Welcome
Username or Email:

Password:




[ ]
[ ]
[ ]
Chatbox
You must be logged in to post comments on this site - please either log in or if you are not registered click here to signup


  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  5 days ago

    Nature Night begins in about ten minutes! smile

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  6 days ago

    Aha! Thanks C McG!

  • C_McG
    C_McG  6 days ago

    @Scratch
    D ampersand D

    Need to shorthand DnD or "D and D".

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  1 week ago

    and...it did it again..

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  1 week ago

    I don't know why that says "D&D"

    I just meant "D&D"

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  1 week ago

    @ Zhymm: I am so old that when I first played D&D, elf, dwarf and halfling were considered classes. biglaugh

    @ ceeags, handover and Dyrcona:

    It's cool to see all of you back around! Roll up a character and join us! smile

    a Dyrcona: There is some weird thing in these new forums (I know thatt they look the same, but they are somehow new "behind the scenes).
    You may want to try making a new thread that is worded slightly different. It is worth a shot. special

  • Dyrcona
    Dyrcona  1 week ago

    I don't know what happened. I tried to make a new forum post, and I got a screen full of busted HTML code. When I tried again, I got a message about a duplicate post. When I look in the forum, it appears to have posted twice, but the newer one is empty.

  • ceeags
    ceeags  1 week ago

    *waves*

  • Dyrcona
    Dyrcona  1 week ago

    I had to join the nostalgia fest.

    Viva Thain!

  • Zhymm
    Zhymm  1 week ago

    Oh, scratch be a Thain greybeard. maybe even a whitebeard!


Forums
The Island of Thain :: Forums :: In Character Discussion
« Previous topic | Next topic »   

Into the Heartwood

1 2 3 
LAN_402 LAN_403
Alanonas
3:22:15 am GMT 07/07/21
Alanonas Registered Member #24078 Joined: 3:40:59 am GMT 05/14/17
Posts: 1413
Into the Heartwood

[ image disabled ]

Do you dare enter the forbidden to learn the forgotten?
Back to top
Alanonas
5:30:40 am GMT 07/07/21
Alanonas Registered Member #24078 Joined: 3:40:59 am GMT 05/14/17
Posts: 1413
The Rising Storm
[ image disabled ]
The stark white walls of the elven city flare as the lightning cracks across the sky, heralding the pounding sheets of rain that wash over the ramparts, forcing the stoic guards to take shelter within the spires as the storm begins its assault upon the walls... Within the candlelit tavern the booming thunder breaks over the tables and rattles the mugs of the ragged band of men playing cards. Another boom shakes the room, spilling the antique coins from the table. The men grumble and order more drinks as another hand is dealt... Above them all, in the most expensive suite of the Green Stag sits a pair of men, each of their faces illuminated by the shimmering flickers of the feyfire that glows within the elven mantle. The light dances between them, each seeming polar opposite of one another. One is thin and angular, the other broad and unmoving... The thin man speaks, setting his glass of wine upon the table between them, his elven eyes looking into the other man's gaze. "Mister Belgardt, tell me again, do you still mean to delve into the depths of the Heartwood? I need not remind you of the many other attempts of your predecessors - or their fates at the hands the wood's savages."
The other man remains stoic as a burnt log, his brow furrowed and grey, creasing the wrinkles of his tan face. He finally speaks, the words emerging from his behind the pair of tusks that grow pearlescent white from his lower jaw. "I am not those men Arlin. Did those men outsmart the warded tower of Malnzar? Or the demon-infested depths of Plutachian? What about the Tomb of Horrors?? No. They died in these woods. As they should have for thinking they could cheat me of -my- destiny."
[ image disabled ]
The half-orc adjusts the lapel of his coat, wiping his finger of the shimmering ruby that studded it, daring the half-elf to retort. A silence fills the space between them, only broken by the clash of thunder that shakes the inn once more. The half-elf takes his glass in hand once more, his stern features softening into a wry grin. He lifts the glass. "Very well then, to our last adventure then." The half-orc smiles, the motion nearly cracking his weathered face. "I always told you we'd save the best for last." The glasses clink as the thunder rolls. "I shall send word that we are in need of more porters, protectors, scouts and scholars....the last ones have yet to return..."
~~~~~
Rumors spread through Greenvale and beyond: A wealthy man is seeking adventurers, scholars, men-at-arms and other folk seeking fortune to join him on an expedition into the depths of Heartwood...
OOC: This is a collaborative thread for a plot I will be DMing! any player interested in taking part, please post IC stories and interactions below!
Back to top
Wraitheus
9:20:13 pm GMT 07/07/21
Wraitheus Registered Member #25299 Joined: 3:54:32 am GMT 06/03/19
Posts: 253
[ image disabled ]


It did not take Keith Peirce long to hear of these rumors that would travel beyond Greenvale. A wealthy man was seeking to hire people in search of fortune and expeditions into the Heartwoods. His purse was rather light of late, and he found the offer enticing. He could only deduce what they hoped to uncover but Keith was no stranger to woodland surveillance and explorations. He packed his things and prepared to set out at once with a fascination to what might be discovered and an even hungrier desire to understand who he might soon be working for. He would make it known, he was a tracker, a scout, and if needed a lethal blade to fend off anything problematic that might try to cause the expedition antagonism, assuming the price was right.

He would meet these potential contractors, with the highest of expectations and a typical festooned mask of facades before trusting them entirely.
Back to top
Varmar
1:47:46 am GMT 07/23/21
Varmar Registered Member #25343 Joined: 8:54:42 pm GMT 08/30/19
Posts: 123
Mortals

Cursed with a craving that can never fill, they thirst and hunger. Covet all they cannot have. Seryn knew it, as an elf and as a fey. Arakhor knew it, as a bringer of death and as a bringer of life. And I, as Sae-lór, know it. I have seen it, young as I may be. It defines them, this need to control all they can and cannot see. Now, their bottomless greed threatens what I love. They seek a word, a thing. The Dawntree. I feel I should know it, but I do not. It echoes in my thoughts, demanding to be heard, and the Tel’Mordere hunt any that might even dare whisper its name. But not even that will deter mortals. They prepare to delve into terrible, mystical Heartwood. Guarded by the unseelie and those that eat the flesh of their brethren.

Bold and foolish, they do not realise that to intrude upon the forbidden weald will upset the tide, one that has already overspilled unto my home. Twice, have threats been uttered. Once, has blood fed the soil. And while my trees have picked their bones clean, to oppose our savage neighbours blindly serves no purpose. There are pacts in place that must be respected. Laws, older than elf or man. And some secrets are not meant to be touched by mortal hands. Because of this, I approach them again. Not in defiance, even if I will not bow. Not in anger, for life is conflict. I place the heart of a worm from the distant north, the land of heat and endless sand, and the fang of a drake from the jewel of green that is the jungle in its centre.

[ image disabled ]

And I wait before their gates, aware that they know of me.
Back to top
Cuchuwyn
3:43:18 am GMT 07/25/21
Cuchuwyn Registered Member #24041 Joined: 4:19:01 am GMT 01/24/17
Posts: 1952
...He had prepared carefully for the expedition, checking off every possible thing they might need from a large list he had written out before hand. They had cures for various poisons that the travels might expose them to, rations for many days, rope, pitons, spare soles for their boots, flint and steel, bandages, even a few seeds of an herb he was quite certain was Heartsease, which might prove useful if they were attacked. In short, they were prepared for, in his estimation, any number of eventualities, and while none may ever predict everything that may happen under the light, he was gratified that he had at least been able to try to predict much.

The expedition itself began fortuitously enough. They entered the Ashwood from the east, skirting north and further west through the burnt-out woods, hoping to avoid all contact with the locals, a hope that was, at least initially, well-placed, for they saw no signs of life until they had passed through the wood and into the northern reaches. There, they found a camp that was overseen by a rather curious fellow, who at first seemed quite content to let them press on, making it clear he did not fancy their chances one whit, but after some deliberation, seemed to come round a bit, and offered them some advice, which they gladly took.

But this proved to be the zenith of the expedition. For no sooner had they left the camp than they began to hear the wild screeches and howls of some feral tribe, and it was not long before the lizard folk began to appear in droves, forcing them to do battle, despite their protestations that they were on a peaceful mission. Sir Gnu laid about him with skill, but it was not until something else wracked the forest canopy that the lizardfolk desisted in their attacks. What this new threat might be was not immediately clear, but soon an elf appeared, in strange garb, and spoke to them of a never-ending hunt, asking whether they were predators, or prey. They responded that they were neither, that they were there to gather information, and for this affront, they were attacked. Between Sir Gnu's fisticuffs and the light of the scholar, the huntress was defeated. All around, the eerie cries of her kin filled the glade, and another appeared, urging them to finish the hunt, and end her life. Sir Gnu, hesitated, but the scholar was insistent- she was a creature, though she had grown in an admittedly savage society, that may yet be able to walk in the Light. And so he bid her be spared.

The tribe grew restless here, and they were forced to make a quick retreat, all the way back to the camp, wherein they spoke once more to the leader, who recognized the captive as potentially valuable, and agreed to see her back to the city of Greenvale. The pair set off as well, intending to rendezvous with the slow-moving cart once it drew closer to the city, in order not to have a large party passing through the Ashwood all at once...

Bamaeus takes the page and crumples it, shaking his head. No, this would not do. It was no good pretending he was not responsible for what was taking place in Greenvale even now, a city he had come to admire, even if it was not his home. No, this would not do at all. The fault is his, no matter how he may try to couch it in the distant language of academia, and he will answer for it, if necessary. He bends over a fresh parchment, and sketches a few words down:


Your majesty, Queen Yus'yu,

I fear I bear ill tidings, and worse, mine is the fault for the cause of them. In a recent journey into the Heartwood, a companion and I defeated and took prisoner a member of the Tel'Mordere tribe. Intending to question her further, and perhaps even to see if she might be redeemed, we allowed another to transport her to your fair city, under guard. However, it seems she was too wily for her captors, and escaped, slaying one and gravely wounding another. Now she has made her way to your city, where, through the goodness of their hearts, your guards allowed her passage, for it seems she had stolen the garb of one of your people. We found her trail in the bathhouse, where she had killed three elven attendants before making her escape, and we believe her to be at large yet in the city. I have taken the liberty of informing your guards to sound the alarm and be on the lookout, but I write to you as well, so that you may know the cause of these troubles. I can only express my sincerest sorrow and regret at the events that have unfolded, and I pledge my service to do whatever you may require of me to aid in the capture of this woman or the healing of those she may yet injure, she who has forsaken all hope of redemption in her bloodlust.

I am yours in the Light,

Bamaeus Hood

He hands the letter off to a waiting elven guard, and returns to the Green Stag Inn, poring over maps of the city and wondering where the strange elf who had repaid his mercy with murder might be hiding...
Back to top
Forgiver
2:45:37 pm GMT 07/25/21
Forgiver Registered Member #25529 Joined: 3:52:11 pm GMT 10/09/20
Posts: 144
In the meditation chambers of Greenvale, under his bundled shawl of old rags, a gnome tries to light three candles with one good hand. For several minutes he struggles, before the other hand rises, burned and scarred, and he winces as the pain reminds him of the cost of mercy. Each candle takes an agonizing time to coax to light with the scorched and less dexterous hand. It gives him time to remember their faces... to force them clearly into his mind, even as it tears his heart apart to think of them. Somewhere, their killer is loose - a soul out of its element that he has brought like a wolf into a field of lambs. He and Bamaeus... No, he, Gnu, must make this right... to clear compassion's good name.

He sighs, and the sigh feels good - it eases a tense feeling in his chest... and his hands find a comfortable place in his lap as he sits. Slowly, gradually, he stills his mind and listens... not for a sound his ears can hear, but for the beating of his own heart. The pumping of his own lifeblood through himself. Each other sound he carefully tunes out, and when an errant thought enters, he allows it to to, and then briskly allows it to leave, until his mind is emptied of all but one, focused thought: their spirits. He takes each of the faces, one at a time, and holds them tight to himself... and with their spirits as his destination in his mind's eye, he reaches out with his own to seek them, to hear their final story if they might be coaxed to tell it... to give him some clue of what the lost soul wants or needs... and when he finds it... He keeps his mind's eye on the goal. First he must find them.
Back to top
DavidtheGreat
11:25:09 pm GMT 07/25/21
DavidtheGreat Registered Member #23821 Joined: 6:18:34 am GMT 03/19/14
Posts: 135
Evangeline writes up a note, as instructed...

Dealing with the Tel'Mordere Savages
We have three options that I am immediately aware of.
The first option is to make a tribute to one of the two head 'Deities' of the Tel'Mordere. The Stag King, or Morrigan. I find the concept personally disgusting and would sooner go for option three in a heartbeat, but if you do not mind murdering a sentient skilled warrior and extracting their heart and brain to sacrifice to some Fey, it is an option.
Option two is more straightforward, but far more difficult. To challenge a huntmaster to single combat and defeat them. Doing so can allow you some measure of 'control' over them, and respect, allowing you to command them to allow safe passage for the group. This is obviously an incredibly difficult task, Just seeing the Huntmaster Renneleth can demonstrate how dangerous they can be, and they can be even more lethal. Single combat is almost certainly suicidal, but, if one feels brave, or stupid, it is an option.
The Third and most reasonable option in my eyes is a simple one. Simply go and kill the Tel'Mordere Patrols that approach as they come. As long as we do not walk into one of their villages, we are likely to only encounter the occational patrol, maybe a small hunting party.

She sighs, resting the wooden pencil down and turning back to her other work. It had been just a simple dagger, a curiousity piece, something to study at her leisure while she prepared for her inevitable work fighting the Void, fighting to avenge... To save, her parents, to kill Vexious. A distraction to maybe pretend things were normal for a time as she toyed with some riddle. Life is unfortunately never so easy. After purchasing it, she went about her business, until flies swarmed from the box and brutally devoured a Knight and Knave on the road outside Steinkreis. It was then she learned that this simple, wooden athame was hiding some malicious, malevolent intent, a hidden sentience that hungers within.

Evangeline blows out a tired breath as she flips through her tome on divination. She was used to spreading herself thin, at this point, it wasn't an issue. Or she told herself, feeling her back tinge in pain as she stands. The Dagger had acted up a few more times, even after she put it in a metal, lead lined box with a Wizard Lock spell upon it, to no avail. It was strong, and malignant. Nicolette told her to just toss it into the ocean, let it sink and be forgotten... And, Evangeline six months ago probably would have said the same thing. It would be logical, simple yet effective, prudent, expeditious, and yet... As Evangeline looks over at the box, she did not do that. She made an excuse, that it would resurface, something would get it back, or find it, it'd find a way back. However, none of those were the true reason, a reason she might not have even told herself, that the dagger, as twisted and malicious as it is, helped provide a sense of, normalcy. A puzzle to solve, to distract herself from her problems, to throw herself at rather than face her issues.

The Dagger was the least of her issues, for now. Master Hood and Gnu 'saved' a Tel'Mordere that they had bested in combat, and her tribemates had committed her to death, which they refused and took her captive away instead. She was loose in the city now, and murdered one of her guards, and four civilians. Evangeline closes her eyes, controlling her anger at the mere thought of what had happened, how easily it could have been avoided, but none of that matters right now. For now, the Cannibalistic savage murderer left behind something. Her clothes. Using these, she could scry on her more effectively, despite not having seen her before and only having secondhand information from the others. The spell is a long one, though, so she began, focusing her energies as she spoke the incantation.

"Revelare locus, revelare vocem tuam, ostende faciem tuam..." The chant goes on, for an hour, as she concentrates.
(The huntress recieves a Will saving throw against DC 24, with a +1 to her will save, Evangeline only knowing secondhand giving her a +5 on her saving throw, but having her garb giving her a -4. Upon Failing, Evangeline can attempt this a total of 6 times, each taking a further hour, within the day.)
Back to top
Cuchuwyn
3:16:23 am GMT 07/26/21
Cuchuwyn Registered Member #24041 Joined: 4:19:01 am GMT 01/24/17
Posts: 1952
Bamaeus returns to the Green Stag Inn after informing the Greenvale guards of the plan to attempt to locate the loose Tel'Mordere elf via a scrying ritual. He suspects they will have to move quickly, for even if she is seen, he very much doubts she will remain in one place for long. He goes through the small pouch at his hip, sorting various herbs and seeds, selecting those for the easing of bleeding, to encourage heartbeat, to slow poison- medicines he hopes he will not need, but suspects he will. A recent talk with Brooklyn Ja'quoi has seen his stock grow as he has become aware of several local herbs that do not grow near the Academy, that have proven quite efficacious in limited testing.

As he awaits the results of Evangeline's ritual, he pens a letter to Gnu:

Sir Gnu,

it seems we may have a lead in establishing more cordial relations with the Darrowscale tribe. I have encountered another lizardman (lizardfolk?) who seems willing to act as a liaison between the tribe and us. However, it has been suggested that the lizardfolk of the Heartwood enjoy gifts from outside the borders of their woods, particularly things that may be useful to them in their never-ending fight against the Tel'Mordere. I don't suppose you would happen to have any such things? I have a few trinkets collected from past expeditions, but I confess I keep little else. In any case, it seems we will be making another attempt to meet with them soon, and your presence would be quite welcome.

Yours in the Light,

Bamaeus Hood

Finally, he opens several tomes he has taken the liberty to borrow from the library here in Greenvale. Ever since first discovering that the elves knew of the star metal, he has been curious as to how far their knowledge goes- with a little luck, these tomes may yet help give him a clue as to what its nature might be, and why it has suddenly become so important to the tribes deep in the Heartwood...
Back to top
o_chadon_o
2:16:08 am GMT 07/28/21
o_chadon_o Registered Member #1763 Joined: 2:09:42 am GMT 10/24/11
Posts: 82
The Craftmaster of the Hellshire sat behind his dusty worktable, head in hand and partly asleep, thinking over the recent events of the past day and how to tackle the new problems. He stared down at the blank parchment paper he had been hoping to brainstorm on. Orn wanted to forge some gifts to make negotiating with the tribe of lizardfolk easier.

A faint grin graced his maw as Orn reminded himself of how diplomacy was far from his strong suit, The only thing I can truly assist with there is the fact I am not a scaleless flesh pile. Otherwise, the mammals would not have accepted my assistance. Not that Orn was incapable of being diplomatic; The lizardfolk was just truly too impatient to put his talents to that approach. Too much talking.

His thoughts passed over the employer’s goals for the expedition. The Craftmaster cared little about the employer, the employer’s motives or the actual idea of using such ‘motives’ for his own gain, but the possibility of working with star metal appealed to Orn’s craft at least, there was that. And of course there was the lizardfolk tribe. Perhaps they would be useful in more than just completing the job set out for the group.

Nursing a headache, the Craftmaster dusted off his table, and proceeded to lay out plans for the future gifts.
Back to top
Cuchuwyn
5:47:59 pm GMT 07/28/21
Cuchuwyn Registered Member #24041 Joined: 4:19:01 am GMT 01/24/17
Posts: 1952
A letter is delivered via mercenary to Lord Belgardt:

Good sir,

I am pleased to report to you that Miss Evangeline and I have made considerable progress on the issue of the rogue elf in the city. Indeed, we have managed to end the creature's reign of terror, thanks to the aid of a handful of sturdy guards of the City, as well as miss Evangeline's spellpower and the grace of the Light. The elf lies dead, good sir, and with her, one hopes, dies too one reason for the elves to mistrust you and your company, though I feel it necessary to advise you that they seem to mistrust you, and we, yet. Still, at least no more innocents will be killed in that madwoman's frenzy.

I am yours in the Light,

Bamaeus Hood
Back to top
1 2 3 

Moderator(s): TheSiteMaster, Squidget, Bonesly, Just Miggen, jewwe, Corlupi, Cuchuwyn, Alanonas, Oberon, Forgiver

Go to:

Forum theme loosely based on Invision Power Board
Online
  • Guests: 26
  • Members: 0
  • Newest Member: RegVonWer
  • Most ever online: 230
    Guests: 230, Members: 0 on Wednesday 11 January 2023 - 05:41:16
Now Playing
1. Tova Asketill
2. Glognar Flintheart
3. Tziia
Connect to us with 104.237.156.142 or thain.no-ip.org