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  #1  
Old 05-09-2011, 10:53 AM
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Trí: Tír na nÓg




The Sons of Ancient Hibernia

Chapter 3: Tír na nÓg

As Moirne finishes her prayer, Seaghdh opens the cow’s neck, spilling the heifer's blood out upon the blue stones. Der’Faille and Cahal move forward to keep the cow from bucking away from the long, glass-like alter. The animal gurgles and rolls her eyes, seeking help, seeking escape. But there was no escaping fate – the Ar Leith of the Dal Riada tribe had seen to its final end, but only the gods knew if there was any sense in the sacrifices of the day.

Finally the white heifer slumps down onto its knees and, tongue lolling, bleeds the remainder of its life out upon the colored stones of Cloichegorm. For all the trouble the cow had caused the group, it was still a companion on the road, and now it too was gone.

Except for the cries of the seabirds wheeling overhead, silence descends for several moments. Then a hiss issues from the alter, and mist begins to puff up from the blue stone. In the places where the cow’s blood has splattered upon it, the glassy rock begins to gape and run, melting like a block of ice with hot coals thrown upon it. In seconds the alter sags and cracks, dissolving to leave a glistening, shimmering void where a moment ago solid bluestone perched.

You look down into the strange pool when suddenly the watery depression snaps open like an eye. Indeed, it was an eye! As long and wide as the alter, and as blue as the morning sky on Beltane, the eye gazes unblinkingly up at the five Ar Leith assembled around it. Staring down into the infinite blue of the iris just inches away from your bloody, mud-caked feet, you feel both comforted and terrified. You recognize, however, that you are being seen. The sight of the eye seems to confirm that you have some role to play – one that was incredibly important – but also humbles you with the naked truth that, in comparison to the forces of the universe, you are utterly insignificant.

...Yet you had been seen by something greater. For good or for ill, Toirdhealbhach’s plan had succeeded, and for at least this moment, something holds you in its awareness.

And then the eye is gone. Its comforting, terrible blue light is replaced by the last slanting rays of the sun-ship. As the shining vessel sails through the doors of Tír na nÓg, it paints your faces as red as the cow’s blood on Seaghdh’s hands. With a last flash, the ship disappears into the enormous, shining stone gates, and twilight at last descends upon the island.

In the far distance the outline of the miles-high otherworldly gates goes dim, but a new light replaces that of the sailing sun: a pale, wholesome glow begins to emanate out of the vast archway – immeasurably distant, yet still bringing watery light into the twilight world where you stand. “Tír na nÓg,” Deorain says with longing, pointing at the cyclopean gateway. “The Land of Youth, the land where I was born.” It takes a moment to realize that Ceara’s companion was pointing. No longer a squawking raven, you see before you a little creature, rising to the height perhaps of Cahal’s knee. He was a chubby, round-nosed little fellow, with a scraggle of hair on his head, and square-pupil eyes like those of a goat. His clothing amounts to a burlap sack tied by a rope.

Overhead the birds are taking flight, but flying immeasurably slow – so slow that if it were anywhere but here, they might have fallen from the sky. The flocks disappear east, toward the ocean, fading out of sight even before they make it over the ridge. And then you see the ridge itself, where the three giants fell, begin to blow away like sand in a strong wind. Indeed, all of the features that you had come to know on the island start to take on a wispy character: the great arches, the giant’s fire below the hill, even the hill itself. All turns to smoke. For a heady instant, you see through the bodies of your companions as though they were ghosts.

The moment passes and you are once again solid, but now standing on a rolling plain, dark except for the illumination offered by the gigantic gate shining in the distance.

And then you notice the people. Hundreds of them, thousands of them, mostly standing silent or shuffling slowly forward. Their heads are bowed, faces drawn and somber. They all seem to face the great gates, waiting, as if in line to move closer. Some waver, some seem more solid – though none are as solid as the five, or rather six, of you. Deorain speaks again, and now his voice is more restrained. “It is worse than I feared – I hoped that you all would simply be killed when it happened, or better yet accepted as heroes into Tír na nÓg like the olden days. But it seems Queen Aynia’s policies have changed, and no mortal freeloaders are accepted there anymore. No… instead, here we are, trapped on the Borderlands. Neither dead, like all these lucky chaps, nor alive either.” He spreads his flabby little arms, realizing his old form had been returned to him. “And here I am. I’m no more welcome in this place than you. Curious that so many spirits are here, though. Most are instantly called to the Doors for acceptance… only those that aren’t granted entry – or refuse it – wander out here, or so I've heard. I wonder why there are so many wraiths about..”

You look around you, staring at the smoke-streaming hills scattered here and there in the near-dark, and the crowds of silent wraiths, all brooding in wait. It was quiet here, and cold. And if not for the light of the open arch, it would be completely dark. You look up into the sky and see that there are no stars in the Borderlands, only the infinite black above, behind, and beyond.

DM's NoteThe date on Éiru when you left was October 31, 499AD, but there are no days or nights in the borderlands.

A refresher on the Aes Sídhe is in the game intro. Most of the party has been hearing tales of Tír na nÓg since childhood. Barring a bard to tell you more, you are all at least somewhat familiar with the implications of Deorain's words.

Prose description of where you are: The Borderlands lie between the door to Tír na nÓg and the void. The place is relatively featureless, or so it seems right now, and is illuminated solely by the miles-high gates shining on the distant horizon. It teems with the waiting wraiths of the fallen – thousands of men and women – only you are solid.

Perception checks by all.

Last edited by mountainbound; 05-09-2011 at 11:07 AM.
  #2  
Old 05-10-2011, 09:40 PM
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[Before the sacrifice….]

Ceara moved up the hill following the others wondering what was going to become of them. Was Deorain’s warning true? Were they trapped somewhere they could not excape? She looked over her shoulder watching the ‘ship’ leave. It brought a new meaning to the old saying “Your ship has set sail without you.” She turned back not wanting to watch the very end. What did it matter? Was she not cursed anyways? She never really fit into this world of hers anyways. She was as much of an outsider as Deorain was from his homeland. On cue the now very talkative bird said:

Quote:
“The ship! The sun-ship is heading to the doors of Tír na nÓg! I don’t know what will happen when it reaches them, but I know that the gods did not intend for mortals to wander on the borders! Gods help me! Why did I throw in my lot with you?!?”
At these words she turned to her traveling companion and said with a wide grin “Why….for the adventure of course. Isn’t that what you said. Well my good Deorain *announcing his name to the group* you have signed up for one HELL of an adventure.” With that…she let out a cackle of laughter that would send goosebumps up the normal person’s. She enjoyed that a little too much for her own good. As an afterthought to the darkening sky she slammed the end of her staff to the ground and released a small flow of power. A light appeared at the end of her staff.


[I always feel like….somebody’s watching me……]

As if things could not have gotten any stranger…..they somehow did. The cafe died spilling it’s life blood on the crystal altar. Instead of being the end of their adventure….it looked to be only the beginning as a HUGE eye peered at them all. Ceara and, for once, Deorain were all speechless as the eye took them all in….and then disappeared. Ceara did not know if she should fall to the ground and worship or beg for mercy. It was then that Deorain, now in his true form, said:

Quote:
“Tír na nÓg,” Deorain says with longing, pointing at the cyclopean gateway. “The Land of Youth, the land where I was born.”
Quote:
“It is worse than I feared – I hoped that you all would simply be killed when it happened, or better yet accepted as heroes into Tír na nÓg like the olden days. But it seems Queen Aynia’s policies have changed, and no mortal freeloaders are accepted there anymore. No… instead, here we are, trapped on the Borderlands. Neither dead, like all these lucky chaps, nor alive either.” He spreads his flabby little arms, realizing his old form had been returned to him. “And here I am. I’m no more welcome in this place than you. Curious that so many spirits are here, though. Most are instantly called to the Doors for acceptance… only those that aren’t granted entry – or refuse it – wander out here, or so I've heard. I wonder why there are so many wraiths about..
She turned to her ‘friend’ and said “You HOPED we had simply died? Well, I am glad you have our best interests in mind. So, if this is the land of your youth, aren’t you in the *put two fingers together* tinniest bit of trouble being back here? Need I remind you what your name means?” It was then that she saw everyone was looking at her and one of the ‘people’. She stood up straight and said “Everyone, this is Deorain, my companion and teacher. He knows all of your names of course as he is exceptionally intelligent…perhaps too much for his own good.” As she finished talking she moved a few steps closer to the lines of ghosts trying to take in what she was seeing. Finally she said “Has anyone ever seen such a sight? I bet we are the first living humans to see this with our own eyes in centuries…perhaps since forever. The big question I have though is….*turned back to everyone* what do we do now? As far as I can see we have little choice but to head forward into *she could not believe she was about to say what she was going to say* Tír na nÓg.”

 

Last edited by AlwaysCivilMike; 05-10-2011 at 09:41 PM.
  #3  
Old 05-11-2011, 08:47 AM
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Originally Posted by AlwaysCivilMike View Post

“Has anyone ever seen such a sight? I bet we are the first living humans to see this with our own eyes in centuries…perhaps since forever. The big question I have though is….*turned back to everyone* what do we do now? As far as I can see we have little choice but to head forward into *she could not believe she was about to say what she was going to say* Tír na nÓg.”
"A truly incredible sight indeed, sister, but I have heard tales of great heroes being allowed into the Land of Youth. Why we are here, remains to be seen."

"Is it true...", looking quizically down to the short, pudgy figure, "Deorian is it?...that within the walls of the city there is no want and only contentment?"

Within the space that would be normally reserved for someone to answer a posed question, Der'Faille suddenly raises his arm quickly, pointing "There! Look! Among the wights...three Fir Bhlogs...perhaps those that we vanquished. Would Liam be with them? Let's go see!"

Last edited by AncientOrder; 05-14-2011 at 11:50 AM.
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Old 05-11-2011, 11:57 AM
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OOCWhat follows is a massive wall of writing. Unfortunately I was trying to figure out how to say what Cahal was dealing with and couldn't in a shorter manner. So make sure you have something to drink before you delve into this.

 

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Old 05-12-2011, 07:10 PM
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They had succeeded in their task. Though for good or for ill was going to prove a revelation well and far beyond any means Seaghdh would have at his disposal.

We're not dead. In a place full of the dead." Seaghdh needs to explain it to himself in order to even remotely begin to comprehend what is going on around him right now at this juncture. He is in the midst of contemplating this... unfortunate turn of events when something more than peculiar catches his eyes. He stares at the sight, unsure of just what to make of it.

Quote:
"Look! Among the wights...three Fir Bhlogs...perhaps those that we vanquished. Would Liam be with them? Let's go see!"
"Liam...?" He breaths the name uncertainly. This is a place of the dead. It... is not as unexpected a development as he first believes it to be. He watches the... spirit? Standing with a trio of large, surly, but surprisingly laconic giants. He recognizes them all too well-- though what ramifications this has, if any, is well beyond Seaghdh's ken. "Yes. He is with them."

He turns away from the sight after a few moments, more concerned about his own current fate. Somewhat unconsciously, he reaches to find the book he had taken from Ceara. He is here, in a place of legends-- witnessing with his own eyes what most would believe to be simple stories. Does that mean that the Ecclesiasts are wrong? Or does it merely mean that they may also be right? That is a question for another day. Once he is sure the book is still with him, he lifts his head to the problem at hand.

"These spirits are probably mostly Ar Leith. Killed on or around the island. But their spirits seem to be waiting for something," he answers to the... new form of the talkative raven. "I do not think we should disturb them; if you know why they may be waiting, then I will listen." Because given the bird-fey's last few minutes of cowardly screeching, his unnatural voice is the last thing Seaghdh wants to be hearing much of right now. No wonder he was cast out.

But now he is become curious. He has already found one of their fallen companions. Maybe...

While still trying to keep an ear to what the others are saying, Seaghdh looks around more, looking to see either of the O'Toole's or their O'Cathain ferrymen. If they are not here, then maybe they managed to get away after all. A small victory, if that is true.

After he takes his fill with the... sights-- or lack thereof, most likely-- he speaks up again. "The spirits are waiting for something. There is no doubt. And I will know why. This feels wrong. I will know if this... Dark Tribe, is responsible-- if this is because of the Black," or worse, he considers, that this is the source of the Black. "The lass is right. We have one direction to go, and I will walk it with you or on my own." He points to the gates of Tír na nÓg. "There are questions there that I need to know; be I living or dead, I will have them."

With a quick glare to the others that could be considered mildly hostile, Seaghdh begins trudging forward towards the great gate. His lack of sleep over the past two days, while not showing in his body or physical ability, is clearly beginning to tell on his mind-- he is becoming a bit more surly and cranky than usual.
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Old 05-12-2011, 07:11 PM
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As Cahal was moving towards the great eye HER eyes widened. She knew next to nothing at the moment about this world....but one thing was quite obvious. Poking the eye of something that give off such an awe inspiring aura was NOT a good thing.

Quote:
Suddenly it vanishes, making his hand retract ever so quickly. "Damn... shouldn't ha'e done dat."
With the eye gone.....and the look on the dwarf's face....she could not help it....she burst out in laughter.

Quote:
Originally Posted by AncientOrder View Post
"A truly incredible sight indeed, sister, but I have heard tales of great heroes being allowed into the Land of Youth. Why we are here, remains to be seen."

"Is it true...", looking quizically down to the short, pudgy figure, "Deorian is it?...that within the walls of the city there is no want and only contentment?"

Within the space that would be normally reserved for someone to answer a posed question, Der'Faille suddenly raises his arm quickly, pointing "There! Look! Among the wights...three Fir Bhlogs...perhaps those that we vanquished. Would Liam be with them? Let's go see!"
Ceara turned in shock at where Der'Faille pointed thinking "It can't be..." but of course...it could be. At that moment she decided to put away her preconceptions of the world and except...within the realm of logical reasoning....the odd things she was going to see. The last thing she needed was to be seen with her mouth hanging open every time something new and incredible popped into her vision. She would look like some stupid farmer who came to see the ALL POWERFUL DRUIDS. She had seen it before...many times. So, she looked off to see if she could their lost friend. Stepping in line near the walking ghost though...that just sounded....dangerous. She almost laugh.....again.....given what they had done over the last days.

Quote:
Just as Der'Faille mentioned something about the Fir Bhlog, the barbarian had seen them and bristled at the sight. While the ranger was good in his idea about seeing if Liam was around, Cahal also figured that there was too damn many places he could be. Der'Faille, wat make ya t'ink dat he'd be anywhe'e near da stinkin' Fir Bhlog? If I had been slain by dem, I'd be no whe'e near dem. Besides, who's ta say dat dey can't harm us?" Looking at the distance that the Ar Lieth would have to cover to get anywhere, the large fellow then looks to Deorain and rubs his neck in a weird way. "Would ya be likin' a ride a'ound or would ya prefer ta walk now dat ya can't fly?" he says in an awkward manner.
Actually, the dwarf made a good point though who really knew how the rules in this zone functioned. As far as they knew THEY looked liked ghosts to everyone else and THEY thought they were the only ones with bodies. To Cahal's comment about she said "Oh...I think he is quite capable of walking...flying...swiming...tunneling...or whatever mannor of travel he wants. Then again...we are near his home land."

Last edited by AlwaysCivilMike; 05-12-2011 at 08:05 PM.
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Old 05-12-2011, 09:33 PM
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In response to Ceara's comment, Deorain harumphs loudly. "Swimming, flying... I'm afraid not. Dese two skinny legs were the ones I was born with, and here, so close t'home, they're all I got now. Changing shape was t'only boon granted by the Wicked Queen who lives beyond dem gates, on the day she exiled me to your land." His words trail off into a long, mumbling diatribe about the injustice of the world, mystical or otherwise, and he spends long moments kicking the wispy ground in hopelessness. But despite all his words, Deorain neglects to mention one important aspect concerning the Borderlands during your first minutes there: bringing something to mind, you draw it near.

As Der'Faille, Cahal and others reflect upon the Fir Bhlogs in the distance, the smoke-landscape shifts and the faces of the dead suddenly whiz past. In a moment, you stand just paces from the three hulking giants. One of them, the largest, turns toward the group of Ar Leith as you appear on the landscape. The creature is whole, uninjured, but seems to be trying to recollect something. Finally it rumbles, "Chuir tú dom anseo..." The hulking giant sounds confused though -- much different than the thundering voice so fresh in your minds. It no longer seems intent on smashing you to pieces anymore, and in another moment it turns from you to stare at the shining gates in the distance.

One of the shades nearby raises his head, however, and in his eyes sparks a recognition more profound than the bleary Fir Bhlog could ever manage. It is indeed Liam, as Seaghdh had pointed out. If only the bard's heart were quickened to tell the tale of this place. Still, there he stands...


Last edited by mountainbound; 05-12-2011 at 10:00 PM.
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Old 05-13-2011, 03:21 AM
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The bard slowly opens his eyes and sees above him a sky both dark and light. It stretches across his vision, cavernous and silent, and for a long while he can do nothing but lie and gaze, overcome by a weariness like no other he had experienced before, but somehow familiar. Slowly the bard pulls himself to his feet, every movement slow, every muscle heavy, and his somnolent eyes take in the surroundings about him. In the distance, he sees a gigantic stone archway, and the moment his eyes fall upon it it seems to draw his shuffling feet in that direction, hooked like a fish, and he begins to move toward it. The way toward that arch seems easier, as if he were caught in a current streaming towards that monumental gateway, struggling against it seemed futile, he would simply relax. He...

A flash of a memory passes across his mind's eye. He is a fox, darting through the underbrush, digging for something he can smell, something he knows is there. He soft wet earth feels good against his paws, and as he uncovers the clutch of eggs, his mouth salivates as he takes one up in his mouth and scampers off with his prize. Later, lying in a hollow of a tree, he licks the sticky yolk from the inside of the egg, his stomach happy.

The bard staggers for a moment, shaking his heavy head. Looking around, he suddenly notices that he is not the only one caught up in this stream. Other figures plod towards their destination about him, forming a long line that stretched across the strange twilight landscape. He finds himself standing next to three such ghostly figures, their heads hanging low, their feet shuffling like his own. The bard recognizes them, as if he should know them, and a hot feeling begins to ball up in his stomach. He's angry, angrier than he had ever felt, and...

Another memory cuts into his conciousness. He is an older woman, bones bent with age, a thick walking stick in hand. She is walking next to a young boy, telling him of the story of Cú Chulainn, and the boy listened with rapt attention and wide eyes as she speaks. "When Cú Chulainn was a boy, not a year older than you, he overheard Conchobar telling his pupils that 'any warrior who takes arms this day, glory and fame everlasting shall be his.' Well, though not past his eighth birthday Cú Chulainn goes to Conchobar and asks for a weapon. But the child was so strong, that all weapons broke to pieces in his hands, till Conchobar gave him his very own weapons, and those were grand weapons indeed, but Conchobar wept to give them to the young hero, for his prophecy had only half been told, 'any warrior who takes arms this day, glory and fame everlasting shall be his, but the days of his life shall be few and short.'""Nuair a bhí Cú Chulainn nach buachaill, bliain níos sine ná tusa, Conchobar overheard sé ag insint a ndaltaí go bhfuil 'aon laoch a airm a thógann beidh an lá seo, Laochra everlasting glory agus a bheith aige.' Bhuel, cé nach dtéann anuas a bhreithlá Cú Chulainn a Conchobar ochtú agus iarrann leith airm. Ach an páiste a bhí chomh láidir, a bhris gach airm a píosaí ina lámha, till thug Conchobar dó a chuid airm féin, agus iad siúd a bhí airm mhór go deimhin, ach wept Conchobar chun iad a thabhairt chuig an laoch óg, ach amháin le haghaidh a tuar a bhí ráite go leith, 'aon laochra a airm a thógann beidh an lá seo, Laochra everlasting glory agus a bheith aige, ach beidh an lá a shaoil ​​a roinnt agus gearr." The boy stares up at his grandmother with wide eyes, and she laughs.

The bard laughs, a strange sound, then he looks around again. The twilight still surrounds him, the three Fir Bhlog still around him, the Fir Bhlog, he had been fighting them. He had been fighting them and he had been speared. His hand goes to his chest, where he had felt that dread spear break through his ribcage and into his heart, but the wound is gone, and the bard realizes that he, Liam, is dead, they were all dead. They had killed him and now they were dead too. "Ha, that's what you get.Ha, sin an méid a fhaigheann tú ..." Liam chuckles for a moment, then he looks up once more at the archway, and the name comes to him, "Tír na nÓg....."

Another memory is about to flash across his mind when it is interrupted suddenly by a voice, their words inaudible, but somehow familiar. One of the giants in turns its head and rumbles a reply "Chuir tú dom anseo..." Turning his head, Liam's ghostly heart sinks, for not far off, he sees the rest of his companions. "My companions..." his voice croaks, sounding strange and echoey. Cahal, towering above the others, Moirne, standing protectively at the front, Der'Faille, his weapon in hand, ever alert, Seagdhd, standing beside his companions, angry eyes promising dread for any attackers, Ceara, almost a smile on her face full of concern and wisdom, and, a dwarf, someone Liam had never seen before. But his friends were coming, coming to join the ranks of the dead alongside- No, they were not dead. He knew it, he could see it, but then how? He stops his shuffling and turns towards them questioningly, his head still shaking in disbelief.

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  #9  
Old 05-13-2011, 01:41 PM
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As the scenery flies by, Cahal's stomach is unsettled by the event. Not that there movement caused him any effort, but traveling like that was unnerving. Covering his mouth, he choked back the bile that had risen, until he finally managed to get it under control. Standing in front of the Fir Bhlog, possibly one of the two he had taken the life of personally, the barbarian's hair stood on end and he gripped the weapon tightly. As the confusion was apparent in the creature's eyes and he responded in a non-hostile manner, this made the large fellow question what happened in death. Why is it not attackin' us fer? It seems ta know dat we killed it, but it doesn't want any revenge. Why...

Watching the lack of energy from his former foe, Cahal was almost depressed. He was ready to make a second stand against these, even if his body wasn't. Once his eyes settled on the bard, the warrior's heart thudded loudly in his chest, elated to see his companion. However, he kept his emotions in check, mostly because he was waiting to see if the same lack of feeling was apparent in Liam as well. Hearing the bard talk made him understand that the effects of this place were not natural. But then again, being the only ones alive wasn't either, so he still had much to sort out mentally.

Still, he rushed forward and went to slap the bard's back in a jovial manner to celebrate being reunited with him, even temporarily. "How da hell 're ya Liam?" With that statement, his hand hopefully connects with the man's back.

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  #10  
Old 05-14-2011, 12:51 PM
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Der'Faille looked at Cahal sarcastically, "Oh look its Liam".

Turning back to the fallen bard, "Liam! Brother! I...I...tried to get to you in time...", the ranger looked down at the ground for a moment, "...but I couldn't...I'm so sorry." He changed the tone of his voice to be more optimistic, "You are with us now and perhaps we can get you out of here with us!" His arms went out to embrace the bard but his arms found nothing solid to catch it. Liam was made of a mist, as thick and viscous as that of ground fog on the floor of a cool moist bog. Der'Faille's arms went straight through this mist and the lack of resistance made him stumble forward right through Liam!

Regaining his balance, he looked back and the thick spirit-mists, once disturbed, quickly reformed to re-form the bard. A shiver went up Der'Faille's spine, "That was weird."
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Old 05-16-2011, 09:05 AM
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Ceara moved up with the rest until she stood next to Liam. As her reccently departed spirit friend spoke she had to remind herself of the promise she made only moments before to not marvel or dismiss anything just because it made no sense in the real world....for they certainly were not in the real world. As Der'Faille stepped through the ghost of Liam she smiled and said "Now only if you could have done that trick a few minutes ago you would not be in this situation." She gave him a wink. "How do you....er....feel? Are you drawn to stand in this line? What kind of thoughts do you have? You don't feel like taking a bit out of oue flesh.....right?" Even as she jested a thougt came to about the Shambler. "If the curse or whatever happened to me was from an undead creature....maybe it's taint can be removed or at least controlled while I am here. I will have to learn everything possible about this place. Why, I might end up with more knowledge than the fool druids." At that thought her smile widened even more.
  #12  
Old 05-16-2011, 12:38 PM
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The bard seems to regain more of his memory as he looks upon the faces of his old companions. Though perhaps only an hour or so has passed since he fell, to Liam, it feels like several years have passed, years of emptiness and waiting to move toward the shining gate.

As words of astonishment and wonder are exchanged with Liam, the twilight seems to grow colder. A call rises from the darkness beyond. It's the cry of a predator catching the scent of prey, and it's soon answered by another wail, this one lower and mournful, yet full of the same hunger as the first. Food. Meat. Blood. Drink. Warm flesh. Food. Food. Food.

Though wordless, the dark wails carry all these messages and more to your ears. And despite yourselves, your bellies respond in kind. The hunger comes on you so quickly that a few of you who've gone the longest without eating suddenly pitch forward, grasping your stomachs in agony. It is as though your insides were taken out and filled with corrosive smoke. It's a hunger like you've never felt before, and even as the strange, frenzied cries grow louder, it's nearly impossible to think about doing anything other than ripping open your satchels and gobbling your rations.

Even Deorain, as solid as the rest of you, topples over, dramatically gripping his bloated belly. "Ooooo! The hunger! It's all coming back to me now..." he yells. "This place isn't for mortals -- there is no food here, nothing to survive off of... there’s no death either, just eternal non-life for all the shades. But time moves different here." Everyone had heard tales of Oisín and his three year adventure to the Otherworld… a three year adventure that actually lasted three hundred years. You used to love listening to it as a child, though staring now at the doors of Tir na nOg in the distance, the implications of the old legend are unnerving. "Time flows normally for our minds here -- but our bodies -- arrrggggh!" The little fellow clutches his belly again in agony. "Our bodies must still find a way to make up for it."

You realize you can't be sure just how long you've been here. There are no stars in the Borderlands, only the infinite black above, behind, and beyond. It feels you’ve spent only a few minutes upon the shifting landscape, but who can say? On top of having had almost nothing to eat since before the Fir Bhlogs' attack, you feel as though you haven’t eaten for days and days. The Hunger is even worse than that though -- it's a maddening force that suddenly grips you, demanding you find sustenance now.

DM's NoteAll characters* suffer 1 point CON damage as the shock of the Borderlands sets in.

All characters*: Will Save: DC 10. Success means that though you are insanely hungry, you can withstand the impulse to immediately eat something. Failure means you can't resist ripping open your bag and devoting yourself to eating for the next few minutes. If someone tries to take your food away, you will jealously defend what's yours with force.

Here in the Borderlands, you will need to eat 3x rations per day, but you will never feel satisfied. Anyone wanting to attempt "rationing" their rations will need to let me know, as saves will be required.

Current ration supplies and HP totals.
Seaghdh - 9 days rations - 32hp/32
Ceara - 2 days rations - 18/18
DF - 14 days - 30/32
Cahal 4 days - 8/42
Moirne - 7 days (I am guessing) - 28/28

Note: Other than Ceara (who took no damage last time we were in combat), it doesn't appear that anyone's current HP totals, as noted on your character sheets, are correct. Please look through the last few pages of Chapter 2 and post your actual total along with your next game post. Update on your character sheet as well.

*Except Liam.

Last edited by mountainbound; 05-16-2011 at 04:29 PM.
  #13  
Old 05-16-2011, 02:25 PM
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Seaghdh is liking this less and less as events unfurl. He just wants to leave the dead alone and to their fate. He doe snot want to run up, pat them on the back, and try to share a drink for them. They are dead-- despite where they are, who is to say that this is really what it claims to be? Seaghdh has heard innumerable stories about monsters that can change their shape or form.

...Especially--

What means this... apparition is the same bard that had come to the island with them? Who can say that it is not some other monster, taking a trust-worthy form from the dreams of the living or dead? Liam is dead. Even if this... thing, is still him, Seaghdh is wary of it. As it speaks, he looks at it crossly, trying to decide if it is merely waiting for them to lower their guard. He trusts nothing in this place, least of all the restless dead. For all he knows, this is the spiritual aspect of the Black that had afflicted Goban. Seaghdh will be far more wary about keeping the living just so. The dead... they are beyond his ken and his power. For good or for ill.

Just as he opens his mouth to utter forth some acerbic comment, the voices begin-- the hunger begins, slamming into him with a force beyond his his imagining.

With a sharp grimace, and no small end of profanity, Seaghdh doubles forward, falling to his knees and grasping at his stomach. He had not been expecting such an assault on his body, and it caught him completely unprepared. Yet, prepared or not, Seaghdh was strong enough-- or simply angry and stubborn enough-- to resist the need to tear into his food at this particular moment.

"Ahhh, smoke, nothin', boy. This' no worse than a week of nothin' but whiskey," Seaghdh says through clenched teeth. As he carefully stands back to his feet, he lets out a sardonic laugh."Perhaps I could sleep for a whole year in here," he says wryly.

With barely a glance at the apparition that is Liam, he speaks to everyone else, hand still holding the pain growing in his stomach. We. Cinnae. Stay. Here. To the gates. Less you have a better destination in mind."

He turns to lead the way, pausing long enough to give the Liam-Ghost a once-over look of no small importance. "Liam. Help the others who need it, if ye can." A test? A trial? It is unsure exactly what Seaghdh's problem is with the spirit of his former companion, but he had seemed quite hesitant to allow the bard-spirit out of his sight not long ago. Most likely he is simply waiting for Liam to either prove or disprove his fearful, paranoid suspicions.

OOC
CON damage? Fething Ow! >.< (down to 15)

Will Save: Passed

Seaghdh will indeed try to ration his rations. I doubt he'll succeed, but he shall at least make the effort. Oh, and don't mind Seaghdh's suspicion of Liam, it'll be passing so long as Liam isn't trying to work at making us ghosts, too ^^. Undead *really* freak him out, especially in this context, as he's terrified of finding a specific something. >.>

HP: 11/32 -> Reduced to 8/29 due to CON loss.
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  #14  
Old 05-16-2011, 06:00 PM
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Cahal was listening to the conversation until his ears picked up on the wails for sustenance. He tried to ignore them, but they continued to grow louder and more incessant. Dis can't be happenin'... we will be dri'en mad or ea'en by des spi'its. Just then, his stomach responded to the call, clawing and tearing at his internal linings like a possessed thing.

"Arrgh..."

Dropping to his knees, the mighty barbarian is quickly reduced to a quivering mass, clutching his lower abdomen as the hunger settled in. Growling in pain and hunger, he struggles to get his pack off his back. The effort tore the tissue in two of his three wounds on his abdomen, but he didn't care about that. Once the pack was in his hands, he rapidly opened it and upon finding one of his rations, began to devour it with vigor. Looking around at the others who were unaffected by the need to eat, he couldn't understand why they didn't want food. But his real worry was those who were similarly hungry, as they posed the biggest threat to his food supply. So with a nervous apprehension, Cahal ate quick as he could, while looking around shiftily at the others and the floating spirits as blood began to soak his shirt in a fresh red color.

Der is no way I'm sharin' dis food... though I may not have much if dis hu'ger co'tinues like it is.

 

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  #15  
Old 05-16-2011, 09:58 PM
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Ceara felt the first stirrings of hunger pain even before the others mentioned being hungry. She had never been one to eat much which is why she was always skinning. Ceara could not remember the last time she felt hunger of any kind. This was quite....alarming. She moaned as she clutched her stomach and bent over saying "Oh dear.....oh dear oh dear oh dear....this is not good." She fell to her knees and her pack landed next to her in a heap. She took one look at it and then....attacked it. She ripped open the pack nearly taking the well made strap off in the process. Instead of taking the time to be gentle with the things in there she instead started to just toss it to the side in haste......she had...to find....FOOD! Finally she found some dried bread and a lump of cheese. She bit into the cheese with a vengeance and started to chew. When there was just a little space in her mouth she crammed it full again. After she had devoured the bread and half of the cheese she said with an almost full mouth "Weeeh...havf too geth ou...offff heru."

She was about to reach for the rest of her food but in a flash Deorain had literally flew into her bad and started eating the last of her rations with his feet sticking up in the air. All anyone heard was "Hum yummm yummm yummm BURP!"

 
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