get started on the the anti-acid plant base. Better to be safe than sorry. "I will get to work on the acid protection. If anyone skilled in alchemy or herbalism, their help will be appreciated." He starts to head off to make the paste in question.

OOC-I assume I should roll int+prof for herbalist kit. Can I get advantage if someone assist me with the help action? Or I could assist them if they have a high Int.

Sprinkle turned to Telric when he announced he would work on a acid protection. Curious, she looked at Tempest.

You have always been better at making people talk with your charming personality, you go interrogate the Hag. I'll join you when I can, I think I can help here.

She walked to Telric and said.

Hello! I'm Sprinkle, I don't think we were introduced. How do you propose to create this protection? I know a thing or two about plants, but I've mostly worked with kelp and sea weeds.

In reply to Sprinkle (msg # 134):

"Oh, oh yes. Hello. I'm Telric. I serve under Captain Amara." He says, seeming distracted at first. He reaches into his bag, and fishes out a crystal mounted on some sort of clockwork device. An image of a weed floats over the crystal. "This is firebase, also called mesfit. You can work it into a paste that actually help neutralize acid and some forms of poisons." He pauses for a moment. "I always meant to explore under the ocean with my breathing helmet to search for rare plants. Always too busy up top."

Sprinkle looked at the image and memorized it, before looking at the crystal, fascinated.

That is a nice crystal, how do you have it project the image? I don't see any magical symbols on it. Oh, right, sorry, firebase. Do you want me to get some? Where would I find it? I don't even know where I am!

She smiled as he mentioned visiting the depth of the ocean.

Oh it is a grand place to visit! And live in too!

She made a sweeping gesture and suddenly the room was replaced by a scene from underwater, complete with swaying sea weeds, sandy flooring and fishes swimming, all silently.

Isn't it beautiful?

OOC: Sprinkle casted silent image.

In reply to Sprinkle (msg # 136):

"Indeed, it is beautiful. Its odd I spend most of my time on a boat, but almost no time under the water. Mostly because of the whole drowning thing..." He sighs. "Let's check the Vestibule and Infirmary. They might have what we need. Sad thing is if they don't, we might have to stumble around the wilderness and see if any is growing. I buy most of my herbs in a shop." He gestures for Sprinkle to follow him to the place he was told to go.

In reply to Beijor (msg # 132):

While Beijor shared a little juicy gossip, Bathsheba poured the spiced cider. She brought his mug and set it before him. “Oh no, not Skye! I like that one, she speaks her mind freely and entertains no foolishness. May Tymora aid her!”

Bathsheba mulled over the other party in Beijor’s news. “Orcish one, you say? Not Azatch!” The barmaid shook her head with a downcast sigh. “Azatch was born here, you know. Lived here until he became a young man and left in search of adventure. What a pity!”

She clucked her tongue. “Such a shame, the evils that befell us because one man coveted what wasn’t rightly his, and a Hag hiding among us only too happy to help him!”

Tempest ignored her sister's attempt to rile her up. She was formal at times, but in this group, she did not know the dynamics - it was best to be safe until she knew the proper protocol.

When her sister mentioned interrogation, she smiled a half smile. Always so kind sister. Why don't you...." she paused as she saw her infatuated with the human and his crystal and sighed. "Attention span of a garfish, that one." She muttered to herself.

She looked at the clerics. "Why don't we go talk to this 'hag'....and any information that will help us have leverage would be good."

"I might be able to help with that paste," said Tara.  "Mistress Blackmoor taught me well as an apothecary; I've got other training, as well, from my stepmother.  And I'm good with the elements."

...the principles of fire and acid were simple enough.  But thinking about her stepmother, here... she hoped that these strangers didn't ask her too many questions.  Or the wrong ones, more to the point.

[Sulphur Spit]


"Was she long among you? And who here dares to hold a hag? Slippery women they are... if not as slippery as some." His sly smile disappeared behind the rim of his mug.

"Tell me about her; I'd love to know. Details are grist for the muses' mill, and always hungry for more. Mmmmm... are petit fours glacé out of the question, love?"

It was all happening so fast.

He had come here with a Hunt in mind, and yet so quickly it had escaped him. The revelation that there was a Hatchling was hard for him to grasp, and his mind whirled as he tried to understand the deeper meaning of it all.

"Where is the one known as Mercion, and the one known asss Pocketsss?"

He did not realize the truth of it, that those he sought were right under his nose.

In reply to Tara Inkfingers (msg # 140):

"Excellent! We can set up two stations for the paste. Two people work, one person assits. This is Sprinkle, I am Telric." He says to Tara, not sure of her name.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:12, Tue 25 Jan 2022.

[Sulphur Spit]



“HA! You can eat my berry fritters like the rest, or go uphill for the fancy stuff!” Bathsheba waggled her hand with a loose wrist when she said “fancy”. “The Baron’s place is where you’ll find tea cakes & frills, and perhaps more, if you catch my drift!” The Tiefling cackled at her own joke, then brought a platter with the fritter, fresh less than a quarter hour from the kitchen.

Her face showed the seriousness Beijor’s other questions deserved, though. “Connie was here at least as long as we had the troubles. Near fives years, give or take one. Funny thing is that she just…always seemed to be here. No one questioned exactly when she arrived, and I’m guess that was Witchcraft, too!”

Bathsheba shuddered and her fingers quickly traced a sign to ward herself against any lingering Witchcraft. Beijor recognized it as a common gesture among superstitious peasants. “When Connie was among us, she would look voluptuous, skin like a bowl of fresh cream and auburn hair like a fireplace ready to warm you on the coldest night.” The Tiefling sniffed disdainfully. “Wasn’t even natural. Not like mine!” She patted her own red curls.

“How they’re holding her in the jail likely owes to Sheila and the spellcasters among the good folk who put a stop to that Coven’s wickedness!”

[The House of The Sun Father (Pelor’s Temple)]




Mercion heard Seth’s question, and stepped toward him. “I am Mercion. I’m one of the Priests here. Pockets is the Halfling who keeps watch over Skye.” She quickly added, “The little one that you saved. She has come to mean a great deal to us in a little amount of time. Especially to Pockets.

I would personally like to thank you for your kindness to her.”

[The House of The Sun Father (Pelor’s Temple)]

“The Vestibule is through that door,” Sundos told Telric, pointing at a large door across the garden that faced the Well. “Let me know if you need any assistance. Whatever you don’t find here, you should find in the woods outside Deadwater’s walls.” The young Cleric spoke in a helpful tone, but seemed a little distracted.

Sundos couldn’t help but keep a watchful eye on Mercion and Seth.

"Tara," said Tara.  "Tara Inkfingers.  Pleased to meet you."

Sskith's Echo interposed himself between the Lizardman and Mercion, but had the good sense not to hiss. Instead he stared up at the Priestess, his eyes deep sunken and slitted.

"It isss a new age, and I am of a new path."

He said simply, his words a low rumble.

"I would hear the tale of thisss Black Dragon you sssslew, if you would share it?"

His hope that the Hatchling might be saved had faded fast, once he understood that it had likely slain one tribemate of this Scaleless priestess, and mortally wounded the other. Yet in hearing the story, perhaps he could find some wisdom.

[The House of The Sun Father (Pelor’s Temple)]


Simon's forehead furrows as the two genasi sisters once agin indicate they were sent to assist him.

"I suppose you are welcome to join us. I don't believe there is an initiation fee."

"We have questioned her already. But if you feel that you might be able to draw more information from her, then I will accompany you to the jail."

Simon looks to Lenelle, "Are you interested in questioning Connie? She may know something about the dragon."

Simon will guide Tempest to the jail, regardless if Lenelle joins them.

During the short walk, the warlock questions the genasi, with curiosity.

"Is it true that your parents are genie and human? Are there genasi of all elements? What gifts has your water genie ancestry bestowed on you and your sister?"

LOCATION - TOWARDS THE JAIL

Tempest looks at Simon as he cracks the joke with no reaction.

Then as they walk to the Jail, he asks the questions. She pauses as she thinks. "Genasi are beings that share some form of water elemental ancestry. My sister and i are a rare case. Our parents were both sea elves, but when our mother was pregnant, she was 'tainted' with the spirit's of a water entity." By her tone when she spoke of her mother, it was clear that their was something strained there.

"My sister and i, being twins, are as far as we know, the only case of being genasi born of two of a normal race. As for other Genasi, there are others of water, though i have never met any others beside myself and my sister. There are also of earth, fire and air, as far as i am aware."

She pauses as she walks. "As for our gifts, we are as comfortable underwater as above....we breathe both air and water. And because of our infinity with water, we are gifted with some - what you would call, magic. Both of us can create water and manipulate it, though my sisters skill is far more advanced than mine. We also are less suseptable to acid."

Pleased to meet you Tara. You aren't dressed as a fighter, what do you like to do?

Following Telric, she smiled to the human, When Sprinkle arrived in the vestibule, she looked around the pots and alchemy components like a child in a sweet's shop, wide eyed and excited, wanting to touch everything. It took an effort for her to calm down, and she used her magic again to create an illusion of a bigger version of the plant Telric had showed her. Leaving the giant leaf floating in the air, she started looking for it in the pots.

Telric looked about plant storage, checking labels as he went. "Very tempting to make a bunch of formulas while I am here. Dont get access to this sorta stash everyday. Still, we should focus on the task at hand...wait, is that pipeweed?" He examined the green herb.

"I mean, we are going to risk our lives, the least they could do is spare some...no, no. I can buy it off the temple later." He said, trying to resist the temptation. However he did look sad to miss the opportunity.

[Sulphur Spit]


Beijor tut-tutted her joke and responded, "Don't tease, beloved... for why would I go elsewhere when all I could desire is here?" He took the offered fritter and began to eat it delicately.

"5 years... these old witches had long plans for Deadwater. And the 'youngest' -- don't believe it, they're each of them wrinkled and ageless -- sent to snare whom she could with poisoned honey. Was the wretch truly the only caught, I wonder... Did no-one else tarry over-long at her threshold? How often did she walk back to her home early of a morning, brazenly tossing her hips as she walked?"

:: House of The Sun Father, Pelor's sacred temple



She considered briefly, then replied "No.  I don't think I will. Interrogation isn't my forte.  In our last chat, all I could get her to do is be evasive, and play games with me.  Perhaps, the presence of a fierce elemental will urge her to be more straightforward.  But, I would like to speak with you later, to hear whatever is learned."   

As Simon and Tempest departed, Lenelle turned her attention to where Mercion was speaking to Seth.   She saw Sundos not far off, and understood the nature of his concern.  She said nothing, but moved nearer to be able to hear clearly the words of both saurian and sister...

Tara hesitated for a moment, overwhelmed briefly by the woman's beauty.  She'd never seen anything like it... no, no.  Self-discipline.  This was not the time for such thoughts.

"Well, I like to study," she said.  "Magic, in particular.  I'm a scribe, a scholar.  A wizard. A witch.  Whatever name you want to call it."


She cringed internally.  Now she was babbling like an idiot... what must they think of her?



"I grow some herbs as well," said Tara.  "Mistress Blackmoor also has a substantial supply; it should be possible to find what we want..."

A generic roll to cover her attempting to recognize the plant in question and source it, since I've basically got the same roll for Arcana, Investigation and Alchemy:

13:54, Today: Tara Inkfingers rolled 26 using 1d20+6 ((20)).

Well, hey!  A crit!

[The House of The Sun Father]



Mercion nodded and gestured toward a bench closer to the Well. “Please. Let us sit, and I shall tell you how we journeyed to Deadwater, and came to face the Black Dragon.” The Priestess accompanied the Lizardman to the bench. She seemed unbothered by his differences, displaying the sophistication of a well-traveled woman accustomed to dealing with a diverse array of people.

Before she sat, Mercion dipped the ladle into the well and filled two simple clay cups. She offered the first cup to Seth. “May this quench any thirst from your journey.” Then, she sipped her own.

“Pockets and I come from far away,” Mercion said, “Indeed, farther than the farthest country you may know. We were part of a group of friends who also traveled the land to protect the weak and defenseless. One day, our Wizard learned of a malevolent scheme by his rival to aid a Dragon in the conquest of a region that could ultimately place them in a position to conquer worlds.

Ringlerun wove a powerful spell to bridge the vast distance. When we arrived, we found our old enemy, Kelek, in an alliance with the Black Dragon, Byrsiss Blackfang. Byrsiss threatened the people of Deadwater, attacking any ships that sailed to or from here. She intended to weaken the community by cutting off their port. Her ultimate goal was corrupting that sacred well.” She pointed toward Eldath’s Well.

“The Well was blessed by the Goddess Eldath with curative and restorative properties. Byrsiss saw an opportunity to spit in the eye of a loving Goddess, as well as harm these people.” Mercion sighed. “Tho’ I am devoted to Pelor, still do I respect Eldath, and I could not let the Dragon’s vile plot come to pass. My friends and I sought her Lair and faced her on her own ground. Among us were a mighty Paladin and Fighter who dealt the killing blows. Pockets and the Elf known as Peralay destroyed all the Dragon’s young…or so we thought.”

At that point, Mercion faced Seth with thoughtful eyes. “Perhaps from your perspective, it sounds as though we perpetrated an Evil of our own. I assure you that we acted only to save the most lives, including the Lizardfolk that Byrsiss bullied into serving her. Your arrival offers me hope that there can be reconciliation between our people.”

[The House of The Sun Father, the Vestibule]

Tara confirmed that the plant was indeed pipe weed. She also spotted an ample amount of Aloe Vera among the potted plants. Sheila had taught Tara the efficacy of Aloe Vera in treating wounds, including burns of all sorts. Of particular interest would be the small pot of Fireweed she saw on a shelf of exotic plants and herbs. Tara knew that the plant was likely imported, as it grew further north of regions like Deadwater.

There was enough for a limited amount of preventive doses. Perhaps enough for 7 doses.

Tara explained what she'd found to the others.

"...So we can do some good, at least," she said.  "Luckily, most common spells work reasonably well on acid-spitters.  I can work around some weaknesses, though, with what I've studied about the elements.  Fire can sometimes be more of a problem, but I have solutions for that."

In reply to Tara Inkfingers (msg # 158):

"Well done. We should set up a lab workshop here. I have a mini kit with me." He reaches into his bag of holding, and pulls out what looks like a collapsible desk. After he unfolds it, he opens it various latches and compartments, showing typical herblist/alchemy tools need to make various things.

"Alright, what I was thinking is Tara and I work on the acid resistance paste, and Sparkle assits us. Tara will start, her efforts assisted by Sparkle while I prepare the next batch, and then Sparkle will assist me. Then Tara prepares the next set, etc. Etc. Etc."

He chuckles. "Dont worry, it's even more boring than it sounds. But all our work will be rewarding when something shoots acid at our group."

[The Sulphur’s Spit]

Beijor’s last question brought a knowing smirk to Bathsheba’s face. “*Hmph*!” She wiped a wineglass as she elaborated. “I think you’ll find a great many men of Deadwater too embarrassed to answer THAT question now that the truth is out! Why, Joshua Redfern had barely grown his beard before Connie tried to sink her claws into him!”

She hook her head as she set the glass among the rest behind the bar. “It’s a good thing Lenelle showed up when she did! I shudder to think what would have happened if Connie had her way with that nice young man! Truth be told, I think jealousy moved Connie to finally attack that sweet lass as much as any Witchy plot.”

Bathsheba leaned on the bar with a wry smile. “Now, I know that I must be quite the Beauty of The Ages for you to work your wiles so, but as much as I enjoy flirting, I’ve still work to be done here!” She stepped away. “So I’ll have to send you on your way, my Bonnie lad! Of course, you could always ask Connie herself, if you’ve such a mind for that mystery.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:10, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

[The House of The Sun Father]

Sskith opened and closed his eyes slowly in agreement and crouched down low at her feet when she sat down upon the bench. Sskith's people venerated the Matriarchs in their Tribe as the keepers of tales, wisdom, and secrets. This Scaleless seemed to fulfill a similar role here, and so he would treat her with the respect with which she was due. His Echo drew up beside him, stalking him once in a tight circle before settling against his haunches and laying down. He accepted the cup, only briefly watching that she sipped her own before drinking his.

When she began her tale, he listened with heart and soul.

Byrsiss Blackfang.

That was a name he knew, and knew well. Sesskrith had taken several mates, in the generations he had spent among his Thralls, and Byrsiss had been the last of them. Her words had surprised him though, and so he spent much time in quiet contemplation of them before he spoke.

"That name issss known to me, and to my Tribe. I do not think you cruel for defending thissss place against her. Living under the ssshadow of a Great Black Wyrm isssss... a difficult path to forge."

He scratched at the red scales of his throat, which pulsed dully in rhythm with those of his Echo.

"You may not have such lore of Dragonsss, but could you guessssss the age of the Hatchling you ssslew?"

For the Blackfang had not darkened their sky in almost ninety years. Dragons ages slowly indeed, yet it was still entirely possible that it was of Sesskrith's blood.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:43, Tue 25 Jan 2022.

The House of The Sun Father

Mercion’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember. “While I did not personally face the Hatchlings, I seem to remember that Pockets described the one he slew as on the cusp of young Adulthood. I was too busy turning the undead summoned by the Wizard Kelek, and thus, did not directly engage Byrsiss in the final battle. Your questions bear serious consideration, though. For if Irma The Hag stole an egg, not enough time would pass for a newborn Wyrmling to defeat both Azatch and Skye.”

Suddenly, Mercion’s eyebrows rose as she realized what she’d said. “Merciful Pelor! Time passes differently in the Feywilds! Irma could have easily hidden the Wyrmling there until it came of age to become a threat!”
This message was last edited by the player at 21:59, Tue 25 Jan 2022.

[The Town Jail]

Soon, Simon’s small group arrived at Deadwater’s jail. They saw a one story building made of stucco and tabby, the oyster shells jutting out sharply. The walls looked thick, like the newer walls that were being built along the river’s edge. The town had learned from their experiences that they needed stronger barriers. It occurred to Simon that the jail was finally getting use for something besides a night’s rebuke for excessive drunkenness.

At the door, Connor stood guard. “Hiya, Simon!” The youngest of the Watchmen waved with genuine cheer to see the Warlock. Simon had become something of a hero for the young man, even more since his crucial role in saving Connor from the Hags. “Are you here to see the prisoners?”

[Sulphur's Spit]

The elf pretended to swoon with the back of his hand on his brow. "Alas! The discontent to be kissed only by your radiance! Farewell, matchless maiden, e'er I wither!" He stood, saluted Bathsheba, and sauntered out of the Inn, changing his course and looking for Redfern before he went to talk to Connie.

Beijor didn’t see Joshua, but he couldn’t help but see Simon leading a small troupe to the town jail…
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:13, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

[The House of The Sun Father]

Sskith let out a huff of surprise, even though he had suspected the answer was coming. Sesskrith's progeny. That had certainly not been what he'd been expecting to find when he had seized the opportunity that the wounded Scaleless had presented. The fact that this Matriarch had not been here when Sesskrith the Divine himself had held sway made it too good of an opportunity to pass.

"There are many thingssss which wield the Breath of... which use acid in the sssswamp. But a Dragon does seem likely. What will you do, now that ssssomething has slain one of your bonded kin, and wounded another?"

He knew the answer, yet he hoped to shape it still.

"Whatever did thissss, it was not of my village."

A risk, to suggest that Sesskrith was no longer active, but one he had to take.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:23, Tue 25 Jan 2022.

:: The House of The Sun Father

As Lenelle listened, within her head grew a list of questions.  But one thing in particular stood out with especial emphasis. Almost as though someone had tapped her upon the shoulder, and whispered, Do not fail to grasp this bit right here...



She approached the pair, inclined her head in respect.  "Sister...please pardon the interruption...but something you mentioned fairly cries in my head for explanation.  What do you mean by a region that could place someone in a position to conquer worlds?"

"It is Deadwater you speak of, isn't it?"

[The House of The Sun Father]

Sskith listened to Lenelle's words, but prophecy discussed between a Matriarch and her Priestess was not for him to question. Still, she had made no effort to mask her words. He would hear, and he would learn.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:55, Wed 26 Jan 2022.

[The House of The Sun Father, the Vestibule]

In response to Tara's explanation to what she liked, Sprinkle had a gentle laugh, that sounded like a spring rain falling.

Oh Tara, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you. You actually sound like me when I'm excited, Tempest never fails to remind me I'm like a panicking sardine in those moments.

The wizard quickly found what was needed and the two humans devised a plan of action, while the genasi was still opening pots, curious to see everything. Once the plan got explained, Sprinkle jumped in with enthusiasm, using her mastery of water magic to mix up the potions thoroughly. At one point, as she was switching place to start helping Telric, she asked.

Tara found the fireweed and aloes vera, those have very useful medicinal properties. But I wonder why you were so excited about the pipeweed... what are it's healing virtues? I've never heard of it.

[The House of The Sun Father]

Seth’s reassurance came as welcome news to Mercion. She appeared most pleased with his promise that his people weren’t the servants of Byrsiss. “We do not want war with your tribe. Peace with your clan is our desire, and peace with all the Lizardfolk. The spawn of Byrsiss is our true enemy.”

When Lenelle interrupted, Mercion motioned her over. “You are not interrupting, dear Lenelle. I fear you speak truth, though. Old Kelek would not journey so far from our world unless there was a prize of great value to be claimed. I think whatever that wretched man wants lies somewhere near Deadwater.” 
This message was last updated by the player at 02:45, Wed 26 Jan 2022.

[The House of The Sun Father, the Vestibule]

In reply to Sprinkle (msg # 169):

"Errr...well, it's a...painkiller." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Also stimulates appetite, and has...ah...therapeutic side effects. Works in baked goods, Hookahs, and pipes."

He grinned at her, a little embarrassed. "Its how sailors pass the time on long voyages when drinking is discouraged." He chuckled.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:52, Wed 26 Jan 2022.

:: The House of The Sun Father

"I see. So...the Hags used the Fey world as a means to age the hatchling.  Perhaps.  Which leads to some questions I was going to ask of you or Tara, anyway.  How do they -- the Hags -- come and go from that place?  Is it easy for them? Are there limits?  It would make sense the coven's leader returned there, I think. And, she'd then have more time with which to recover and scheme." 

"There's a few herbs like that that I know of," said Tara, dryly.  "Some of them are just a mite bit surprising, too... anyway, we can get what we need.  We should get brewing.  If you want, we can go back to where I'm staying.  I have the things we'll need there."

The backwoods twang in her accent was, perhaps, a bit surprising in someone who claimed to be a scholar, but perhaps a keen mind might be found anywhere...

[The House of The Sun Father]

Sskith reached out a hand, resting it instinctively on his Echo while he contemplated the meaning of these words. He had come here looking for rumors of Sesskrith, and instead found hints that what was very likely his progeny yet lived. Yet there was an opportunity here, and such great risk.

"I... I know much of Dragons, especially of the Vutha."

He growled the last word in draconic, the name for "black" forming his Tribe's salvation and its doom.

"I will help your warriors track this one."

The House of The Sun Father

“I am no scholar of the Arcane like Ringlerun, or even your Simon or Tara. What mere trifle of knowledge that I possess of the Fey often told of how their world opened to ours. It could be a stroll through into an enchanted forest, washing upon an island, or even brushing against the right slab of ancient stone. Legends of Faerie often involve unwary travelers stumbling into the Feywilds.

Hags are mysterious creatures who hoard secrets the way Red Dragons hoard gold. Perhaps they enter our world at will, or through a ritual? Maybe the one we know used these methods…or was banished from her own realm.

I cannot say with certainty.”
This message was last edited by the player at 06:17, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

Beijor as he saw Simon and ... a blue woman?... walking towards the jail. ~~ Ah, minds thinking alike, ~~ he said to himself and he laid his footpath to intercept them as they arrived at the jail. ~~ Let us hope then that we're not all fools sharing the same foolish thought! ~~

The warlock had been feted these past few days, but Beijor had only been cursorily introduced, or, closer to the truth, the elf simply hadn't been paying attention. But Simon was popular and that said something for his quality at any rate.

~~ But Miss Blue... hmmmm.... ~~

His walk became more animated and he spoke out to the woman just as the guard hailed them.

[translated from the Sylvan]
  Marry cousin, to see you here,
  Far from our shared arboreal sphere,
    A heavier armor thou art clad in
    Than many a maiden fair Eladrin...?

[The Town Jail]

Simon gives Connor an acknowledging nod, "Good day Connor, how are you?

We are indeed here to speak to the Hag..."

The warlock is interrupted by a voice calling from behind in a strange language. Turning, he sees the elven bard.

"Friend of yours?" he asks Tempest as he follows Connor into the jail.

---

I don't believe Simon has spoken to Beijor at all. Saw him in the tavern, didn't stay, and no contact when Azatch and Skye were returned. So he will ignore the elf!

[Town Jail]

Connor nodded and obediently stepped aside. Sheriff Laredon Van Dee deputized Simon and the companions who’d first accompanied him into town. After their recent heroism, the town Watch were under standing orders to cooperate with Simon’s group. “This way, Sir,” he said, eager to please. Connor led Simon and his companions down a sixty foot long hall. There were five cells on each side of the hall.

In the first cell, Benny sulked on a plain cot. The disgraced former owner of The Sulphur’s Spit glared at Simon and rolled on his side facing the wall. Connor led them to a door at the end of the sole prison block. He stopped and opened the door, shuffling nervously on his feet. “She’s, uh, down there.”

The door opened into a narrow stairway that descended to the dungeon. A handful of torches lit the way down, showing the hard stucco walls. At the bottom of the stairs, a heavy oak door with a small barred window. By the dim torchlight, the group saw a semicircle of intricate chalk drawings and candles. A poppet was on one side of the door, just out sight of the window. Simon recognized the wards, noting his handiwork, part of a concentrated group effort with Tara, Sheila, Grog, Sundos, & Mercion to ensure Connie couldn’t escape.

They heard a throaty chuckle, as sickly green hands clutched the bars. Connie peered from behind the bars, a snaggle-toothed grin on her warty face. “Why, what a treat! I have visitors!”
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:22, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

[Town Jail]

Tempest moves with Simon as a seasoned soldier, to the side and left of the warlock.  When the bard came up spouting some poetry in some unusual language. The genasi snorted softly and kept walking, ignoring his efforts. When simon ask's if connor is a friend, she looks at Simon. "Never met the fool in my life. If he knew me, he'd know i can't speak that gibberish he's speaking"

At the prison, She placed her pack and shield down, leaving her sword on her back.  Now the shield was off, you notice the uniqueness of the sword. The hilt was wrapped in white leather, with the pommel a mixture of light blue and silver color. The scabbard was white and light blue leather.

She looked at the man who showed contempt for Simon, ignoring him she followed Simon down the stairs. She opened her eyes wide at the sight of the hag. She had never seen such a being and even her hardened warrior training cracked at the surprise.

She crossed her arms behind simon. "Tell us about the dragoon." She said - straight to the point

[Town Jail]

Connie shook her head. “*Tsk-Tsk-Tsk*! Dearie, you haven’t even properly introduced yourself! And you just demand a look at Auntie Connie’s secrets? How rude!” The Hag feigned offense, but that act quickly yielded to a throaty chuckle. She stared at Tempest, as if sizing up the Fighter.

Her thin eyebrows rose with genuine interest. “My, my, but you are a specimen! What are you? Could it be…a Genasi? I’ve never entertained one of you before!”

OOC:

Oh, y’all need much more than some tough talk! I’ll need some rolls—Intimidation, Persuasion, anything that could coerce the answers you want from Connie!

 

Tempest looked at the ugly woman with contempt. Her gaze cold, she spoke low, but had a slight waver in her voice - obvious her heritage was a sore spot with her. "You want a propper introduction...how about this, you start talking to me about the thing that's attacking people here and i won't cut your head off and mount it outside the town for your 'sister' to see."

she had every intention coming in calm, but the sight of her and her demeanor reminded her of an enemy, far from here, that killed people from her home.

She leaned closer. "..and as for my heritage....thats none of your damn business."

---

<OOC: Tempest rolled 6 using 1d20+4.  intimidation check.

DAMN....Bad start.

No chance with advantage due to her being locked up and i have a big sword?

...guess not>
This message was last edited by the player at 02:55, Thu 27 Jan 2022.

Tempest intended to present a fearsome presence with her threat, but the result instead seemed…adorable. “AH-HAH-HAAAH!” The Hag shook with a good belly laugh as she cackled. “Oh, Simon, she’s so precious!” Connie wiped away tears of laughter from her eyes.

“If I were free, I would bake her my best tea cakes as a reward! What a precious poppet!”
This message was last edited by the player at 03:36, Thu 27 Jan 2022.

[The House of The Sun Father]

"Will you be leading the Hunt, Matriarch?"

Among his people, the Matriarch's were too important to risk on a hunt. These were strange people though, and they might follow strange ways. He turned to Lenelle, his tongue searching for meaning.

"We should start where I found the bodiessss, yessss? There will be tracksss."

[The House of The Sun Father]



“Oh, I am hardly the Matriarch of Deadwater, or even this group!” Mercion laughed, a self-deprecating thing, with hands up and a gentle shake of her head. “However, since this crisis is as much my fault as the Coven’s, yes, I plan on going with you.” The shame for her own party’s oversight seemed apparent even to a being unaccustomed to the nuances of human speech.

[The Town Jail]

Simon stood behind Tempest, leaning against the wall, as she began questioning the hag.

"You'd best be careful Murky Constance Toadtwitcher.

This one has more power than you realise.

Your time here is coming to an end. Your coven is broken, Irma Sootstartle is dead, and Grimfiddle has abandoned you as the failure that you are.

I don't expect you to do something good to redeem yourself, you are far beyond that but if you answer our questions it might help at your trial. You may be rewarded with a quick and painless death.

Some of the torture being suggested sound quite barbaric, I imagine the suffering waiting for you will be beyond anything that even you can imagine.

Though, I suppose as the least of the coven Irma and Grim likely did not confide their plans to you."

---

Simon rolled 17 for Persuasion.

[The House of The Sun Father, the Vestibule]

Ah... so a way to pass the time. I suppose I can see the value of it.

Opening the pipeweed pot, forgetting her work, she sniffed the herb, the fine dust making her sneeze. Hurriedly, she left the pot where it was and sniffed, sniffed again and wiggled her nose with her finger, her expression one of wonder.

Oh! I didn't know I could do that! Do you do it too? It's new to me, we don't do.... that.... under the sea. How do you call it?

As the blue woman strode away Beijor reconsidered... not an Eladrin, then. He shrugged and followed behind, content to listen.



~~ Ah, an elemental. Possibly water, but this one? Oh, ice, to be sure, ~~ thought the bard. ~~ And trying to be the toughest person in the room! ~~ He smiled. ~~ Oh, but my mephit could use some help... ~~

"Are you so surprised the Elementals should come, Auntie?" Beijor began, coming now into full view of the hag's cell. "Don't you think word of you and your sisters has spread across the planes? 'What happened to them?' they said. 'How could this be?' Laughter in the City of Brass at being overcome by rustic Primes. I made my own contribution, of course:

 "Efreeti and Djinns couldn't think
  That Hags were making a stink
    in a jerkwater town
    made to look like a clown
  and tossed on her ass in the klink!"

He laughed bright and clear. "Your Queen sends her regards and asks if you require aid. I suggested a pillow for your hemorrhoids, ha, haha."

---

OOC:

00:06, Today: Beijor rolled 20 using 2d20+9, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 11,4.  Deception - Enhance Ability.

Trying to upset her so she'll spill something.

[Jail Cell]

Facing the hag, she wanted nothing more than to punch the smug smile from her face. She could have had Simon not stepped in. She listened to what had transpired, and crossed her arms, taking in all he said.

Then when Beijor spoke, her serious look again cracked to one of stupefied wonder. ~who is this fool~ she thought to herself as she slowly looked at him with a cold look.

She turned back, not saying a word, but determined that this elf needed talking to.

...perhaps with her fists

[The House of The Sun Father, the Vestibule]



Telric knowingly smirks at Tara's statement. "Indeed. Almost every culture has use of such a weed, although there are many different names. If you have better lab equipment than my poor portable lab, I would be happy to see..." He stops after Sprinkle speaks and sneezes.



"Its indeed hard to inhale anything when your lungs are filled with water." He chuckled, looking over her face and making sure she was breathing normally. "You will be fine. Unlike drink and other such plants, this one is harmless. Well...it can make you very hungry, so not entirely harmless to your food supply. Let's go with Tara and we can finish off the actual work that needs doing. Then I can let you sample my own supply and see if you like it. It might be one more good reason to stay above the waves."

[Town Jail]

Despite her iron will, Simon’s threat pierced Connie’s bravado. She’d opened her mouth to retort when Beijor flounced in sight and taunted her. Connie’s lips drew back, baring her needle-sharp teeth in a growl uncomfortably bestial for those who’d known her in a more agreeable guise. “I knew as much as Irma, and outlived her, so who is the greater fool?!”

Her bright orange eyes honed in on Beijor with even greater rancor than she’d ever displayed toward the adventurers who’d captured her. “I serve not Titania nor her cuckolded consort!” Simon had unnerved her with the threat of ending her immortal life, and Beijor’s improvised song only added insult to injury. “That you know of the City makes me wonder what you are doing so far from it! You’re not just here to sing for coppers in that shit-hole tavern.

Were you banished from the Feywilds for offending the Fair Folk with your musical hackery, or for not being Feyblood enough for their liking?” Her words stung Beijor’s ears in turn. Possibly too much so?

OOC:

Beijor, roll a Wisdom save against Vicious Mockery.


Connie leered at the Elf, then turned her attention on Simon. “I know your true name, too, Sahm’ian al-Dhib! Truth be told, I prefer it to your rather plain alias. It has a musical quality of its own preferable to the Elf’s caterwauling, certainly would work well in a spell!” The old Witch chuckled, then cleared her throat.

“Remember that I offered to trade information for my life. Remember, Warlock? If you let me live, I will tell you what you want to know about Granny. I’ve no love for that cowardly piece of bat dung!” Under her breath, she muttered, “I only agreed to join her Coven because she threw her weight around!”

[Town Jail]

Beijor’s smile wavered at the hag’s stinging rebuke before it broadened. “Oh, ‘tis a flynting!”

---

OOC:
07:00, Today: Beijor rolled 11 using 1d20+2.  Wisdom vs Hag VM.
07:01, Today: Beijor rolled 18 using 1d20+1.  Concentration .

I expect that Wis save won’t do it, and that the Concentration check will.

OOC:

How do you figure? You didn’t specify which Ability you enhanced.

Message 85 in this thread: Eagle’s Splendor. I cast it just before talking with Bathsheba.

EA has up to an hour duration with concentration, and I presumed this encounter still fell within that limit. Does it?

In reply to Beijor (msg # 193):

OOC:

It falls within that hour, but I’m not seeing how it helped you shrug off Vicious Mockery.

The good news is you only took 2 Psychic Damage. I won’t make you roll Disadvantage on Charisma-based attacks, if that was your concern.
 
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:27, Thu 27 Jan 2022.

Oh… I didn’t think he’d shrug it off; that’s why I rolled Concentration to maintain EA through the damage.

2 damage aye. He’s had worse foreplay! It’s on, hag!

For the scotiaphiles, look up “The Flynting of Dunbar and Kennedy”, the record of two Scottish bards insulting each other as a performance before their Lords. It’s medieval 8-mile.

Simon: I’ll keep her off balance, you grill her. :D

[Town Jail]

"Banished? Moi!?" Beijor fell backwards against the wall of the jail in mock injury. "Forfend I should disappoint my Mistress the way you disappoint yours! Nay, thou beauteous tulip! For you see, here I was sent to find out how large the ticket stall should be to accommodate the train of pixies desiring to witness the cagéd hag whose subtleties aspire one day to be that of a Redcap!"

He began to prance in place, blithely singing.

   "Comes a train of little faeries
       Now frolic and gambol-free
    Each a little bit amused is
       Anticipate the hag to see!

    Is she in a world of trouble —
       Pathos set to song?
    Was her ugliness a bubble:
       Popped - she's now a pawn?"

---

OOC:

Maintain concentration on Eagle's Splendor.

Bonus Action: Bardic Inspiration: Simon
You get a d8 for an upcoming roll of your choice. Squeeze her for info and I'll keep the d8's and insults coming.

Sorry for the IC/OOC, Tempest!


This message was last edited by the player at 16:22, Thu 27 Jan 2022.

:: The House of The Sun Father  (And why does that keep making me think of this old song-?  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHbKdI26RkE )



Lenelle nodded at Seth's words. "I can think of no better approach, nor higher priority.  But, we'll run that by the others, just in case any of them can." She looked to Mercion.

"You and Sundos -- have proven to be everything I'd always hoped to see in the priesthood - the faux priesthood - that held sway in my homeland. While your sense of responsibility is a credit to you, and your faith, I wish you would drop any notions of complicity, or feelings of guilt. You and your allies strove truly to do the right thing, at the time. And that's all one can do, in opposing such malefic evil."   
This message was last edited by the player at 17:40, Thu 27 Jan 2022.

Sskith blinked slowly at Lenelle once, his eyes red underneath his hood. He rose from his crouch, filling the space, and at his feet the small Dragon yawned. Lightning crackled in its maw, a strange thing given that its scales were as black as the Lizardman's.

"I am called Seth, in your tongue. How sssshould I name you?"

"Lenelle," she told him.

"I am glad that you're with us.  The gap between your people and we mammal folk is serving no one.  If your alliance with us can make a start in bridging it, we will all be well served, I believe."   

She glanced again at the little dragon, fascinated. Possessing nowhere near enough knowledge to think lightning should suggest a different color of scale. "This is a baby dragon?  How does he come to be traveling with you?  Where is the mother?"

[Town Jail]

Ar first, Connie appeared shaken by Beijor’s jaunty song. Then, she chuckled and wagged a finger. “Heh-heh! Nice try, Sonny, but I heard better insults from the Warlock in our battle!” She bobbed her head side-to-side as she sang in a surprisingly pleasing alto:

‘Aye, locked in this jail,
and all more the pity,
My ears assailed,
by your sad little diitty!’

EE-HEE-HEE-HEE!” The Crone threw her head back as she cackled. Once the laughter passed, she stared impatiently at Simon. “Oh, come on! Is this the best you could come up with for your interrogation?” She sighed with a disappointed shake of her head.


OOC:

16:10, Today: Secret Roll: Connie rolled 21 using 1d20+2.  WIS Save, Advantage .

Good try, Beijor.

She’ll still answer rhe group’s questions, though. Well, as honestly as Hags will answer…


This message was last edited by the player at 06:31, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

[Jail Cell]

Tempest felt the anger well up inside her like a surge of water. It wasn't often she felt this, but when she did, she knew how to use the anger. Stepping up equally beside simon she slowly drew her sword, now seeing the blade. The sword was silver with a slight blue hue, with blue runes along the blade. The blade itself almost l;ooked liek it had list comming off it, like frozen iron in the warmth of the sun, and even had ice along the edge.

As she stood there, she thrust her hand out towards her. A small globe of water manifest and flew towards the woman. As it hit the hag's hand, it froze instantly, freezing her hand in place.

Tempest stepped forward. "Think i'm adorable now? How about when i cut your hand off?"

She stopped and looked at her. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, witch. I was not present for the deal you had with him..." indicating simon. "...i know not the details, nor do i care. You cooperate, then what they decide holds. But you lie to me, you even so much as try anything, I'll get your so called daughter and gut her like a fish right in front of you. I'll leave her head here for you to look at, day in, day out while you rot as a reminder of what happens if you mess with ME!"

She swings her sword in the air, the trail of icy mist following. "Now, i'll ask again, for the final time. What of this dragon?"

[The House of The Sun Father, the Vestibule]

Before Tara, Sprinkle and Telric head off to Tara's home, they try to get as much done with his poor mini lab as possible. Thanks to the expert help of the other two, Telric gets a decent amount done. "How is it the rest of it coming?" He asks Tara as Sprinkle helped her.

(OOC-20:03, Today: Telric Televentor rolled 30 22 using 2d20+5 with rolls of 8 and 17.  Anti acid potion paste making with advantage.)

[The House of The Sun Father]

Sskith made a huffing noise, and was thankful for the second time that his Echo did not understand the Scaleless tongue. He was vain and proud, and would not have taken the words lightly.

"He issss no Hatchling, no true Dragon of flesh and scale."

He crouched down next to him, reaching out a taloned hand to scratch under the beast's chin.

"He isss an Echo. It isss... there are not wordssss for it in your tongue. Or if there are, I do not know them. He is born of Wisdom, born of the Wisdom passsssed down by the Matriarchs, and in my blood. It is like the Wisdom I usssse to see with night eyessss, or to sssumon thorns from the swamp to hinder my prey.  He is an Echo of Sesskrith, and also and Echo of me."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:18, Fri 28 Jan 2022.

[The House of The Sun Father (All)]

The cooperative efforts of an Artificer, Scribe Witch, & Genasi Cleric yielded the optimum results in the minimum amount of time. Telric’s mastery of engineering side of  Science enabled the best working conditions possible for an improvised laboratory. Tara’s far-reaching education helped identify esoteric options that might not have occurred to Telric. She knew the local flora better, and could confirm availability of ingredients, or offer viable local alternatives. Sprinkle showed a curiosity that helped, instead of hinder, the operation. She asked the right questions, helping where needed and saving time by taking the more mundane tasks. Her mastery of water also aided immensely in stabilizing the potions to yield the best paste.

Combined, three keen minds soon produced the paste that would help them face a Black Dragon. Telric knew they could craft seven viable potions for their paste. Sprinkle knew she likely wouldn’t need it, but if she used it, would only stack the odds in her favor. Tara experienced qualitative research that just put her a step ahead of her peers in the School of Scribe Wizardry.

Meanwhile…

Mercion watched Seth interact with his Echo. When he tried to find the right term in her tongue, she helpfully offered one. “If he’s born of your soul, or the collective soul of your clan, perhaps he is a Familiar? I’m certainly no Arcanist, but that was the closest term that Ringlerun would use.”

[The Town Jail]


Simon continues to lean against the wall as he speaks, "You did make that offer, Murky...but I'm hard-pressed to think that anything you could tell us would be enough to change the minds of the villagers.

Your poxy mind fails to understand the level of evil you brought upon them. Even a quick execution will be a hard sell...to consider setting you free would be nigh impossible."

The warlock straightens up and strokes his chin, in thought for a moment.

"Perhaps if you were to provide some information up-front, like a sample at a bakery, I could talk it over with the Baron and see if he might consider some leniency based on the quality.

Tell me now...the name and age of dragon, the location of its lair, and how the lizardfolk were ensorcelled. If acceptable, I will return tomorrow to discuss your freedom for what you know of Grimfiddle and the Abattoir."

---

Simon rolled 15+6=21 for Persuasion (with Bardic Inspiration).
This message was last edited by the player at 02:44, Fri 28 Jan 2022.

Aided by Sprinkle's guidance, Tara was doing her best... but she was distracted, not focusing well.  The encounters with Hags, thoughts about her stepmother...

...working with a certain new ally, a bit distracting...

...it wasn't working as well as she wanted.

12.  Bleah!

[The House of The Sun Father]

Sskith made the huffing noise again, surely it meant something among his people.

"I think my heart knows the word you sssspeak.  Familiarsss are..."

He made an unintelligible gesture with his hand, though considering how rough his voice was most of what he had to say was nearly so.

".... prey. They are the prey soul, that we all ssshare. My Echo? He issss a Hunter."

He looked up as Telric, Sprinkle, and Tara emerged.

"Ahhh, are you ready to begin the Hunt?"

[The Town Jail]

"Mummy! Mummy!" Beijor cried in a child's falsetto. "Tell me the one about Murky Haggle-gibbets! Puh-leeeez!"

And the father's basso response, "It's late sweetie; we're going to have to skip over all the bits painfully lopped off by the Ice-Scimitar of Karfal'nakak, and get right to the Cold-Iron Maiden."

"How far away could they hear her cry?"

"You could run to the hills, and still hear her scream for her life."

"YAAAY!"

Beijor returned to his normal voice. "Yes," he said to a pretended audience. "She must have suckled that dragon on her withered leathery teat to love it so much, keeping its secrets even unto a hellish eternity of quilting, oil-painted cat portraits, and pastel paisley."

---

OOC:
Tempest, d8 Bardic Inspiration for you.

22:46, Today: Beijor rolled 21 using 2d20+4, dropping the lowest dice only.  Persuasion w/Advantage.

[The House of The Sun Father, the Vestibule]


Despite having watched carefully and used her inspiring spell on Tara, Telric and herself, all Sprinkle was able to achieve was a unusable goo. Dejected, she smiled apologetically to the two humans.

It seems like I have still a lot to learn in alchemy.

Shrugging, she disposed of her mess, helped clean the area and then went to the door.

Shall we see if Tempest and the others have learned something from the hag?

OOC
 Today: Sprinkle rolled 3 using 1d20 with rolls of 3.  advantage .

06:53, Today: Sprinkle rolled 13 using 1d20+1d4+6 with rolls of 6,1.  sprinkle potion making medicine roll.

[The House of The Sun Father, the Vestibule]

"Not to worry, we have enough." He said to Tara and Sprinkle. He put the acid reducer paste into his bag of holding. "Your help made it possible. It's a crew effort! Although I am curious to see Tara's lab once we get the chance."

When Seth calls over to the three of them, he nods. "We are ready."

"...I could help tutor you," Tara offered.  "If you like..."

She looked away shyly, cleared her throat.

"Yes, by all means," she continued.  "Let's see if the others have learned anything.  Connie's a tricky one..."

[The House of The Sun Father]

"We ssshould go while the trackssss yet remain."

Sskith suggested, taking a great risk and turning his back upon these Scaleless to begin to show them the way. If this had all been an elaborate deception on their part to lure him in, he would never be more vulnerable. Yet it could not have been, for they had not known of him until he had arrived with their wounded companions.

"Three Toessss is that way, ssso we will go just there."

The name must have meant something to his Tribe, for it was meaningless to those assembled. He pointed where they were heading, and began leading the way.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:16, Sun 30 Jan 2022.

[The House of The Sun Father]


Sprinkle smiled at Tara's offer and nodded graciously, the water drops in her hairs threatening to fall down.

I will be happy if you can show me more, Tara. My thanks, I was not very good out there.

Seeing Seth, she fixated on his red scaled throat, finding it fascinating. She barely heard what he said, but snapped out of it when he turned his back on them.

Wait, what about those interrogating the hag? I would prefer to have Tempest beside me if we go into danger. We work very well together. I am supposed to help Simon, so it would be good if he was there too, don't you think?

Crossing her arms, she looked at her new human friends to see if they would support her.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:49, Sun 30 Jan 2022.

In reply to Sprinkle (msg # 213):

 "Eh, the more people we have, the better chances of success. I'm ready to go." Telric said. He gestured with his staff for them to lead the way.

[The House of The Sun Father]

She did not need their support, as the Lizardman put up no resistance to her words.

"Gather the other Hunterssss."

He said, the words a coarse growl, but understandable now that they had the knack of it. For his part, he knelt down beside his Echo, resting a hand protectively on his back just under the neck frill. He understood nothing of who these blue women were, but he was patient, he would learn.

"I am called Seth, in this tongue. I will be your tracker."

He said at last, looking up at her from his crouch.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:51, Sun 30 Jan 2022.

Pleased to meet you Seth. I am Sprinkle, and my twin sister that you'll meet soon, is called Tempest.

She looked at Tara, questions in her eyes.

You seem to know this "Connie", where would she be located? That's where Tempest and Simon will be. Hopefully they will have managed to get some information on this dragon.

"In the jail," said Tara, "awaiting trial.  She may be put to the death; she may be spared.  But be wary.  She's a Hag, one of a Coven that was corrupting this entire town.  She's likely to say almost anything to preserve her life... I've talked to her before.  She might open up a bit more to me?  I'm not sure about that, though."

It might just be that Connie considered her vulnerable, after all... especially considering her past.

[The House of The Sun Father]

"We sssshould go and get them then, yessss?"

He answered with a deep rumble, rising back to his feet and settling his pack against his back.

[Town Jail]

With a casual gesture, Tempest coalesced the water in the humid air into a globe that splashed Connie’s hand! Before the Hag could react, the water instantly froze her hand to the bar! “Ack!” Connie jerked her hand, wrenching it free with a tug or two that displayed the deceptive strength of the Hags. She opened her mouth to speak, but Tempest wouldn’t let the Crone speak over her. When the Genasi threatened little Elise in graphic detail, Connie gasped. “The child has nothing to with this here.”

Had Tempest found the first true piece of leverage? Would it work with Simon’s threat and Beijor’s taunts to make the wretched Hag talk?

Before Tempest could press her interrogation, Simon interjected with terms of possible leniency. Simon showed a fluency in negotiations worthy of a court, legal or royal. Connie grunted sullenly, but heard him out. For the moment, her sense of self-preservation prevailed over any false pride, even as Beijor heckled her further.

“Irma loved alliteration in naming her pets. She named the Hatchling Baleful Blackfang. Now, listen closely, Sahm’ian.” When she had Simon’s attention, the old Witch shared more information. “The dragon that the simpering golden-haired priestess and her traveling circus of goody-goodies slew was the descendant of another Black Dragon nearly a century ago.

That Dragon held sway over a different tribe of Lizardfolk in the northeast. An Elven heroine sacrificed herself to defeat him, and broke the Dragon’s hold over the land. As you know from recent, heh, losses, the Dragon’s bloodline yet thrived here. Byrsiss Blackfang sought to recreate her father’s tyranny here. Was off to a promising start, too, if it weren’t for those meddling adventurers from Greyhawk, curse them unto their eleventh generations!” Connie spat on the floor in a show of contempt for Mercion’s band.

“Anyways, you know that my Coven-Sister interceded and saved one hatchling from annihilation. She nurtured it in the Feywilds to accelerate its aging here. I know not where she hid Byrsiss in the swamps, only that it must have been a secret tunnel from my home that not even I could uncover. Even you lot should figure out that Byrsiss seeks to finally get the job done right and proper, to accomplish what their mother and grandfather could not. Byrsiss has already slain one of your number, and grievously scalded another.”

Connie grinned, her smile a row of mismatched daggers. “I do hope the little She-Halfling is getting enough bed rest.” The Hag couldn’t fully resist her own need for petty malice. Then, she smiled at Beijor with a disquieting sweetness. “Aye, before the townies finish with me, I may very well sing my agony to be heard in the hills, the skies, even the distant Feywilds. This may come to pass. But I will also scream your whereabouts to the Wild Hunt. Tee-he’s-here!”

Cackling as she stared Beijor down, she added, “And what songs will YOU sing, then, Elf? Hmm?”


OOC:

Beijor, roll another WIS save against Vicious Mockery.



This message was last edited by the player at 06:38, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

[The Town Jail]

Simon's brow furrows as he considers the hag's words.

He glances at the elf, for a moment, feeling the dweomer in the insult tossed at him.

"You have earned another day of existence, Murky. We will have another chat tomorrow."

He gently taps Tempest on the shoulder, slightly concerned that she may strike him in anger. "Come, let's leave this monstrosity to brood on her own."

He looks at the bard, "It's time to go."

If the genasi and the elf comply, Simon will follow them up the stairs.

If they do not, (parting insults excepted) he will forcefully urge them to leave, "I said it's time to go. As a deputy of Deadwater, I am ordering you out of here."

Upon leaving the jail, Simon will say to Connor, "If anyone wants to see the hag, please have someone let me know right away. I prefer she be left isolated until I return tomorrow."

---

A little reminder of snarky Simon! :-) If I recall he can "pull rank" as neither Tempest or Beijor was part of the group that was deputised!
This message was last edited by the player at 01:20, Tue 01 Feb 2022.

[Town Jail]

“Yes, I need my beauty sleep if I’m to entertain any other suitors,” Connie said with a snort. “I look forward to your visit tomorrow, Sweet Sahm’ian! Oh, you might want to keep a watchful eye on the human upstairs tonight, too.” The Hag blew him a kiss and shuffled back into her cell with a cackle.


OOC:

That’s right, Simon! You’re authorized to make that decision.

 

Tempest stood, sword in hand as Simon and the hag spoke of the dragon and its plans. When Simon said they were done, she nodded, sheathing her sword and turned, only to pause at the door. "Next time crone, I'll make sure that ice holds so I can chop your hand off and show your little girl....or maybe I'll bring her and to you"

Without another word, she strode our of the jail.

Once outside, she stopped, taking a breath and closing her eyes....clearly the interrogation took it out of her.

She loomed at Simon. "Please don't think badly of me....I would never hurt a child. We just needed leverage."

The magic washed over Beijor, and he paused thoughtfully for a moment.

"If the Hunt came I'd ask if they'd saddled my mount before I sang of Tir na Og riding from the death of Bavroga and her coven! Call them! Call them so long as you keep your tongue in your mouth and you can still manage to charm addled Primes.

"Well... except those Primes who burnt you out of your tree."

---

Beijor bows obediently to Simon when instructed to leave. Leaving he sings,

   "Black Annis still peddles her wares and her smiles,
    And long chicken legs of Yaga's walks miles,
    Scotia Bess weaves her spells enthroned by the sea,
    And Murky MacDeadwater...
                          ... just a moment ...
                                            ... who is she?"

---

Outside Beijor asks, "Who's the child?

"Oh, and darling," he says to Simon, "you really should have killed her before she told everyone your truename."

---

OOC:
Save: 19:01, Today: Beijor rolled 21 using 1d20+2.  Wis vs VM.

Action: Cast Vicious Mockery, DC 14 Wisdom or
19:03, Today: Beijor rolled 3 using 2d4.  Beijor VM Damage.

22:49, Today: Beijor rolled 15 using 1d20+9.  Deception - Enhance Ability.
22:50, Today: Beijor rolled 14 using 1d20+9.  Deception - Enhance Ability take 2.
(sorry... Adv on CHA checks. Not that it's being all that helpful. Good grief.)

Beijor retaliated with a mocking refrain, but simply heard the Hag’s amused laughter as he walked away from her cell. When Simon led the trio upstairs, Connor looked relieved to lock that door again. The young watchman nodded obediently at his instructions. “Yessir, Simon!” As the Hag’s peal of laughter grew louder, his face blanched.

Connor followed Simon outside. Once they returned outside, he looked at Simon nervously. “Um, Sir. Is it true that, um…you might let the Witch live…?”


OOC:

00:28, Today: Connie rolled 19 using 1d20+2.  Wisdom Save.

A worthy attempt, though!

[En route to the Town Jail]

Hags... nasty creatures, we do have some undersea.

A small image appeared in front of her, showing an ugly, bent, humanoid with seaweeds for hairs and dressed in rags, silently cackling. The Genasi shuddered before it.

I've never had to encounter one, but I heard the stories often enough. Father fought a coven, before he met and married Mother. He was an adventurer, he told us that he even came to the surface for a few years. But the call of the sea was too strong and he came back to the kingdom.

With a last look at her illusion, she dissipated it. Walking with the others toward the jail, she absentmindedly started playing with a ball of water she scooped up from a barrel like it was clay, creating shapes and changing its color.

[En route to the Town Jail]

In reply to Sprinkle (msg # 225):

"Impressive illusion work. I have to use light crystals to make mine." He reached into his bag, and showed her the crystal connected to the clockwork bass he used earlier to make the image of the plant earlier.

"That's the price of being an artificer. Everything is doen through toolwork of some kind." He rubbed his chin as he considered what she said. "These hags, are they all just magic users, or is in inherit power they call upon?"

:: En route to the Town Jail

Lenelle blanched at the image of the Sea-Hag, wondering then if there was any part of the natural world they couldn't infest, and strive to corrupt.

"I believe they are intuitive spell workers," replied Lenelle to Telric, having long experience to recognize that much, at least.  And realizing, a little horrified, she'd something in common with them.

"Though, that's not to say they might not learn vile rites on top of that."

Sprinkle listened to Lenelle and arched a graceful eyebrow.

It's a little like me then. I've had these healing powers of mine for years but I can't say I've prayed to any gods for them. And this capacity to create images suddenly appeared overnight.

She frowned, thinking, as the water ball became ice, rolling in her palm. She suddenly started to laugh with  her watery hilarity.

I just realize you will now suspect me to be a hag in disguise! I can assure you, on my sister's head, that I am not!

Looking to change the subject, she looked around, perplexed.

I've asked already,  but no one answered, where are we?

Lenelle looked surprised.  And she inclined her head in fairly solemn respect. "No...I know you and your sister are not hags.  You arrived through Eldath's well --  a fount of great holy power.  No Hag could do so, I am sure.  You are...elementals, and it is natural for such beings to wield magic. So I've heard."   

Lenelle seemed less surprised by the following question; reckoning that, indeed, wherever she came from, Sprinkle would've been unlikely to have heard anything at all of the place...

"This town is Deadwater." She winced a little. "Not at all an appealing name, I grant you.  But there are people with big hearts and true spirits here, who deserve to be helped."   

Due to lack of familiarity with the FR setting, I can't tell you where it is relative to what.  But if Sprinkle questions along those lines, the GM can tell you however much Lenelle should know. 

Tara chuckled.  Such a beautiful creature, a hag?  No, certainly not.  Well, there were illusions, but... no.

"No, I know you're not a hag," she said.  "I've met them.  More and longer than any of the others here, and I know some of their secrets, too."

...that could be a dangerous admission, but at least the others could testify to her good intentions.

"But I collect knowledge of all kinds," she continued, hastily.  "Wherever I can find it."

In reply to Tara Inkfingers (msg # 230):

"Wait...the hags use magic right? Could not ANY of us be hags? I mean, can any of us detect illusions with such accuracy that we are totally sure anyone we met today could be a hag in hiding, waiting to reveal themselves?" Telric points out. He does not seem very worried that he is surrounded by hags however.

"The creature has the shape of a child now, but it is a hag. My friends hope that they can nurture it in a way that will keep it from becoming the same as her mother.

I have my doubts."

"My truename, as you put it is known to most everyone who knows me. It is the name given to me by my parents. Simon is simply a bastardization that is easier for people in the western lands to say.

As to killing her, I tried."

"Two things to point out Connor, one I have no royal peerage, so please just call me Simon...two, it's not for me alone, to decide the hag's fate.

I came very close to killing her in the battle at her coven's lair...and she came very close to killing me.

If things were simple, I would see her dead...no question about it.

But I hate to tell you that the hag in your jail is the least of our worries! The one that escaped is more powerful, and there is a dragon out there," he notes pointing to the swamp, "and there is something else that might command the other hag! And we don't even know what it is.

So, it may be a deal with that abomination must be made."

The warlock starts to leave, but he stops to add, "Even if we agree to let her live, there are still options to make her as good as dead."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:49, Tue 01 Feb 2022.

"I know a magic spell to look for that," Tara pointed out.  "It will show me if something is some kind of illusion for that matter.  It's a very common spell.  Any priest could do it, for example.  Do you want to try it?  We could have more than one person cast it, for the sake of honesty."

Oh my, this has degenerated fast. Sprinkle my girl, you better fix this or no one will sleep anymore.

Yes, there are powerful illusions, but I really don't see any of you as hags. I don't know you very well, but why would Telric spend so much time preparing those salves to fight one of the hags creature if he worked with them? I barely felt that acid you dripped on my arm covered with the salve when we tested it. Tara and Lenelle, you fought this Coven, why would you do so only to betray us after? Seth is willing to guide us to find and destroy this dragon.

At least I hope that is his goal.

She smiled all around, trying to break the morose spell that had caught them. The ball of ice became water again and she presented it to Tara, amusement on her feature.

Take it, it won't bite. Not all magic is evil, and I think we prove it everyday with our actions. Even in a place with a name that should terrify a Water Genasi. Well my sister and I might shed blood for this place, maybe they will call it Livingwater after?

She waited to see if the human wizard would take the ball, smiling.

[Center of Town]

Connor yelped, “DRAGON?!” Simon walked off with Beijor & Tempest, discussing the power of names, but their minds preoccupied with things in their world that held even greater power. While they engaged in a heavy discussion, Sprinkle attempted to lighten the hearts of her group. Well, perhaps one heart in particular. Her delicate fingers arched gracefully as they wove Elemental magic to create a ball of water.

Tempest saw her sister perform a familiar magic trick, not unlike her own feat against Connie. Both groups saw one another as Lenelle’s group descended the stairs from Pelor’s temple. Mercion stayed behind to prepare for the journey, but Sundos accompanied them. “If it will ease your hearts, let me assure you that I cannot detect the Evil that I sensed from the Coven among you.”

The Cleric forced a smile for Sprinkle’s cantrip. Not because he wasn’t impressed, but Lenelle saw a grimness his smile couldn’t hide. He walked alongside her and lowered his voice. “We should certainly set out and stop the Dragon, but I wondered if…well, shouldn’t we hold a funeral for Azatch first? He lived and died heroically, and deserves better than lying around to rot.

I would like to perform the proper rites to assure his soul finds its eternal reward.”

Tara took the ball, of course.  Smiling.  Blushing a bit.

"Oh, I know you're fine," she said.  "I've seen evil up close... and it's not you."

But poor Azatch...

"Yes, we should see to the funeral, of course," she added, hastily.

Lenelle had understood the newcomer's concern as to concealed Hags. Though, for her part, there was a short list of reasons why infiltration by them would be an unlikely thing. Sundos and Mercion not least on that list.

She nodded emphatically at the Sun priest's suggestion.

"Aye.  Brave Azatch deserves that, at the very least. He lived locally here, too. I'll ask Joshua if there are any kin who should be notified."   Though she knew with a half-orc that was questionable.

Tempest watched as herself, Simon and Beijor came to the rest of the group, her look a mask of unknown thoughts.  Tempest managed a weak smile as they walked along speaking of the plan.  When they mentioned Azatch, she crossed her arms.

"I did not know this man, but from all words, he was a warrior. All warriors deserve their rest, and to fight a dragon, he deserves a send off worthy of a king. If you will permit, i would bear witness as one warrior to another."

Sskith had pulled his cowl up over his head as they passed through town, so as to not needlessly antagonize the locals. He was not an entirely unfamiliar sight in Deadwater, though he had not always been a welcome one. This was the first time that he'd ever dared to risk calling his Echo here too, the Wyrm padding along beside him effortlessly.

"In my soul, when I heard of it, I had wisssshed that the Vutha might ssstill be a Hatchling. It was the false trackssss of hope, which leadssss into the mire."

He answered Sprinkle. He gestured in the direction of the body that lay there.

"Heartssss blood has been shed. I understand it mussssst be answered. If it issss as the Priestesssss said, and these Hagsss have used Fey magicks to help the Hatchling grow, filling itssss mind with ideasss...."

He paused for a long while, contemplating his words.

"Dark skiesssss."

He said at last.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:15, Tue 01 Feb 2022.

The ball of water burst in Tara's hand, covering it, before climbing up her arm, leaving her clothing entirely dry, so great was the genasi's control over her own element. Lightly tickling the wizard's neck, it crawled down her other arm to reform as a ball in her other hand.

Smiling, she was ready to do another trick when she spotted Tempest with the others and worry painted her face. Transforming the water in ice was the last of her magic on the ball, as she took a few steps towards her warrior sister. The talk of giving a funeral to the murdered fighter was prevalent and she nodded, similar rites existing in the sea world. Asking Lenelle and Tara, she managed an illusory reproduction of a living Azatch that she presented over the body during the moving ceremony, as a last tribute to the warrior she didn't know.

Only after the funeral did she approach her sister and asked her what happened at the jail, concern in her voice.

[Center of Town]

The tension in Sundos eased at the generosity of spirit displayed by his fellow heroes for their fallen companion. “The grace of Pelor surely shines in all of you.” He smiled again, but with his heart fully in it that time. Each so readily offering sympathy or their aid. He nodded at Lenelle. “Yes. Joshua and his brother should have an opportunity to bid Azatch farewell. He was one of their last living ties with their mother. I will certainly invite them to speak, if they would do so. Since Mercion is Joshua’s Priestess, I would have her aid in the funeral rites.”

An important aspect of a warrior’s funeral was the respect shown by the other warriors who survived. Sundos acknowledged Tempest with a gentle nod. “If you would attend, I think that would be a fine tribute.”

Then, Seth spoke and drew their thoughts back to the Dragon who’d slain Azatch. “Yes, no doubt that dark times are ahead. For today, though, let us focus on sending our Brother-Warrior’s spirit into the Light.”,
This message was last edited by the player at 06:50, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

[Centre of Town]

Simon rubs his chin, lost in his thoughts until Azatch's name penetrates his concentration. "A funeral...of course...he deserves more than that."

Focussing on the group, he adds, "We must have a discussion...all of us...that will deal with the repercussions of the hags' machinations.

Sundos when will the funeral be? Later today? Tonight? Tomorrow?

I need some time on my own, an hour or so...at Sheila's shop."

---

Cast Find Familiar, fey spirit in the form of a raven.
Deducted 30 gp, 10 to cast now, and 20 for two more sets of components.

[Center of Town]

“Tonight. Sunset seems a fitting time. Prepare as you will,” Sundos looked up, his attention drawn by two ravens flying hastily toward the top of the hill. Then, he looked back at Simon. “You have the afternoon for whatever arrangements you must make. Then, meet me at the Temple.”

Simon felt a sense of affirmation for his intention when he noticed the ravens, too.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:24, Tue 01 Feb 2022.

[Centre of Town]

Sskith made a grasping motion with his hand, flicking his tongue in and out uncertainly.

"Do we not leave for the hunt?"

He growled at last, looking to the others who had walked with him.

Tempest nodded and looked at the sun judging the time, she sighed. As Seth spoke, she shook her head. "Not yet. First we honor the dead."

Shge started walking a little way away to the wall, and looked over the edge of town.

Sskith blinked once under his cowl, though none saw the gesture. So these Scaleless had respect for the fallen, that was a good sign. Thus far, he had shown them his throat, and they had answered in kind. Learning of Sesskrith's offspring had been a blow, and he would have traded his tail to have a chance to speak with the Matriarch Kri'ki about the paths he now saw open before him. He did not have that wisdom with him now though, and could rely only on what he had brought with him.

"It issss good, to do such thingsss right."

He answered in his gravelly tones, falling silently behind the group as they began their procession.

These were certainly interesting people to find himself among, thought Beijor. Powerful, certainly, to have broken a coven; brash, if the genasi was representative; and yet… Lenelle was innocent of many things, and this Simon had thought the name his parents bestowed him was a truename… his agreement with Twigbit aside, these were people who would provide him with grist for the muses, ere time caught up with him.

He decided to accompany them to this funeral, if just to hear the warrior’s life sung. Ahhhhh, to be silent and listen! A joy beyond counting to a minstrel.

Glancing at the saurian, he reminded himself not to mention his collection of scaled boots and vests, and followed the rest to holy ground.

[Outside the House of The Sun Father, Azatch’s funeral]

The afternoon passed too quickly, leaving several of the party feeling as though there simply weren’t enough hours in the day. Brother Sundos & Sister Mercion planned the funeral ceremony. Sheila bathed and prepared Azatch’s body with help from Tara, Sprinkle, and Bathsheba. During the afternoon, Lenelle sought out Joshua, Laredon, and anyone else who might have known Azatch in his youth. The eager responses from the people of Deadwater moved Lenelle. Simon undertook the ritual of summoning his own familiar. As Gwyl The Owl fussed when Simon made a mistake, and hooted when he got it right, the Warlock felt his decision validated. Tempest walked near the riverbank, alone with her thoughts.

Just before sunset, Brother Sundos signaled the beginning of the funeral. Sheila and Tara  followed Mercion’s instructions for finding flowers with protective powers. All in attendance wore brightly colored flower necklaces and crowns woven by the two witches, if they so willed. Since Sundos actually knew Azatch, Sister Mercion allowed him to officiate. She led a procession around the property, guiding the pallbearers (Grog, Joshua, Connor, & Simon) eastward, emulating the progress of the Sun the Priestess worshipped. The procession circled three times, before the pallbearers placed Azatch’s body atop a pyre.

Soon, Sundos motioned everyone to gather in a semicircle facing the body…

Bedecked in the flower crown and necklace made by Sheila and Tara, Lenelle stood in solemn attendance, watching the procession.  She'd come prepared with a handkerchief, knowing that she would shed tears for this unlikely and surprisingly dear comrade.

Half-elf and half-orc:   a list of differences separated the two.  But there were some few and profound things held in common; and those had led her to feel a degree of kinship with Azatch.

Only heightened when he'd charged out into the swamp, to rescue her from the enormous crocodile.   No one would have looked upon Azatch, and likened him to the dashing heroes portrayed in the fables and lays.  But in heart - beneath the gruffness and sometimes very real savagery - that was exactly what Azatch had been...

Tears spilled onto her cheeks, as she watched his body arrayed for the fire, for this final and ultimate journey...

Farewell comrade, and courageous heart!  Whatever things brought you happiness in life, I pray will abound for you in the halls and fields of Heaven...

“In the creation of the world, Pelor told us, ‘I bring you the dawn, and so I must also bring you the dusk.’ So it is with life and death, and so it is with our fallen brother, Azatch.” Sundos walked a smaller circle as he spoke, imitating the procession from earlier with one pass. When he stopped, Sundos faced the gathered mourners.

“Brother Azatch saw the sunrise of his life here in Deadwater. So it comes to pass that he met the sunset of his life here, too. Heroically, defending us all, against a great evil. For his selflessness, I know the Sun Father will welcome Azatch into his feast hall. I cannot think of a greater reward for a man who gave more to the world than it had ever given him. As the sun sets over Deadwater, let it bear Azatch into the Sun Father’s house.”

Sundos walked over to the pyre that held Azatch’s body. He lit the torch, the flames quickly licking the platform. Nearby, Mercion stood with Sheila, Cloteel, and several townswomen that our heroes had not yet met. The Priestess led the women in ritual keening for Azatch as the flames consumed his lifeless shell.

Simon watched silently as the flames of the pyre slowly consumed the platform on which the body of his comrade lay.

~If not for Azatch, that could be me, or one of the others. or even more than one of us.~

"A truer warrior and a nobler spirit I have never met."

Tara hadn't known Azatch long, not like the others, but still, it was a loss, and she felt it.  Felt the sadness and mourning the others felt, as well.  Azatch had been a valiant warrior, and surely deserved a better end...

She wore the flowers, of course, and bowed her head respectfully.  On her shoulder, Gwyll did the same.  And perhaps the next world would be kind to Azatch... surely it would, wouldn't it?  His deeds had been good; his death, valiant.  That would surely satisfy whatever gods he followed...

Sprinkle stood near her sister, the resemblance unmistakable. She had accepted a crown of flower and garland, and listened attentively to Brother Sundos. She hadn't known the half orc, hadn't even known such a race existed before today.

And what a day it had been. Transported halfway across the world after learning they were related to a greater Elemental figure, emerging from a sacred well, asked to help the servant of another greater Elemental... only to figure out that they had to fight a black dragon. Then the rush to create the protective salve and this funeral... and she had not yet figured where she would stay tonight. Or eat. Her breakfast was starting to be very far away.

With the flames of the funeral pyre burning bright, she created the image she had been practicing with a too cheerful halfling. Azarth seemed to rise from the flame, look at the assembly, smiling, before saluting all around and raising in the air, for as high as she could maintain the illusion. A few gasps and renewed crying clearly demonstrated how his passing had an impact on this community, and she smiled, hoping she had permitted to a few of the onlookers to say a final goodbye.

As the pyre started to crumble under its own weight, she approached Tempest and put a hand on her sibling's shoulder.

What's wrong, Sis?

Tempest wandered the outskirts of town for a time, in her own thoughts of what had happened. A mere day ago, herself and her sister were far away, just about to meet a shop owner, hounded by thugs - something she could help with.

...something she could fight.

Now she was here, having traveled through a well at the aide of a greater elemental (Which turned out to be family), only to face a great evil. Ordinarily she would be thrilled at the thought, but with the gaining of information, she found herself pushing boundaries.

Now she stood at the side of a pyre, of a warrior, from what people told, someone pure of heart and instinct. Now with him gone, it would seem that her skills were needed in his place - would her skills be enough? When her sister spoke, she answered in the primordal language softly.

She drew her dagger and stepped forward, drawing it across her hand, and grasping an item, familiar to all here - what little was left of Azatch's weapon. She smeared her blood on the handle, then tossed it in the fire.

"I never knew you, but a warriors spirit must be acknowledged. May your weapon be ever sharp, and may your spirit find peace. On my blood and bond, i will help your friends defeat this evil."

with hand dripping blood still, she stepped back beside her sister.

[Outside the House of The Sun Father, Azatch’s funeral]

Staying the respectful distance from the mourners, Telric watched the proceedings. Granted he had no idea who the deceased was, but the turn out suggested they had been cared for in life. On the ship, Telric had been to more than a few burials at sea. It was a ritual for the living crew, not for the dead who were beyond caring.

Expect for those blasted undead pirates...bloody pirates. He thought. Telric did not know which one was worse, the breathing kind of pirate or the other.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:04, Thu 03 Feb 2022.

For contrast!

---

[Outside the House of The Sun Father, Azatch's funeral]

Beijor stayed quiet, but he was beginning to get uncomfortable at the silence. How would his spirit enter the Beyond that awaited him, if his departure went unheralded by songs of his deeds in life? He'd be a pauper spirit, unknown and restless, paid little heed there because those who knew him best paid him little either.

Shifting from side to side, he hoped whatever his friends were saying in the silence of their hearts echoed louder beyond.