[Game Thread] A Change of Season - Part 3

[Admin Bhelogan]

A Calling "It's bad Gallindan, close to home," the grizzled old veteran of a soldier told the somewhat younger elf. Hakkouth Granitehorn had about a century on the elf, though being a Dwarf this put him in his senior years. He had lost all but a little of his hair, which mostly blended in with his stark white beard. One good eye kept a close lookout, while the other had been replaced with a red ruby. It served no purpose other than to give strangers something to look at, but it helped Hakkouth strike up a conversation when he was feeling lonely. Today though, he had a message to deliver. "Oakcrest. You know the place, only about two weeks travel east of hear. We have reason to believe there is an outbreak there. Your lot was drawn by the council, it is now your task to go shed our light on the matter. By yourself this time. We think you are ready to prove yourself." He didn't need to say anything more. Gallindan knew what that meant, and what his responsibility would be. Two weeks later, as Gillindan was approaching the small town, he saw the first traveler he had come across for many days. He could tell instantly that the man was a half-breed. And, seemed to be having an argument with himself about whether or not he should get drunk when he got to town.

You're never alone Oren was getting fed up with Lux. No matter how many times he told him, he wouldn't drop the matter. It was beer or bust for the imp. They were getting very close to town though when movement struck Oren's attention. There was someone else headed to Oakcrest. Someone he had never seen before. A tall wiery elf, silver hair and blue eyes. His gear made it clear, this was not a simple traveler. He was armed, and well armored. He also looked like he knew where he was going. There was intent in his walk. This wasn't some soldier strolling the countryside for his health.

OODM Welcome to Part 3! I'll let you two play out your introductions, pick up on any descriptions I might have missed that would seem important, and so forth.

[zebedee]

A Calling Gallindan always appreciated time spent with Hakkouth. The younger races so rarely had the needed perspective. Dwarves were a little too persistent, truth be told. A little too unwilling to bend, to yield, to change. But they knew how to enjoy life, how to sing and eat and drink. And they valued the past. Gallindan and Hakkouth had made good partners several times for this reason. But now he was being asked to venture out on his own. Of course, he had long awaited this moment, but it was no less intimidating when it came. His pulse rushed, and he felt the call of Summer in his blood. But no. There was no foe to fight, not yet. This was still a time of planning, of contemplation. He willed his blood to cool, felt Winter reestablish command. He managed a smile for his friend. "Thank you, wise one. I will not fail. I will go and pack now. I hope you will join me later and share a bottle of wine in farewell."

You're never alone The tall stranger leaned on his silvered glaive, taking in the unusual conversation in front of him. But he knew that he had been seen - indeed, he had wanted to be seen. He called out, "Hail, stranger, and well met. How much farther to Oakcrest?" Something unusual was going on with this half-elf, but Gallindan couldn't yet be sure what it was.

[mountainbound]

When Daybreak was settled, Oren made his way up from her bedroom to his study. It was piled high with books and oddments he had found among the dragon’s horde. “I need a moment to unwind,” he said to himself, not caring if the imp heard or not. He unslung his pack and removed a few things he’d meant to investigate.

Over the past day or so, he felt a new understanding of the world. Seeing another plane of existence, speaking with goddesses — especially infernal ones — did that to a person. Sitting there in his high backed, ornate wooden chair in his lair, a table full of books before him, his tiefling companion sleeping nearby, and the dangers of his most recent adventure behind him for the time being, he actually felt as though he might be a warlock after all. “Or a very strange soldier,” he grunted, pulling out a scroll he had taken from the temple several weeks ago. Looking at it, he loses himself in it for a while, applying all his mind to deciphering the strange symbols. Though he couldn’t tell how Fierna had cast her teleportation spell, some of the runes she scratched in the ground made sense to him. It was as though he was learning, without any discernible method, the ways of the arcane. As though a secret knowledge were seeping into him from a source outside himself.

Rubbing his eyes, “Time to go,” he reminds himself. It wouldn't do to let even a day go by without stopping to visit the priest and checking in on Frath. “Lux, I'm heading to town. You can come, since I trust that's your wish, so long as you hide yourself and say nothing around other people. These villagers already don’t trust me and I don’t need them knowing there’s a horned devil sitting on my shoulder. In fact, when we’re in town, you’d do better to stay in the inside pocket of my cloak. You can shrink small can’t you?” His warlock side struck with sudden interest, Oren continues, “Tell me, how small can you transform, and how big? For how long? It might be useful to know this if we’re going to be companions. After all, we’ll likely need to help each other out at some point.”

Walking into town, the imp’s incessant chatter begins to wear on the warlock. He had made the trip to town now many times and can’t help but think how wonderful it would be to fly instead of slog the muddy miles from Dragonhall to Oakcrest. The chatter continues until finally Oren snaps. “Beer, beer, beer. Is that all they ever talk about in the Abyss? Well I can tell you there’s something much better than beer. It’s called whiskey. But it’s… special, you can’t just go guzzling it any time. I’ll tell you what Lux, I’ll pick up the finest bottle of whiskey in town, and we’ll drink it together on just the right night. But you need to promise to keep your word for not becoming visible. Trust me, you’ll thank me for waiting on this one.”

It’s then that he notices another traveller on the road. “An elf,” he says, curious. He supposedly had some elven blood in him, his grandmother, or so the story went. Sure he had uncanny vision in the darkness, and was perhaps thinner than most, but he never put much stock in the tales of his lineage. If he did have an elven grandmother, he never met her, having been sent away from his family at a young age to be raised by an unkindly aunt.

Rubbing a hand across his short shaved head and dark beard, he pauses on the road as the fellow approaches from the western trail. The two soon exchange greetings. “Well met indeed,” Oren replies guardedly, yet his naturally friendly attitude is unmistakable. “The village is but a mile north. I’m heading that way myself if you’d care to join me. I am Oren of Dragonhall. Who might you be, friend, and what be your business coming to Oakcrest, so far from the lands of your people?”

OOC He's going to take a short rest to investigate the Druid Ritual Scroll he picked up a long time ago. https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...46#post7491746

[zebedee]

Now the two were closer, they could size each other up more carefully. The stranger was tall for an elf, standing 6'3", and wiry. Long silver hair fell unbound over his shoulders. Blazing ice blue eyes shone forth from skin the color of new-fallen snow. He was handsome, as most elves are. But he was severe, stern, pensive. He wore mail of nickel splints on bleached white leather. A battered green pack was slung over his shoulder, and an ebony longbow was strapped to the outside. He held a filigreed ebony glaive with a silvered blade, and the comfortable way he held the weight revealed his experience with the weapon. Around his waist was a thick black belt whose silver buckle was embossed with an empty throne atop a mountain. But perhaps the most striking thing he wore was a pair of forest-green heavy gauntlets, covered with elvish runes that seemed to faintly glow.

"I am Gallindan Shalbarain, and I am further from my people than you can imagine. Treachery and deceit taint these lands. I am sent here to cleanse them."

[Admin Bhelogan]

OODM There were a few scrolls there. The Ritual once studied is one that would require Daybreak, with her new druidic powers to make use of. It seems to have the power to cause a plant or tree to come to life, or to give a friendly beast a certain level of intelligence. The Shenanigans still seems a mystery, but potentially dangerous to read.

[mountainbound]

The first thing Oren notices is the elf’s bright blue eyes. Shrewd, confident, capable no doubt. First impressions flash through the warlock’s mind, sizing up the newcomer.

"I am Gallindan Shalbarain, and I am further from my people than you can imagine.”

“Oh, I can imagine a lot, my friend,” Oren replies. Having just that morning returned from the Abyss, the warlock can’t help chuckle at the comment. It wasn’t a disparaging laugh, but he had to wonder about someone who would presume a stranger’s limitation for thought. Perhaps that’s the way of elves after all, he reflects, remembering the stereotypes about them being arrogant, sheltered and self-righteous. Oren didn’t survive as long as he had by pigeonholing others though, and being naturally gregarious, begins again.

“You’re right though, treachery abounds around here. And just about everywhere else I've been.” It’s then he takes in the elf’s garb, noticing the weapons, the glowing gauntlets, the armor. If I could get outfitted half as well I might look the part of mighty dragon-killer. Standing in his tattered black cloak and musty leather armor, such was not his lot.

What catches his eye most, however, is Gallindan’s buckle. An empty throne on what appeared to be a mountain. “I’m heading to get supplies and know the village well. Let us walk together. It’s rare to receive a guest, much less one of your experience and rank, Gallindan.”

As they move, Oren continues, “You said you were sent here. Who or what is it that you serve, if you don’t mind my asking? I would be glad to hear more of your mission. In return I may help you learn some of the background of the place.”

OOC Zeb's image finally shamed me into getting a properly sized photo of Oren to share.

[Admin Bhelogan]

As the two began to speak, Oren heard a voice whispering in his ear. "Oh man, I got a bad vibe about this guy. He is going to be nothing but trouble, I'm telling you Oren! We should ditch him first chance we get!" Lux was whispering best he could, trying to make sure Gallindan couldn't hear him. Lux himself was very good and being sneaky, and Oren could tell that the Gallindan hadn't noticed him yet. It was only a matter of time though, before something would give it away that Oren had another voice in his ear.

[zebedee]

Gallindan stood a moment in thought, surprised by the tone of Oren's answer. He has seen more than most. Curious. He adjusted his expectations. And he smiled.

"Lead on, then. I see I have underestimated you. I apologize. But the treachery I speak of goes beyond the mortal squabbles of humans... or those of elves or dwarves, for that matter. Something new festers here, challenging the light of countless centuries. My order tracks these incursions, and we resist them. Tell me... is there a temple to the Old Gods near here?"

OOC: Well now I feel bad that my stolen image is massive. I should probably learn how to resize it.

[mountainbound]

"I see I have underestimated you. I apologize," Gallindan says.

"No need, you're not the first." When asked about the temple, Oren responds, "Yes, there is an ancient temple in the forests, though recently burned. My own story is well mixed with the place. In fact, I have just returned from there. You see, I too have been protecting these villagers for the past several months. I have no order to rely on though, no resources. Just my faith." The last he says in a meaningful tone.

"I serve the One who is missing, the One who's empty throne sits on the mountaintop. Perhaps you know of such a lord? In any case, it's been through the gifts of that power that I've shielded Oakcrest from destruction from a dragon first, then a demon queen." Here he locks his elbow against his side, keeping Lux in check.

"If our goals are the same, I would like to hear more about your order, and how you came to know of this place."

[zebedee]

Gallindan stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to face the half-elf, reappraising once again. "Interesting! You know of the Ancient One, but not of my order. These are worrying times, but if what you say is true, our aims may well align. My answer is complicated, and even so it is incomplete. But I believe you need to know what I have to say. To start, I am a holy knight, sworn to an oath older than even the oldest tales of my people. An oath to preserve the light of civilization, of life itself. That oath binds me to the Ancient One, but also to many others of the Old Gods. I do not serve them directly, but I serve their cause, boiled down to the singular concept that life - all life - is what holds back the darkness. For most of my life, I carried out my duties in another world, the world of my own people. But all worlds face the creeping dark."

He looked curiously at Oren, Also, he felt the need to insert a paragraph break.wondering how much of this the man already knew or could have guessed. But he continued.

"I was sent to your world by the God of Doors. Your world faces a particularly vile incursion. Fiends have infiltrated the churches of the Gods of Good and are undermining their faiths from the inside. This has been happening for several years, but the tide is rising. Luckily, my order is not alone in this fight - as our Gods are not alone in being assaulted. I am a member of a secret organization banding together the Gods of Good to monitor and resist. We are known as the Hooded Lantern. I shall say little more about us until I know you better, as our very survival depends on remaining hidden from the forces we act against. Our agents reported an incursion here near Oakcrest. Both the temple of the Ancient One and the Err... what God is that? I'll edit this to update that fact.temple in town have been compromised. My superior has sent me to investigate... and to act accordingly. It sounds as though you have been doing our work for us, and for that we are grateful. What can you tell me of the situation?"

[mountainbound]

“The Ancient One, I guess it’s as good a name as any,” Oren said of the being he sensed, but never met. As Gallindan revealed more about his mission, the warlock felt an impulse toward caution given his parasitic demon companion. “I would very much like to hear more of your Order, perhaps you would care to be my guest tonight, if you don’t already have accommodations.”

Walking over the muddy cart lane, the two travelers stepped over puddles as the town came into view. Oren, turning directly to face his new companion, looked steadily into the elf’s face and then began a feat not easily accomplished — two simultaneous conversations. He hoped that Gallindan was up for the challenge, and that he trusted him. What Oren was about to attempt could be a shock to anyone, but there was no time to waste.

“Ah, the roofs of Oakcrest are coming into view now,” he says, a bit awkwardly. Still looking at Gallindan, he opens his mind and sends a channel of psychic energy toward the elf’s mind. Oren knew he could impose his thoughts on others, he had done so in the past. But at the moment this was more of a gentle invitation to communicate. A psychic knock upon the door of Gallindan’s mind.

Gallindan, please don’t be alarmed. The Ancient One gave me many gifts of a psychic nature, and wordless communication is one of them. If you allow it, we can share thoughts like this when we’re nearby.

Verbally, Oren says, “Oakcrest was founded by some fur traders about fifty years ago.”

I need to speak secretly to you because I have an unwanted parasite, an imp, who serves a goddess antagonistic to the aims of the Ancient One. The creature is bound to me and is listening to our conversation even now, so we need to be careful what we reveal out loud.

“Apparently there was a large oak tree that lost a huge limb, and the great tear in the tree was in the perfect shape of a shield. Hence the name of the village.” Oren actually didn’t know much of the history of the place, but it was as good a story to keep the rouse of verbal communication going as they walked.

Mentally, he continues: I have much to reveal to you, and many questions about the Hooded Lantern. I sense we could be great allies, but we must be cautious.

“Did you have a destination in mind in town? If you have the time, you are welcome to come and meet my old friend. He may have news that would help us both."

OOC DM, Oren would like to purchase the following in town: A metal cage big enough to hold an owl A lock and some metal wire Two bottles of fine whiskey Oren plans to visit Frath after gathering supplies.

[zebedee]

Gallindan walked alongside the half-elf, happy for the company. He had been alone for the past two weeks - except for the occasional conversation with a woodland creature. As Oren turned to face him, he was unsure if there was some human greeting he had forgotten about. But then he felt that voice. His eyes widened in shock. He attempted to cover up his surprise by turning his head and coughing. "Excuse me." He struggled to find the mental muscles to reply in kind.
Hello? Can you hear me?

They resumed walking, though Gallindan was noticeably slower at both walking and talking as he juggled too many things at once. "A fascinating story about the tree. Do you suppose it's true? Is the tree still there?"

An imp? Here on the prime? That is abominable. Is it an agent of this corruption? In what way is it bound to you? Can we not destroy it?!?

Perhaps risking too many mental activities at the same time, Gallindan Using Divine Sense to locate and learn the type. Yes, this is purely gratuitous.reached out with his senses to confirm the presence of the imp. It took all of his strength not to castigate it on the spot.

"I have no particular destination in mind. I think that by finding you my mission has become easier. I need to investigate what is happening at the temple and the church. But you may already know much of that. Is it safe to visit the church and speak to the priest? But by all means, if you have a trusted friend who may have news, let us begin there."

I fear that conversation will needs be done entirely in our minds. If we cannot be rid of the fiend, that is.

[Admin Bhelogan]

OODM Just an FYI - RAW the Awakened Mind feature of Oren's class allows only one-way communication. Gallindan may not know that, however. Will figure out the shipping list when we get to town. The cage might not be available, but the other items should be easy to find.

Gillindan reached out with his divine senses and immediately felt something. Close, very close. In fact, he could sense a small fiend being held against its will underneath Oren's arm.

[zebedee]

OOC: Ooo... err... how should we proceed? Should we go back and edit to reflect that G couldn't reply? We could always speak in a different language, but that would be pretty obvious. How would we go about knowing what languages an imp speaks in game? That would have been a Knowledge check before, but I'm having trouble understanding the 5e skill rules.

[Admin Bhelogan]

OODM I just see Gallindan talking to himself in his head unaware he isn't being heard. No need to retcon. He will figure it out at some point.