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  #1126  
Old May 13th, 2024, 05:04 PM
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Tambovsky, Human Fighter
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As soon as Omlin calls out the warning to crouch down and avoid the foul yellow dust, Tambovsky hits the ground, holding his shield over his head like an umbrella, and leaving enough room for any gnome or halfling to cover themselves as well.

From under his shield, he could hear Owain's breathing revert to its normal pace, and then he could hear Sylana calling out to the party and urging them to crawl forward.

His fresh wound stung, and he knew he would need to protect and wash it in order to ensure the dust didn't set into his body and infect him, so he was eager to rid himself of this place and continue on.

But it was strange Sylana was so eager to go--without even searching for treasure. Perhaps she knew of dangers that Tambovsky had never encountered. Or perhaps she had already made off with ... no, he checked his helmet--it was still there.

Well, there was no sense in splitting up the party--who knew what else they might encounter down here.

"Is everyone else ready to go?" he asks. And if there aren't any objections, he will rise slightly, still holding his shield over his head, and follow Sylana's form to the door, and out the room if possible.

Except, not without pause.

If the great "Slipper Thief" was passing over the looting, someone had to check over the bodies.

"If you are near a Deadlock," he calls out to the others, and particularly the gnomes who are closer to the ground, "then see if there are any religious insignia or special weapons that we can show to Father Jol when we return. Blaud Hill is a menagerie of evil, and if we are ultimately unable to defeat it all, we can at least account for and catalog all of its hideous forms."











 




 


 
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  #1127  
Old May 18th, 2024, 04:43 PM
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AllTambovsky and Lady Danicea lay together. She touched him on the shoulder, getting his attention and handed him a heavy wool scarf. She stays down, resting on her elbows as she winds another scarf around her face. There is evil in the dust! Try not to breathe any of it and make your way over to Sylana so we can leave as quickly as possible, she shouts out to everyone.
Omlin, following Sylana's example rolls to the ground and worm crawls over to Tambovsky and Lady Danicea. Sir Tambovsky, let me clean your wound before you are infected. Omlin doesn't wait for an anwswer, she simply climbs on his leg and runs her fingers over his wound. First she pulls it open and pours a blue liquid into it. The pain of the wound eases and the burning disappears as she deftly closes the wound with sure, tight stitches. As she works, she speaks, not yelling, but loud enough for everyone to hear, Be careful what we grab from these things. As followers of Orcus, much of it is poisoned or cursed.
While Omlin was working on Tambosvky, Lady Danicea 'worm crawled' over to the fallen Turley. She looked awkward inching across the floor on her belly, almost funny even. Glancing over at Sylana, Owain saw her move easily along the floor towards the huge gate. Lady Danicea reaches Turley and ties a rope around the gnome's shoulders and then resumes crawling, pulling the unconscious Turley with her.

Owain lay on the floor, steadying his breath and watching, full of wariness for more foes. Seeing and hearing none, he stays low and crawls over to what is left of the Death Lock. Tambovsky and Omlin, now huddled under Tambovsky's shield, join him. Tambovsky carefully pokes around the bones and dust. Several times his hand grow cold when he reached for a bone or an item. Owain, watching, felt the chill of those bones and items too. He left those. Omlin picks up Sylana's dagger as Owain and Tambovsky finishing looting those items that had no ill feeling to them.
While Owain and Tambovsky cover Omlin and loot, Sylana inched her away along the floor until she reached the gate. She sniffed heated iron and felt, carefully checking for more traps. She found another explosive rune that erupted in ice and right next to it, where a person would step to avoid those runes, or kneel to disarm them, she found a hunter's trap with saw toothed steel rings that would snap shut and hold a person or thing in place. Fingering it, tracing it's outline without setting it off, she finds it was meant for humans. If Owain or Tambovsky stepped in it, the trap would snap shut on her their knee or there abouts. She or the gnomes though would get hit right in the face or neck.

Sylana marks both traps and moves farther to her left, checking and checking until she reaches the end of the gate. She feels a bout of dizziness coming on and stops to catch her breath and pull her mask tighter about her face. She stops, a drowsiness filtering through her and she finds herself putting her cheek against the stone floor. The cold stone wakes her. Lifting her head she sees Lady Danicea crawling towards her, pulling Turley with her. Sylana sees yellow dust on her hands, feels it in her hair and on her neck and lips. She is tempted to lick them but stops.
The yellow dust hanging in the air hovers around both Tambovsky and Lady Danicea, but doesn't float down upon them. Sylana can see their shields keep the dust at bay. Lady Danicea's shield even burns some of the dust when it comes to close to her.
Lady Danicea was at that moment making her way towards Sylana, inching every so slowly closer and closer. Sylana feels the dust move away from her and some of the dust coating her melts away like snow beneath the noon sun. The paladin's very presence turns the evil dust away.
Lady Danicea reaches her even though Sylana can't see Lady Danicea's face, she can tell the paladin is smiling with relief at reaching her. Turley breathed in some of the dust or the Death Lock spell still holds him. I don't know which. His body is still warm and he is breathing on his own. Can you open the gate? How about a postern door to the side? Did you find one of those?
Lady Danicea's mention of a postern door gives Sylana something more to look for. She finds a smaller door ten feet from the gate. The door was crafted for gnomes so humans will have to bend over or even crawl to get out while she and gnomes will have no trouble walking through it. Examining the door she finds a needle trap coated with a mushroom like substance. The mushroom is sweet smelling and she almost, almost touches and taste it but pulls away from the compulsion at the last minute.
Sylana unlocks the door and cracks it open just enough to glimpse a small tunnel running thirty feet straight out and away. She smells rain and green leaves and oddly enough, freshly mown grass. She even hears a wind outside blowing rain against the door at the end.

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OOC-No player suffered any damage or was bespelled this round. Turley is asleep, Omlin and Phettle are up and moving around.

PartyOOC-Party Members: Owain, Sylana, Tambovksy, Lady Danicea, Turley Silversteen-held, Omlin, Phettle.
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  #1128  
Old May 19th, 2024, 03:19 PM
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She could feel the coarse dust beneath her hand as she crawled on a hand and an elbow towards the door., the other hand clasping a kerchief over her mouth. Every few feet she stopped to wipe the yellow dust from the palm of her hand, hoping it would make a difference. But at the rate it was falling on her, she wasn't so sure. Her recent experiences with Stygian Tomb Dust meant she just wanted to get the hell out of here. Her heart starting beating faster, and not in a good way - the way when she was excited about a potential heist. This was bordering on the unpleasant. She did not want to spend some more time a mummy. She kind of like who she was now, even if she wasn't entirely sure what that was. But, on the whole, positive, and she could live with that. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted others sifting through the bony dust of Orcus' leftovers. No way. Not a chance. Have fun. That what you want.

She felt her body get heavy as she spotted and avoided even more traps. She didn't realise that it was from the dust, and not from the exertion of the awkward movement. She should've known that to be the case, given how she often had to crawl in a tight spot. By the time she'd finished her work, she felt kind of tired. "Little bit sleepy now," she mumbled quietly to herself. "I wonder if there's time for a quick catnap. I suppose not, but the others can wake me, can't they?" Somehow even her weak rationalisation made some form of contrived sense. "This floor looks quite comfortable. Nice smooth stone. Actually not a speck of dust here either. I've slept on worse..." Her elbow straightened and she lowered herself closer to the floor, lying on her stomach and her hand folded under her head.

She awoke suddenly when her head slid off her arms and onto the cold stone. "What? Already? I was just..." She looked around awkwardly, spotting Lady Danicea crawling towards her, pulling Turley behind her. That Lady has some serious juju. She watched in fascination as the dust seemed to evaporate to the Lady's mere presence. She responded quickly when Lady Danicea gave her an update. "Lady Danicea, if I've ever meant you disrespect or doubted you..." She paused for a moment. "Well, I'm going to do it again. Not going to lie. But, now, here, this moment, glad you're here." Best I got. Honest. Her eyes brightened at the suggesting to find an anterior door, and she immediately located it and made it safe. Damn, Lady. Where do you get your mojo?

The smell of fresh grass and the pitter-patter of rain was a welcome to her tired senses. She felt a little bit out of control with all the magic in the air, and it wasn't a feeling she liked. She needed to be in control. Her life depended on it, and quite frankly, she was fond of it. She shuffled a little into the narrow corridor and rested her back and head against the cold stone. Some part of it felt more solid than in there. "Don't mind me. Just shuffle on by. Having a moment." She rested her eyes, trying not to think, to keep her mind quiet. A short minute later she sat up, removed her cloak and rolled it into a nice comfortable pillow. She she walked to where Lady Danicea had deposited Turley, the gnome. "Now, Lady, I ain't got not magic, but a pillow is as good as I have, and Turley could use one." She lent over and placed it beneath Turley's head before folding her legs and sitting beside the unconscious gnome.


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  #1129  
Old May 23rd, 2024, 11:17 PM
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To fresh air
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Owain held his breath as he wrapped a scarf over his nose and mouth like the others, and even after that, he didn't dare breathe too deeply. With the foul cloud of dust lingering in the air he knew it'd be wise to make a swift exit. It also wouldn't do to leave whatever this deathlock was carrying to find its way back into the wrong hands. "That's a good dagger and a nice sword. We should just grab it all and split it up somewhere we can move and breathe more freely."

So he gathered up the items that didn't have the wrongness about them and began the slow crawl across the floor. The way was easier now that Sylana had marked or disarmed the nasty traps. Owain followed the path Lady Danicea took with Turley. Once he found the little side door, he did his best to shake off any of the fine yellow dust that may have settled on him as he inched across the floor. It looked like he'd have to do some more crawling but that wouldn't be so bad with the scent of rain and green waiting at the other end of the tunnel.

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Old May 24th, 2024, 12:21 AM
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Tambovsky, Human Fighter
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Toward the end of the group, Tambovsky can smell sweaty hobbit, sweaty gnomes, sweaty warrior, and sweaty princess--though not necessarily in that order and not necessarily ranked by pungency.

But then a blast of nature--leaves, grass and a breeze wafts across him.

"Aye, Owain," he shouts cheerfully to the warrior crawling before him, "to be buried or refreshed in a glade rather than a tomb or a hospital!"

And that's when Tambovsky realizes that his speech knew what his mind had not yet acknowledged ... they are going to meet Owain's father, but is he dead or alive ... or perhaps some fey state of neither.

Tambovsky could only crawl onward and discover what awaited. Surely it would not be the strangest of things he has seen these past days.









 




 


 
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  #1131  
Old Jun 2nd, 2024, 05:38 PM
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Owain, Sylana, TambovskyOwain quickly and carefully gathered the chosen items. When he touched the horse handled sword he heard horses galloping across the ground, felt the hoofs digging into the earth for sureness and speed. He slipped the slim blade into the sack and the horses faded. The sense of the horses still with him, he followed Lady Danicea's path to the postern door. Holding tightly to his sack with the loot, he made his way over, breathing evenly and doing his best to keep away from as much of the dust as possible. Up ahead, Phettle had already made his way to the postern door. Phettle sat just inside the tunnel, a crossbow across his lap. The gnome sipped peach brandy while he covered them. Once Owain reached the door, Phettle offered him a sip. The very smell of the brandy brought memories of the Welcome Wench back to Owain and Tambovsky. The Phettle's brandy probably came from the same batch or same distillery, maybe even the Welcome Wench itself.
Omlin crawled off Tambovsky and gave him a thumb's up that his wound was cleaned and patched. She stood up and walked in a half crouch across the floor. She followed Owain, careful not to step too far to either side. Tambovsky followed, easily reaching the postern door and squeezing himself into the tunnel. His nose wrinkled at the smell and sudden closeness of the others, but he politely didn't comment.

Sylana places her rolled up cloak under Turley's head. She noticed the feathery softness of his hair and the clean lemony smell coming off the sleeping gnome. Except for being fast asleep, Turley seemed fine. Lady Danicea lifted the visor of her helm and gave Sylana a warm if somewhat wan smile. Sylana, you re amazing, you saved us all, Lady Danicea says and then leans over and affectionately kisses Sylana on the forehead.
As Lady Danicea kisses Sylana's head, her necklace sways over Sylana, almost touching Sylana's nose. The paladin pulls away and sits in a crouch, her back resting against the opposite wall from Sylana. The others soon join them and they all sit in the crowded tunnel, catching their breaths and wiping as much of the yellow dust off themselves as they can. While Omlin helps them get clean, Phettle hands his flask down to anyone who wants a sip. Lady Danicea takes a sip and then rests her head on her arms that are folded across her knees. Phettle and Omlin are both awake, but Owain and Tambovsky can tell the gnomes, like Lady Danicea and Sylana to some extent are close to exhaustion.

Omlin passes out a handful of berries for everyone, saying, Only eat one or two, these should help for the next few hours or at least until we find a relatively safe place in the Forest. I know places in the wood where the Rangers of the Elkhorn and Spotted Owl societies have hideouts. We can rest there if need be. Sylana and Owain, will lead us out?

Sylana had stiffened up during the short rest and she had to blink herself awake a few times. The strong smell of strawberry came to her as she took Omlin's berries. Even before she took her first bite, just the smell of the berry starting waking her. Owain and Tambovsky felt the same. Lady Danicea looked up. She chewed daintily and took the longest to eat her berries. The change over her was quickly apparent. The berries had a crisp outer skin, like an apple, but once bitten, were pear soft on the inside. As they munched the berries, they all felt a slow tingle of energy course through them. Well, they are not peach schnapps Omlin, but they will do, says Phettle as he takes another sip of his brandy to wash the berries down.

Refreshed and invigorated, Sylana and Owain lead the party out. Sylana goes first, walking and finding no traps. Owain has to follow either crawling or in a heavy crouch. The smell of leaves and rain and mown grass grow stronger as they reach the end of the tunnel. Up above the trap door, they can hear a slow wind riffling through the trees and the patter of soft rain. Finding no traps on the door, Sylana opens it and peaks out. The door opens without a sound. The patter of rain grows louder. She looks out. Mushrooms rise all around her, many of the mushrooms bigger than herself. Beyond the mushrooms, tall beech trees loom over the "Faerie Circle." Sylana and Owain can tell dusk is close. Besides the rain and the wind and the creaking of trees, they hear nothing else.

Down in the tunnel, Tambovsky brings up the rear. His senses sharpen as he lays his hand on a tile. The tile emits a soft jade green color over his hand. There are giant kin nearby. They are sleeping and have been for a long time. Holding his hand flat on the tile, he hears giants chanting and an image of a rune takes shape in his mind. Tambovsky realizes the sleeping giants have sent him a dream of the Stone Rune. The image and feeling passes, his Rune Knight senses shape the knowledge for later use. The tile cools and the light fades until the tunnel is dark and quiet again.

OOC-All players roll for perception and initiative. I am assuming Owain and Sylana will do as Omlin asked, if not, we can make the changes.


PartyOOC-Party Members: Owain, Sylana, Tambovksy, Lady Danicea, Turley Silversteen, Omlin, Phettle.
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  #1132  
Old Jun 6th, 2024, 09:08 PM
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Dusk in the woods
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The sound and feel of charging horses was a soothing balm to Owain, one that he wasn't eager to give up so fast. But, he still had enough wits about him to know that none of them could linger in the poisoned air so he stowed the blade with the other items and crawled on. The Welshman nodded to Phettle, who was covering their escape, and took a dram of what the gnome offered. Sweet peaches and warm spice flooded his mouth taking away the bitter taste of the yellow dust and soothing his weary muscles. It lightened his spirits as well when it stirred up the memory of an enlargened Tambovsky charging into the storeroom under the Welcome Wench and dousing the floor with busted casks.

Owain laughed softly and handed the brandy off before making room for others in the tunnel. It was tight, he had to crouch down and rest on his haunches, but he knew it would be comforting for the gnomes and he couldn't deny it felt safe to be huddled together.

Owain thanked Omlin for the berries and agreed to help lead the way out. The berries themselves were cool and delicious. Where the brandy had been warm and soothing these were cool and refreshing. He felt energized as if they'd rested in a proper tavern for hours rather than a stone tunnel.

He crawled behind Sylana, watching for movement ahead as she checked for traps. Once the fresh scents of nature came wafting in, it was difficult to keep the slow and deliberate pace but it was safest to give Sylana all the time she needed to be thorough. Soon enough, they came to the end of the tunnel and a door. Outside, the rain on his face felt almost like home to Owain. He looked around, scanning for danger amongst the mushrooms and trees. When no threat presented itself, he signaled to the gnomes it was safe to emerge. "Night will soon be upon us, do you recognize this place? How much further to a safe place to rest?" He knew everyone was tired because he was as well but, he would carry gnomes if it came to that.

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Old Jun 14th, 2024, 12:17 AM
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Tambovsky, Human Fighter
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After touching the rune and being drawn in by its power and sense of holiness, Tambovsky hurried to catch up with the others, but his mind still remained behind.

The runes ...

He was not brought up in a faith that put much store in magical scribbles left behind by holy hermits or itinerant knights. His family had always taught him that worship was what one did collectively, gathered in a church dedicated to a saint, and then once more as the village joined together to secure a bridge against the rise of a flooding river, to bring in the harvest of an elderly member who could no longer hold the scythe, and much more--all the daily tasks it took for a people bound by a shared land to survive.

Fighting in the ranks of soldiers, he easily found a shared purpose. But it was bluntly enforced and, to his dismay, enforced by some officers who were corrupt and thought little of those whose lives they commanded.

In Blaud Hill, there was ... something different.

Awoken from his despair by the pluck of a hobbit-thief, Tambovsky had begun to discern honor as something that, adrift from a village and all moorings of right and wrong, one had to carve out. And, he realized, if one did it well and lived an honorable life, then the impact of those actions would remain as runes, scattered in unlikely places for others to find.

"Pushpin!" he shouts to the front, though not too loudly. "There are, I believe, giants nearby ... asleep, for now."




 




 


 
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Old Jun 23rd, 2024, 12:02 PM
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!

Sylana looked up from Turley's sleeping form and returned Lady Danicea's gaze. "I did?" she remarked at first to Lady Danicea's comment that she'd saved them all. "Well, of course I did," she eventually replied, but she wasn't quite sure of the how, then when or anything else really. Just going with the flow. Last time she'd done that with regard to a certain slipper incident it had not gone well, but she was pleased to see that some habits had not fallen afoul to her affected personality disorder. "Just doing what I should, as me Pa always used to say." A somewhat smug reply, but a little smugness was due given she'd just saved everybody. And started believing it.

Lady Danicea's kiss was a little unexpected though. As the paladin leaned in, she could feel her arm raise itself in unison and before she knew it her fingers were approaching the clasp of the necklace around the paladin's neck. All too easy! Still, as the necklace grazed her nose and her finger touched the clasp, she pulled away. One day, my pretty, one day. Like that helmet, they will be mine. She could wait. Patience was part of who she was, and she was happy to delay her gratification for the eventual reward of necklace and helmet.

A short meal and drink later Sylana, now positively invigorated, followed the rest of the passage, moving slowly and meticulously and not complaining about being the one would could potentially spring all the traps. As she leaned out into the rainy early evening, she crinkled her nose at the stillness of the world beyond her corridor, and the enormous mushrooms. Tambovsky's voice rang out. "Always one to ruin the evening," she sighed, but then she really should not have expected anything less. This place was cursed, she reckoned. So much going on and so much embedded evil. Somebody should do something about that, like a priest, or Lady Danicea. Those goody types had the power to break curses, didn't they? "Well, that's just step on the hobbit, fantastic, Tambovsky!" she exclaimed as she wriggled past the others to get closer to the human. "What makes you so sure? Can't say I saw anything out there. Or hear their snoring. Mind you, it is raining and all that, and I am having a day." She frowned and paused. "Not going out there first. Giants don't see too good and not in this rain neither, and a mushroom looks an awful lot like a gnome of a hobbit. Well rounded, and all that. You big folk can find a route around them." She briefly wondered if she could get away with stealing something off sleeping giants, but shelved the thought for later. Let's check the lay of the land first, eh?


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Old Jun 29th, 2024, 09:12 PM
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Tambovsky, Human Fighter
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"I don't know how I know," Tambovsky struggles to give Sylana the answer she deserves--and he certainly isn't going to share any information about mystic rune feelings. That isn't him.

But dreams? Dreams would be okay, right? Even in Tambovsky's village of farmers, millers, cowherders, potters and other practical folk, dreams were still talked about--the fleeting glimpses of the otherworldly allowed to every peasant.

"I think it was a dream?" he shrugged. "It was short, so I don't know what happens if they wake or how they might wake. But it was vivid. A landscape something like this. And something very like--exactly like--giants. "




 




 


 
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Old Jul 1st, 2024, 05:56 AM
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AllOwain steps out in the cool, slow falling rain. He stands outside the tunnel for a moment, just feeling the gentle drop of rain against his cheeks and forehead. He stands there for a moment before he realizes Sylana is not joining him. She is staying down, where she feels safe. A soft grunt is followed by Phettle climbing up and out. The gnome quickly moves beneath one of the huge mushrooms, getting out of the rain that Owain let fall on him.

Down in the tunnel, Owain could hear Sylana and Tambovsky talking, joshing back and forth with each other. Lady Danicea had moved up so she was now just below the tunnel entrance. She smiled, almost laughing, The giants, they are still sleeping? Let us not wake them then. If they are still sleeping they can't attack us. Not like just about everything else we have run into so far.

Sylana wriggles down the tunnel until she is right next to Tambovsky. She can feel the warmth coming off Tambovsky as he crouches in the tunnel and then sits next to her. He is warm and cleaner smelling now. He is also no longer covered in yellow muck dust. He looks down at her and realizes his thigh is bigger than her chest. He feels her warmth too. Sitting so close together, they both find a certain comfort. For the moment they are alive and safe. Tambovsky looks down at her, I think it was a dream, he starts. Sylana has had a few dreams or dream like moments here. I know what you mean Tambovsky. I have a had few dreams or surrealist visions myself in here. It is nice to know I am not mad, or if I am, I am sharing the madness with you. Couldn't think of better company Tambovsky, says Omlin.
Turley moves and sits up, blinking his eyes and yawning as he wakes. The young gnome looks disoriented and uncertain for a moment. Once he sees Sylana though, he straightens up and his eyes brighten with color. Did we make out? Turley looks around for a moment then pulls a skin from his pack and drinks half of it down before offering some to Sylana. Here, it is Crown Pale ale, from Liege.

Back up top, Owain peers into the growing dusk and the slowing rain. At first he only sees the mushrooms, the tall birches circling the mushroom grove and the thick brush beneath the tall Birches. As his eyes adjust to the light, he begins to see red and yellow leaves and even some light periwinkle flowers in the surrounding forest. He steps lightly towards the trees, moving carefully so as not to disturb the ground any more than necessary. He is about five feet from the circling trees when he hears the slight sound of splashing water and a tinkle of laughter coming from is right. He turns slowly and ducks his eyes in time. He just glimpsed a naked shoulder of tanned skin rising from a tub shaped mushroom. Still looking away, he felt the tangle of magic flowing around him and heard the slither of vines moving across the ground. Nothing grabbed hold of him, nothing wound around him and for a moment everything seemed unnaturally still. A soft voice says, Hello, I hadn't expected company. If you wait a moment for me to grab my robe we can then talk in a more reasonable fashion. He hears the sound of a person rising from the water and stepping out of the tub. He can tell whoever it is, is purposefully makine noise in one spot, while quietly moving to another. He follows the movement and catches a glimpse of a woman. She is slim and tanned over her whole body. Long dark chestnut colored hair runs down her back all the way to her ankles. He watches her in his periphal vision, as she wraps her hair around herself, forming a loose fitting dress that is more like a toga than anything else Owain had seen before. She sits back against the tub and pulls a hood over her head and hides her face. He can tell she is careful not to look directly at him. She tilts her head to the side, a questioning sound in her voice, Are you Owain? You look like others I have seen recently. Possibly a brother or a son, both maybe. She reaches around and splashes her fingers in the water before pulling up two glasses of blue crystal in one hand, a bottle of honey colored wine in the other. Tell me a story warrior. By the sight of your scars, I am sure you have more than a few. Tell me a story and I will tell you one before the moon rises in all its honey colored glory.

OOC-No players took any damage that round. Sylana and Tambovsky are tucked safely in the tunnel, unaware of what is happening in the mushroom field. Owain is talking to a Nymph, roll for insight if he wishes.


PartyOOC-Party Members: Owain, Sylana, Tambovksy, Lady Danicea, Turley Silversteen, Omlin, Phettle
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  #1137  
Old Jul 1st, 2024, 10:18 PM
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Tambovsky, Human Fighter
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"You most definitely did not make out," Tambovsky smiles as he responds to Turley's mistranslation from gnomish to common, "but we did come to the edge of the tunnel. Owain is investigating if it is safe, and if anything attempts to ambush him, we are to rush out and come to his side."

He pauses to watch Turley hand the flask to Sylana, and then talks to Omlin, waiting, of course, to speak after Sylana has said anything that she wants to say to the gnome.

"I, too, am honored that we could make the journey with you and your kin, Omlin. Sylana and I were speculating as to what might be in this opening--what do you know of it?"








 




 


 
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  #1138  
Old Jul 4th, 2024, 09:27 PM
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A walk in the forest
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Owain tilted his head back and let the rain wash away all the dust, sweat, and viscera from the battles of the day. A smile spread across his face as he breathed deeply of the clean forest air. He enjoyed the moment of peace and relative quiet. The whispers about where giants might be slumbering spread his smile wider. He nodded at Phettle who took shelter from the rain shower under a mushroom, shrugged, and looked around at he surrounding woods. It seemed everything was clear.

After a few soft steps, Owain heard the gentle sounds of a nice bath and a quiet laugh. He turned in the direction of the sound but kept his eyes low to preserve the stranger's modesty. Stranger is perhaps the best way to describe who he met. There was an air of magic, the old and wild kind, about her. Forest kin are known to be capricious at best so he kept his eyes averted even when she spoke. The voice most definitely came from a she, his peripheral vision confirmed the lithe, tanned form and long hair.

"Aye, you already know my name Lady, but I regret to tell you I know not your own." Owain answered her, careful not to meet her gaze since she was trying not to meet his. It was an odd game but that didn't bother him any. "A brother or son? I must confess, I can claim neither but I've reason to believe my Da is somewhere near, in a grove. I've come looking for him."

"But, I suppose I could spare a moment or two for the swapping of stories since I intruded upon your bath." He chanced a glance at her again but couldn't get a read on her like he normally can with strangers. She could be friend or foe, or somewhere in between, for all he knew. Still, to share a tale was only hospitable. "Three warriors and a Lady knight mounted up on strong, eager horses one morning while the sun was still washing the dew from the grass with golden rays. They sought to aid a wagon one had spied with keen elven eyes, and bring the people back to their sanctuary in a hostile town full of undeath and worse. On the road, they passed a sleeping troll who mustered a few grunts of a challenge but the riders gave the brute a wide berth for he was not their quarry this day."

"They rode on as the sun rose to take its throne among the clouds in the sky. Soon, they came to a bridge. It was covered. In the shade and outside the bridge lie strewn the evidence of a battle. Broken spears and rent armor, bodies, and blood littered either side. But they had to pass."

"So, forward they rode onto the battle-scarred bridge. Little did they know, goblins were lurking in every shadow. Under the bridge and up in the rafters which held the roof. Now, of course, these brave warriors could've trampled the foul blighters beneath blade and hoof but a wild muse struck inspiration and they turned to flee." Owain paused and hung his head briefly before continuing with a sly grin. "The goblins thought they'd bested the warriors and pelted them with spit and dung as they rode off. What the foul creatures didn't know was the warriors weren't retreating but calling in reinforcements. They smeared goblin scat on arrows and when they came to the waking troll, they loosed the tainted shot, enraging the beast. The troll loped after the warriors who rode like madmen back to the bridge full of boasting goblins and they kept on riding straight through to the other side where they could watch the troll eat his fill again with the ones who weren't quick, or smart, enough to jump into the river." The memory brought a wild look to his eyes and a hearty chuckle along with it. "Afterward, they did find the people with an injured cleric and brought them back to the chancellery safely."

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  #1139  
Old Jul 6th, 2024, 04:47 AM
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The little halfling shuffled closer to Tambovsky, crouching down until she was almost inside the imaginary shadow of his thigh. She didn't mind the closeness or the scents. Anything beats a sewer. "A dream, you say?" she responded rhetorically. "Yeah, I have those. Quite annoying, really." She remained quiet for a moment, surprised to find herself enjoying the comfort and safety of the moment. Guess there's a limit to how much danger and death one can face in a day. Time for a little pontification. "Dreams aren't real, though, you know? Now, if you're talking gut feeling them I'm all with you, because you just can't trust something that doesn't come from deep within you. Dreams, visions - who knows their providence. But a good gut feeling can mostly be trusted. It comes from you. You, you can always trust. Don't always listen to those voices in your head or pictures in your eyes." She shrugged.

Silence descended again for a moment. She could hear the breathing of Omlin and Tambovsky. When Turley awakened, Sylana smiled in the darkness. "We made it, Turls," she replied to the gnome's question before gratefully taking the drink offered and taking a rather large sip for a halfling. A human-sized sip. After another silence, Sylana's voice quipped. "So, we're off to find Owain's dad, are we? I guess he must really like his dad. Having to go through all this just to find him." There really wasn't much point to what she was saying but she wasn't always good at small-talk. "I do wonder what happened to Baumen and Soskia? Never did get to find out if she was a witch. Pity." More silence followed.

She sighed, probably too loudly. "Guess Owain found some trouble. He's been gone a long time and he's stranger than most big folk." She tried to recall if she'd ever had a conversation with Owain, but the welshman didn't seem comfortable speaking. And to be fair, neither was she. She stretched a little, making sure each of her muscles got a little action before starting to squeeze her way forward towards the exit of the tunnel. "Just a little look," she said to herself. If it's really miserable out there I might just stay here. Then again, can't have Owain get into trouble without the rest of us. I need him to get me out of here alive.


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Old Yesterday, 07:00 AM
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Sylana and I were speculating as to what might be in this opening--what do you know of it?"
asks Tambovsky

This is a Fey place, a mushroom circle that often gives strange and wonderous dreams, and horrific one's in equal measure. Many of those, I would discount. This a place for the Fey, a sacred place to them, like a church or a temple for humans. That is why they react so strongly when humans intrude. When we climb out, try and move quietly and show respect and hopefully they won't take too much offense and tie our bootlaces together or cause our hair to grow in knots.says Omlin. Omlin shifts a little, settling closer to Sylana in a half snuggle. Omlin smells of mint and lavender. I don't disagree with you Sylana, not necessarily anyway, but I do place value in some dreams, some visions. Others, who knows where they come or why. Here, your dreams are drawn on by the Fey. Make no mistake of that. They often draw forth the stronger emotions, memories or imaginings we have and make them seem real. Those are the easiest for them to sense, so those are the ones they summon and manipulate.
There is a pause in the conversation as a muddle of voices comes from the tunnel entrance. What, they can't make out, but it seems Owain and Phettle are talking to someone in what sounds like Gaelic. Lady Danicea stands by the side, sword at ready, waiting and listening.

Turley takes another drink, not paying any attention to Lady Danicea and the tunnel entrance and then says without wiping his lips, Why can't they be both? I have dreams I soon forget, but other dreams stay with me, settling in my stomach. Those dreams curdle every now and then, reminding me they are still there. Is that the kind of thing you mean Sylana by "gut feeling?" Turley pauses for a moment. He wipes the glistening ale drops from his lips and continues, I can trust Owain and Tambovsky. I know that. I can feel it in my "guts." He reaches out and pats the top of Tambovbsky's hand. His voice quiets and slows as he glances at Lady Danicea.

Lady Danicea waves, getting their attention and asking for silence. She points up and Sylana hears voices up top. Owain she clearly hears. He is telling a story about goblins and trolls and covered bridges. Lady Danicea hears it too and can't help but smile, almost blushing. Tambovsky hears Owain as well. Owain's voice is followed by a deeper, huskier voice. None of them can make out the words, but they can feel the warmth in the voice, the very sound full of tales, enchantments and dreams.
Sylana moves forward, joining Lady Danicea, who puts a hand out to stop Sylana just in the shadow of the entrance, but clear of the entrance itself and away from the danger of someone pouring or dropping something on them from above. Lady Danicea whispers, Owain is talking to one of the Fey, at least I think she is a she and she is Fey. I can't really tell, can you?
Sylana hears Owain talking to a woman, whether Fey or not, she can't tell but she is definitely a woman, probably older due to the husky, deep throated sound of her voice. As she listens, the woman's voice settles in Sylana like a drink of whiskey warming her bones after a cold day. Sylana keeps listening, wanting to hear more, wanting the woman to keep talking and keep talking...Sylana feels herself nodding and shakes herself from the doze like quality she had been slipping into. Sylana looks up to see Lady Danicea standing stock still, a sweet, almost rapturous look on her face as the voice takes hold of the paladin.

Tambovsky starts to move forward as well and stops as he feels a sensation reminding him of his home and sleeping with his brothers and sisters. They all worked at stretching the blankets as much as they could so they were all covered. Sometimes though, someone would pull more than their share of the blanket, allowing wisps of cold to chill him. He knows, he had done the same himself. It couldn't be helped. He felt that feeling now, only this was the giants he sensed, rolling over in the earth, pulling "the blanket," back over. Maegwen, the name rolls through his thoughts and an image of a Firbolg warrior momentarily appears. She stands in the center of a circle of large, near man-size mushrooms. She starts to sing, holding her hands to the Sky and the rising dawn. The image fades into one of a giant snoring, beneath the earth.

Up above, Phettle has sat down, leaning against the mushroom, his eyes drooping, his head nodding as he slowly falls asleep. Over by the tub, Owain hears another swish of water as the woman rises up. He feels her eyes on him, knows she is looking him over. My apologies Owain. In the imposed long sleep I have forgotten my manners of hospitality. I am Pallas, come share my wine and my bath, if you wish. Owain feels his head rising, almost as if someone was lifting his chin, wanting him to see. I sense you are no follower of the Nailed One, but a warrior often found in the Days of the Fianna. You may look upon me as well, as long as I get to look upon you. I have not seen a warrior with so fine a form as you since the days of Cuchulainn. A fair bargain for a fair time. Owain's skin feels the touch of her eyes roaming over him like velvet cloak. Inviting, but not demanding or coercing, almost wishing him welcome, but not urgently or commanding. Her voice softens in intensity as she draws back, purposely holding back her charm so as not to cloud his judgement or perceptions. Not to worry Owain Stagheart, you remind me of your sisters Brenna and Evaine. Your father is with Niela in a dryad's glade, recovering from his contest with the Winter Hag. I would tell you more, but I have not been awake long enough to know more. In this, you probably have the better lay of the land.

OOC-Owain doesn't need to make any rolls, Pallas exudes "charm" but holds back and is not trying to charm him. Sylana and Tambovsky roll for perception and Wis SA charm DC 14 or the woman as an ally and friend.


PartyParty Members: Owain, Sylana, Tambovksy, Lady Danicea, Turley Silversteen, Omlin, Phettle
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