Rise of the Drow Storyline

[HCGLNS]

(Please keep this thread in character and use it to develop your characters through story telling)

The Osprey, a galleon of not insignificant size has set sail from the northern land of Muti and its' capital of Uradzaj to the Southern port of Cotone. A simple voyage the ship has made easily many times in the past, an almost leisurely voyage of three weeks at sea. South through the Straight of Fair Winds, aptly named for its' gentle yet steady drafts of air. Captain Egor, has sailed this ship for the Grain Guild almost fourteen seasons, with little more than a split cross beam to blemish his record. The Osprey has a mundane load of grain, seed and passengers.


Eight days have passed since it left port, the weather has been calm and steady. The passengers are a healthy collection of merchants, missionaries and travellers. Routines amongst the voyagers have started to establish themselves, a card game here, a dice game there, a shared meal or two, anything to interrupt the pleasant monotony.


On the ninth day, the sun was rising towards mid-day, when the previously asleep watcher called out from the crows nest;


“Three plumes to the east!”


Startled at the news, many on deck chose to seek out a view of the whales, as they are rare to see in open water. The gawkers are surprised to see that the water plumes are quite constant and grow larger by the second. Most speculate at what it could be, and wonder at what it means, few save the crew notice that plumes are coming straight for the Osprey. A yeoman is dispatched for the captain, who arrives quickly to the scene and with the skill of a spider climbs up past the sails and out onto the arm. He removes a looking glass and gazes at the plumes headed toward his ship. A few moments pass, then he calls out a series of urgent orders;


“Hard a starboard! Full sail! Break out the oars! All marines to deck, all passengers below! We make for Kabisera!”


A huge commotion breaks out on the deck, scattering to meet the orders. Confusion reigns on most their faces, uncertain of the cause of concern. Their uncertainty is removed by another cry from the crows nest, this cry sprinkled with fear.


“Sea Lions! Gaining fast!”


The deck crews are moving faster, with a purpose now, marines taking defensive positions, bracing for what comes. The sailors of the Osprey give good chase, but are quickly overcome by their hunters. Blasts of energy shatter the ships three masts and rudders, it begins to list. Moments later, giant catlike forms leap onto the deck. Howls of fury, roars of hatred and anger shatter the ears of the sailors. The lions make quick work of the marines, sailors and the ship. Tearing it apart with their claws they quickly destroy its integrity, and it begins to list on its side and roll into the sea. The lions remain for while longer, then leave with sated hunger and full bellies.


A damaged longboat is all that remains of the might galleon, and clinging to it a group of strangers. Eventually they right it and free it of it water, but they float exposed and sullen under the once gentle sun. They float for what seems like almost two weeks, starving and water deprived, they drift east. Eventually they spy what they believe to be land on the horizon.

 

[MindDetective]

After hours of silence, I was the first to speak. It was, perhaps, unexpected, since I had only answered monosyllabically thus far or asked simple questions to the dying dwarf and halfling. I had been distracted since watching the sea lions sink back to their murky home. Something about their sudden, brutal attack and equally sudden departure had seemed out of place. Why had it been sea lions? The question weighed heavily on me and I said as much.

"Change is coming," I said, though change was always coming. I saw a flash of doubt or impatience. "I don't mean death, or a sinking ship. Those are unexpected but not unusual. One of Aylltyn's children, or grandchildren perhaps..."

I didn't know how to finish.

"They may be angry or power may be shifting." I felt the vagueness of my proclamations. "The sea lions were an instrument. That, I am sure."

Silence followed, since none of us knew what that meant.

 

[rathkor]

Well, isn't this a fine predicament I find myself in. For me, it all started a couple of months ago. I awoke in the bed of a fine maiden only to be rushed into a closet as her husband unexpectedly arived home. From the closet, I heard the gruff sound of the captain of this town's guards. His loving wife asked him about his day and his work, trying to lure him away from thier room and her latest transgression.

As the two talked and I waited for my oppertunity to escape, i heard the Captain mention how earlier day he arrested a key figure in the local thieve's guild. And how that person bribed the Captain with treasure beyond his wildest dreams. The only catch was the thief didn't have it on him. He instead offered a map and a key, which the Captain decided was worth more than the wages he recieved to apprehend scum like the thief.

The woman finally managed to lure her husband into the kitchen so the two could share a meal. I took this oppertunity to make my escape. As I was leaving, I spotted the map and key the Captain mentioned on the dresser at the far side of the room. I decided that they should probably leave with me, lest they tempt and corrupt a good man like the Captain.

And so after some research, I discovered the location the map led to, and boarded a ship to that destination. I spent the better part of a week amongst some interesting folks. After one night of losing most of my money in a card game with a halfling, I decided to head to bed.

The next morning, the ship's crew seemed to be up in arms about something, and were causing quite a disturbance. I tried rolling over and getting back to sleep, but the sound of rushing water and snapping wood caught my attention. I hurridly grabbed my things and made it t the nearest lifeboat. There was a crowd, but i managed to make it to the front of the crowd and onto a boat. As i was climbing into one of the boats, I was pushed by a drunken Dwarf, and the pouch where I held the map and the key slipped off my belt and into the ocean, forever lost.

How long have i been on this tiny vessel in the water? Has it been days? Or weeks? I don't even know for sure. But there appears to be a landmass on the horizon, I think. Or perhaps that is just wishful thinking on my part, an illusion I am tricking myself into believing is real. either way, it's better than nothing I suppose.

 

[Gusto]

I was struggling with these recent events. I left looking for adventure, and in many circumstances, adventure comes when you are not expecting it. But this is hardly the glamourous lifestyle the stories made it out to be. I didn't mind being delayed from Cotone necessarily, but that our delay was so destructive, that the halfling and dwarf had lost their lives, it all seemed so... unnecessary. Seeing the edges of land to the east had brightened my outlook somewhat, but the body was weary, and I had already spent the last several days trying to keep everyone in high spirits. Relatively anyway. I was done talking now, until the monk spoke up.

I had contemplated a similar idea, even perused some of my books for precedence, and came to a similar conclusion - this didn't seem like a coincidence. Our ship had been savaged on the ninth day for a reason, and this reason put the five of us on this lifeboat for a reason. I perked up on my bench somewhat, stared at the new landmass, and opened my parched mouth for the first time all day.

"Bastian may be right. It all seemed so sudden, and the Osprey had never seen an attack that sudden before. The attack happened for a reason, and the five of us made it here for a reason. I think."

I continued to stare at our destination but furrowed my brow. We had better find clean water and food. It's good for the mind to keep busy sorting out all this predestination Bastian and I had noticed, but there would be little time for lofty contemplation when our bodies needed sustenance. Despite this priority, I was excited to explore this new place. I couldn't help but smile. Adventure happens everywhere, as they say.

 

[Jay]

“Idiot” Inara mumbled under her breath. She would normally frown at such an idiotic comment but the ability was simply beyond her strength. Using whatever excess energy remained to try to pull her now moldy robes over the back of her head to shield her from the blistering sun.

Inara was miserable, helplessly floating at the whims of this massive body of water. Her lips were severely parched. “Why didn’t I write down that damned water making ritual?” she thought to herself. So thirsty and surrounded by all this useless water!

Normally, she would have thought of some way to get out of this predicament but all her research material was gone, along with the ship and fool of a crew and all she had with her was her magical red orb and her spell book and few meager belongings in the small bag that she managed to grab before the attack. “Simpletons” she mumbled again under her breath.

She sighed then glanced over to her right. The Halfling was on his last legs and so was the Dwarf. For a moment, all her suffering was lost and she relished the fact that another person being far more miserable than she was. She knew he would die soon and was oddly intrigued at the situation. How death fascinated her.

Her stomach grumbled and another thought crept to her mind, “Are Halfing edible?” She eyed the half-man with interest, “Are dwarfs?” she side-glanced the dwarf then almost smiled.

She needed to survive this, survive this setback. Her destiny would not end here, not with these bumpkins.

“Soon” she mumbled to herself.

 

[MindDetective]

As I sit in reflection a little away from the fire, the shore laps at the rough-grained sand and rattles the boat aground in cycles. I ponder how a life committed to routine and discipline had been suddenly disrupted. Embrace change, I told myself. I used to seek novelty, delighting in the rich cream-filled pastries of Mr. Kiln's bakery or stealing a sip of my father's wine when we stepped away. Change is uncomfortable but it comes endlessly, like the shore wearing away with every lap of the ocean. Something was more off-putting about this change. It felt wrong. Was it too sudden? No. Brother Wembley had passed suddenly and though I had grown sullen for many days, it had not felt as wrong as this.

Solaria had said something about the Sea Lions that attacked the ship. What was it? They hadn't been seen for hundreds of years? Maybe longer. And this place, with its living water and biting turnips and...something odd about the men that lived here. The illusory castle and trees...

I am reminded of an old fairy tale my mother had told me when I still could capture her attention. In it, a young boy ventured into the forest and got lost. Therein he found a rusty old sword and a raven as his companion. They fought the creeping vines and two-headed wolves and then ran the witch who was enchanting the forest through. There was some morality to the tale that I have forgotten but I remember something about a dream. Had the young boy been bewitched by a sleeping spell at some point? Or was that how it ended, with the boy waking up?

I look out into the sea and wonder about the magical forest I have stumbled on. Am I asleep or have a fallen into a fairy tale of my own? My discordant thoughts make me dizzy and I shall clear them from my mind. Allytyn only brings tomorrow and I must wait and see what it contains.

 

[HCGLNS]

And so did five survivors and two corpses find themselves beached upon an unfamiliar island. A quick burial for two friends, more symbolic than necessary. Foraging for food leads to little results, but a few of the sharper eyed scroungers find some rare materials to saved for later mystical use.


Eschewing the road to the east, the five crawled along the coast line as the gulls circled overhead. Eventually they found signs of life off in the distance, a plume of smoke spiralling upwards. Some bushwacking brought them to a quaint little cottage farmhouse. Being curious as cats the five castaways investigate the farmhouse only to find themselves facing a mundane farmer. So mundane that it has continued to work it crops long after it died. The party violently destroys the skeletal son of the soil, but is forced to deal with the farmers vengeful crop of flesh eating turnips! A nasty battle ensues, but the group is finally able to overcome their soily adversaries. Still famished from their sea voyage, the group decides to eat their earthy adversaries before setting off to the south to investigate the ruined castle they see to the south.


Once again foregoing the road, the party fights their way through dense fields of grass and numerous rocky outcrops, before eventually discovering what appears to be the shattered remains of a once great castle. Outside the castle they find an old man tending to a swan. A brief conversation with him regarding the inhabitants of the castle reveals that over a century ago, the black queen reigned supreme on this island, but now a prophet resides within.


They take their leave of him and make their way inside, there they find a pool of water being watched by an old man quite intently. Upon noticing the group he seems rather shocked at the appearance of a pair of elven travellers, given that to him their race has been extinct for thousands of years. The prophet has many questions for the group, and the castaways many questions for him, instead of answering their questions directly, he shows them the Well of Wisdom. A magical pool of water that answers any question directed to it with an image. The party explores the property of the well with a few questions before asking it how to return to their homes; their answer is shown to them in four parts, a warrior dressed in leather sitting solemnly by the fire, a cloaked figure moving silently amongst a castle, a happy ancient dwarf surround by loving children and the crypt of the first king of the elves.


The prophet takes his leave of the group, but not before explaining that the wisdom of the well is not free. Shortly thereafter the water in the well formed into a vicious monster that laid siege to the group of travellers. They are eventually able to overcome the beast, but not easily. Once defeated they are free to leave the castle walls, but as they walk outside the old man tending the swan attacks them with a vast array of devastating mental attacks.


He took falls to the group, and as he slumps to the ground, the world around them blows away like dust in the wind, revealing that the island is filled with birds. Hundreds of birds surrounding them and staring, before breaking out into a chilling song.

 

[HCGLNS]

The group of castaways concerned over the disappearance of everything they have discovered upon the island, make their way back to the their beachhead. Relieved to find their longboat still intact, they make camp as best they can. With the map their only reward for their bizaar day, they decide to trust it and head south to some place called MacDonal Monastery, perhaps a place of worship or enlightenment where they can seek safety.


A tough night spent on barren rocks, surrounded by circling birds, the group wakes early to make sail to the south. One member seems troubled and disconcerted by the night's event, but shakes off their jitters easily enough. The odd band sets off, hugging the coast of the Island of Leanth, they struggle for a better part of a day. The heat is debilitating and exhausting, but the crew manning the make shift oars and paddles, settles into a rhythm. A rhythm broken only by the screeching howls of the gulls overhead. Finally towards the end of the day, they make landfall on what they hope is the island closest to the southern tip of Leanth.


Securing the longboat, the crew is pleasantly surprised to find actual vegetation and unsalted water. A musical elf and green skinned holy man make quick work of some small reptiles and the castaways celebrate their first actual meal together in what seems like weeks. Their companions meanwhile help secure their campgrounds and fashion some new paddling implements. With full bellies, the group sleeps soundly, content with the knowledge that whatever tomorrow brings they will face it together. A tomorrow that is announced with the crow of a rooster.


Setting out again, the party fights a strong current that momentarily sweeps them out to sea and they fight their way back towards the shoreline. By midday they find themselves on an island larger than the last, but with sparser vegetation. A thorough search for food is futile, but some pools of fresh water are very welcome to the group. A quick discussion and decision later, they set forth once again and near the end of the day, they make camp on a third island. The elvish comrades find quite a bit of fruit and fresh water for the company of five. An elusive emu robs the party of a chance at another meal of barbequed meat.


In good spirits, the party sets out on the next leg of their journey. Winds and water favour them and they spend a half day before landing on a large island, their last before hopefully reaching the island that houses the monastery. A combination of previous islands, this land is rich with vegetation and wildlife. The hunters put forth a valiant effort, but fail to catch any prey. Dejected they settle in for the night and share a round of stories and jests.

 

[Gusto]

It was wonderful to be on an island with such magnificent wildlife, after the previous day had left us on barren, uncharted rock. We had no idea what these lands were - none of us, not even Miss DiMiele, had heard of any of the places on the map. After days of being lost, cold, hungry, and parched, it was nice to be able to enjoy the little things again.

It was my fault. Content with myself after the last two days of relative comfort, and staring at the flowers on this lush island. Had I forgotten that these lands were completely unknown to the smartest of us, that danger could lurk around every corner? Perhaps I really wasn't ready to leave home.

"Ah!"

I tripped over an exposed root, and lying on my stomach in the brush, I soon found myself face to face with a massive panther that had skulked out of the shadows of the canopy. I scuttled backwards like a terrified crab, and was able to pull out my bow and misfire a wobbly arrow into the surrounding bushes before I came back to my senses.

"Help! Panther!"

 

[rathkor]

Locian grabbed his swords and ran to the aid of his fellow Eladrin. He took a swing at the panther with his Challenge Seeking Longsword, and used his Footwork Lure to step back and pull the panther away from her.

 

[MindDetective]

For many days we shared a boat and a fire. We encountered nothing but plants and birds and barely spoke to one another. These were capable men and women. I had seen them fight. They were no ordinary folk, like cobblers and farmers. They were not my intended audience, the lost souls on the fringes of society. Were we brought together for some higher purpose, perhaps? I hoped so, because a missionary without a flock to tend was just an aimless wanderer, adrift on Allytyn's current. Closing my eyes, I banished these thoughts from my mind. Allytyn would reveal all in time.

Slowly, I began my daily exercises, forming stances and strikes as I was taught, glacial at first with an increasing tempo. This practice honed my form and reminded me of the patience necessary for defense. Assess the situation first, then disable. One, control the weapon, then two, disarm, then three, subdue. There was a logical order to combat as there was an order to all things. I whipped through the motions of my defensive arts. I could sense my arms flail a little on that last strike. As I reset my stance, my concentration was broken.

"Ah!"

I looked to the tree line. It sounded like Solaria. I took a few steps to the crest of the small hill where I was practicing. I couldn't see anything immediately and relaxed.

"Help! Panther!" she cried and I fixated on her position. Her bow trembled as she tried to reload. Locian was the closest of us and leapt into the fray, distracting the muscular cat.

I moved quickly in to aid as well preparing the Opening the Gate stance as I ran. One: Control the weapon. The claws and teeth of the panther were no ordinary weapon. In this case it would mean keeping them at a distance. Two: disarm. As I flanked the beast, I thought quickly about how to do this. Claws and teeth were not easy to break. Nor could they be taken or knocked away. We would have to face the weapon with agility and armor. Already the tenets of my training were unraveling. That meant one thing, the final stage of combat: Subdue.

I struck the right flank of the panther squarely. Striking downward, I lost much of my power but the big cat would have difficulty rearing back on its hind legs now. My training triggered automatically and I spun with a back-fisted strike to the ribs. The big cat snarled and held its ground, spreading her thick limbs into a protective stance that reminded me of the appropriately named Lion's Den form.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Solaria stand and nock her bow, steady. It felt as if a great clockwork gear were winding up as we all encircled the predator. We had been here before, in battle, and this felt familiar and true. Thank Allytyn, because my doubts had been crescendoing these last few days. A moment of purpose returned.

 

[MindDetective]

As I settle back into my stance, the panther shifted her weight, turning with a lightning fast swipe of her paw. Claws grazed my forearm, missing the loose sleeves of my robe and drawing blood instantly. I felt the sharp sting an instant later and shifted into the inverse of the same stance to protect my bleeding arm. I glanced at it briefly to assess the damage. It was less than I had endured during the intense conditioning of my defense training. It wouldn't even leave a scar. "Where are the others?" I said, locking my gaze with the big cat again.

Locian was taking advantage of the panther's attention on me, striking with his swords at the cat's right, front shoulder. It yowled, sliding back into its defensive stance.

No one said anything because it didn't matter. We would work with what we had to fend off the jungle predator.

 

[Far]

Sitting in meditation that night, I reflected on the days since the shipwreck. And, though my pilgrimage has been interrupted, I trust in Lawbringer's intervention. He had certainly placed me in the company of able adventurers. In this strange place, where elves no longer exist and I, a Githzari, am mistaken for an orc, the others skills will certainly prove valuable, even if is only to facilitate our own survival in this alien domain. Perhaps it is with their assistance that I will accomplish that which I left the enclave to…

“Where are the others?”

Abruptly, I am roused from my contemplation by the sound of Bastian calling for aid; soon drown out by the mind splitting shrieks of the beast vexing the others. A large jungle cat had emerged from the foliage surrounding our camp and stood in defiance against Solaria. As I approach the commotion, the shortened breaths and frantic, hurried actions of the others reveal this as a fight none of them had sought nor expected, one I had also seemingly missed the majority of whilst lost in meditation. Deftly and silently, I take hold of my blade and move into position behind the jet black hunter, still in the dense leaves and unseen by the cat. As Locian struck the beast head on distracting it, I slowly moved into striking distance, catching its rear legs and momentarily knocking it off its feet. Quickly, the creature whipped its fanged maw toward me, snarling with contempt.

“I apologize for the delay,” I shout to the others, eyes locked on the panther, “now, shall we finish this?”

 

[Gusto]

I scrambled to my feet, elated. This is what the stories were about. Never the lone hero, it was always a band of heroes working together. We, like the ones in the legends, started off as a motley crew, and it's too soon to tell how we will progress, but these martial formations, Locian attacking his quarry when it struck his ally, Bastian moving in for the strategic flanking position, Ralts swooping in out of NOWHERE and knocking the creature to it's knees, it all seemed so... orchestrated. As though this was a dance they had all done dozens or HUNDREDS of times, and though their partners may be different, they adapted them to the steps. Beautiful in it's elegance.

I may not be as combat worthy as these three, but I am excited at the notion of being a heroine in this story. I may not be able to fight directly, but my supportive abilities could make this attacking feline feel all the worse for it's attempt on us. I closed my eyes and clutched my bow, and began uttering words of the Fey language, powerful words of such majesty and grace that their very invocation seemed to stop and then close up Bastian's wounds.

I opened my eyes again, staring at our feline foe, knowing that I could help further. I opened my mouth wide, and to the casual observer, it might have appeared that I tried to scream. All the physical appearance of screaming, but no noise. I knew better - the sounds coming from my throat were fierce and infused with the magic I channeled. The sound was so focused that it struck the predator cat like a fist, confusing it, weakening its position, making it more susceptible to my allies' attacks for a short while.

I smiled again. Now we would see this team at its best. I can hear the stories now.

 

[rathkor]

Taking adcvantage of the opening presented by Raltz's sudden and swift attack, as well as the effects Solaria's songs appeared to be having on the group and the beast, unleashed a frenzy of attacks, some landing, and some I intentionally pull back. It is an unusual technique which I have dubbed the Distracting Spate. The pulled blows serve to unnerve the opponent. If he tries to block every swing, he will surely fail. knowing some of the blows are not intended to hit will make him reluctant to attempt to block every blow, and try to detemine which attacks are genuine and which are feints. I then use my enemies over analytical state to hit them hard with another technique when I see the oppertunity.
The other approach to my tactics is to focus the Enemy's attentions on me, pulling it further and distracting it from my companions, many of whom do not appear to be hardy enough to survive many blows from a feral creature like this.
"It appears this land is full of suprises, wouldn't you say my friends? Perhaps we should better prepare ourselves for such things in the future."

 

[MindDetective]

The battle shifted into an almost playful dance, rhythmically trading blows and feints with our angry foe. I adjusted my stance accordingly and snapped a circular kick that barely grazed the raised hackles on the panther's back. Falling back into my stance, I slid quickly from 12 o'clock to 3 o'clock relative to the cat, who was already shifting her attention to Locian.

The panther whirled angrily on the Eladrin with his harassing flurry of feints and strikes. She snapped at him with jaws designed to crush her struggling prey quickly and painfully. The cat's fangs sank into his left hand hard. To Locian's credit he held his sword fast, barely grunting at what looked to be a painful, deep wound. Again the cat withdrew and snarled loudly enough that a flock of birds down on the shoreline suddenly took flight.

 

[HCGLNS]

The panther acting reckless and enraged lunged again at Locian biting deep into his thigh. It's strong jaws crushing the elf's muscle in search of an artery. It thrashes the limb violently before raking it with it's claws. Seizing a moment of brief hesitancy by the other adventurers it begins to drag the chain clad warrior deep into the brush.

 

[Gusto]

My smile faded into an aghast expression, my sweat ran cold, my neck grew numb. Locian, the only other eladrin, the only other elvenkin period in this mysterious realm, was savaged and dragged by the beast. I could not allow this panther, which I had attracted with the promise of an easy meal, to make me the last of my kind. I quickly thought that that was a selfish thought in Locian's time of need, but I honestly hadn't gotten to know him that well over the past few days, finding much more in common with Bastian and even Inara. But this was not the time for guilt - I had to save half an endangered species.

My resolve gathered, I steeled my gaze and readied my shortbow steadily. One of my bow techniques was prone to causing an enemy to, well, fall prone. I could stop this stealthy jungle cat from dragging my ally into the shadowy undergrowth with a successful hit. My arrow was loosed, and it grew in speed and accuracy with the lasting effects of my last sonic attack. Powered by this, the arrow struck the beast between its wide eyes. Its jaw slacked, and it fell to the grassy jungle floor. I lowered my bow, breathing heavily, watched a second for movement from the creature, but saw none.

Running hastily over to Locian's struggling form on the ground, I dropped to my knees, and began to utter familiar Fey words under my breath. A soft green light surrounded Locian's shredded leg as I held it, and the wounds began to close up as Bastian's had earlier. Helping Locian to his newly-repaired feat, I cleared my throat, ceased my panting, and pushed the loose hairs off my sweaty forehead, leaving a faint bloody streak.

"Sorry about that, my friends. I shall endeavour to be more careful in the future!"

I bowed deeply to my allies, with whom I seemed to be sharing a newfound rapport, and began deeply contemplating what might have happened had we not been so reflexive.

 

[rathkor]

I laughed and gave Solaria a hearty pat on the back. "Don't worry about it, you have nothing to appologize for." I glanced over at the beast. "Though we all should definately be a bit more careful in the future. I can keep watch in the future, because I do not need to sleep like normal living things. While i am in my trance, I am still aware of my surroundings. I think me and Solaria should be able to keep a better eye out in the future. What do you say, Solaria, you up for it?"

 

[HCGLNS]

The adventurers pause to take a breath and gather their bearings. The eternity of the fight with the panther cat now over, they realize only a brief moment has passed. The quiet returns to the jungle, a soft light from the moon decorates the foliage and highlights a thousand sparkling eyes sitting in the trees, eyes that pierce through the tough exterior of chain and leather to the beating heart underneath. Eyes that sing a now familiar song.

A little disconcerted sleep follows with the group, setting out for what they hope is their last paddle before making land at this McDonal Monastery listed on their map. Their short voyage does fill them with some hope, as they spot a huge warship leaving from the southern coast of the island.

As they finalize their approach, the group takes note of several stone structures and upon landing their craft on the beach, they attempt to make their way towards what they expect to be the monastery. Their trek does not go unnoticed for almost immediately after their beachhead, they attract the attention of a scout, who tails them for several hours until a moment of perception he is noticed. Simple introductions follow, and he happily escorts them to his superior officer, Rocus Bonilova.

A terse conversation sees the party ordered to make camp in woods south of the "monastery", in reality a military training outpost. Grudgingly the party of castaways is cast off once more to live in the woods, there they find some fresh water and little food, but again they find no solace at sleep.

Two fierce battles pierce their slumber, the first pitting them against a vile panther that again tried to tear Locian the Elf asunder. Quickly able to put away the monster, the party again sought to gain a sense of respite.

Another vanity, as moments after they gathered their wits from fighting the panther, three more vicious mountain cats sought to avenge their fallen panther partner. A scene of horrible violence ensued, but again the castaways were able to overcome. Some of the them even relived to see that the corpses of the cats they had slain turn into what looked like feral kobolds....

 

[MindDetective]

As I pack my meager belongings, Solaria strums her instrument. She is distractedly playing with the melody she heard amongst a cacophony of bird songs several days ago. I continue speaking aloud, musing on the strangeness of where we have stranded.

"It is almost as if Allytyn has rewritten the Book of Aime," I say. Solaria nods as she begins to hum in harmony with her melody. She has heard my musings once already. "The beginning seems to be the same but the story has changed."

"Are you sure this is still Aime?" says Ralts, who has not yet begun to pack his belongings. I am not sure why I do so, except out of well-practiced discipline. We have nowhere to go today.

"These strangers refer to ancient history as we know it," I say, "and they do call their world Aime as well."

Solaria stops her playing. "Perhaps we are far-flung to an unknown region of the world," she says.

I carefully rewrap the texts I was charged to deliver in a waterproof skin as I ponder her thought. Will these ever find their way to their destination? I stare at them as if the answers will bleed through the oilskin wrap. A pang of regret pierces my soul as I suddenly miss the monastery's library. I never spent enough time with the books there. Faith in Allytyn, we were told, is a wholly personal one. The library is for those who are curious to know more. I lament having only these two copies of a minor writing to guide my intuition that the gods have involved us in their affairs directly. Solaria's suggestion doesn't seem right to me still and I shake my head as I reject the thought. "Our world is well-known," I say, "and these people know our ancient history. Besides, you and I have both felt divine hands on our coming together, Solaria."

"Patience, Bastian," Solaria says with a gentle smile. "The soldiers here offer us no answers. We must find an educated man to listen."

She's right. It was a lesson I had to learn over and over at the monastery. I learn it again now. Answers will come when Allytyn sees fit. I had hopes that the monastery here would have the types of people Solaria describes. Instead, for now, we must wait.

 

[MindDetective]

(OOC: I don't know why but I'm already jonesing to play again.)

Meticulously I lay my gear in the long, yellow-green grass near the flattest part of the gentle slope. Slightly above me is the edge of the forest, near to where we had camped for the night. I can still hear unfamiliar birds flitting from branch to branch, calling to each other about a threatening movement below or to try and attract a late-spring pairing.

Downhill I can see the military encampment we hiked from yesterday. The people appear so small that I can only make out movement and nothing else. Some of them appear to be in formation this morning. Perhaps, I think, they are working through their own daily rituals. I fold easily into a lotus seat and close my eyes, making the far-off monks even more distant, then they leave my mind altogether. The wind and the morning chill and the light dew soaking through my robes are all I sense. Soon, these are gone too.

---------

When I reopen my eyes, the sun sits much higher, coyly behind a smattering of thin clouds. My robes have dried now and the grass no longer ripples in the breeze. Eventually, the mechanical sounds of the world return to me, notably the murmur of my companions in the camp and the birds chittering at their presence. I stand and look pensively at my belongings. It has been some time since I have trained with my staff, I think, so I lift it lightly from the grass and step down a few paces of my belongings.

I begin simply, chopping downward with the staff at an imaginary collarbone. During training, brother Wembley often said that advanced missionaries can see and feel the imaginary targets as if they were there. I scissor my stance backwards, retreating slightly from my opponent, then lunging forward with a a sharp jab to the soft tissue above the abdomen. I swivel and push a second opponent away at his breastbone, bruising but not breaking bone or skin. My invisible opponents counterattack, and I counter in return. Sweat beads my smooth pate as we spar, my attacks and blocks increasing in complexity. One opponent finally falls with a blow to the temple and I spin out of the way from the other, my staff whirling behind my back. I block his turn with a foot to his shoulder blade and bring the twirling blunt end of the staff down on the crown of his head. The skull crunches slightly, or so it seems to me in the moment, and my opponent is once again non-existant. My foot, out-stretched, and my staff parallel to it. I keep them suspended for several seconds as the battle recedes and the world returns again. Then I return to a restful pose, leaning against my staff and breathing hard.

"Technically proficient," says a woman to my right, slightly downslope. I wield my staff automatically in surprise and my cheeks flush warm as I mentally punish myself for being surprised.

The woman stands and continues, "Your technique is unfamiliar. Is it local to Merde?"

"Rocus Bonilova," I say with final realization and I lower my staff. She clearly sees me as no threat, though. Nor should she. I am trained only to defend myself from wild animals and highwaymen. "Merde? No, not exactly," I say. My companions might wish to disguise where we are from but I have no wish to lie. I leave the true answer hanging in the still air.

She walks forward with the gait of a soldier. I see now that she is fully armored, but relaxed. Her weapons are sheathed and she smiles lightly, which somehow makes her more menacing. "Your technique has a hard rhythm to it, like a war drum," she says. I nod with only faint understanding. Then she surprises me. "May I make a suggestion?"

I relax at her friendly offer and nod, almost deep enough to be a bow. It is easy to fall back into the role of the student. "Of course," I say.

"The rhythm is predictable, at least in due time. It would be easy to disrupt in real combat."

Rocus gestured to the space opposite her, inviting me to spar. I hesitate, then drop my staff. We both relax into an easy stance and then, without any warning, she snaps her leg forward. My hands drop into a block that barely catches her foot. I counter by pushing her stiff, muscular leg away, then chasing her with a high kick to her head. She easily brushes it away.

"The first strike can be an important one," she says, stepping in close with an elbow jab. I block with both hands, sliding clockwise to her right. "It establishes the tone of the entire fight. Strike first, when you can, and your enemy will be the one trying to keep up."

I double palm-strike Rocus on her shoulder, pushing her off-balance, and then whirl with some light blows to her abdomen. She bounces easily away from my strikes, smiling. "Good," she says, "but here is where I can begin to detect the pattern in your step."

She feints forward with another kick, which I block prematurely. Her stance shifts and she lands a solid blow to my temple. I wheel away, slightly dizzy but not incapacitated. It felt like the slap from a stern tutor. She glides to my left, striking several times with her palm. Each one stings a little. I try to back away and she pummels me again with several more instructional slaps. When I regain my composure, she has dropped her stance and I realize the lesson is over.

"Accelerate your strikes once in a while. It removes some of the predictability you give away," Rocus says. "You have followed the advice of your master well. Explore your training, though. Combat requires some spontaneity if you will maintain the upper hand."

I smile grimly, feeling both admiration and humility at the closure of my lesson. "Thank you, Rocus Bonilova. I shall meditate on your lesson."

"Certainly. Are your companions camped nearby?" she said, looking toward the trees.

I nod. "Just beyond that young oak," I say, pointing.

"Good training to you, monk," she says, and then leaves me to my less than tranquil mind. The wind has picked up, I realize, and my robes and long grass dance in the warm sun.

I fold again into the lotus seat and close my eyes again. The birds fade away and the wind ceases to be an annoyance. In my mind, I summon two new opponents and begin a new round of training.

 

[rathkor]

I stood watch over the group as they slept, keeping an eye out for any more would be predators. As the sun rose and beams of light began spilling through the branches of the trees. Bastian was the first to rise. After some deep meditation, he began practicing some stances and techniques. Bastion wasn't too far from camp, and with the light of day, predators shouldn't be attacking camp anymore. Plus the others would be up soon. So, I decided to take a break from watching over the camp and do some training of my own.

Since my fighting style focuses more on speed and agility rather than brute strength, I decided to start wit sprinting. I found a densely wooded area, and I took off. I effortlessly floated between the trees, jumping over fallen trees and ducking under low hanging branches. I was practically gliding over the forest floor. After about an hour of running, I moved on to the next phase of my routine. I gathered a few of the largest logs i could find and i buried one end of each of them into the ground, standing them up to make sufficient targets. I spent the next two hours practicing my footwork, moving swiftly from target to target, and practicing my strikes and flourishes.

After several hours of training, i decided to head back to the camp site to rejoin the others, and perhaps wake Inara if she was still sleeping her day away.

I arrived back in town to see the head of the monestary striking Bastion in the head. She then proceded to show him a a few more blows before switching to a more passive stance. I gathered that she was teaching him a few new moves to improve his combat. Always one open to new techniqes, I was intrigued.

After the two exchanged a few words, I decided to make my presence known. "Bastian, my boy, you really must not underestimate the ferocity of an opponent, especially that of a woman." The woman furrowed er brow at my comment. "There is no need to feel insulted, m'lady. In fact, it is a compliment. Do you perhaps know any moves you could teach to one such as myself?"

 

[HCGLNS]

Rocus Bonilova regarded the stranger with a mild derisive smile, "I trust you all slept soundly?"

To which, Solaria still in thought responded "Actually just the opposite, we were attacked by a jungle cat and several kobolds."

"Kobolds you say? How many? What did you do with the bodies?"

Locian regarded her, "They are just over there beyond the campfire." and gestures to the north.

"You didn't burn them?!" cries the monk and races to the indicated scene. Arriving upon the indicated background, she finds a plethora of bloodied grass and mud, but not a sign of any body. Turning angrily upon the group she demands "How many!?"

Stammering an answer Ralts replies "Three kobolds and a single cat. Why is that important?"

"Three, good, good not enough for a portal, but enough for them to be noticed." followed by three short blasts on horn. "I must organize a search."

Solaria baffled, "Why what has happened?"

"I don't know why it's different on Merde but goblins don't just die here, their masters are experts at recycling them into different threats but before I leave, this has arrived for you." she presents the group with a sealed envelope and hurriedly heads back into the monastery below.

Confused by the Rocuss actions, the party studies the letter intently. It is address to The Grays, and contains a purple wax seal with a picture of a tower. The contents of the letter are simple enough, "Please join me for tea." and is signed "Grandfather."

Puzzled by the letter, the group organizes themselves and starts off hunting their prey from the night before. They quickly find a possible hide out location in a cave located to the west, but before they can explore it further, they are set upon by a triad of undead kobold soldiers and a necrotic panther, horrible remnants of their battle the night before.

A brief but violent battle ensues that leaves Solaria and Ralts near death, and the remainder of the party hanging on to life, but the kobolds vanquished once again.

A group of scouting monks quickly finds the party and escorts them back into the monastery, where they discover that transportation off the island is not quickly forthcoming, they decide to return to their row bow with a few additional provisions and paddles.

Setting out to the Forest of Leanth and the city of Lutal, Solaria ponders the letter in her hand and it's meaning. As her thoughts intensify on it's meaning, only the quick reactions of Bastion save the letter from being snatched from her grasp by a sea gull swooping past the elf.

 

[MindDetective]

The boat rocks as I find myself leaning over the water, one foot planted on the seat behind me and the other on the boat's rim. My comrades are bracing themselves, pulling the oars out of the water as we almost capsize. I had leapt from my seat, almost as an afterthought as the letter, our only clue to where or when we are, nearly flew away in the beak of a mangy bird. One beady black eye trains on me as we each tug at the parchment. The bird, a filthy off-white seagull, flaps at me while it tugs at the letter clutched in my hand. I feel the points of his webbed feet scratch at my knuckles but I pull the paper firmly and it slips from his beak. The gull squawks at me in irritation and then swoops several times around the boat before flying away toward the shore.

"Bastian," says Locian nervously, "why don't you sit back down in the boat."

I hop lightly back down to my seat, this time barely disturbing us. Nobody says anything for a moment and so I smooth the parchment on my knee.

"That...was odd," says Inara and I silently agree. What is it with the birds around here?

"Sorry," Solaria says quietly with a nervous smile, although nobody blames her for being surprised by a thieving gull. "I didn't know they liked parchment."

I shake my head, responding too seriously to her light-hearted comment. "We had a lot of seagulls in Kabi. They eat a lot of things but never parchment. Maybe...maybe they just like this parchment." I probably wasn't the only one thinking it but I suspected that the birds didn't like this parchment at all.

Eventually Ralts hands me an oar and Solaria begins to pluck out an absent-minded tune. I realize we had all been lost in thought for a long time now. We all have questions but only one person might have any answers. With renewed vigor I plunge the oar into the sea and help push us a little closer to grandfather.

 

[HCGLNS]

Judging their map as best they can, the Grays head into the jungle of Leanth. A thick dense foliage, rich in colour but very dark in colour. The birds all seem to sing a familiar tune, crocodiles and snakes float by the boat, taking a natural curious interest but keep a fair distance. Pools of colourful fish dart here and there amongst the reeds.

I tired day of paddling, finds the company making another makeshift camp site on the rivers edge. A quick meal and a warm fire are all the comforts afforded to them in this morass. Stories are shared and jokes exchanged, the birds singing their song. Solaria chooses to mimic their warbling, only to attract more and more, before she stows her lyre for the evening.

Cautious of their previous night time attackers, the Grays set another strict security watch. The night passes slowly, until Solaria snaps out of her trance like state, "The fire it is moving!" Bastion quickly grabs a cup and tries to water the flames and coals, but is startled when the fire chastises him for attempting to extinguish.

"Stop, there is no time for that."

A face emerges in the coals, and speaks in a slow disturbing tone; "Seek the dwarves, do not go to the city." before fading away into ash and heat. Inara speaks quickly, "That face, was it not one of the images shown to us in the Pool of Wisdom? I believe it was, the man cloaked in shadows, was it not?"

Locian barks out, "Exploding panthers, talking fireplaces and water that attacks you! This land is a place of death and destruction. Take what you will from that message, but I will not trust a fireplace to tell me what to do!"

The remainder of the evening passes slowly, but without incident. They set out again, and come to their first major choice, the river to the city on the left or to by-pass it and take the right.? Selecting to continue to pursue the only clue they have as to their whereabouts or how to get home, they choose the left route towards the city of Lutal.

They proceed to paddle their small craft and soon discover what appears to be smoke rising up from the forest ahead, not enough to be the jungle ablaze, most likely something smaller. A few twists and turns of the river bend reveals a possible campfire up ahead.

The Grays, cautiously approach the fire, it seems to be quite recent, with a flurry of footprints surrounding it going off in several directions. Locian and Bastion eager to learn more, take a study of the tracks. The monks eyes are unable to learn much from the tracks, save that they most likely were made by the tall man standing behind a broken wall wielding a black bow. His skin the colour of ashes, his eyes a putrid yellowish green, he makes not a sound but lets fire a massive black arrow that narrowly misses Locians neck.

Hurrying for cover behind a broken wall of stone, the party attempt to circle around the dark assassin only to find that they are surrounded by a host of sentient bones striking them fiercely soon followed by a massive animated corpse, the shadow of which blocked out the mid day sun.

Quick work is made of the bones creatures and the corpse is driven back. To their chagrin, the Grays soon learn that these creatures exist to corral them so the black archer can inflict massive amounts of punishment upon them at great range. Inara and Solaria are crippled by the dark arrows, both dazed and unable to move, the present ripe targets for a wave of new creatures coming from the west.

The blade of Ralts, sings a song of destruction and mayhem felling the corpses and skeletons. The feet and fists of Allytyns Monk pummel and parry the archer. Locians blade whirls and spins to the song of Solaria. The fight is furious and over almost as soon as it begins, with all but a single undead destroyed and pursued across the swamp. But nothing is ever free, in their vigorous pursuit of midnight sniper, Inara watches in vain, unable to move crippled by the archers arrows as Solaria lies dying not thirty feet from her comrade, a black arrow piercing her chest.

A desperate race to save the elf begins, medicines and poultices are used, bandages applied, but the skill of her comrades are not enough. The song of Solaria, ends in a swamp in an unknown land.

Stricken with grief, Locian, now perhaps the last of his kind, sets out to bury Solaria in their own tradition. A pyre is raised and words of grief and solace are shared and a vow is taken.

As the fire grows high and the body of Solaria the bard is consumed, a new life rises from the ashes. A beautiful bird of song. It flies unsinged from her corpse and into the night sky to join the other birds in a familiar song.

 

[rathkor]

Before lighting the pyre, Locian used a dagger found in Solaria's bag to carve up some vines into thin fibers, which he then braided into a thin rope. He then cut a lock of Solaria's hair and made the two items into a necklace. He put on the necklace and placed the dagger into his bags. He lit the pyre and watched the flames consume the remains. Bastion continued his prayers. Locian couldnt help but feel distraught. He was certainly familiar with death, he had seen a great many a friend die on the battlefields, but Solaria was no warrior. She was still young, at the prime of her life. All she had wanted was to see the world. Locian looked on as potentially the only other elf kind in the world was slowly consumed. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel very alone. His usual lighthearted and carefree attitude was replaced by bitterness and anger. anger at the world, tat would so cruelly let one so young die so horribly. angry at the archer, who killed her and managed to escape his blade. but mostly, angry at himself. he had let Solaria down. He knew before they stopped that there could be nothing good awaiting the at that campsite. had he been more forceful in his oppinion, and less free spirited, Solaria might still be alive. When his mentor died in his arms, he vowed to live his life as much as possible, to make the most of it before his time came. But that day, the death of a comrade taught him that there are severe consequences for his actions, even his inactions. And sometimes it would be those closest to him to pay those consequences. He wasn't going to abandon his free spirited attitude or his love for life, Solaria would not want that. But in te future, he would be more responsible and mindful of the others around him. THAT is what he felt Solaria would want. He looked around to his companions, and he knew that their safety now partially relied on him. Even though he was surrounded by company at the edge of a towering inferno, he still felt so very cold and alone.


Locian turned as the fire consumed the last of the girl's remains. "Let's get moving. We're almost out of daylight, and we are still about a day and a half's journey to Lutal." He began to walk to the boat.

 

[Gusto]

I know this song. I know it well.

I may have heard it before, many times. It was confusing then. Now it is part of me. It seems as natural to me as eating, or breathing, or flying.

I flutter, and take flight. To where the others are. I know this too. I am needed.

I fly over the world. This is my world. It always has been. When I was confused, in some earlier state, I did not know. But I know now. This was my world even then. It is only natural.

I reach the others, land, and look down on the clearing. There they are. These strange beasts, stranger even than the ones I have known. They all walk on strange talons unlike mine. Their bodies are large and featherless. Most of them are colourless, though one is green. Their song is disjointed and disharmonious. It as no colour or depth. It does not sing the truth. It does not know what will come. It does not sing of the prophecy.

Part of me remembers the beasts. From long ago. An earlier state? It is not important. I feel a strange belonging. A strange attachment. It is not important.

I flutter again, flashing yellow on my world, surrounded by the others, following the beasts.

I sing my song. I know it well.

 

[MindDetective]

Anger wells inside me again as I glimpse our campfire from the corner of my eye. The warm flicker painfully resonates with my memory of the afternoon's funeral. Our meagre pyre of rotting branches and wet bark had been a pathetic tribute to our fallen comrade. But what else could we do? We are lost in a place or a time stripped of all things. I feel a pang of jealousy for my distant brothers at the monastery. I once had little more than I do now in material possessions but I had the comfort of sturdy walls and the convenience of a nearby town. What little I have now erodes with each passing day.

Dark, turbulent thoughts such as these dominate my mind. Is Locian giving me that I-told-you-so look again? For a brief moment I want to hurt him. Or hurt anyone who might look my way. The afternoon's battle replays in my thoughts. Should I have stayed with Solaria? I would have been useless to the fight then, I remind myself. Should I have not chased that final abomination as it fled into the swamp? I did not know that she had been struck down. How could I have?

I recalled walking around the ruined stone walls and seeing that sweet, young bard bleeding profusely onto the black marshy soil. Others were already at her side, trying to revive her and that is when I ran. What could I have done differently? What did I not notice? I struggled for answers and found only Allytyn's indifferent silence.

Rage welled up again and I tensed every muscle, hard and for many minutes. At last I relaxed, exhausted and found myself haphazardly recalling the prayers I had chanted to myself after Brother Wembley had died. "The stone does not live, nor does it die. It exists as it is, unchanging. Life grants us change we may revel in and death is the change we must accept as the cost for our lives. The stone fears no death but it experiences no life. Solaria, I thank Allytyn for the life you experienced and accept her price."

I chanted this prayer and many others over and over. As the sky began to lighten, my tense muscles grew sore. Still I prayed, awaiting that time when I would once again find their meaning.

 

[HCGLNS]

In a darkened alleyway, a tall cloaked figure finishes strangling a sickly looking man. A sickly glow flows from the corpse into a bowl of silver liquid, stiffening it into a solid mirror reflecting the moonlight.

The cloaked figure speaks in a harsh rasp, "My Queen, I have failed you. We were unable to procure the item. They proved to be resourceful and resilient, but I managed to kill the female elf. Before me return I saw them burn her corpse on a pyre and offer prayers to Allytynn. If you permit me, I shall return to my barrow. I died to serve you in all things."

Then a whisper of a murmur stiffens the archers back, "Go Selpats, you have done well and shall be rewarded."

And the figure slips away into to dark once more, leaving only shadows and a corpse behind.

 

[HCGLNS]

A small brazier provides a sampling of light in a dimly lit room. Papers strewn about tables and books stacked high into makeshift corridors round the floor. A man sits in a a humble chair tracing the lines on a piece of parchment, taking care not to disturb it's brittle nature. Dust falls from it occasionally only to drift onto some other piece of arcane mystery.

A quiet voice speaks to himself, "That settles it then, they are indeed the Grays of the Aonad Scrios. The prophecy has it's beginning matched, but what end. Change is certain, but for the better? Oh Grandmother, why did you leave me? Your guidance is sorely missed."

 

[MindDetective]

My mother believed that dreams held power. As Allytyn does not speak to her followers, through dreams or otherwise, my father had little patience for mother's flights of fancy. I suppose I follow my father in many regards but tonight, as early sunlight begins to soften the black night on the horizon, I reflect on the dream from which I just woke.

In my dream, Solaria was alive and running. I was chasing after her and, at first, I thought she was running from me. I soon realized we were both running from a flock of birds of numerous varieties. I would look back at them and I knew they were just birds, singing discordantly as they fluttered from limb to limb or hopped along the ground, but I could not see any individual bird directly. Still, I sensed there were birds in the flock that I had never seen before and others that were all too familiar. As I ran, Solaria crying ahead of me for help like I wasn't there at all, I searched for the names of these birds. I can think of them now, these birds I could not see, but in the dream they were only familiar shapes and colors.

After an exhaustive distance the forest gave way to a rocky beach and the rocks gave way not to water but to a swampy morass. Solaria ran directly into the thick bile. I halted, looking in a panic for somewhere else to go. The birds fluttered from the forest edge like a flock of wind-blown leaves. With nowhere to go, I started running again and found myself hopping across a chain of mossy stones immersed in the morass. Each stone threatened to send me into the swamp and the birds behind me all took flight or hopped from stone to stone behind me. Solaria, meanwhile, was gone.

Somehow I arrived at a clearing, as if an oasis of forest had miraculously grown in the midst of this dreary swamp. A circle of healthy trees walled off the clearing from the vile water. In the center of this perfect refuge lay Solaria. A red halo spilled beneath her head and her lyre lay broken at her side. A solitary raven stood on her shoulder and plucked at her pointed ear with sharp jabs. Behind me, the trees and the swamp fell silent and I then realized what a cacophony the birds had been making. I approached my fallen comrade, circling her slumping body to see her face. I seemed to circle for a long time, as if the clearing circled ahead of me. Before I could see her, the raven looked up with its beady eyes of the void and squawked loudly. As if my distraction had provided an opportunity, Solaria dissolved into a rainbow mist and the raven fluttered in place, squawking incessantly at losing its perch. Solaria's mist roiled around and into the bird, painting its oily feathers with bright blues and greens and reds. I reached for the bird frantically, my hands clenching at colored mist and the Solaria-raven flew up and away from the clearing. All that remained was her broken lyre. I spent the rest of the dream desperately trying to put it back together, certain I had the knowledge to bring her back if I could.

When I awoke I felt exhausted and sore. Now our campsite is silent and I lay still, thinking. I will tell my comrades of my dream, I have decided, but I have also concluded that it carries no real meaning. I merely miss the young lass, I think, and my dreams reflect the circularity of my frustration and my regret. I know I will not sleep again tonight. I should rise and meditate but instead, for the first time in a long time, I neglect my rigorous training and do nothing.

Spoiler

HC, let me know if I am off base about conjecture I make about Allytyn.

 

[rathkor]

I took my place overlooking the camp, meditating and keeping an eye out. so many dark and angry thoughts and feelings of guilt swirled in my head, making it hard for me to keep my mind focused. I was unsure, but I think this was similar to a human who has a hard time sleeping. After several hours, but before the sun had risen. I went deep into the woods to begin my normal training regiment. I ran between the trees, dodging brenches, as usual. When I got to the footwork and striking practice with the logs, i spent twice as much time stabbing and slicing into the analogues. I poured all of my pain and aggression into each blow. After about an hour of non stop attacking, I dropped to my knees, overwelmed my sadness and guilt. I should have protected her. I had failed in the most basic of combat tactics: I let my enemy control the battlefield. The archers moved is into the position they wanted us to be in, all while making us think we were maintaining control of the battlefield. If I were better, they would not have dominated us so fiercely. I managed to get myself back to my feet. I searched the area for a stone that held the right properties. I found one, picked it up, and returned to the campsite. I returned just in time to see Bastion waking. I sat on the ground and began sharpening my blades with the stone.

 

[rathkor]

I wanted to talk to the others, to comfort them... to comfort myself. but I couldn't bring myself to speak. Bastion was a holy man, certainly he could offer some words of condolence. But I was still feeling isolated, so very alone. Last of the Elves. Last of my kind. Could the others fully understand how I was feeling? I wondered if that made me selfish? Personalizing Solaria's death as his own pain. I suddenly felt guilty. What would Solaria want? I asked myself. "What would you have me do Solaria?" I asked aloud. "What should I do?" I looked to the sky, hoping to find some sign...

 

[HCGLNS]

The sun beamed down upon the four as they rose to continue their journey the next morning. The dew beaded on leaves danced like diamonds in the wind as the sun rose higher in the sky. The paddle up the river was quiet and sombre. Eventually they passed around a bend in the river and saw what must surely be their destination ahead of them.

Situated in the the middle of converging rivers rose a city of massive trees, all intricately woven amongst themselves and shaped by men to their needs. Great spires of wood reaching high to the heavens dominated the skyline. As they paddled closer the group could see that the great trees all had numerous levels of houses and structure built upon them, supported by foundations in the earth as needed. Boats dominated the regions around the city, with numerous tie offs for small crafts and engineered dockyards for larger crafts.

Finding a small berth near one of the prominent bridges, the Grays enter the city of Lutal. Before them lies the Loingseoireachta district, a centre for commerce to leave the city. Everyone, dwarves and humans alike is moving about the streets with a purpose and with knowledge of where they need to be next. Their are soldiers, sailors and merchants aplenty, with very few people straggling about aimelessly. Some well placed inquires directs the castaways to the Margadh sector of the city and the Great Tree Church of Ambrosia.

The temple is dutifully carved out of a massive tree, but not in an invasive way. Every root is respected and accommodations are made to adapt the seating areas to the tree, and not the converse. Many people all in cheerful moods and wearing bright flowing creations of silk mill about the temple in conversation and worship. Locian is quickly able to gain an audience with Vulca Temeka and Renetta and carefully poses the question of how Solaria might be returned to them. The Vulca's seemed perplexed at the notion of wanting to leave Ambrosia's embrace, but have some recollection that if may have occurred some time in the past. They suggest that prayer could answer their questions and invite the Grays to join them. In a secluded grove of rushes by the river, the two clerics join hands with the wanderers and in a swirl of colours, rhythms and chaotic happiness, party entreats the Goddess. They emerge from their prayer after what seemed only minutes to find that most of the day has passed them by, but they do emerge with an answer. Ambrosia may be coerced into releasing Solaria with the sacrifice of their own souls.