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Chapter IV: On the Road
![]() Then the roads grew unsafe. Then the patrols stopped coming. Then the adventurers looked elsewhere for adventure. Things looked grim for the villages that seemed defenseless therein, unprotected against the craven tastes of bandits, monsters, and looters. Until Elturgard, that is. In the 1430s, the holy city of Elturel began taking the smaller towns under its protection, for Baldur's Gate would no longer send their Flaming Fists outside the city since the Bhaalspawn Crisis. Elturel stepped in, and where cities were less than willing to join freely, they forcibly annexed them, under the auspice of protecting them from "undue influence" of unholy beings and organizations, like the nearby Zhentarim of Darkhold. Irony abound: in 1444, it was revealed the High Rider of Elturel was a vampire and undead began to prey en masse on the holy city, until Thavius Kreeg, a young paladin of Torm, was given the gift of the Companion, a holy light given to him from the Celestial Realms above, by an angel. The vampires and undead all perished and Elturel grew stronger, Elurgard now a holy kingdom under Kreeg. The Trade Way stabilized. Merchants felt safe again. Baldur's Gate, Elturel's near neighbor, grew restless and angry, for Elturel proved a strategic stopping place on the Trade Way, with high taxes specifically for Baldur's Gate. A "morality tax," as it were. Trade on the seas was the norm for the century after the Spellplague, but things are changing. Baldur's Gate came to dominate trade in the years after the Spellplague, but Waterdeep threatens to supplant it by the end of the decade. Grand Duke Abdel Adrian perished after ruling for the better part of that century, revealed to be the last of the Bhaalspawn, whose death ushered in the return of the Lord of Murder himself. While Baldur's Gate falters, Elturgard flourishes. The Trade Way has returned: but the future of the powers that lay upon it is an uncertain matter indeed. -Lady Marbella Greenwinter of Waterdeep, in an economic report to the Lord's Alliance, 1486 DR 7 Flamerule 1489 DR Outside of Elturel, Elturgard The Sword Coast The evening of the fifth day has led them at last to this: to the gates of Elturel. The Friends of Graycastle, if they be worthy of such a name, left Greenest early on the 3rd,through clear weather. The day was uneventful, and camping out, it was on the second day of their journey that they arrived at Berdusk, thus officially passing into the territory that belonged to Elturgard. Already the air grew thick with sanctimonious souls, with farmers all wearing folk renditions of the holy symbols of many a goodly god: Chauntea, first, but then Torm and Tyr and Illmater, and Lathander the Morning-Lord. Most were reasonable folk, but many insisted that instead of "good day" that they be told "gods be with you," or specific gods for those sworn to certain deities. When the farmers sang songs in the fields, they were hymns. Day two saw them leave Berdusk by midday and head northward, crossing the farmlands of Elturgard. The further from an established city like Berdusk, the more the signs that Greenest had not been an isolated incident. More than one village had been burnt to the ground, left for the crows with no survivors to speak of. Greenest was lucky. In the third town, they come across Hellriders, the name of an order of knights that serve Elturel. Led by a dark woman dedicated to Tyr, she stopped the group, demanding their name and reason for traveling. Talking it out was not difficult, though not all members of the group were agreeable. At news that even outside of Elturel towns were being raided and by the Cult of the Dragon no less, the Hellriders were hardly put at ease. "Praise the Blind God, that this was not an attack on our holy kingdom. It does little to put my heart at ease, though. Gods keep you safe, travelers, and to Elturel in haste." Hellriders: a curious name. The third and fourth days are hardly any better, though with more survivors: farmers took in refugees, many heading for the holy city. The closer to the Holy City, the more refugees heading towards it, many without horses. It may take a tenday for many to reach it. And by midday on the fifth day, they arrived at the banks of the River Chionthar, heading west to the Sword Coast and Sea of Swords. Following it, when their bodies told them that night had come, light hardly seemed to fade: the sky turned orange, but a bright light, not the color of the sun but something else, a whiter light, shone from the northwest, and soon, the north: for they arrived at a bridge, and across it, was the Holy City of Elturel. At the banks of the opposite side of the river were high white walls, and a layer city, with a tall central keep and several large green areas in the city. Music rose from the shores, and carried across the river, which was guarded by a contingent of not Hellknights, but Knights of the Companion, dedicated to the light that glowed above the city, called the Companion. The light is powerful, almost too strong, but grows softer, as if it knows night is coming. It soon comes to look like it will be a permanent, glowing moon above the city, in spite of the moon above that shines just fine. Meepo is absolutely gobsmacked. "Mee—I.... I think big wall city is pretty!" Meepo grins to Rhokax and Sora, who have been helping him with his speech. With his hood over his head, he has been careful not to reveal himself, and keeps his snout covered too: given the status of the Cult of the Dragon in creating this train of refugees, it would be quite dificult to explain his presence here as a knight himself. As they approach the Companions, one of them, a smaller Half-Elf male with rusty hair and a triple claw scar on the left side of his face, looks them over. "Welcome to Elturgard; accomodations can be made for any and all at the temples, or you can find an inn or hostel to your liking. A pledge of pacifism is required, and your names. If you seek someone, we can check for any messages left here for you." He and his companions look expectant. Meepo gulps.
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Last edited by Sassafrass; Feb 12th, 2021 at 01:42 AM. |
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--Announcements Go Here-- Tyranny of Dragons - Clawmarked | The Curse of Strahd - Pottinger | Ratcatchers - Gardrim | Yeohven 3049 - Guffred
Last edited by benchly; Mar 5th, 2021 at 05:24 PM. Reason: words are hard |
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The first day out from Greenest was one of the longest since Sora had left her native land far behind. It only took her the morning to figure out how to juggle stones while on the back of her horse. It would take her much longer - and a number of large welts on Meepo's head - to give up trying to teach it to the kobold. By evening, she had worked her own way up to the strange, tri-pointed metal darts she had brought from Kara-our.
"Dane! Dane! Look at what I can do!" He didn't seem all that impressed, however. By the second day, the darts had been put away as the group travelled amongst the farmers in Berdusk. Whenever she was told 'gods be with you,' Sora would slip off her horse and approach, determined to figure out which gods, exactly, should be with them and how she would be able to tell if they were or not. This happened a handful of times before she was told, in no uncertain circumstances by a haughty elven wizard who shall remain nameless, that she was not to get off her horse again until they reached the camp that night or else she would be left behind. Sora's response to the threat was to tie her rope to her saddle then leap off the horse and cast levitate on herself so that she hovered just a few inches above the ground, pulled along at the same speed as the horse and glide along beside the offending wizard's horse until the spell wore off. After that, the first time she was told 'gods be with you,' Sora replied with, "And may the Compassionate Kwan Ying ease your suffering. May she grace this land with her presence, so that all may feel her glory," yelled from the back of her horse. That night, she began a contest with Gukan to see who could hold their breath the longest. It wasn't until the group found their first burned out village that Sora began to take the journey a bit more seriously. Walking among the rubble and debris, she was much more somber than she had been since meeting the others. Slipping from her horse, not really caring if Viservax upheld his threat or not, she moved through the destruction, placing her hand on a few of the charred beams and closing her eyes. When she returned to the others, face dirty with the soot, there were streaks running through the black grime and she positioned her horse in the back of the line, cloak pulled up tight around her. And so, when the group came upon the refugees, Sora began to fall further and further behind and she left her horse to approach families. A small child traveling with her grandparents was given rations; water to an old woman; a glowing left hand on a wounded leg. When the group finally reached Elturel, Sora was on her feet as she half-walked, half-trotted behind the others. Her horse had been given to a pregnant woman so that she may have an easier time reaching the city. Despite her own sore feet, the genasi seemed to find herself over the three days and she walked with a lighter step. She had seen death on the road, yes, but she had been able to give others something more powerful than that darkness: she had given them hope. Hope that someone out there still sought to help those in need while asking for, and expecting nothing in return. Her heart was lighter and when she saw the great, holy city, she had a look of childlike wonder in her eyes. "Very pretty," she agreed with Meepo. "Like the court of the Celestial Emperor..." Last edited by G in Japan; Feb 23rd, 2021 at 06:56 AM. |
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They have arrived. And perhaps, before their manners in some cases, which follow behind.
The knights are confounded from the confusion Dane has in giving his name, in part because he must have something to hide if he cannot simply state his name. Fortunately Meepo comes to the rescue and Dane collects himself. They soon take stock of the group: a Kobold clearly dressed as a knight of some sort, a Dragonborn who was undoubtedly some sort of warrior-knight... in the mind of a good scion of Elturgard, all warriors worth their weight in weaponry are knights. And soon, Dane Blight of the Scythes of... Him is made a knight in their eyes. The second knight smiles, her face serene but weathered by sights of war. "Well-met, Dane, and Meepo is it? We do not often receive Kobolds so boldly, and I am glad to see you have nothing to hide in your pride. I hope you hold fast to hope and faith; not all so-called civilized folk are as welcoming as we. Brandish your smile in good faith, and your weapon only in defense of that faith or others." If Kobolds smile, Meepo is gushing. Unfortunately for her and her Half-Elf companion, the Elf of the group steps in to make negotiations short. Or rather, ruin them. By Visverax's reckoning, the Half-Elf was half-Sun Elf, putting him in an opposed category to his own Moon Elf form of High Elves (a category used in Evermeet due to its proximity to the plane-hopping Eladrin of the Feywild), and Visverax cuts to the chase: they are looking for someone, and they would like to be taken there. The woman's face hardens, while the younger Half-Elf blushes, even in his scar, feeling quite put in his place. "I am no stranger to Elven haughtiness, but you do not seem unintelligent enough to make such a comment and not realize the sheer insidious hilarity in it?" The woman indicates all around her, to the refugees pouring into Elturel. "Everyone is looking for someone. Everyone has messages left for them. You are not alone, good sir Elf. As it happens, Samael here was given instructions by a Half-Elf traveler a few days ago, telling us to look out for a group with a haughty Elf, a Goliath, a Dragonborn knight, and a foreign Genasi of some distant land, among others. You are so far the only group that meets the description. The haughtiness set me off. Samael? What was the message?" Samael, the Half-Elf, reaches into his leftside pocket and pulls out a small piece of torn parchment, reading it, realizing his handwriting is terrible; or no, it was smeared. "Oh, uh... 'Vesvarix, Gokun, Sara... bring group to A Pair of Black Antlers.... ask for Frume. Leosin.' You know Ontharr Frume? Lucky break, that. Are you even refugees? Or are you warriors come to join us?" The woman clicks her tongue. "Now Samael, we cannot presume the intentions of all wayfaring strangers. They have business that predates the refugees and smoke. Whatever the case, Ontharr Frume is a well-known name around here. You'll be looking for A Pair of Black Antlers. Across the bridge, follow Southbridge almost until you reach Shiarra's Market; on the last street you're able, called Maidensbridge Street, turn right. You'll see the sign. It is, you will be unsurprised to hear, marked by a pair of black antlers." She nods across the bridge, pointing to the docks to the northeast of where the group stands, in what is the city's southeastern side. Ships are docked all over the city but it is here that the city's docks can be seen, with cranes and numerous river vessels loading and unloading goods; clearly Elturel is planning something, from the sheer amount of goods. "Do you need anything else? Any other directions? You're just in time for the Festival of the Companion come tomorrow." Whatever they inquire, she gives them a final order: "And when you find Frume, tell him he owes Marinda Evenhand a shot tomorrow in the wrestling contest; I expect he doesn't have a chance." Samael smiles as the group departs. "You're going to kick his ass for sure tomorrow!" "Kick his ass for sure tomorrow, ma'am. And watch your language, Samael." She winks at him.
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Last edited by Sassafrass; Mar 11th, 2021 at 10:20 PM. |
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--Announcements Go Here-- Tyranny of Dragons - Clawmarked | The Curse of Strahd - Pottinger | Ratcatchers - Gardrim | Yeohven 3049 - Guffred
Last edited by benchly; Mar 9th, 2021 at 10:37 AM. |
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Black Tomcat The tomcat remained most comfortable with Gukan still, respected Sora and Rhokax, and more than once was caught watching Meepo. Not so much in a threatening way, but the cat's curiosity was definitely getting the better of him at this point. Since the kobold at this point knew the tiger wasn't just a beast, some of that curiosity seemed to have rubbed off, but cats were rarely bothered by adoring interest, whether truly adoration or not. Dane's confession back in Greenest had made Puma spend some time in deep thought; the concerns were mostly academic for the druid who had no firsthand knowledge of the groups involved or their impact, only that Dane was choosing to make his allegiance with the group. Was that not what Puma had himself done, for the time being? Given Visverax's attitude toward the druid, the cat tended to avoid even looking in the elf's direction when he could avoid it. Why invite trouble when there were more interesting ways of spending his time, among them snoozing on the goliath's shoulder or lap? It was at their first campsite where the Friends of Greycastle first met the panther which had earned Puma his moniker. The significantly larger black cat liked to scout the campsite and even stayed up at night on watch, even if admittedly some of the time that watch was in a tree with the panther snoozing with one eye open. For nighttime guard duty, the panther was far less likely to be spotted by anyone interested in the movements of the humanoids around a campfire. There was an evening when he felt it best to shift into a tiger, but the benefits of darkvision and size when there were more scared and desperate refugees around them added a certain weight to the choice. As the druid was curled up on Gukan's lap as a black cat when they were stopped to declare themselves, he didn't feel particularly obligated to respond. The only indication he's paying attention to what's going on around him was the quiet huff when Visverax demanded ridiculous things... like gate guards knowing precisely who he means when every traveler is alike. Thus it came as a surprise when they actually did have some knowledge of this Leosin character, but the manner in which an authoritative voice handed Vis his metaphorical rear end made even the pretend-asleep cat perk up and yawn a big grin. Stretching in a very feline way—complete with his tail brushing the face of his seat the goliath—the cat took stock of where they were and those checking travelers. The refugee influx was not unsurprising, though the humor remaining in the attitudes of the guardians was a pleasant surprise. Many would have long since grown jaded or blinded, but not these two... or was it the city or country as a whole? This whole "second sun" business felt strange to the nature-bound druid, but what was there to do? It was a feature that had been present for longer than Puma had been alive, and he had passed through parts of the country before—but without interacting with any of the godbound folk inhabiting it. Choosing to wake up and sit on the goliath's shoulders instead of pretending to snooze further, the druid paid attention to everything he could see from his perch. The festival the following day meant they would have trouble moving around the city, but the number of ships meant possibilities for getting out of there faster. Taking the river would be a more pleasant way to reach Baldur's Gate, after all, for all the cat tended to avoid the water. Not wasting time was more of a priority at that point.
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PCs: Dramoth "Nova" / Rhokax Soulreader / Kayne Cyire / Torm / Donovan Whistler GM: Scales of War 5e & Yeohven: Fall from Grace Real Life hitting harder and harder. Working on updates as soon as I can, please have pity (patience) on me! |
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