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  #316  
Old Mar 22nd, 2024, 08:51 AM
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The Living Nightmare


The companions moved as if in a dream, hesitantly, sluggishly, some part of them simply incapable of believing that the swirling mass of darkness that refused to take a concrete shape actually existed in the waking world. And yet the danger was real. The fear they experienced was real. Each inhuman shriek that cut through the calmness of predawn and threatened to make their hearts stop - or burst - was real.


Isandril recognized the monstrous apparition or at the very least he recognized its essence. Living nightmares, known as “dream wraiths” by those who had fought against them with steel, spells and godly miracles, had plagued the Silvanesti forest for years, forcing his kind to seek refuge in Southern Ergoth. Lorac’s Nightmare had accomplished what even the forces of the Dark Queen had been unable to do, though it had taken a desperate king, a dragon orb and a devious green dragon to envelop the ancient land in a neverending nightmare. Who was powerful enough, knowledgeable enough to give rise to a monstrosity whose kind had, according to all kirath reports, been eliminated forever?


Though consumed from within by fear and doubt, a part of the elven mage’s mind remained rational and calm. It was the part that no longer belonged to him, the part he had gifted to magic many human generations ago. It was this part that dictated Isandril’s actions, spoke the arcane words and performed the complicated gestures for the magic to take root and grow and bloom. With the grace of a harper, he tugged at the strands of energy, silver, crimson and black, weaving the moonlight into shapes and recognizable forms.


Men and women suddenly appeared, seen only by Isandril and his intended target, dressed in robes favored by the desert nomads and wielding curved swords, spears and bows, their eyes defiant and war cries resting uneasily on their lips. As one they attacked the dream eater, slashing with their swords, thrusting with their spears and shooting arrow after arrow… but the creature paid them as much attention as it did the tents nearby. The white robe apprentice knew that his spell had worked, magic resistancedespite his enemy’s alien mindset. He could feel the nightmare’s essence shift to accommodate the magic like water filling a jar and yet his illusory Mikku were unable to draw the monster’s attention. In this case, immunity to psychic damagefighting fire with fire had failed.


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The illusory Mikku warriors

Talia’s battle plan was simpler than Isandril’s. It was as simple as picking a sizable stone and letting it fly towards the dream eater with all the strength that her hands and the slingshot part of her hoopak could muster. The missile was covered in frost while still midair and caused an explosion of tiny pieces of ice as it struck the writhing mass of blackness, opening a fist-sized hole in the creature. Talia grinned, raised her hoopak in triumph and let out a celebratory cry just before nimbly vanishing between a chair and a couple of barrels, her feet, seemingly unaffected by the wine that numbed her mind, carrying her to safety.


Had she waited a moment longer, she would have seen the creature’s nightmarish essence regenerationstart rapidly filling the hole she had made like small sea waves rushing to erase footsteps from a sandy beach. After a few moments, only a shallow depression remained, covered by a thin layer of ice.


What can be hurt can also be bound, Redwaters reasoned and he allowed his essence to flow through him into the earth and awaken the seeds sleeping within. Some of them had been slumbering inside the ground for centuries, retaining the memory of grass and flowers and bushes and trees that had not been seen in Khur ever since the Cataclysm. Time had almost turned them to stone, but they readily stirred at the voice of the druid and his goddess, calling them back to life.


The arid ground cracked and a multitude of vines emerged, covered in tiny leaves of bright green and sharp thorns. Like a swarm of snakes they quickly covered the earth, wrapping themselves around low tables, cushions and carpets, plates, bowls and knives, holding them fast with the might of Chislev herself. Some reached towards the Dream Eater, seeking to contain its malicious power, but they might as well have been attempting to imprison the cool night wind of the desert. The monstrosity shifted and the vines fell weakly to the ground, immunity to the restrained conditiondefeated by the dream eater’s immaterial nature.


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The Dream Eater
Realizing that her companions’ unsuccessful attempts to best the nightly terror could cause their bravery to waver and their morale to break, Devari tried to encourage them, but found her words drowned out by the dream eater’s unholy shrieks. She placed her hands protectively over her ears and closed her eyes, knowing that the sensation would pass. The monster wasn’t real like she and her friends were real, living, breathing people of flesh and blood. It was nothing more than an amalgamation of sad memories, fears, nightmares and black magic. They could defeat it. They would defeat it!


With renewed hope, she opened her eyes and witnessed the tower of determination she had built brick by brick inside her, crumble. Tendrils of darkness had blindsightwrapped themselves around Talia, Talia is dealt 16 points of psychic damage!who was screaming in what must have been indescribable agony, and were slowly dragging her towards the terror. The kender convulsed, her arms and legs forming unnatural angles and somehow managed to escape the dream eater’s grasp.


Zendra wasn’t so lucky, however. The usually intrepid archaeologist had long claimed that Khur had placed a curse on her. She couldn’t exactly prove it, but she also couldn’t simply ignore the feeling in her gut. It was the truth, she knew it as surely as she knew that the sun would rise in the east.


I swear - the dice determined the dream eater’s targets!It seemed that she had been right all along.


Critical hit - Zendra is dealt 19 points of psychic damage!Nightmarish tendrils bound her arms together as tightly as manacles of steel, while others snaked their way around her slender waist, her chest, even her throat, squeezing and crushing, eliminating any hope she might have had in her heart that she would survive her witless decision of traveling to Khur. Zendra felt her bones crack, her tendons snap, her heart race, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t cry, couldn’t resist. She couldn’t even breathe. All she could do now was surrender herself to her fate.


Like a hungry predator, the dream eater dragged the woman towards its black core, its essence shifting excitedly at the prospect of consuming her. Its dark mass stretched unnaturally and a maw formed, a gigantic void of blackness with sharp fangs jutting out in all directions. Zendra’s eyes grew wide in terror, as she desperately sought for some way to escape this nameless terror, but all she could picture was her own death. The maw closed around her and Zendra is dealt another 11 points of psychic damage. She is unconscious and has total covershe was engulfed by darkness.


The pain ceased. Her body grew still. Her mind fell silent.


She was now at peace. The curse had finally claimed her.



Calendar17th Day of Aelmont (Winter) 422 AC / 38 SC, Predawn

Solinari: 11/36 (Waxing)
Lunitari: 20/28 (Waning)
Nuitari: 1/8 (Low Sanction)

Boons/Penalties:
White Robes - | Red Robes - | Black Robes -1 spell DC, DIS on spell attack rolls


 


 
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  #317  
Old Mar 22nd, 2024, 09:37 AM
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Things were not going well, and Devari could tell that most of her friends were under the spell of this creature, each fighting their own private battles behind their eyes. She had tried to snap Isandril out of it to no avail, but at least he had managed to weave some magic, however ineffective it appeared to have been. They needed more, they needed everyone to help if they were to save Zendra! She stepped forward level with Tegan, drawing Gildedmane's sword as she did so.

"COURAGE!" she called, projecting her voice to break through to everyone. "IF WE WORK TOGETHER WE CAN PREVAIL! COME ON, ZENDRA NEEDS US!"

Focusing once again on the creature of twisting darkness, she pointed the sword at it defiantly.

"You hear that? We won't be cowed by some collection of bad dreams!"

 
 
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Old Mar 22nd, 2024, 11:54 AM
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Zendra Zantir
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Every day began the same: Zendra woke to find Derg leering in her face, his fetid breath stinging her eyes. In the beginning he'd delighted in slapping her across the cheeks or kicking her in the stomach to wake up the slave but the half-elf had either grown lazy of such pursuits or refined his cruelty in new and subtle ways. It was as if he gain strength simply from the dying hope in Zendra's eyes every dawn when she opened them and remembered where she was.

Those weeks after the strangers had attacked the bandit camp and been slaughtered for their troubles had seemed to pass in a blur. Individual memories stood like nameless eroded ruins jutting from the sands of Khur: the Kender woman dead tossed like a broken doll on the rock, the Solamnic face down in his armour, the Elven wizard with his throat sliced open, the boy archer taken alive only to be strangled by his own bow string as Pegrin laughed.

She never did learn their names.

Pegrin had tired of Zendra quickly and granted her to Derg and the half-elf had been a tyrant who took every moment of anger out on the slave. In those early days she had dreamt of stealing a knife and taking revenge but there was never a time was she was not being watched from all corners and especially after Cole was murdered by Derg after he brought Zendra a cup of water she'd given up, numbness and grief wrapping around her like her burial shroud even as she still lived.

The sun rose and fell and the moons danced across the sky as the bandits abandoned their old camp and moved on, leaving the bleached bones of their unnamed attackers behind them. Even had she friends she could hope t find her Zendra felt incredibly small swallowed into the depths of the deep desert to be forgotten and unmourned.

Relief came only in brief moments of sleep. She would dream of cool breezes and green forests and above all of the sea. More than once she awoke in that stinking, flea ridden tent convinced she could hear the waves crashing against the beach.

At some point - and Zendra had lost all sense of time - they had come to a slave market in some obscure Khurish camp where Knights of Neraka and minotaurs bought lost souls. Derg had grown tired of her and was looking to make some steel. There were several pontential customers who came and studied her like she was a cheap horse.

"Not much for looks," a potential Nerakan buyer said, his gloved hand firmly gripping Zendra's chin before he forcefully turned her head to the side and looked into her ear. "Not much for brains either."

Derg grunted. "She had a Karthayan earseeker once. Ten steel."

Ten was evidently too much as after a brief haggle the Nerakan departed without Zendra.

A new customer had entered the tent. A woman, no taller than average and no warrior but there was a power to her. Even Derg seemed unnerved. Zendra squinted at the stranger. She seemed familiar somehow. Blonde, beautiful. Regal even... but something terribly cold to her. Cruelty radiated from her her, not the open sneer and oafishness of Derg but something more.

The stranger wore black robes with style and elegance. It took Zendra many moments to recall the signifigance to this and when the memory finally came from the distant past of her old life it terrified her more than anything she had felt in a year.

A Black Robed Wizard of High Sorcery!

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Zendra of the Black Robes

That face... she knew that face.

The Black Robe glided over and looked Zendra eye to eye as Derg cowered in the shadows of the tent.

"You really are a disappointment aren't you?" the Black Robed Zendra said to the slave. "See where digging for trinkets led us? We could have been more much more. If only you'd tried."

Zendra attempted to speak, to defend herself, anything but the words that came out of her mouth sounded feeble even in her own ears. "I did try."

The Black Robed Zendra laughed in her face. "You did nothing of the sort. You ran from power all your life. Don't you see what a failure you have been? How much you have let me down. In fact I think it is best for both of us if I just put you out of your misery."

The wizardess began chanting and drawing a sigil in the air. From her palm flickers of midnight blue magical fire laced out, striking Derg who screamed and fell to the ground writhing in flames, striking the paltry possessions lighting them ablaze, and striking Zendra...

As she died in heat worse than the furnace of Khur Zendra heard her twin's words in her ears one last time. "Such a disappointment..."






 


 


 
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  #319  
Old Mar 22nd, 2024, 11:30 PM
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Aric Armitage
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When he left the tent, his eyes bleary from lack of sleep, his mind struggled to grasp what it was he was seeing. At first it appeared to be a shadow cast by the dying glow of the campfire outside their tent, but the chilling noise that still reverberated through the camp put pause to that.

It’s not a shadow, shadows don’t scream. Shadows don’t make your knees lock up like this, either.

Talia, forever uninhibited from the effects of fear, had shook off her drunkenness enough to lob a stone at the strange shadow-not-shadow, and for a brief flicker it seemed like all was well. Just a shadow after all, see, the stone went right through- And then the space the frozen stone had gone through began to weave itself back together like a wound healing unnaturally fast, and Aric knew whatever this being was presented a grave problem for them all.

So why can’t I get my feet to move?

Aric looked down. He was still armored, having not changed out after standing guard with the Mikkou around their tent. His pack was still back in the tent; all he’d grabbed was his weapons, but now, face to face with the screaming black specter, he couldn’t do anything.

And then the creature lunged for Zendra and struck her down; worse, it consumed her. And his paralysis broke as it was consumed by rage.

”YOU G*DDAMN MONSTER! GIVE HER BACK!”

Aric 30 feet east/6 squares to the right, just in front of that tentmoved to get a clear firing lane behind the shadow and pulled up his bow to shoot. He was feeling more than thinking, his muscles and his heart acting in tandem, independent of thought or reason. If he had been, he might have acted differently, but all he could see was his friend’s lifeless body being absorbed into this living shadow like a piece of birch wood being consumed by flames. He didn’t remember speaking, but his companions told him later that he had been repeating the same mantra as he fired: ”Go away go away go away go away!

He
Dice * Attack w/ longbow (DIS):
1d20+7kl1 (19)+7 Total = 26
1d20+7kl1 (20)+7 Total = 27
Like I said, killing is all he can seem to do right...
Dice * Damage:
1d8+5 (4)+5 Total = 9

Banishing Shot as well, dude needs to make a DC 12 CHA save or disappear to the feywild for a turn
fired, and just flavor describing how I very nearly banished both it and Zendra (oops)for the briefest of moments the creature seemed to flicker out of existence, the patch of dark reality it resided in suddenly returning to normal – but with it too went the outline of Zendra as well. ”No!” he cried out, undone by having doomed his friend.

Then the flicker regained its form and the young man took a deep breath of relief that a great tragedy had been averted for the moment.

 
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  #320  
Old Mar 23rd, 2024, 09:43 AM
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Hope
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~Wake up, Hope. It’s time!~

The words in her mind immediately pulled Hope out of her slumber, and in response the half-elf whispered a single word: “Uleena!”

There was no doubt in Hope’s mind, the shadowy figure who entered the tent was the spirit of her dear sister. Whether she was right in this or not, nothing could make her think otherwise. And the glowing of blue eyes, a trait especially rare among the nomads of Khur, only reinforced her unshakable belief that Uleena had come to deliver a message.

"You must hurry… The winds carry the voices of many spirits, all spirits, and they are crying for help. You must keep the key safe, otherwise all will be lost. In the temple of the betrayed, you must find the shard of light. It shall lead you on the path you have chosen to walk. You, Hope…"

Before the novice Aesthetic could attempt to decipher the meaning behind the words, Hope saw Uleena’s spirit vanishing. In her wake came a creature that Hope heard before she could even see; it announced its arrival with a most terrifying scream. A projection of pure pain and suffering. It took Hope all of her strength of mind to not succumb to it. So frightening it was, she could barely look at the creature, but there she saw an indescribable shape. For once, words failed the novice Aesthetic. But one thing was clear, its colour, black as despair.

Every muscle, every bone, every part of her body was shouting at Hope to run, to get away from this monstrosity. But she could not, would not. That thing took Uleena’s spirit. The priestess would not flee. For Alakar and Asmara, for all the Mikku that had shown the novice Aesthetic nothing but kindness, she would not allow Uleena’s spirit to be taken away.

The intense fear exuded by the creature was unbearable. So much so that Hope could not even take a step towards it, her body simply refused to obey this simple command. But she was not alone. The priestess scanned the space around, she could see guards on the ground, and her new companions fighting the sheer terror from the scream. Hope saw some of them were able to shake off the feeling and even fight back; what great strength of mind they possessed, it was no wonder Gilean guided her to them.

Alas, despite their best efforts, the attacks from the companions did very little to harm the fiend. Worse than that, one of them was pulled inside the mass of whirling blackness in what must have been a terrible pain. Hope recognised the woman as Zendra, the archaeologist from Flotsam who tried to introduce herself during the festivities before being interrupted.

Faced with a dire situation, Hope instinctively reached for the Icon of Truth gifted to her by Gilean. Unlike a warrior whose blade was made of metal, the novice Aesthetic wielded an immaterial weapon, made of information and knowledge. Hope closed her eyes, and silently called to the power of the Icon of Truth, letting it Gaining Truesight for 10 minutesflow within her.

When she opened her eyes anew, the priestess’ pupils had turned grey. What she saw in this moment was overwhelming, and she could have easily succumbed to dizziness if not for words of comfort and resolve that came from a nearby voice, Devari’s voice.

“COURAGE! IF WE WORK TOGETHER WE CAN PREVAIL! COME ON, ZENDRA NEEDS US!”

Hope had always known that words had power, but it was the first time she was able to feel such a strong effect of this power. With the songstress’ enchanted call, the half-elf’s fear disappeared and her mind became clear once again. In freeing those, like the novice Aesthetic, under the creature spell of terror, Devari had even been able to break its regeneration effect.

Powered by Gilean’s gift and Devari’s voice, Hope was ready to do her part and help the companions free both Uleena and Zendra.

Finally able to look at the creature, Hope was immediately able to find Uleena’s spirit. Thanks to her enhanced sight, her sister appeared to her no longer as a shadow but as radiant as she ever was. Inspired by Devari’s action, Hope called to the companions around her. “That’s Uleena!” She exclaimed, pointing at the spirit imprisoned. “That’s my Sorry, Aric, this was not how I intended to introduce you to her...sister! Please, we have to help her break free.”

Then, the priestess’ eyes were drawn to the swirling mass of blackness, and this time she could see something within it, a humanoid shape, not a prisoner but what she felt was the true essence of this creature, its heart. Hope took a step forward, relieved her body was obeying her command, and put a hand on Tegan’s shoulder, standing in front of her. The gesture was as much to guide the man as to help her keep her balance. Extending her other hand toward the creature, she Granting advantage to Tegan's attack roll to hit the creature's "heart"asked for the squire’s help. “Tegan, just in the back of the creature, I can see something tangible. If you trust me, this is where you must strike if we are to rescue your companion. I know you can do it.”

Even facing a terrible foe, and overwhelmed by looking at two planes at once, Hope was relieved to have her wits about her. The creature was not her concern, only the safety of its two prisoners, and the priestess knew she needed the full strength of her mind to help the companions free Uleena and Zendra.


 


 

Last edited by Mirasiah; Apr 7th, 2024 at 01:14 PM.
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Old Mar 24th, 2024, 05:26 AM
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The Heart of Darkness
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Featherstick waving and even his shield arm dancing with movement and flourish of fingers, Redwaters was directing the tendrils of long slumbering vines (Blessed be the Abundance of Chislev) toward the strange entity, only to comb through its essence, unable to grab ahold of anything, not even Zendra within. It's Shadowstuff seemed a combination of viscous solid and ether, not unlike the ecto-plasm of a manifested ghost, but more quasi-real, And what's more, it's properties seemed to extend toward anything it touched and enveloped.

But it was clear, his vines were now more of a hindrance than a help, ineffective against this invasive outsider. He dismisses the spell, cursing under his breath, and the vines simply go inert as a new lingering flora to be left to wither in the sun. For someone supposedly adept at dealing with spirits, he is surprisingly ill equipped at fighting them.

In split seconds his mind races with possibilities of what he can and cannot do, given the knowledge gleaned. Devari mentions Fear is it's weapon. Isandril mentioned something about Lorac's Nightmare; something he was determined to ask him more about at the next possible convenience. And everything about this creature was reminiscent of the Being he encountered in the Ethereal Realm. How it had absorbed both he and the Mistress, almost killing him outright. Still, given how he cannot affect it from without, maybe the key was to fight it from within. Maybe this time he could survive being absorbed, and do something worthwhile to save Zendra...

Earthchild. Why is your first go-to always SOME form of suicide? A voice from within stops his stream of thought.

It would seem Chislev has sent one of her guardians to help with the encounter. He glances about, recognizing Hawk, but not immediately seeing him.

Well. To be fair, we don't know if getting absorbed will kill me or not.

Then, the newcomer Hope offers her insight. A revelation how to handle the situation.

"I can see something tangible. If you trust me, this is where you must strike if we are to rescue your companion!"

Redwaters is confused. He sees nothing but Darkness.

Wait! She's right! I can see it too! Let's try a different tactic...

And loud and mighty hawk cry can be heard from up above, more booming than any normal denizen of Krynn. The Legendary Hawk manifests it's ethereal form and plunged from the sky like a meteor, sending shock waves of silvery ethereal energies in it's wake. It delves into the Shadowbeing and disappears, seemingly without impact or effect.

What does happen however, is that a in inner light begins to pulsate from within the creature that can barely bee seen in it's constantly shifting inky blackness, brightening and dimming with every seeming heartbeat.

You know what to do, Hawk instructs.

Redwaters' feathers begins to wave about. But instead of a blast of cold air, he begins to focus his magicks into a single beam of frosty, cobalt energy...


TALIA GAINS ADVANTAGE!



 


 
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Last edited by JonnyGulliver; Mar 24th, 2024 at 05:26 AM.
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  #322  
Old Mar 24th, 2024, 09:52 AM
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Talia Dawnstar
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Talia was in a fog of pain. She had reacted as she always did in times of danger… she had acted and now she was beginning to question the wisdom of doing so. She had watched her stone slam into the nightmarish creature and she had yelled out in triumph. Yet her words turned sour as she watched the wound heal and then as quickly as the stone flew, black writhing tentacles traveled back along the path of the stone leading right back to the kender.

Before she could scream out in terror, terror found her, wrapping itself around her in an indescribable explosion of pain. Talia was ripped from her feet and she was slowly dragged toward the nightmare creature.

Talia should have been frozen with fear, easily dragged to her doom but she was a kender… so no.

As she was ripped along the ground, Talia worked against the black tentacles that held her tight. A quick intake of breath, a slight turn of the shoulder, a loud pop followed by a cry of pain and Talia was slithering free from the beast.

Scrambling back to her feet, Talia slammed her shoulder against a nearby heavy barrel, resetting the bone. She almost collapsed from the pain, but it also served to concentrate her thoughts on the task at hand. The queer feeling she had in her stomach faded as she focused on the chaos around her.

Zendra was in the process of being swallowed… that must suck. Aric was peppering the monster with arrows… nice… he would probably feel bad about it later. Devari was screaming again… she is certainly good at it, horses would disagree. A stranger… Oh… this must be Hope was screaming about her sister and Talia got confused. Zendra was her sister? Or the monster was her sister? Wait… is that… Redwaters!

Talia watched as a spiritual hawk soared through the air above her before plunging directly into the black mass of the monster. There was no doubt where such a magnificent creature came from and she heard Hope calling for a strike… right where the hawk had disappeared into the beast.

Talia wiped the blood pouring out of her mouth. She must have chomped down on her tongue without realizing it. The kender took a deep breath and then chuckling to herself, she took off at a sprint, her hoopak held above her head. As she got close to the monster she jumped into the air and plunged the spearpoint of her hoopak down.


OOC 17 to hit, 10 damage, 5 sneak attack, 5 ice: 20 total (No Aoo - fancy footwork and she has alert)
 

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Old Mar 24th, 2024, 12:29 PM
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Time For Courage
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As they stood facing the centaur, Tegan noticed Hope approaching. Her face was pale, but she moved forward with conviction. She asked Tegan to allow her assistance and he nodded solemnly. He wasn't turning down any help right now. However, in the short term, it was Alakar who intervened on the behalf of the companions. Turning to face him, Tegan bowed his head in thankfulness. The Mikku proved their trustworthiness this day. Tegan had not intended to delay any kind of trial by a day, but in his exhausted state, he was thankful he would be able to rest before the trial, if only for a short time.

They retired for the evening to a large tent and Tegan was one of the first asleep. He was a soldier. Just as he was trained to rouse quickly, he also could find sleep quickly. He had doffed his mail shirt, placed his sword and shield near him, and passed out.

The exhausted warrior didn't hear Hope enter, nor did he hear the blue-eyed mystery woman, but he did hear the shriek. From dead-asleep Tegan's hands launched over his ears, trying to protect himself from the shrill and painful cry. He was still exhausted, but something was obviously wrong. With no time to waste, he grabbed Kanna, flicking it from it's sheath, and strapped on his shield. He wore no armor, just breeches and a long-sleeved shirt. It was in this disarray that he found himself facing a horrifying creature outside the tent. He rushed out among the first and found the guards writhing on the ground. Tegan stopped to stare at it. It was... well he didn't know what it was. It was evil. It kept flickering into images that he recognized if only for a moment. One seemed to be a knight's chestpiece, a hole blasted in the middle... Was that supposed to be Tegan's? Or his father's? Similar thoughts came to mind as he saw a splintered shield.

Tegan shook his head. He couldn't get drawn into this thing, it had someone in it's grasp! Tegan went to move forward when another ear-splitting screech echoed and he doubled over trying to protect his head from it. He felt his pulse race and beads of sweat poured over his face. He fought intrusive thoughts in his head, but he could feel himself losing. They would not succeed here. They were doomed.

Despite the thoughts, despite the fear, he set himself to advance, but found he couldn't. His legs weren't obeying him. Looking left and right he could see the others yelling and pointing, but the ringing in his ears made it hard to understand anything coherently in the chaos. Tegan saw the creature launch out dark limbs towards Zendra right next to him. Instinctively, the squire, despite his trembling legs, tried to launch his shield to intervene. It was as if the limbs weren't even there. While he had intercepted their course, they went around and through his shield. Tegan stared in shock as the same arms grabbed Zendra, and dragged her away. Horror again struck into the heart of the warrior. His shield was ineffective. What could he do?

When all was looking lost, when Tegan couldn't find traction to fight this foe, suddenly something stood out above the chaos. It was Devari, the one who was slated to die, facing the fear despite her circumstances. She was crying for courage. She pointed to Tegan and if by magic or by some other means, Tegan felt the bondage of his fear melt away. She was right, they couldn't give up now. They had to save Zendra. Tegan looked for the woman, but she was pulled inside the creature at this point, beyond his sight. He could see someone else in there, with bright-blue eyes.

Hope's words made Tegan understand. "That’s Uleena! That’s my sister! Please, we have to help her break free."

Tegan began to advance, but he didn't know how to fight this creature. Then Hope continued, "Tegan, just in the back of the creature, I can see something tangible. If you trust me, this is where you must strike if we are to rescue your companion. I know you can do it."

Tegan had already failed one friend this day, and she was in the creature. He would not fail Hope as well. Surging with energy, Tegan had a moment of inspiration. pointing his sword at Uleena, Tegan prayed with a loud, powerful voice, "Kiri-Jolith! Protect the innocent!" There was no visible effect, but Tegan knew that she now bore Casting Sanctuary on Uleena: to attack her the creature must make a DC 12 wisdom save or choose a new targetKiri-Jolith's ward.

Tegan, fueled by his friends courage and the comfort of his deity charged without his armor. He positioned himself behind the creature relative to his companions, doing his best to estimate where Hope had indicated. He prayed his magical blade could hurt this fiend. With a surge of strength despite his exhaustion, Tegan lunged into the creature and stabbed. His aim was true and Kanna's blessed edge cut deep gashes into it. Against a normal foe, Tegan knew that both would have been fatal, but against this, he couldn't tell if he even hit the heart. Cleanly withdrawing his blade, Tegan stabbed again, penetrating deeply, almost to the hilt. He couldn't see Hope through the writhing mess of tentacles, but he hoped she wasn't disappointed. Despite the steeling of his emotions, he still fought the fear he faced. Kiri-Jolith, deliver us.


 
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Old Mar 27th, 2024, 03:12 AM
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Isandril Moonsilver, Wizard of High Sorcery
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As the power behind Devari's words took effect, Isandril snapped out of the supernatural fear. He could still feel it there, right under the surface, but the woman's magic had broken its hold, at least for the moment. As the mage surveyed the field of battle with fresh eyes and a clear mind, he saw the strange creature, that living nightmare, not only strike at Talia managing a grievous wound, but also apparently devouring Zendra. Despite the reprieve from its terrorizing effect, the tide was far from turned. Still, he managed to retain his composure, if barely, and took heed of Hope's words. The half-elven cleric had managed to see through the fiend's shifting form and spoke of a core, a heart of sorts.

As he went through the spells in his current repertoire, Isandril, hardly surprised at how the nightmare had fended off his earlier illusion, all but cursed himself for what he perceived as shortsightedness. He had precious few offensive options at hand, having earlier opted for magics that would hinder rather than hurt. After all, how could he have foreseen such an enemy attacking them? Thus, he fell back on the simple yet effective cantrip that created a bolt of searing flame. As he cast it, though, he felt certain it would not strike at the elusive foe. Yet that need not be the end of it. He knew he could affect the outcome, even if he was loath to do so. Although it was true he had used the strange ability to affect the River of Time before and on more than one occasion, ever since he had realized it somehow made the stranger's voice in his mind become clearer and clearer, he had chosen to at the very least try and refrain from tapping into that power. But Zendra needed him, needed all of them. And, he argued and reasoned, it would be such a small ripple in the River. A mere alteration in the course of a simple cantrip, a rudimentary spell. As he finally decided and Time bent ever so slightly, another argument, a counterpoint, occurred to him.

Every journey begins with a single step. And it is ever so easy to become lost when the destination is not yet known.

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  #325  
Old Mar 29th, 2024, 01:23 AM
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The Dream Eater
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A dark, twisted forest
Zendra fell to the ground, unable to keep on running. The left side of her chest was on fire and she trembled all over. She tried to place her hands in front of her head to keep it from striking the ground, but failed. Her arms felt numb and unresponsive and she couldn’t persuade the fingers of her right hand to stop holding her soris. An ingenious weapon and at the same time a walking stick, it had proven utterly insufficient against the dream wraith. Zendra had stabbed it through the eye, but the creature -the thing?- merely looked back at her and smiled. It had been just before it used its dark, oversized claws to strike at her. They easily went through her leather armor, badly ripping even her firebane cloak, before doing the same thing to her flesh.


The stench of rotting meat struck her like a physical blow and she started gagging. It was only then that she realized that the forest floor felt unnaturally soft and sticky. She tried to focus her gaze and saw a dark red, viscous liquid between the blades of black, moldy grass covering the earth. Blood, she realized and the sensation of nausea only grew worse.


It took all her strength for Zendra to manage to turn on her back. Immediately, she spat the corrupted earth out of her mouth. The smell wasn’t any better in her new position, but at least she could now breathe again. She tried to move her head and look around, but the mask she was wearing restricted her field of vision. The dream wraith was still after her, she knew with certainty, and would reach her any moment now. She couldn’t hear anything other than the eerie groaning of the trees around her, but that was the nature of the Nightmare. The creatures it had corrupted were for the most part as silent as they were deadly.


Focusing on one thing at a time, she forced her fingers to release the hilt of the soris and then directed her hand towards the pouch hanging at her belt. The atrakha was inside and she could use it to call for help. She desperately needed help! Though her arm felt heavy as stone, she managed to push the animal whistle through the opening of her mask and once it touched her lips, blow as hard as she could. The bird call that was generated was trembling and sickly, unlike the voice of any of the feathered denizens of the forest. It didn’t matter. They were all gone now, flown away or transformed into twisted creatures that should never have existed in the world. Zendra blew the whistle again and again until there was no air left in her lungs, each time the sound of the whistle growing weaker until it was nothing more than a sigh. Her fingers let go and the atrakha slid to the ground. There was nothing more that she could do.


"Cielan! Cielan, where are you?", a familiar voice called out in the tongue of the Silvanesti.


Lothian.


Hasty footsteps trampling over ashen twigs and moldy grass were heard, fast approaching from somewhere Zendra couldn’t see. She tried raising her arm to signal her companion, but realized that all her strength had been spent running away from the dream wraith and blowing the whistle. All she could do was close her eyes, wait and hope for the best.


"Cielan!"


Gentle hands took hold of Zendra’s shoulders and attempted to make her rise. When it became obvious that she couldn’t move at all, the newcomer decided to help her lean against the trunk of a nearby tree. The bark felt raw and unwelcome against her back, but it was better than lying on the ground in a pool of blood-like liquid. The greenmask was removed from her face and Zendra realized that her long hair was plastered all over her sweat-covered face. For a few moments all she could do was gulp down as much air as she could. Feeling slightly better, she attempted to open her eyes - and succeeded.


left-aligned image
Lothian Shadowbrow, cleric of Quenesti Pah
Eyes of deep blue, similar in color to the priestly robes of MishakalQuenesti Pah the man was wearing, looked back at Zendra. They were full of concern, empathy and compassion. Zendra smiled weakly.


"I knew you would find me...", Zendra replied in perfect Silvanesti elven.


The priest removed the hair from Zendra’s face, used a clean cloth to wipe off the sweat and grime from her skin and then helped her drink some water from the waterskin that was strapped across his back.


"Slowly", he advised her kindly, "Give your body the time it needs. Everything will be alright."


Zendra nodded. She wanted so much to believe him. Even now she felt her life force abandoning her, but knew that nothing was impossible for the goddess of healing. If Lothian claimed that everything would be alright, who was she to doubt the word of the chosen servant of Quenesti Pah? Suddenly, she remembered that the dream wraith was probably looking for her and grimaced.


"Lothian, you must warn the others!" Zendra tried to take hold of the priest’s hand, but even the slightest movement caused her pain to flare up. Why did it hurt so much, she wondered. "A large group of dream wraiths are closing in on our camp. Dozens of them! I barely had the time to escape…" She wanted to tell him more, about the nightmarish shapes they had assumed, the way they used the trees and the tall grass to hide, the fact that weapons that hadn’t been blessed or enchanted weren’t able to harm them, but couldn’t.


"Calm down, my friend", the priest answered, carefully unfastening the buckles of Zendra’s leather armor in order to examine her wounds. "Irilian is aware of the danger. Kayleigh has enchanted scores of arrows and everyone is ready to fight. Thanks to your bravery and courage we shall prevail."


Zendra closed her eyes, a warm feeling of contentment spreading within her. Her scouting mission had been a success after all. If by her sacrifice her companions would survive…


An unimaginably strong pain in her rib cage made her cry out in agony. She wanted to be strong but she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. She was a warrior, one of the vanguard of hope in Silvanesti elvenkirath’algos, but this pain- it was beyond her ability to control or tolerate. It was as if her very being was on fire.


A dizzying whirlwind of sensations, errant thoughts and memories overcame her and she had no choice but to surrender. Somewhere far away, she thought she heard Lothian’s voice imploring Quenesti Pah to help her. She could feel the goddess kneeling next to her, she could see her light seep through her closed eyelids. But the pain only seemed to grow stronger…


Zendra’s eyes fluttered open and she saw the skin next to her gaping wounds having turned black, while foul-smelling, putrid liquid was emerging from it. She saw Lothian’s hands glowing, but felt no warmth. She was as cold as ice. Tears ran down the priest’s cheeks and his arms trembled.


Zendra realized that there would be no miracle on this day.


"Lothian! Lothian we need you. We need the blessings of the goddess. We are attacked from all sides!"


The voice rang out all around them, magically enhanced. Zendra saw Lothian startle, she saw the panic on his face, the light diminishing.


"Go.", Zendra whispered. "They need you. She needs you…"


Lothian looked at her and for a moment she witnessed the struggle in his heart. On one hand, he didn’t want to abandon her. On the other, Kayleigh was in danger. The whole group was in danger.


"Go", she repeated, this time with more conviction. "I will be alright."


For a moment more, the priest hesitated. But then he too surrendered to his fate.


"I will return as soon as I can. The goddess’ power will restore you, Cielan. I swear it!"


A lie.


Zendra nodded. She felt Lothian’s hand squeeze her own and then she saw him turn around and run as fast as he could towards the camp. He never turned back. It was better this way.


Zendra sighed softly. The pain wasn’t as bad as it was. If only she didn’t feel so cold. It was such a pity that the rays of the sun couldn’t pierce the shadow of the Nightmare. Perhaps, one day, she told herself and closed her eyes.


Never to open them again.




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The Dream Eater
The living darkness shifted and twisted and parted before Xihue’s well-aimed punches and the pointy end of Talia’s hoopak. One moment it appeared as insubstantial as mist and the other as solid as a dwarven-built wall of stone. resistance to non-magical piercing, slashing and bludgeoning damageAric’s arrow shattered against its blackness and neither Isandril’s fire nor Redwaters’ ice seemed able to seriously damage what could only have been described as the stuff of nightmares.


And yet, within the writhing mass of paralyzing fears and dark dreams something concrete could be seen: A form, a humanoid figure, thin and graceful like a spider ready to pounce upon its prey, its energy colder and darker than the rest of the dream eater’s body, a core that radiated blackness.


A heart of sorts.


No mortal eye could detect it, no spirit’s eye could locate it. Hidden and veiled, both by its nature and the will of the one who controlled it.


But a god’s eye could.


With one hand, Hope held the Icon of Truth like an open book, her other palm resting upon it as if swearing an oath to Gilean, a pledge to knowledge and truth. A godly gift and mark of divine approval, the artifact thrummed with power beyond the ken of mortals, granting the newly made priestess of the Gray Voyager the power to see what really was.


She saw Devari’s words and innate power severing the invisible tendrils draining the energy of the ones who felt the fear boring deeply into their hearts.


She saw Zendra floating inside a void of darkness, her face ashen, much like the color of Hope’s robe, neither dead nor alive.


She saw a familiar figure, now made of pure light, the very light that the novice Aesthetic had had the privilege of glimpsing when her friend, her sister, was alive. She was fighting against the darkness, using her mystical powers to deflect the black tentacles seeking to overwhelm her. Uleena was strong, but the light surrounding her was slowly fading. She would not last. Not for long.


It was said that truth was the sharpest of blades, but even such a weapon needed a strong hand to wield it - Tegan uth William’s hand. The Solamnic squire marched resolutely towards the dream eater, his heart shielded by Devari’s courage and the reassurance of his own convictions. The sword felt right in his hand, as right as if it had always belonged there. He knew that he faced true evil now. There was no alternative than vanquishing it.


The blade slashed through the air and through the nightmare’s darkness, parting the smoke-like tendrils as easily as cutting through paper, the blackness instantly dissipating once separated from the core of the dark energy.


The dream eater didn’t scream in pain or frustration, for it only gave rise to such emotions in others, not itself. It shifted and bent and took a thousand different shapes meant to stop the Solamnic’s heart from beating, but Devari’s mysticism proved stronger than the remnants of Lorac’s Nightmare. The sword would not stop slashing and the darkness could do nothing but diminish in its wake.


As Kiri-Jolith’s name was invoked by the god’s champion, the light surrounding Uleena grew stronger and for a moment Hope thought she saw a large figure next to her sister, one dressed in knight’s armor and wearing a helmet decorated with bison’s horns - or were they part of the knight’s head? - placing his radiant shield between the spirit and the terror. The tendrils touched the shield of pure light and instantly withered, like tender saplings left too long beneath the harsh Khurish sun. Within moments, Uleena was free.


normal image without text wrap
Uleena as a spirit

She didn’t speak. Instead she smiled at the priestess, at the squire and all those who were fighting beside them and Hope felt her eyes fill with tears of joy. A joy cut short as the dream eater struck once more, its tentacles hitting indiscriminately, almost without plan or purpose. Tegan grunted in pain as dark tendrils lashed at him, leaving behind them angry welts upon his skin. Redwaters too found himself the target of the dream eater’s attack, but the hawk spirit sent to him by Chislev warned him in time so that he managed to dodge the nightmarish tendrils trying to bind and drag him towards the terror.


The dream eater billowed, growing in size as a gigantic maw formed, eager to devour the brave Solamnic fighting against it. At the same time, Zendra’s body was ejected from the darkness, hitting the ground with a thump, only a close distance from Gilean’s priestess. Finding himself hard pressed, Tegan was forced to take a step back, desperately trying to interject his trusty shield between his body and the nightmare’s shadowy fangs.


And then something changed.


A faint halo of light surrounded the squire, making the living nightmare waver uncomfortably and momentarily retreat. Other halos appeared around the rest of the companions as well, offering them much needed protection from the dream eater’s shadowy tendrils. The creature, it seemed, was no longer able to invade their minds with the ease it used to. Someone shielded them from its dark influence. Someone adept at manipulating the power of the mind.


Uleena!


The spirit pressed one palm against the other as if in prayer, her clear blue eyes shining more brilliantly than ever before. The same halo of light that was shielding the companions was around her as well, even more intense, glowing vibrantly like a miniature sun. While alive, the girl, though talented, would never have been able to manifest such mastery of the mystic sphere of mentalism. Had death augmented her powers somehow?


It’s time to vanquish the darkness. The girl’s voice rang in their minds as if she were standing next to them, whispering in their ears. Have faith in your abilities, heroes. You will succeed!



Calendar17th Day of Aelmont (Winter) 422 AC / 38 SC, Predawn

Solinari: 11/36 (Waxing)
Lunitari: 20/28 (Waning)
Nuitari: 1/8 (Low Sanction)

Boons/Penalties:
White Robes - | Red Robes - | Black Robes -1 spell DC, DIS on spell attack rolls


 


 
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  #326  
Old Mar 29th, 2024, 02:23 AM
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Pressing the Assault
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INCOMING! Hawk warns and the tendrils of the Nightmare launches toward him.

"Whoa!" he chortles, as he deftly dodges sideways, his shield deflecting the blow.

Something seems to be happening though. They are making leeway. Between the expertly lain blows and the protective magics, they seem to be gaining the upper hand against the otherworldly foe. Tegan and Xihue in particular seem most passionate.

"Chislev Guide Us", he mutters, and he continues to press his attack. It's not impactful, but it could slow the beast.

Meanwhile, Hawk deems befit to help the stoic monk see the glimmer of the hidden heartbeat, a glimmer of pulsating light only Xihue can see...


XIHUA GAINS ADVANTAGE!



 


 
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  #327  
Old Mar 29th, 2024, 03:47 AM
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Isandril Moonsilver, Wizard of High Sorcery
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With the strike of a sword wielded by a Knight of Solamnia in all but actual title, the tide finally turned. Tegan's strong sword-arm had managed what fire and ice before it had not, even forcing the creature to let go of not only Zendra's still form, but also the spirit it was holding captive. The same spirit that proceeded to shield them and bolster their efforts to vanquish the living nightmare.

Isandril did not let the opportunity go to waste as he conjured another bolt of fire that sped towards their strange foe. And this time his magic was enough to at the very least hit the fiend without the mage having to resort to powers he felt he did not know enough about. Yet, the thought came almost unbidden. But was it his thought?

"Tegan," he called out at the warrior, seeing the creature strike at him with what could only be described as tentacles made of shadow, "do not falter now. Your sword's enchantment parted the darkness. Do not let up. Strike again and banish it!"

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Old Mar 29th, 2024, 05:43 PM
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Zendra Zantir
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An Elven warrior... a failed Elven warrior.

It struck Zendra as entirely typical of her path through the universe that not even a false vision of some alternate life allowed her to be a wizard or sorceress. No instead she was doomed to swing a sword - and even that badly - and watch others do the real work and defeat the monsters.

Even as Zendra felt the faint kiss of life return to her from Hope's prayers and as she opened her eyes to grudging consciousness part of her mind wondered why she bothered. Why stand up only to fail yet again? She could simply lay here on her back forever and surrender to what came next. So easy...

Except... there it was at the back of her mind, that raw nub of anger and despair and humiliation. Again the disdainful words of her black robed doppelganger echoed through her thoughts. Well to the Abyss with all that, she wouldn't give the curse or Khur or the entire universe the satisfaction of just giving in.

The visions melted away like the lies they were and good riddance. Zendra wasn't a slave and she certainly wasn't a Silvanesti. She was herself, chronic loser though that was. She wasn't giving in.

Clambering to her feet Zendra activated the Bracers of the Winternorn and sent a jolt of electric blue lighting from her hands into the dream entity. "Die gods damn you! Die and leave us in peace!"



 


 


 
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  #329  
Old Mar 30th, 2024, 07:35 AM
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Hope
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When Tegan introduced himself to Hope, he confessed to being a servant of Kiri-Jolith, among his other titles. The newly-appointed priestess thought then it meant the man was bound to his god in a different manner than Hope was to Gilean. Whereas she was allowed to call upon His powers at will, or rather at free-will, Tegan’s position was more of a conduit to Kiri-Jolith’s will. Or so was the novice Aesthetic’s hypothesis at first.

In the middle of the fighting, when everyone around her tried to attack the dream eater, and Hope asked the companions to help Uleena, it was Tegan who answered the call. The aspiring Knight's action was made in an effort to protect the innocents and grant them peace. What really surprised Hope was that Tegan did so by praying to his god, the same way she would pray to Gilean when trying to perform miracles.

With her improved sight, and through the grey eyes that marked this enhancement, Hope saw a shield placed before her sister, the protection invoked by Tegan. In response, the priestess whispered a “Thank you!” too low for anyone other than herself to hear.

Because of the relief mixed with joy Hope was feeling then, she didn’t even realise tears were running down her face. Such tears would have been easily forgotten in any case as soon as she would have seen the imposing figure holding the shield. It was a projection of Kiri-Jolith himself. The surprise made her let out a gasp and a second whisper, this time a tad louder. “Kiri-Jolith…”

Hope knew at this moment the solamnic squire was more than a servant. It would not even be too far-fetched to think of him as a priest of Kiri-Jolith, a thought she would certainly be interested to discuss with the man.

But this would have to wait; the dream eater they were facing was still going strong. Following Hope’s advice, Tegan came very close to hitting the “heart” she had been pointing at. The aberration retaliated immediately and struck Tegan.

It was then Hope witnessed the most breathtaking sight she had ever seen.

As a child living in Tarsis, Hope had always been fascinated by the rain and she spent countless hours stuck at a window watching in awe as drops of water descended from the heavens. The true marvel in Hope’s eyes was when the sun was strong enough to resist the rain, and the mixing of the two created a mesh of brilliant colours in the shape of an arc over the horizon. A phenomenon that was simply too beautiful for the curious girl to try to explain. A rare occurrence when she just let the magic operate without understanding what made it so.

In Khur, rain was an exceedingly rare sight, and rainbows were more legends than facts. It didn’t prevent the half-elf from finding another display of nature to spend time staring at in amazement. Unlike in her home city, the sky in the desert appeared more open, like it was free to spread as far as the horizon permitted. It was especially true at night, when stars blessed the land with a show of distant lights. Hope knew the gods were among them, but there was more to this. The slow-dancing of the stars was different every time she was looking at the night sky. Not even Uleena was able to get Hope to look away when the lights were at their most brilliant.

Maybe the spirit of the khurish girl remembered this and tried to show her sister a new power, that she was actually able to make her look away from the stars. Or maybe there was another reason; it did not matter in Hope’s mind. Uleena was more radiant than ever and she spread her light to anyone trying to fight the dream eater, in a display that would dwarf the marvel Hope felt when watching rainbows and stars. The coldness of night was still grazing Hope’s skin, but protected by Uleena’s light, her mind became a source of warmth, chasing any shadow that would dare to approach. In the middle of it all, the mystic’s spirit became almost blindingly bright; it seemed in death, as she was in life, Uleena could not resist showing off.

A loud thump next to her brought Hope back from her reverie. It was definitely not a good time to be daydreaming as the companions were fighting for their lives at this very moment. And Uleena’s message in her mind confirmed exactly that.

In any other circumstance, Hope would have let herself fully enjoy hearing her sister speak to her in her own mind. She felt like the last time it happened was a lifetime ago. But the sound she heard close was a reminder, time was a luxury she did not possess. She was not alone, more importantly others were counting on her, starting with the unconscious body of a blonde woman. Tegan had called upon Kiri-Jolith to protect Uleena, Hope needed to call upon her own deity to help this woman.

She only had one step to take to be close enough to touch Zendra. Despite the lack of visible wounds, Hope could feel the archaeologist had suffered a great deal, and might still be given her condition. With one hand supporting Zendra’s body, and the other one gripping her medallion, the priestess uttered the words of her prayer. “Gilean, may your Knowledge help me cure this woman’s ailment.”

As was the case every time Hope let herself be a conduit in this manner, images flashed in her mind. A mother taking care of her sick child. A gnome testing the theory of micro-wyrms. A tall woman holding a staff made of blue crystal to close the wounds of her beloved. These flashes were always too brief for the priestess to really take note of their meaning, but their apparition meant she was successful in her call, and that was what mattered.

Hope smiled upon seeing colours returning to Zendra’s face. The priestess helped the archaeologist stand on her feet once again. She would have preferred to see the woman getting back in bed and enjoying a good night's sleep, but they needed to get rid of the creature attacking them first. And it didn’t take long for the woman at her side to get back into action as she unleashed a surge of lightning into their foe. Hope herself was still wondering how all the companions were so easily able to strike the enemy, despite the difficult conditions. For the novice Aesthetic, it was certainly a very unfamiliar situation, and running from one companion to the other, offering a hand and helping them, was the best she could manage. She simply hoped it would prove enough.

There was one more area in which Hope could help them; she was after all the only one able to see the dream eater’s core, its heart as she had described it to Tegan. As she scanned the space around her, she saw in the distance Aric taking aim with his bow. She could see he needed to slightly adjust his direction if he were to successfully pierce the mass of blackness. It would be a risk to shout her advice and disturb him in his preparation, but his previous shot had been very precise. Hope trusted Aric to be a talented enough archer to make the best decision with her help.

“Aric, aim just a tad to your left.”


 


 
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  #330  
Old Mar 30th, 2024, 11:57 AM
Begon Ugo's Avatar
Begon Ugo Begon Ugo is offline
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Talia Dawnstar
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Talia was lost in the moment. She had no way of knowing if the hoopak beating she was giving the nightmare was having any real effect but at the moment it was all the kender could do and so she continued doing it with gusto.

Dashing back and forth like a yo-yo, Talia ran away from the monster only to turn on her heels once she realized she could not outrun the mental tentacles that seemed to remain latched to her mind. With a maniacal laugh, Talia ran back towards the monster, squeezing past Xihue and Tegan to whack at the mentally invasive creature yet again.

Talia's hoopak might have hit something solid but then she saw Zendra suddenly reappear lying on the ground. That was just silly, laying down during a fight, and the kender was going to tell her so when Zendra suddenly jumped to her feet, yelling as sparking arcs of lightning erupted from her hands towards the nightmare.

Talia bit her lip, maturely realizing that now might not be the best time to joke about with Zendra, but then she also noticed Hope… and her grey robes! An Aesthetic?

"Hey!" Talia yelled out to Hope over the din of battle, "Have you ever been to the Great Library?"


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Last edited by Begon Ugo; Mar 30th, 2024 at 11:58 AM.
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