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  #31  
Old Dec 6th, 2022, 12:29 AM
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With Tomas
left-aligned image
Laisren, the hand is grave-cold, but firm and unrotten in yours. When you talk about Fain, he is rapt, and tells you about Liri.

Yes, she’s highborn, only child of the lord and lady at the manor. He points toward the road Nukky already knows leads to the Melve’en estate. I offered to end it with her when they announced her betrothal last year, but she would not hear of it. I felt loving her as selfish, low and poor as I am. She has never hungered, been cold—She insisted my talent would feed us and love would keep us warm. But she's---an elf maiden. The decades I have are nothing to her. In a blink I’ll be old and infirm, and she will have centuries alone. An oath between us is not what her family wants. But I cannot bear her tears or to see her wed another. She has likely slipped away even now they prepare the wedding feast. She says we can travel, adventure, and love each other every day that we are given, for no one is promised a tomorrow.

He believes she will arrive within an hour. He is incandescent with joy, waiting for her. But Laisren, the sun never moves. She is an hour away from coming, just as she was when you arrived an hour past.

Still —- these things she said to him. Familiar.

Fain says, We rot in this small town, separate, stealing time! And Why are we waiting for one fight on that same green hill I can see from my bedroom window when I wake up---alone. He loves his family, as you love yours, and wants to protect the town. But he says, Of course we have to save Rie, but who cares who is the consort for this one fight? I want a thousand fights beside you. A thousand adventures with you in a thousand landscapes. He whispers, We can both be champions in the wider world.

But Tomas is talking again. Red gem? No, I don’t work with stones. Now I said, I’d make you a deal.The daggers are two gold, the cuff is one and a half, but I’ll sell you both for three.

Laisren, they are so perfectly matched and balanced that they are +1 daggersmagical, and silvered to boot. They would sell for 800 gold easily. The cuff might sell for half that. But you see he feels bad asking so much. What a difference a thousand years of inflation makes... If you look closer, you see that the daggers are inscribed in Elvish. Not the same runes, though the set is perfectly matched in every other way.

He explains, It’s a couplet from a famous Elven poem, half per blade. I made a set for Liri with her favorite poem on it—-not this one. Want me to translate? Blade one says,

I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one

Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one


is on the second.

Liri chose it. I think it’s about how we all have feet of clay, but she says, it's that true heroes may be hard to recognize; she say the true heroes are us, no matter what her family or people say.


Well
right-aligned image
Marda you cock a suspicious tufty brow, but the vine seems to know nothing of Nukky or his stone. It isn’t prescient. It is just a vine, in a well. Non motile. It sees nothing outside of the town around it. It can tell you why it’s different from the other residents, though, and everyone in the party touching it can hear the answer—Hlin, Baly, A’ru and probably Nukky as he is touching Baly to cast guidance.

Only I was alive when reality tore and pocketed. All my friends and protectors, all the seedlings my dearest friends carried, were dead. Slaughtered by orcs. They’’d been dead for several hours when a horrible scream of wind and rain rent the heavens. The plane tore, and Vildenai was torn with it. This mirror of it formed here in the Bright. You know, do you not, that the Bright is a reflection of the Prime? This is a reflection of a reflection, closed, small, finite—or so I believe. The tearing killed me on the Prime; my soul was caught here. The corpses of my already dead friends and children appeared with me, but their souls had already gone to their gods. After a few decades, the bodies got up and wandered, bleeding and weeping. Over the centuries, one by one, they knit together, found their cheerful rhythms. No souls are here, save mine.

I don’t know if I have seeds? I hope. Even if I do…Will my seedlings live on in your hair if you do escape? I do not know. Is there a way out for you at all. I do not know. I only…hope
.


Nukky, you offer guidance, and Baly you begin to clamber down. Sybil Vine helps you, forming hand and footholds, moving you toward the position of the dead Orc who had the dagger.

Hlin, you unleash an orc-hoard of questions, but the vine has deep goodwill toward you, and will accept the coin and shoe to remember you by, and try to answer queries. It sees the horse, it tells you, but it is unfazed. Everything here is dead. A ghost is not worth noticing here. This place holds many—it has seen Vs of dead geese fly over and ghost fishermen catching hundreds of ghost fish.

left-aligned image
It says, Tomas is like the others. There is no soul there. He got up headless, at first. It is only that he has been crafted with more care, and is a truer and more detailed reflection of the sweet young man I once was so fond of…It is very like Tomas—I will say, I have wondered if Tomas’s soul ever did go to its god. Because he is so like himself in life. But still, I feel firmly that his …pneuma? Is not in the village. I hope tha—

Just then, Baly reaches the place where the orc corpse was. The vine’s psychic voice cuts out abruptly and it gurgles and fizzes.

You all feel a sick drop in your stomachs. Time seesaws, you smells gardenias and ozone, and Baly is turned and twisted, helpless, in the vine's thrashing grasp as it wraps his throat with a tendril. Vines clutch and manipulate to turn his body as the dead orc was turned, same position. He is unharmed, but all four of you black out briefly, and you share a vision that you understand is from another time, another plane, another reality.

In a lovely garden on a bright sunny day, an austere older elf man stands tall, his expensive clothes smeared with dark red blood. He passes the very dagger Baly holds to a hulking orc who has a hoard of heavily armed orc riders on wargs behind him.

The elf says coldly: Kill them. All. Down to the last. Spare not even the children or the dogs. She will learn the meaning of duty. She will bend. Go swiftly, and bring the head of the silversmith to me.

The vision fades, and the vine, shaking and hurt, passes Baly back up to the well's lip as fast as it can. It sets him gently on his feet and retracts, releasing all of you, moaning and hurt.
.

OocEVERYONE who saw the vision (all but Laisren) make a 14 WIS saving throw or take 2d6 psychic damage.

If you fail by more than 5, add one level of exhaustion. You are welcome to roll insights; the more specific you are about what you are trying to understand, the better.

Dice itchy left armpit now:
d20+4sh12 (19)+4 Total = 23
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  #32  
Old Dec 6th, 2022, 08:41 AM
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A-ru
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For one agonizing instant, A'ru hangs in mid-air at the end of Sybil's tendril, arms and legs splayed, teeth on edge, and fur standing out all over.

Sneech crouches and growls, as the ranger drops prone at his side, eyes closed and breathing ragged.

After a few seconds, the marda's eyelids flutter open. He whispers hoarsely but knowingly, "Nobleman daddies. Tie up the lot of 'em and throw 'em in a lake, sez I."

The ranger painstakingly uses Sneech to pull himself upright. He attempts to shout so all his companions can hear, but his voice is weak despite his attempted bravado, and trails off at the end. "It's time the marda went extinct from this hole in reality's hindquarters. Let's find Malveen, um, Mansion, eh, yeah. Let's go."

He starts to mount Sneech, but his legs wobble and he slides back to the grass in a kneeling position. He mutters, "Pluck me bald, I need a nap." He looks up at Hlin with red-rimmed eyes. "Can we nap here, d'yez think?"





 


 
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  #33  
Old Dec 6th, 2022, 08:17 PM
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Laisren, in the shopThe scene is terribly bittersweet. Every vision of Tomas and Liri is a reflection of Laisren and Fain. He, Tomas and Fain, Liri. But the consequence of that analogy are too awful to contemplate. The noble's dreams and platitudes of adventure, all turned to enteral spite. The commoner's fate amounting to little but a slit throat and an eternity of meaningless pining. Laisren's stomach turns and his hidden tail bristles. He shifts in his britches to accomodate the tail, and presses a hand against his midsection, to soothe his worry.

The uncanny parallel returns Laisren's attention to the daggers. He grasps one as Tomas recites the inscribed verses. Laisren gasps at the price. He looks to see if Tomas is joking, but he is very much not. Laisren is torn. His hardscrabble instincts tell him that this not a deal to pass up. But his sense of fair play tells him that this is too good of a deal to be fair. Can he exploit the bewitched shopkeep? Just as important - are these even real? Would I just be throwing my gold away?

His head bobs back and forth as he considers the conundrum. But finally, Laisren shrugs. "This one..." he touches the dagger on the countertop "... this is the 'hero' blade? And this" he waves the one in his hand, "this has the 'not true one' verse? I think these are a good pair, for me and mine, like you and yours. This is for me," he sheathes the grasped 'not true' blade, "and that can only be for Fainwyn," he touches the 'hero' blade. "Hero and The Lie," he mutters with a smirk, pleased with the names he's derived, and his assignment to their bearers.

He reaches down to his purse and ruefully shakes it to hear the clink of the coins that remain. "Your prices are more than fair." Laisren shakes out the named price of two gold into his palm. "But..." he hesitates, and shakes out four more coins for a total of six. "You'll take this. I insist!" he adds, as he sees Tomas hesitate. "Two for the blades. Four for my blessing. On your betrothal. You'll have hard times, and you'll need to treat your love well. This is my gift, on your happy occasion. May you be together to the end of your days, whenever they come. And when the end comes, may you see it together." Laisren doesn't know if Tomas can understand that with this gift, he's wishing the same for himself. It doesn't matter. It's probably a foolish gesture anyways; the blades are likely nothing but moonbeams and motes of dust. Wishes are what is left. More and more, it seems clear that the answer to Laisren's question was not the one he wanted. It's become more and more appanrent to Laisren that the Banshee's riddle refers to a "little rose"; Roisin.

Roisin is the Consort. Laisren is The Lie. A Lie who will fight for what's his. Wishes are all that remains after that. Laisren picks up the blades and presses them tightly to his chest. But wishes have a way of becoming real.

Laisren nods his thanks, repeats his blessing, and takes his leave of the shop.
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  #34  
Old Dec 7th, 2022, 12:49 AM
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Hlin winces and, still instinctively feeling the body of the kentori, he rears back on his remaining legs and paws at the air with his hands, shaking his head from side to side, before running quickly around the well, trying to put distance between himself and this unwelcome sensation.

His entire body aches, but the pain passes through him, like a whip on his back...it is there, and then removed, but the fear of it landing again frightens him.

He turns to look at the vine and asks reproachfully: "Is that how you share secrets with your friends?"

But the vine had given them an incredible insight. A man, presumably Malveen's father, had ordered the execution of Tomas, and enjoined orcs to do it. Orcs who, probably fueled by bloodlust or maybe simply boredom, decided to expand their remit of dead bodies by an entire village-worth.

As painful as it was, Insight roll = 21Hlin looked back into the vision and tried to determine if he could tell the time of day and the direction from which the orcs arrived. For if their victims were caught in this cycle, then perhaps the perpetrators were, too. Or, if nothing else, knowing their direction would allow Hlin to backtrack to the source of their bloody commission.

After examining the vision again, he turns to A-ru and Nukky, "Yes, a rest would do us all well. Perhaps the vine could stand watch, but this time not project dreams of horror into our minds. Oh, and wake us if Tomas heads off to find his love? Are you okay with that down there, Baly?" he calls into the well.

And if Baly is, and if Laisren joins them, and if A-ru and Nukky all agree, he settles down to rest by the well, giving one last look at the vine. "If you must do something, perhaps you can see if my horse-essence could also carry your seeds. A nursery that walks the world, and a nursery that trots the Bright .. why that gives you fields of rye on both sides of the stream, as we say."





 


 
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  #35  
Old Dec 7th, 2022, 03:12 AM
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Nukky
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"KCHAAAA"

Nukky clutches his head in surprise, but is able to blink through the sudden visions. He darts his head around to see what has happened, to both his friends and to the people around them, hoping that he isn't alone in feeling this sensation. Then, the vision passes. Nukky blinks, patting himself all over. No real injuries or anything of note.

He watches as Hlin and Aru begin to wobble their way towards the clearing. "Yes yes, Nukky think we should make camp here then. Maybe we be in here for a while." He looks over at Baly to see how ok the elf is after seeing him get carried out of the well by vines. Maybe he knew something about the visions they all saw.

 


Character
Nukky

 


 



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  #36  
Old Dec 7th, 2022, 11:03 AM
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Baly-Ho!
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Baly pauses to nod a 'Thanks' to Nukky for the divine blessing before continuing on down into the well.

At the bottom, he pauses as he looks over the body there. He starts to reach out to touch it, and then decides the dagger in his teeth would better suited for that.
As he reaches up to remove it from his teeth the vision rolls over him and then the vine starts to choke the life and very breath from his body.

Teeth clenching harder on the knife, his hands go to his throat, but pause for a moment as he sees the vision unveil.

An elf.

In a fraction of a second, all his past and all his misgivings, his... very place within the elven society comes crashing down.

Anger floods in at the realization of what happened, and that his very people, or at least one here, was behind it. It was the anger that WIS save = 18prevented the shock of what he was seeing to affect his mind in a painful way.
The vine released him when the vision faded and he sucked in a huge breath between clenched teeth that still held the knife.

His jaw hurt from how hard he had bared down on the blade, and he'd later feel fortunate that he hadn't cracked a tooth or two.

As the vine deposited him outside the well on his feet, he just stood there. Angry.

It was Hlin's action of calling down into the well for him that broke him out of the reverie of being lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm right here", he said after removing the dagger from his teeth with his right hand. He then realized he had to think to see if he'd heard what he was being asked to agree to.
A rest, yes. He glanced at A'ru who was kneeling and replied to Hlin, "Yes, yes. A rest will do us some good. Maybe we -"

And then the Anger rose again, not really gone just momentarily under the surface.
He held the dagger up to look at it as he turned his hand over, palm up and spread his fingers. It was elven.

He slowly turned his hand over, letting it fall to the ground at his feet where it bounced slightly coming to rest laying there, not stuck in the ground. He then slowly took off his long bow, lightly dropping it atop the dagger, and then lightly dropped the quiver with arrows atop those as he stared at the pile.
He hadn't dropped them out of concern, but out of a feeling of resignation, or realization. He slowly sat down, crossing his legs as his eyes never left the pile he'd created in front of him. The quiver settled slightly, rolling a bit so the fletching of an arrow tapped his knee.
He flicked it off with the backs of his fingers and then sighed audibly as his left hand created a fist, his left elbow resting on his knee.
His chin rested on his fist as he stared down at the items of elven manufacture, his gaze never having strayed since he'd let go of the dagger.

He stared and said nothing as his mind contemplated on how many hours and hours he had fretted over his place among elves, his bloodline, the traditions, what it meant to be elvish.
He softly uttered something in elvish as he continued to stare at the dagger, and the bow and arrows. "Im gar- found i coth, a ha na- ammen."

 
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  #37  
Old Dec 8th, 2022, 07:55 PM
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STUCKHlin, the vine ignores your reproach and your question. It seems to be unconscious. It got Bay safely up before collapsing into itself. Perhaps the shadow is dying. In the psychic quiet, you examine the vision and your insight tells you several things:

1) The orcs are cold mercenaries who killed everyone, down to the last child, for one reason: the Elf Lord ordered it.
2) The vine didn’t cause the vision. The vision hurt it. Not to mention, it is non motile. It had no way to see those events unspool.
3)The vision was caused by your clever idea—to take a dagger from a much later time period and approximate its position here, a mirror plane, where time doesn’t move.
4) Since time doesn’t move, no one here is caught in a cycle. This is the first minute of the last hour of Tomas’s life, when he was in a state of hope and joy. No orcs are coming, Malveen isn’t coming, Liri isn’t coming.
5) You could sleep here, safely. Nothing will change. You could sleep here, in fact, Forever. Until old age claimed you and you joined the vine eternally.

A’ru, the mad sorcerer-king Ag Tafann created Marda, a people who are clearly en-souled, for the amusement of his children. Creating lives as toys for those who matter is not that different from ending lives to motivate those that matter. It negates your value, and the value of all those who lived here. This is the face of evil, subtle and powerful, more dangerous than a thousand murderous, enraged blunt instruments like Malveen.

You understood first, in fact, at once who is responsible for the deaths at Vildenai. The Orcs were only the instrument. The Elf Lord is the one who chose to wield them.

Maybe this is why you feel so tired? Tired, and alone. You are hit hardest by the vision, because that kind of abnegating power wielded over sentient beings is present in your people’s creation and their doom. You need to rest, and you say so. Hlin’s insight will tell you, there is no danger here.

Nukky you bear your burdens lightly. The sting of seeing truth slides off you. You check on your companions, especially Baly, but he has disappeared deep inside himself.

Only you four seem affected by the vision. No one reacts who wasn’t touching the vine or when the dagger moved into its approximate position from another time. You are in a thousand year old Vildenai, or at least a mirror of it, and you feel that the vision is close to now. Perhaps in this single minute, the orcs are on the way. But time is still, and they will never arrive.

Baly, you dreamed community. You tried it their way, and your failure was ashes in your mouth. This school, then that one—no way to fit. And their way is right—so they insisted. So they said. They are ancient and go back generations. Tradition among the elves means a thing built over thousands of years, not decades as the mayfly humans think. So how can it be wrong?

You stare at a pile of finely crafted culture, and it is—imperfect. At some point, you change from staring to trancing. Elves don’t dream, but dreamlike images come between your open eyes and the reality you watch, translucent and private and whollly your own.

Laisren, Tomas takes the gold, eyed widening, a smile breaking. Ah you have been toying with me. You must be the young Lord, slumming in your Oathbound’s clothes to have such wealth! If you allow it, he will spontaneously hug you. Liri and I will have a such a good start, with this. Thank you!

The daggers feel in your hands, perfectly balanced and weighted, gloriously beautiful. Fain has an eye fro lovely things. If you can get out of here, he’ll be impressed with the craftsmanship.

You come out to find your companions bedding down to camp. The vine that was writhing around now sags, leaves beginning to brown at the edges.

You have the daggers, a new understanding, and a new resolve. You have solved the first riddle:

LIT - L - ROWS. “Little Rose.” Little Rose means Roison, as sure as your name means “My Light.”

But it doesn’t change what you know. Fain loves you. And wishes can be real. Sidling has her own way of saying it: Dreams can come true. This never fails to make you smile—Aisling and her wordplay! Maybe the second riddles will show you a way out? Or maybe not, in case they can suck it.



OOCSORRY NO ART! I am working in NYC with limited tech.

Dropped early as weekends are hard for some, next post Monday as per schedule.

You can complete a long rest, if you all agree, and pick up in the morning, which will be the exact same time of morning as it was when you began resting. Same girls, same priest, same Tomas.

Wow some glorious posts this round.

Can you guys add a line to your STAT BLOCKS that let me now if you have DM ins po? It doesn’t stack, so it woudl be great to have a quick reference to see if you already have it before i pass it out.
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  #38  
Old Dec 10th, 2022, 11:30 AM
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LaisrenLaisren goes rigid as Tomas rushes to hug him (what if he touches the tail?!) and awkwardly does not reciprocate, holding his arms at his sides as Tomas wraps his arms around the farmer. But Laisren does not resist. Down at his sides, his hands turn over and over, silently asking nobody: what should I do?. But he need not do anything. Tomas lets him go, and they say their goodbyes. With his bow, Laisren departs.

The rest of the group seems to have had a bad experience with the vine. Laisren looks at it skeptically. That figures. But he says nothing, and agrees to bed down. It's not an easy sleep, with the permanent afternoon, but he manages.

When they arise, nothing has changed. It's not polite to talk business when folk are still groggy, so initially Laisren just relays his experience with Tomas: Malve'en his betrothed, his fire sale of goods. The magical daggers Laisren bought. He shows them around, especially to Baly, and he does his best to recite the inscribed elvish verse (and failing in many particulars). Once the group is awake and conversant, he broaches the obvious question.

"So... we are... trapped here? Everything feels solid to me. But all - you all know - stuck. Waiting for Liri, I mean, Malve'en, to come. But she never comes. Have any of you tried to break the enchantment?" He looks to Hlin and Nukky in particular, uncertain about their full magical capacities. "How far do you think this place goes? If we just walk away, what will happen? Float down river? Are we in a real place with a bewitchment over it, or is this, y'know, all in our heads?"

That's many questions and zero answers. But that is Laisren's main approach to life. Answers may come, once questions bounce around long enough.
OOCAs requested, an "Inspiration" entry has been added to my "expendibles" line. I've been lazy, regardless, and have not added my action block to my last few posts. So here it is, updated, and recovered with a long rest.

Rolled insight as requested (to figure out the situation?). Got an 8.

 
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Old Dec 11th, 2022, 11:39 AM
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Nukky
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Time would be frozen, but Goodberries were forever. Arriving at the camp clearing, Nukky begins to make preparations for rest. Using what supplies they had, Nukky began to make a fire and tent. Sitting in front of the fire, he brings his sack in front of him. He holds out his hands, and with his final spell slot, chants out a simple rhyme.

Goodberries for life, Goodberries for all.
May Goodberries be lasting til the sun again falls.


Every evening he would recite this, and every time ten berries would appear in his hands. It was the first piece of magic Nukky learned from his mother, before he took up the oath of the woods. Every time he would cast it, he would remember nights in the woods with his family. His father tending to the fire, his mother cradling him in her arms. Every night she would recite this simple poem, Goodberries pouring out of her palms and into a sack just like his. For his entire time, he felt that this was the only connection he had left of his family, but now that has changed. A new fire alights in Nukky's heart, hearing the words of his family in the shiny rock.

He would find them again, and get them back.

Satisfied, the kobold reaches in and takes out the previous batch of berries. Their magic was long gone, but they were still tasty. Maybe his new friends would appreciate sustenance in this cold frozen time. He calls out to his fellow group. "Nukky has camp ready. Nice and peaceful here at least."

 


Character
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Old Dec 11th, 2022, 04:47 PM
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Leaning heavily on Sneech, A'ru limps over to Nukky's campsite and nods gratefully to the kobold, then sags to the ground. He unties his bedroll from his pack and lays it out, before stretching out on it. He says softly, "This place is peaceful at least, fer all it gives me the creepin' willies." The eyes of the exhausted marda close, and it's not long before he is snoring gently.





 


 
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Old Dec 11th, 2022, 08:58 PM
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Well, damn them.

There was one creature unquestionably alive in this limbo land, and Hlin and his companions managed to kill it.

Taking one of his daggers, Hlin works to scrape out any seed pods he can find on the tendril tips of the now-dead vine. He still isn't sure if transporting this vine's seeds is a good thing, but the vine seemed like a cheery creature, and Hlin feels responsible for its demise.

With whatever, if any, seeds he can salvage, Hlin joins the others at the camp. He finds out what arrangements have been made for the watch and his place in it.

He listens to and considers Laisren’s questions. "I doubt this world is boundless; but if it is, then I fear going far from here would only distance us from whatever lever it is in this Plane that will allow us to return to our world."

In the morning, he is up, as curious as he is confused, and ready to travel to Malveen's house. If the party is not entirely sure which way that is, then he'll see if Tomas can provide directions.



 


 
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Old Dec 12th, 2022, 12:59 PM
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Morning (Well, It Is ALWAYS Morning) in Vildenai Laisren, Tomas hugs like a straight boy, a lot of back thumping, a lot of hinging toward you at the waist. But he means well.

You see he is wearing the very earring Baly showed Malveen, the one that changed her from a surly prognosticator to a murder-hobo.

You ask your friends where you are, what manner of place it is, but that’s denial. Fain’s voice in your head says, Lais, my light, you know! And you do. You are in a pocket of the Bright.

Fleach! Damn them all.

Everyone The Vine was hurt, but it got Baly to safety. Then it slipped to unconsciousness. You made camp to trance and sleep as your particular body required, and now, by the time you have fully rested, it is dead. Baly sees it die through his trance-eyes, sees the ghost vine that rises appear around it.

The corpse almost immediately animates and plays with the shrieking happy corpses of the children, saying things like IIIiiiii Wiiiillll getchuuuuuu heee heeee to them in its weird vibrato, branch-rub voice. It says nothing into your minds if you touch it, and you feel no presence you could speak to, either.

The ghost Vine looks like the plant cousin of the dead horse. It sticks close to the puppet of itself, and is silent. Touching it, you can feel a vague hum, but it, too, can no longer communicate.

Is this a preview of your own fate, to join the horse and vine as pale ghosts, trapped forever? You think yes. If you die here. If you find Malveen and she kills your or you stay here and age out or perhaps starve when the rations run out. You have no idea if you can eat or glean sustenance from the fish you see cheery fisher puppets bringing in or mushrooms and wild blueberries and blackberries you see the trio maidens gathering in the nearby woods.

A’ru you wake up refreshed, feeling more yourself, ensconced in a cloud of peaceful Sneechy night-farts. Why MUST he stuff his giant self face first into your bedroll?

Hlin, there are no seed pods or anything you recognize as reproductive on the puppet or the ghost. But there are new vines, all in the hair of your head and armpits, sprouted. They do not talk, cannot, at this stage of life. They do not control you. But you DO feel them, alive and rustling and cheery, and you have a sense they are protective of you, loving, even. You feel that if you got in trouble, they would do their best to get you out of it…

Tomas is just as happy to see you as he was no-time-to-him-at-all ago, and will offer to show you his wares and give you directions to the estate. It it a different path from the hunting cabin, wide and easy to follow.

Nukky, you made your berries. Here they are, good forever, as long as you stay here in this little village where time will not move.

You are a today person, a now person, but the thought of that red stone, kept warm from your mom’s and dad’s life forces, being used as a faux-heart by a creature made of rage and spite and evil is too much. You project into the future. You already have directions to the estate, if you want to go. There is the path.


OOCBadger: Once per long rest, you can use your action to ask EACH of the seedlings (3) to cast entangle. Please add that 3/3 counter to your stat block. The seedlings share your Spell Save DC.

BEST TEA MAKER I loved your post.

EVERYONE who has not yet, please add a DM inspiration tracker to your action bars. I like to give it out in one shots, especially, but it doesn’t stack, so please track it for me where I can see--and smoke it if you got it.

I am at the airport so will resume normal PICTURES WITH POSTS shiz with my next post

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Old Dec 12th, 2022, 05:14 PM
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Baly comes out of his "rest" and gathers up his things, putting them where they need be for travel and/or safekeeping.

He doesn't do this for any purpose really other than to seem busy. Then Laisren speaks of his earring and he recalls where he saw it before, though at the time it didn't matter as much.

Now, given his past AFTER leaving his elven home is all that much more important to him, he wants it back more than anything.

He goes to retrieve it and pauses in front of Tomas. He
Dice Intimidation/Deception:
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points to the earring and says, "However you got that, it wasn't given with my consent. It belongs to me. I lost it. I'd like it back. I'll pay if I must."

 
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Old Dec 12th, 2022, 11:27 PM
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A'ru wakes up in a funk. He grins affectionately and scratches Sneech behind the ear. To a marda, as with all canines, the aroma of flatulence is part self-validation, part introduction. Anyway, every morning began the same way, so he was well used to it.

Feeling fully restored, he gets up on his haunches and packs up his little camp, then stands and stretches. He nods along with Hlin's assessment. "All right. Let's go storm that mansion." But it seems that Baly has other ideas. "Ooh, that look interestin'." He swings his leg over Sneech and urges the mastiff over to the little shop.

He cranes his neck and watches the interchange between Baly and Tomas.





 


 
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Old Dec 14th, 2022, 03:09 PM
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Gathering his gear in the morning, Hlin curiously inspects the daggers that Laisren passes around, takes note of the inscription and asks the farmer, "So, Champion, do you want our opinion on your new gear, or are you offering to spread these protections around the party?"

He'll wait for the answer, or give Laisren time to think and answer later in the day. He'll also wait to see if Laisren wants to test out the boundaries of this other-world.

If so, he'll suggest that the party takes a short boat ride back down the river after they talk with Tomas, and if not, then he'll suggest they proceed with their original plan of going to the mansion.

But regardless of which route they take in leaving Vildenai, he'll want to accompany the party to see off Tomas, and to see if Tomas could possibly leave with them.

As they enter the shop, Hlin glances around it for the first time and takes in the works of silver: the tiny boxes, the armcuff, and the necklace.

"Are any of these for sale?" he will ask, not unimpressed with the craftsmanship, but interested more in the fact that they are silver and could possibly be reforged into spikes or arrowheads if the party has enough time.

He will also seek to have the horse show off its shoe to Tomas and ask for Tomas' assessment of its work. Even if Tomas cannot see it, which he expects, he will ask the smith if he is familiar with the story of this horseshoe.

When Baly points to the earring and makes his demand for it's return, Hlin quickly whispers in the elf's ear: "Careful! This is likely a token from his beloved! He might take your accusation to mean that his lady's favor of her heart was once yours, and that you claim it still!"

If Tomas does seem to take offense, Hlin will quickly step in between the two parties and say: "Ah! An earring in the style of the Court of the Lady of the Western Breeze! Very rare, of course. I've seen a few created by the fabled jewelmasters of Waterdeep, but none done with such care and precision as this! Of course, it is possible that these rings came from the same set of two, but more likely they are both rare editions from the same master, or from the same master's smith. Or did you create these, Tomas? If so, praise be to your skill and craft!"



 


 
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