(This page was found on the ground outside the bar, torn out of the journal of a jester passing by.)
(I got this idea for a joke from this party of strange travelers outside the bar. They wore weapons of magic, and one of them was talking to the others about an encounter with the bartender. This might make an entertaining tale to tell but it needs some refinement.)
The setup:
An Eladrin Warlock walks (teleports?) into a bar. "I've just walked all the way across the tundra," he says, "and I'd like a warm drink -- perhaps some mead." The bartender replies, "Sorry, all we have is this vodka." He pours the Eladrin a glass, and the Eladrin sips the drink and almost spits it out.
The punchline:
The bartender says, "You know, we don't get many people who walk across the tundra to get here." The Eladrin replies, "Yes, and if all you serve is this crappy vodka, you won't get many more."
(Scribbled in the margins) Too long. Maybe change Eladrin Warlock to talking warhammer.
The bartender says, "You know, we don't get many talking warhammers around here." The warhammer replies, "Yes, and if all you serve is this crappy vodka, you won't get many more." (beat)
Friday, May 29, 2009
Strangers in the Town of Kenner
Honorable Priestess of Melora,
We have finally arrived at the town of Kenner. It is a small town (perhaps 200 people) of low buildings and warehouses, backed by mountains of snow. As was the case with the Lodge, the buildings are all lit with some sort of magical light, since the sun never shines in the sky.
The town sits on the edge of the water (or ice, in this case) and has a harbor for incoming ships. Three long, narrow ships sit in the harbor. They seem to be icebreakers -- ships with the magical ability the break through the ice.
We see smoke coming from the tops of the buildings but almost no one seems to be walking outside. Understandably, the climate in this Arctic region is harsh, and most would want to keep indoors, where it is warmer.
We find what appears to be a bar. Ryn, the Warlock, is the most streetwise among us and has the best chance to find our contact, Manos. He enters the bar alone, in the hopes that it will give him a better chance to get information from the town's inhabitants.
While we wait, some of the inhabitants pass us by and give us strange looks. A few ask why we're here. When we mention that we came across the tundra, they stare at us in disbelief.
After a period of time, Ryn comes out and tells us what had happened inside. From the moment he walked in to the bar, everyone drew back from him and stared. The bartender said to him, "No ships have come in for a while. How did you get here?" When Ryn explained that we walked across the tundra, the bartender shook his head in disbelief. "Why wouldn't you take a ship into port? This is very strange."
Ryn asked the bartender about Manos. "There is someone here with that name," the bartender replied, "but... are you looking for trouble?" Ryn convinced the man that he only wanted to talk to Manos, and the bartender sent a boy out to get him.
While he waited for Manos, Ryn asked for some mead or something to warm him from the chill outside. The bartender sighed and said that he only had something that tasted like vodka. (This is truly a harsh and merciless environment!)
Manos finally arrived. He was an older man in his 50s with dark hair. He actually owned this bar.
At that point, Ryn came out to get us. We followed Ryn back into the bar, and Manos leads us to a room in back.
"I hope this is important," Manos said. "You pulled me away from my work in the oil sands." I had never heard of oil sands, although our Mage Kale was familiar with them. In the North, there were large creatures of magic that once roamed the lands. At some point, many of them perished and were compressed into oil. This oil is a common ingredient used by alchemists and mages.
In Kenner, most people work in the oil sands during the cold weather. When the weather gets warmer, the inhabitants prefer to go whaling. (I had heard stories of these large, gentle sea creatures who were preyed upon by men. There is a rumor that they are just as wise and intelligent as we are.)
We told Manos that Falen sent us and that he needed to take us to the Mad Mage, but Manos demanded proof. "How do I know that you really know Falen?" Bran showed him the knot, and Manos stared in disbelief. "I never thought that this day would come."
He had only been to the Mad Mage once, 20 years ago. He helped Lakos (Garg's father) to find the Mad Mage's hideout. Then Falen and the Dragonborn (Carlagnios' father) showed up, and all hell broke loose.
Manos said that he owed Falen, so he agreed to bring us to the Mad Mage. (He did not want to tear up Kenner, his home.) He needed 2 days to take care of a few things but would let us stay in the bar while we waited. (He had some rooms in the back where we could sleep.)
Then, we needed to use the icebreakers to travel across the waters to the Mage's Den. It would cost us about 10 gold pieces to rent an icebreaker.
We agreed to his plan, replenished our supplies, and, 2 days later, found ourselves on an icebreaker, heading toward the den of the Mad Mage.
There is something that I find puzzling still. Falen, Mades, Lakos, everyone who has seen the Mad Mage and his den -- none of them remember who he was or where it is. How is it that Manos still knows the way?
Perhaps we shall learn that when we get to the Mad Mage's den. I shall write you again when we arrive.
Your faithful servant,
Aelar
We have finally arrived at the town of Kenner. It is a small town (perhaps 200 people) of low buildings and warehouses, backed by mountains of snow. As was the case with the Lodge, the buildings are all lit with some sort of magical light, since the sun never shines in the sky.
The town sits on the edge of the water (or ice, in this case) and has a harbor for incoming ships. Three long, narrow ships sit in the harbor. They seem to be icebreakers -- ships with the magical ability the break through the ice.
We see smoke coming from the tops of the buildings but almost no one seems to be walking outside. Understandably, the climate in this Arctic region is harsh, and most would want to keep indoors, where it is warmer.
We find what appears to be a bar. Ryn, the Warlock, is the most streetwise among us and has the best chance to find our contact, Manos. He enters the bar alone, in the hopes that it will give him a better chance to get information from the town's inhabitants.
While we wait, some of the inhabitants pass us by and give us strange looks. A few ask why we're here. When we mention that we came across the tundra, they stare at us in disbelief.
After a period of time, Ryn comes out and tells us what had happened inside. From the moment he walked in to the bar, everyone drew back from him and stared. The bartender said to him, "No ships have come in for a while. How did you get here?" When Ryn explained that we walked across the tundra, the bartender shook his head in disbelief. "Why wouldn't you take a ship into port? This is very strange."
Ryn asked the bartender about Manos. "There is someone here with that name," the bartender replied, "but... are you looking for trouble?" Ryn convinced the man that he only wanted to talk to Manos, and the bartender sent a boy out to get him.
While he waited for Manos, Ryn asked for some mead or something to warm him from the chill outside. The bartender sighed and said that he only had something that tasted like vodka. (This is truly a harsh and merciless environment!)
Manos finally arrived. He was an older man in his 50s with dark hair. He actually owned this bar.
At that point, Ryn came out to get us. We followed Ryn back into the bar, and Manos leads us to a room in back.
"I hope this is important," Manos said. "You pulled me away from my work in the oil sands." I had never heard of oil sands, although our Mage Kale was familiar with them. In the North, there were large creatures of magic that once roamed the lands. At some point, many of them perished and were compressed into oil. This oil is a common ingredient used by alchemists and mages.
In Kenner, most people work in the oil sands during the cold weather. When the weather gets warmer, the inhabitants prefer to go whaling. (I had heard stories of these large, gentle sea creatures who were preyed upon by men. There is a rumor that they are just as wise and intelligent as we are.)
We told Manos that Falen sent us and that he needed to take us to the Mad Mage, but Manos demanded proof. "How do I know that you really know Falen?" Bran showed him the knot, and Manos stared in disbelief. "I never thought that this day would come."
He had only been to the Mad Mage once, 20 years ago. He helped Lakos (Garg's father) to find the Mad Mage's hideout. Then Falen and the Dragonborn (Carlagnios' father) showed up, and all hell broke loose.
Manos said that he owed Falen, so he agreed to bring us to the Mad Mage. (He did not want to tear up Kenner, his home.) He needed 2 days to take care of a few things but would let us stay in the bar while we waited. (He had some rooms in the back where we could sleep.)
Then, we needed to use the icebreakers to travel across the waters to the Mage's Den. It would cost us about 10 gold pieces to rent an icebreaker.
We agreed to his plan, replenished our supplies, and, 2 days later, found ourselves on an icebreaker, heading toward the den of the Mad Mage.
There is something that I find puzzling still. Falen, Mades, Lakos, everyone who has seen the Mad Mage and his den -- none of them remember who he was or where it is. How is it that Manos still knows the way?
Perhaps we shall learn that when we get to the Mad Mage's den. I shall write you again when we arrive.
Your faithful servant,
Aelar
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Idea for Recipe: White Dragon Stew
(found in a page that was torn out and discarded from the Journal of Pock, the Cook)
Ingredients
1 adult white dragon
(add the list of the seasonings when I figure it out)
2 pounds of potatoes
(?) several carrots
(?) several onions
(?) several tomatoes
(fill in exact portions when I figure it out)
(scrawled in the margins) Important: Try to avoid using magicks or projectiles to kill the dragon. Projectiles get lost in the meat and are hard to find and dig out. Magicks like clouds of stench ruin the natural flavor of the dragon meat.
Instructions:
1. Clean the dragon carcass and remove the meat.
You can use a simple kitchen knife to
Try using a large cleaver to cut the
Find a sword that looks strong enough to cut the dragon's body and wield it to
If the sword was magical and frost-enchanted, allow several additional hours for thawing the
If you happen to know a Dragonborn warrior who has a large, vicious-looking battle axe, ask him for a favor and have him clean the carcass and cut up the meat.
2. In a large pot, put several cups of oil, let the oil heat up, and add the meat.
3. Cook the meat until it is brown and tender and easy to
3. After several hours, the meat should be
3. If the meat is still tough
3. Before cooking the meat, make sure to use a meat tenderizer to
3. If you know a Dwarven cleric who has a large magical warhammer, ask if he can use the hammer to tenderize the meat first.
While you wait for the cleric to do this, you might be able to pass the time by striking up an interesting conversation with the magical warhammer.
Avoid talking to the magical warhammer, if it happens to speak.
4. Cook the meat until it is browned. You might notice a peculiar scent coming from the pot. Not to worry.Even though the smell might be off putting, the flavor of the meat should still be
With some light seasoning, the flavor of the meat should
You might need to use some moderate seasoning to mask the taste of
(Scrawled at the end) I give up -- this is like eating ice cubes of rotten pork
Ingredients
1 adult white dragon
(add the list of the seasonings when I figure it out)
2 pounds of potatoes
(?) several carrots
(?) several onions
(?) several tomatoes
(fill in exact portions when I figure it out)
(scrawled in the margins) Important: Try to avoid using magicks or projectiles to kill the dragon. Projectiles get lost in the meat and are hard to find and dig out. Magicks like clouds of stench ruin the natural flavor of the dragon meat.
Instructions:
1. Clean the dragon carcass and remove the meat.
If you happen to know a Dragonborn warrior who has a large, vicious-looking battle axe, ask him for a favor and have him clean the carcass and cut up the meat.
2. In a large pot, put several cups of oil, let the oil heat up, and add the meat.
3. If you know a Dwarven cleric who has a large magical warhammer, ask if he can use the hammer to tenderize the meat first.
Avoid talking to the magical warhammer, if it happens to speak.
4. Cook the meat until it is browned. You might notice a peculiar scent coming from the pot. Not to worry.
(Scrawled at the end) I give up -- this is like eating ice cubes of rotten pork
Icy Terror on the Road to Kenner
Honorable Priestess of Melora,
When we last corresponded, we had learned much from the Half-Orc prophet, Mades Skinner. Since then, we also learned that not only had the portal in Samhain transported us far North, but it had also taken months for us to reach these Arctic lands (even though, to us, only seconds had passed). We had left Samhain in the Autumn and now, in the Lodge, it was mid-Winter.
Bran, the Rogue, has also gained a mount. He asked Mades for one of the riding wolves tied up here at the Lodge, and Mades presented him with a small Dire Wolf as a gift. It was not large enough a creature to do battle with our enemies, but it could carry the Halfling Rogue quite a distance in a remarkably short amount of time.
Bran had decided to name his riding wolf -- and I fear this will not translate well from the Common tongue to our Elven language -- Turr-Bow (or something that sounds like these words).
Mades gave us directions and advice on how to get to the city of Kenner. We must head North for two weeks. Along the way, we'll need to cross a glacier. And finally, when we get to Kenner (a town of a fair size), we should make sure to muzzle Turr-Bow.
We followed Mades' directions and eventually reached the glacier that he spoke of. As we started across the glacier, we noticed that there were dangerous drops on either side, and we decided to tie ourselves together on the same rope to keep anyone from falling off.
As we made our way across the glacier, we heard a horrendous roar from one side of the glacier. A large, adult, white dragon flew up above and roared hungrily at us.
Bran slung a stone into the dragon, and, with this very deft and tricky strike, managed to move the dragon back. Kale, the Mage, summoned a huge cloud of stench around the beast, which forced it to move over the glacier, directly above us.
The dragon made a terrifying roar that struck fear into our hearts. Some of us were stunned, and the feeling of terror made it difficult for us to attack it. The dragon then let loose a breath of paralyzing cold, a breath that left us weak and unable to strike back with full force.
The dragon chose to focus its anger at Tiny, the Cleric. The dragon swooped down and clawed and bit at Tiny. Fortunately, Tiny quickly healed himself, and summoned a weapon to attack the creature, keeping the dragon distracted and open to our attacks.
Firinne called upon Melora and challenged the dragon, compelling the beast to fight her instead of Tiny. This compulsion made it difficult for the creature to hurt Tiny, and each time the dragon did hit Tiny, a radiant glow struck the monster and made it shriek in agony.
Perhaps swooping down to attack became the downfall of the dragon (literally), as Bran spun around and knocked the giant beast onto its side. Our party surrounded the creature and proceeded to strike.
Carlagnios, the Dragonborn, brought down a rain of steel on the monster. Garg, the Warlord, commanded Carlagnios to keep striking again, further damaging the creature. Ryn drew his sword and struck the dragon again and again. Firinne struck the beast with such force as though channelling the retribution of a martyr. Tiny hit the creature hard with his warhammer and with radiant lance, energized by his faith. Kale cast several spells to damage the creature with daggers, frost, and other elements. I was able to hit the dragon with a few arrows, one deeply in the monster's body.
Finally, it was Ryn who dealt the final, fatal blow to the dragon. It collapsed on the glacier and moved no more.
Kale decided to take a sample of the skin from the dragon, but we found nothing else in our search for the dragon's lair.
After this terrifying encounter with the white dragon, we continued along the way and eventually reached the city of Kenner. I shall write you again to tell you how we found our guide there.
As always, your faithful servant,
Aelar
When we last corresponded, we had learned much from the Half-Orc prophet, Mades Skinner. Since then, we also learned that not only had the portal in Samhain transported us far North, but it had also taken months for us to reach these Arctic lands (even though, to us, only seconds had passed). We had left Samhain in the Autumn and now, in the Lodge, it was mid-Winter.
Bran, the Rogue, has also gained a mount. He asked Mades for one of the riding wolves tied up here at the Lodge, and Mades presented him with a small Dire Wolf as a gift. It was not large enough a creature to do battle with our enemies, but it could carry the Halfling Rogue quite a distance in a remarkably short amount of time.
Bran had decided to name his riding wolf -- and I fear this will not translate well from the Common tongue to our Elven language -- Turr-Bow (or something that sounds like these words).
Mades gave us directions and advice on how to get to the city of Kenner. We must head North for two weeks. Along the way, we'll need to cross a glacier. And finally, when we get to Kenner (a town of a fair size), we should make sure to muzzle Turr-Bow.
We followed Mades' directions and eventually reached the glacier that he spoke of. As we started across the glacier, we noticed that there were dangerous drops on either side, and we decided to tie ourselves together on the same rope to keep anyone from falling off.
As we made our way across the glacier, we heard a horrendous roar from one side of the glacier. A large, adult, white dragon flew up above and roared hungrily at us.
Bran slung a stone into the dragon, and, with this very deft and tricky strike, managed to move the dragon back. Kale, the Mage, summoned a huge cloud of stench around the beast, which forced it to move over the glacier, directly above us.
The dragon made a terrifying roar that struck fear into our hearts. Some of us were stunned, and the feeling of terror made it difficult for us to attack it. The dragon then let loose a breath of paralyzing cold, a breath that left us weak and unable to strike back with full force.
The dragon chose to focus its anger at Tiny, the Cleric. The dragon swooped down and clawed and bit at Tiny. Fortunately, Tiny quickly healed himself, and summoned a weapon to attack the creature, keeping the dragon distracted and open to our attacks.
Firinne called upon Melora and challenged the dragon, compelling the beast to fight her instead of Tiny. This compulsion made it difficult for the creature to hurt Tiny, and each time the dragon did hit Tiny, a radiant glow struck the monster and made it shriek in agony.
Perhaps swooping down to attack became the downfall of the dragon (literally), as Bran spun around and knocked the giant beast onto its side. Our party surrounded the creature and proceeded to strike.
Carlagnios, the Dragonborn, brought down a rain of steel on the monster. Garg, the Warlord, commanded Carlagnios to keep striking again, further damaging the creature. Ryn drew his sword and struck the dragon again and again. Firinne struck the beast with such force as though channelling the retribution of a martyr. Tiny hit the creature hard with his warhammer and with radiant lance, energized by his faith. Kale cast several spells to damage the creature with daggers, frost, and other elements. I was able to hit the dragon with a few arrows, one deeply in the monster's body.
Finally, it was Ryn who dealt the final, fatal blow to the dragon. It collapsed on the glacier and moved no more.
Kale decided to take a sample of the skin from the dragon, but we found nothing else in our search for the dragon's lair.
After this terrifying encounter with the white dragon, we continued along the way and eventually reached the city of Kenner. I shall write you again to tell you how we found our guide there.
As always, your faithful servant,
Aelar
The Lodge, the Prophecies of Mades, and the Question of Choice
Honorable Priestess of Melora,
We have finally arrived at the Lodge, after a long journey through the snow. This is quite a harsh land, devoid of the nurturing warmth of the sun. I am always amazed that even in environments like this, trees and plants are still able to survive.
We approached a four-story timber building on the lee of a tall rock. Smoke crawled up out of the chimneys at the top. Lights were glowing on the eaves, and the air was thick with the smell of animal fat.
In the building itself, there were a number of rooms (and some rooms were even carved out of the rock!). We passed by some rooms for curing pelts before arriving at a common room, where we met Mades.
Mades was an older Half-Orc, perhaps 50 years in age. He told us that he was born with the gift of prophecy, which was a useful skill during the hunt.
We had a long discussion about the nature of prophecy. Tiny, our Cleric, discovered that Mades was the author of the old, rare, long-sought-after book, "Time, Choice, and Prophecy". (Mades had a copy of the book, which he gave to Tiny as a gift.)
"Prophecies are complicated," Mades noted. "You must be careful which ones you set down."
There are two types of prophets, he went on to explain. Some prophets are just instruments of a higher power that intends to change the world. Their prophecies seek to deny us our ability to choose. The other type of prophet is complicit in the prophecy. They look into the future and decide what to do.
For Mades, when he foresees events, the world becomes blurry, and some of the choices appear before him. (It is almost like the Dreamwalk we took earlier, where we explore one possible future.) Mades cannot see all possible futures -- the number of paths forward would be too overwhelming. Instead, he can only explore a few of the possible paths to the future.
As time passes -- as choices are made -- as the future becomes the present and the present becomes the past, the worlds that Mades explored (the realms of the other possibilities) die and their forward paths close off. After a choice is made, you cannot go back, and Mades can no longer see the path because it has become part of the past.
"I once had a twin brother," Mades reluctantly said, "A brother who is dead to me now. He could see into the past, just as I can see into the future."
Mades explained that most prophecies come from the Divine, and prophecies can be fulfilled in different ways:
For every day of Mades' life, he saw worlds and possibilities die and cease to exist. But he could only see the possibilities in our world. Prophecies made across worlds are weak.
"The area between worlds is guarded by men of stone," Mades said, reminding us of our encounters with these creatures in the past. Carlagnios, the Dragonborn, growled at this memory and asked if there was any way to recover the items given to the men of stone. (He had, as you remember, given up his father's ring in order to pass between worlds and save his father.)
Mades shook his head. He only knew that the men of stone extract the costs needed to make sure that the balance between worlds is maintained.
We asked Mades if he could see the Mad Mage. He replied that he did but kept forgetting about the Mad Mage. The Forgetting Spell is quite powerful.
Bran, the Rogue, asked Mades if he knew about Gemeret, the follower of the Raven Queen. (Bran encountered an aspect of Gemeret along the path from Samhain to this Arctic land.) Mades explained that Gemeret was a death angel and that where Gods and angels touch, the prophecy gets obscure. (The Gods and the angels obscure things.)
We also asked Mades about the 101. He did not know but thought that his brother would know.
Finally, Mades stood up and declared that he had a prophecy for each of us -- each one except Tiny. The Gods have been trying to move Tiny around too much.
Some of these prophecies could be shared, but others must been kept secret. If the secret prophecies were revealed before they came to pass, Mades could not foresee what would happen.
He met with each of us separately to tell us our prophecies. After our meetings, some of us were able to share their prophecies. For Bran, he was told that he must die to get what he truly wanted (and what he truly wanted was something other than a riding wolf as a mount!). For Carlagnios, if he were to give himself up to the Orc King, he should recite a poem about a swan, its children, and the moon.
My prophecy was not one that I could share and presented a difficult dilemma. I can only pray to Melora for the strength to make the right choice and for the understanding from my comrades when the time to make the choice comes to pass.
As always, your faithful servant,
Aelar
We have finally arrived at the Lodge, after a long journey through the snow. This is quite a harsh land, devoid of the nurturing warmth of the sun. I am always amazed that even in environments like this, trees and plants are still able to survive.
We approached a four-story timber building on the lee of a tall rock. Smoke crawled up out of the chimneys at the top. Lights were glowing on the eaves, and the air was thick with the smell of animal fat.
In the building itself, there were a number of rooms (and some rooms were even carved out of the rock!). We passed by some rooms for curing pelts before arriving at a common room, where we met Mades.
Mades was an older Half-Orc, perhaps 50 years in age. He told us that he was born with the gift of prophecy, which was a useful skill during the hunt.
We had a long discussion about the nature of prophecy. Tiny, our Cleric, discovered that Mades was the author of the old, rare, long-sought-after book, "Time, Choice, and Prophecy". (Mades had a copy of the book, which he gave to Tiny as a gift.)
"Prophecies are complicated," Mades noted. "You must be careful which ones you set down."
There are two types of prophets, he went on to explain. Some prophets are just instruments of a higher power that intends to change the world. Their prophecies seek to deny us our ability to choose. The other type of prophet is complicit in the prophecy. They look into the future and decide what to do.
For Mades, when he foresees events, the world becomes blurry, and some of the choices appear before him. (It is almost like the Dreamwalk we took earlier, where we explore one possible future.) Mades cannot see all possible futures -- the number of paths forward would be too overwhelming. Instead, he can only explore a few of the possible paths to the future.
As time passes -- as choices are made -- as the future becomes the present and the present becomes the past, the worlds that Mades explored (the realms of the other possibilities) die and their forward paths close off. After a choice is made, you cannot go back, and Mades can no longer see the path because it has become part of the past.
"I once had a twin brother," Mades reluctantly said, "A brother who is dead to me now. He could see into the past, just as I can see into the future."
Mades explained that most prophecies come from the Divine, and prophecies can be fulfilled in different ways:
- Some prophecies will definitely come true, regardless of what else happens.
- Some prophecies might come true, and prophecies can be made to make it more likely to come true.
- Some prophecies won't happen without some sort of intervention. A prophet might lie to someone and give them the wrong information in order to make a prophecy come to pass.
- In some cases, the prophecy must be stated in order for it to come to pass.
For every day of Mades' life, he saw worlds and possibilities die and cease to exist. But he could only see the possibilities in our world. Prophecies made across worlds are weak.
"The area between worlds is guarded by men of stone," Mades said, reminding us of our encounters with these creatures in the past. Carlagnios, the Dragonborn, growled at this memory and asked if there was any way to recover the items given to the men of stone. (He had, as you remember, given up his father's ring in order to pass between worlds and save his father.)
Mades shook his head. He only knew that the men of stone extract the costs needed to make sure that the balance between worlds is maintained.
We asked Mades if he could see the Mad Mage. He replied that he did but kept forgetting about the Mad Mage. The Forgetting Spell is quite powerful.
Bran, the Rogue, asked Mades if he knew about Gemeret, the follower of the Raven Queen. (Bran encountered an aspect of Gemeret along the path from Samhain to this Arctic land.) Mades explained that Gemeret was a death angel and that where Gods and angels touch, the prophecy gets obscure. (The Gods and the angels obscure things.)
We also asked Mades about the 101. He did not know but thought that his brother would know.
Finally, Mades stood up and declared that he had a prophecy for each of us -- each one except Tiny. The Gods have been trying to move Tiny around too much.
Some of these prophecies could be shared, but others must been kept secret. If the secret prophecies were revealed before they came to pass, Mades could not foresee what would happen.
He met with each of us separately to tell us our prophecies. After our meetings, some of us were able to share their prophecies. For Bran, he was told that he must die to get what he truly wanted (and what he truly wanted was something other than a riding wolf as a mount!). For Carlagnios, if he were to give himself up to the Orc King, he should recite a poem about a swan, its children, and the moon.
My prophecy was not one that I could share and presented a difficult dilemma. I can only pray to Melora for the strength to make the right choice and for the understanding from my comrades when the time to make the choice comes to pass.
As always, your faithful servant,
Aelar
The Cruelty of Nature and the Kindness of Strangers
Honorable Priestess of Melora,
We entered the portal at Samhain, only to find ourselves exiting into a blizzard. We did not know where we were. The sky was dark, and the plains were covered with snow in all directions. We could see no further than our companions before us.
Tiny, our cleric, performed some strange ritual to summon the Hand of Fate. The glowing blue hand appeared before us, and Tiny consulted it for advice. The Hand determined that we should forge our way West, and we followed. (Ryn, the Warlock, suggested that we consult the Hand in a gambling den. It is an interesting idea that could make us much gold and perhaps afford the Hippogriff mount that the Dragonborn always talks about.)
We forged our way West through the snow but found no signs of shelter along the way. We saw a forest but no place to rest there. As we moved further west, the ice below our feet grew thin. Firinne, Tiny, and Ryn fell through, and I -- dexterous and agile Aelar -- managed to slip and completely fall on my face. Fortunately, the water below the ice was quite shallow, and we just ended up getting wet.
When I was growing up in the forests, I learned to love and understand nature -- the trees, the wildlife, the cycle of the seasons. But here in the blizzard, nature seemed completely foreign to me. Nothing living could survive this harsh cold. The sun never made an appearance in the dark, foreboding skies. What could grow in this world? And what could endure the cold, icy water that now soaked through my clothes after I fell flailing through the ice? (How embarrassing.)
Our party decided to head North in the hopes of finding some shelter. But we had seen nothing, and the cold wind was starting to take its toll on us. We could not last another day in this weather.
Then, in the distance, we saw some smoke rising to the sky, as though someone had like a fire ahead of us. As we grew closer, we saw a group around a fire, one of whom moved to approach us.
He was a Half-Orc, slinging a heavy crossbow and carrying a lance at his side. He wore a thick hide and his face was smeared with animal fat (a common way to protect oneself from the cold).
"Come, come warm yourselves by the fire!"
Tiny, with his wise insight, did not detect any hostile intentions in this Half-Orc, so we accepted his invitation and joined him by the fire. They offered us a warm meal of meat stew, and they gave us some hides and pelts to keep us protected from the cold.
There were 5 of them in this group. The leader, who had welcomed us here, was named Drager Skinner. The group included a couple (Alec and Bonta Flint), a child, and another Half-Orc. They were all armed with heavy crossbows and lances -- even the child!
The Half-Orcs made their living as hunters and trappers. They collected the skins of mammoth and polar bears and traded them with the other Half-Orcs back at the lodge.
Bran, the Rogue, was most interested in the wolf that they had tied up. This animal was a riding wolf that had been tamed from birth. (Perhaps, like the Dragonborn, Bran is also seeking a mount of his own.)
We spoke a bit with Drager about where we were and discovered to our surprise that we were in the Arctic, far north. He was waiting for us here because his father, Mades Skinner, was expecting us.
"My father Mades knows a lot of things," Drager mentioned. But he could not explain any further how his father would expect us to appear here. Is it possible that our futures have already been determined? We must meet this seer, Mades, to learn more.
Mades and the other Half-Orcs live in a lodge 60 miles to the Northwest (through the tundra). The Half-Orcs had settled there for at least three generations.
Dragen offered to take us to meet Mades at the Lodge, once we had rested and regained our strength. Dragen also told us that from the Lodge, we could get to Kenner.
Our party accepted his offer and, now, having recovered from the cold (and the wet, icy water that seeped through my clothes), we make our way to the Lodge...
I will write again when we arrive there.
As always, your faithful servant,
Aelar
We entered the portal at Samhain, only to find ourselves exiting into a blizzard. We did not know where we were. The sky was dark, and the plains were covered with snow in all directions. We could see no further than our companions before us.
Tiny, our cleric, performed some strange ritual to summon the Hand of Fate. The glowing blue hand appeared before us, and Tiny consulted it for advice. The Hand determined that we should forge our way West, and we followed. (Ryn, the Warlock, suggested that we consult the Hand in a gambling den. It is an interesting idea that could make us much gold and perhaps afford the Hippogriff mount that the Dragonborn always talks about.)
We forged our way West through the snow but found no signs of shelter along the way. We saw a forest but no place to rest there. As we moved further west, the ice below our feet grew thin. Firinne, Tiny, and Ryn fell through, and I -- dexterous and agile Aelar -- managed to slip and completely fall on my face. Fortunately, the water below the ice was quite shallow, and we just ended up getting wet.
When I was growing up in the forests, I learned to love and understand nature -- the trees, the wildlife, the cycle of the seasons. But here in the blizzard, nature seemed completely foreign to me. Nothing living could survive this harsh cold. The sun never made an appearance in the dark, foreboding skies. What could grow in this world? And what could endure the cold, icy water that now soaked through my clothes after I fell flailing through the ice? (How embarrassing.)
Our party decided to head North in the hopes of finding some shelter. But we had seen nothing, and the cold wind was starting to take its toll on us. We could not last another day in this weather.
Then, in the distance, we saw some smoke rising to the sky, as though someone had like a fire ahead of us. As we grew closer, we saw a group around a fire, one of whom moved to approach us.
He was a Half-Orc, slinging a heavy crossbow and carrying a lance at his side. He wore a thick hide and his face was smeared with animal fat (a common way to protect oneself from the cold).
"Come, come warm yourselves by the fire!"
Tiny, with his wise insight, did not detect any hostile intentions in this Half-Orc, so we accepted his invitation and joined him by the fire. They offered us a warm meal of meat stew, and they gave us some hides and pelts to keep us protected from the cold.
There were 5 of them in this group. The leader, who had welcomed us here, was named Drager Skinner. The group included a couple (Alec and Bonta Flint), a child, and another Half-Orc. They were all armed with heavy crossbows and lances -- even the child!
The Half-Orcs made their living as hunters and trappers. They collected the skins of mammoth and polar bears and traded them with the other Half-Orcs back at the lodge.
Bran, the Rogue, was most interested in the wolf that they had tied up. This animal was a riding wolf that had been tamed from birth. (Perhaps, like the Dragonborn, Bran is also seeking a mount of his own.)
We spoke a bit with Drager about where we were and discovered to our surprise that we were in the Arctic, far north. He was waiting for us here because his father, Mades Skinner, was expecting us.
"My father Mades knows a lot of things," Drager mentioned. But he could not explain any further how his father would expect us to appear here. Is it possible that our futures have already been determined? We must meet this seer, Mades, to learn more.
Mades and the other Half-Orcs live in a lodge 60 miles to the Northwest (through the tundra). The Half-Orcs had settled there for at least three generations.
Dragen offered to take us to meet Mades at the Lodge, once we had rested and regained our strength. Dragen also told us that from the Lodge, we could get to Kenner.
Our party accepted his offer and, now, having recovered from the cold (and the wet, icy water that seeped through my clothes), we make our way to the Lodge...
I will write again when we arrive there.
As always, your faithful servant,
Aelar
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Beyond the Widowmaker
Morning, Day 3
Our disheveled guide has finally take his leave. We now move with all due haste towards the far side of the Widowmaker, keeping level with the crown of the mountain, and keeping an eye out for structures of interest.
Afternoon, Day 3
There is an outpost of Melora here, presumably Samhein, and Aelar has found a path down. Even from here I can see that the scrivening circle present at other stations has been extensively defaced.
Late afternoon, Day 3
The circle outside was thoroughly destroyed, and a large pit marked the central point. It looks as if something specific was excavated from the center of the circle-- perhaps the power source? A sign on the outside of the Samhein station reads "YOU ARE NEXT." We approached carefully and discovered a runic glyph inscribed on the door. It was rigged to explode, but the deft fingers of Bran managed to disarm the glyph (by crossing the channeling rune back onto itself, naturally). Inside, we found the standard station layout, and signs of gnoll habitation. As soon as we entered, an unknown entity triggered the death portal and fled. We're following now; I expect a fight.
Evening, Day 3
The gnolls were ready for us when we exited the portal. We found ourselves in a narrow corridor. Carl, on point, triggered a trap as he advanced, and poisoned darts began firing from the walls. A drawbridge immediately ahead of us was raised up and an archer began pouring fire into the party. Aelar quickly darted forward and breached the raised bridge (employing the transspatial capabilities of his armor). He seized control of the bridge and the party advanced into a cavernous room. We quickly assumed a defensive formation around the entrance and assessed the situation. We were facing a group of nearly a dozen gnolls, many of them entrenched atop walls ringing the room. The initial combat was fierce, and Garg took the brunt of the damage, falling unconscious. The battle was compounded by the appearance of a bizarre creature who began to support the gnolls with his unnatural aural abilities.
Firinne was able to revive Garg, the party closed lines, and we began to prevail in the pitched melee battle. Ryn maneuvered to harass the entrenched archers. Finally, the gnolls broke. Their leader fell and we routed the remaining creatures.
There are stairs here leading up.
Dusk, Day 3
This complex proved to be extensive: up the stairs we found a similar space filled with altars to Melora and other aligned deities. A prisoner freed from the chambers in this room now accompanies us (he is a cook). Following further passages to the summit of the mountain, we found yet another defaced circle, marked by the same curious excavation.
In the upper corridors we also discovered a pair of reliefs, as before, but set in a long hallway adorned by a finely crafted mural of the seasons. At one end is a portal marked by the sun. We now stand at the opposite end, about to enter the portal of the moon.
There is a blizzard here. Bran has experienced something remarkable during his transit. He is gesticulating excitedly. He found himself in a featureless room, unable to move or even blink. A blackbird, its neck twisted, lay dead on the room's floor. Bran found he could somehow speak, and expressed his surprise. The bird answered back, claiming to be an aspect of Gemerat, angelic servant of the Raven Queen. The aspect explained that the 101 immortals are an affront to the Queen and must pass on to death. The source of their immortality is Gemerat himself, who was somehow enslaved. An artifact is required to liberate him: the Shroud of the Raven Queen. This artifact is somehow invisible to the gods. The Mad Mage knows of the shroud.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
A Gnoll's Haiku
Hail by Anonymous Gnoll Archer
Why Did They Have to Come Down This Road, Darn It?!!
Why I Hate Warlocks by Another Anonymous Gnoll
Hail of deadly boltsRawk rawk rawk by the Author's Griffin Mount
Strike hard at our enemies
Damage not their shoes
Rawk rawk rawk rawk rawk* Translation in common tongue:
Rawk rawk rawk rawk rawk rawk rawk
Rawk rawk rawk rawk rawk*
Why Did They Have to Come Down This Road, Darn It?!!
Cloud smells like my poop
Dragon-man so frightening
Both talons can't hit
Why I Hate Warlocks by Another Anonymous Gnoll
We strike from above
Warlock appears up here, and --
Where did the ground go?
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