Tales By The Fire

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  Tales by the Fire XP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • Voight

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  Is this still a thing by any other DMs? If not, this should be deleted.
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  Summoner's Stories
  • Fraoch

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  Salute
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  Forums vs Wiki - Where to post.
  • morikahn

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  No one has replied

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  War Stories
  • Caoimh

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  The huge Peltarch Siege Ballista firing at enemy positions during the eastlander war:- "General Lavindo stood upon the platform, gazing back calmly at the already battered eastlander positions. He uttered four words… "Death to Peltarch's enemies". In a moment of firing the long hours of preparation and surprise was ready to be unleashed upon Peltarch's enemies, and in that moment the eastlander positions became as ash, weapons, bodies and the ground itself became as one. And death followed after..." Extract from the Memoirs of Barrim Asbravn.
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  Stories of Kanen Hightower
  • Kanen_Hightower

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  And what a mark, what a mark. To this day i still think of him and regrett that i didnt return to the servers when he still was alive. I hope i left half as much of of a mark on him as has left on me. I had to stop playing cause of RL though… can't bring myself to read the rest(the parts im not in) of it since i always planned having my toon return to the server and turn his life upside down again. :x :x :twisted: oh well once again i come here to pay my respects. Much love to all of u who ran this server and played with me while i was still hooked on this. Morgan Hearst, Attentus Vernet, Vinessa, arUlric... and many many more. It was and hopefully still is for all of you who still play. Pure Magic. love, Cila Denòere
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  The Days of Autumn
  • Robyn

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  Twinkle, twinkle little coin We are all connected to the weave in some manner. Some more than others. There are those with unrealized talents. People with towering intellects that manipulate the weave through study. And some who are touched in minor innocuous ways that hold promise to something deeper. In our village there were two. When I was very young, at the age when boys were icky and catching frogs in a bucket was fun, there was a kid in our group named Dane who could do something remarkable. He could make light. It required no cantrip. No spell or hand gestures. It was merely an effort of will and an attachment to the weave. The only thing he really used it for was impressing his friends and late night ghost stories. That was until an Elder from The Court showed up, and he and his family moved closer to a school near Elventree. I never saw him since, and often times my thoughts turn to his lopsided smile and wonder what ever became of him. I was the other. My mother tells me that it was discovered when I was just learning to count. My father gave me 20 coins to practice. I would put them in piles of 5 and 10, and then touch the bottom coin. It would twinkle, vibrate and jump, scattering the others. Apparently, I found this more amusing than counting them because to this day, I am still bad at math. An Elder from The Court came to visit the house. While my parents undoubtably had high hopes that I would be extraordinarily gifted and perform grand magics at the college under the tutelage of masters, the Elder told them that no, the best I would be performing is a few cantrips, an odd healing spell or two, and perhaps….just perhaps something to do with sound. To this day it’s just a curious trick that just once, I managed to use to cheat in a contest. Oddly, Gaeleron made me practice now and then. There was one memorable time when we were crossing the border into Damara, that a farmer let us stay in the barn for the night. Then, under the relaxing influence of some curious smelling pipe weed that Gaeleron offered, I was able to make the little twinkling coin hit the roof of the barn. It was a grand night, full of reflection and broken down barriers, one that made me see a side of my mentor I never otherwise saw. We laughed and giggled as coins with the curious twinkle would hit the roof of the barn, and told stories of loves, buckets of frogs and adventures. I wish he had lived long enough to tell me why. Perhaps someday, another mentor from The Court will answer my letter.
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  The Many Paths - Garen's Notes
  • LustJaw

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  "The ashes burn once more" This is a saying from where I am from. It refers to matters that have passed that return to influence the present. The undead of the these lands are a literal embodiment of this phrase. The still shambling corpses of those already gone attacking the still living. I bring this up, as my next foray into the adventuring life has led me into the deeper parts of the Norwick crypts, where the mummies reside. I seem to have the unfortunate luck of being constantly thrown into the tiger’s den in regards to this local profession. My companions were confident in their ability in handling the mummies, none more so than the halfling Fern, who’s enthusiasm for fire related spells comes only second to her thrill seeking needs. Were it not for the inclusion of both Astolfo and Reemul in the venture, I would have likely passed on the invitation. The boat ride down to Norwick was largely uneventful, -- There is another saying from home, “A bad beginning makes a bad ending.” The initial plan was to rush past the slow moving undead on the upper levels of the crypt, to conserve our energy and spells for the hardier and deadlier ones below. Astolfo and Reemul led the charge, drawing the undead away from the rest of us who would hurry towards the stairways down. Plans have a frighteningly quick pace in which they fall apart on contact with the enemy. As soon as the two charged into the main room, an undead warrior rushed through the doorway out towards the back line. Different from the zombies and ghosts we had encountered to this point, it was quick-paced, armored and wielding a weapon in each hand. With it blocking the doorway and cutting off our path towards Astolfo and Reemul, I had little choice but to engage it in melee with shield and axe. While it found no openings in my defenses, I was unable to land decisive blows in return. Thankfully, I was not alone. Noting my companion’s presence, I lowered my shield and with an open palm, goaded the undead warrior to attack. Taking the bait, it barreled towards me, into the reach of Vera’s scythe. In large sweeping arcs the scythe’s blade flickered, cutting the undead down before it could finish its next step. We rushed into the next room where the hoard of undead were preoccupied with Astolfo and Reemul’s efforts to distract them. This was again where the plan fell apart, as Fern constantly yelled for people to start making for the stairways down, while others were focused on the undead slaying. I stood between the two sides, unsure of which to follow or assist. I imagine this would make for a fine allegory for the path I walk now. A moment of hesitation would have cost us the fight if it had been of direr circumstance, but this was not it, not yet. Sinking my axe into the closest zombie skull, I joined the others in granting a final death to the restless dead. -- The lower crypts held new undead I was unfamiliar with, quick moving husks of the once living, and horrific giants of dead flesh. It is of little wonder that people say that these lands are cursed. In the confines of the tunnels, combat was relatively straightforward. It was not until the first large antechamber where I would experience my next flirtation with death. I imagine it looked harmless enough, a single undead priest wandering the middle of the large chamber. I would not have blamed either Reemul or Astolfo for charging ahead through the doorway to meet the foe, the priority being to close the distance before it could get a spell off. What was unaccounted for were the other undead casters hidden in the shadows. Mid-charge, Astolfo was instantly held in place by a spell. The brief hesitation I had in seeing him incapacitated was opportunity enough for the undead to get past my mind’s defenses, and I too joined Astolfo in a locked state. I stood helpless as spell after spell of negative energy was thrown at us, my armor and shield useless against the arcane arts. I briefly pondered again on the nature of my path, finding clarity within the agonizing pain of necrotizing flesh. But that too was quickly cut short as I found myself on my knees, a bottle of healing draught in hand, a reflex built upon countless hours of training. Finding our second wind, the undead casters were quickly cut down. -- I was not prepared for the mummies. I stood transfixed in horror as the first of their number shambled towards us, my mind screamed as my legs turned of their own accord, breaking into a run. The others steeled with mind spells against fear, and weapons brimming with magical flame thanks to Fern and Sadi, cut it down with relative ease. Seeing the mummy burst into flame, fire hungrily devouring the dried wrappings, I begin to understand Fern’s enthusiasm for mummy slaying. I do not blame Astolfo for belittling my cowardice, though I found it needless given the shame I already felt for running from an enemy. But I was an acceptable target given my actions, yes. Between Toisin’s axe and Reemul’s blade, we cleared out way towards the back of the cavern system. My mind steeled and knowing what I now faced, I did not run again. Of interest was a plaque that seemed to list the etiquette in which to pay homage and attend the court of the resident mummy lord. Perhaps a foolish notion, but the dead do have so many tales to tell. -- Fern wanted us to slay the mummy lord. The plan was for the pair of casters to pepper it with fire spells while leading it towards the exit, where the rest of us would be waiting to engage it. It would also allow us a quick escape if things turned for the worse. It was a foolhardy plan, but I was biased given the unknown nature of the foe. If a common mummy was enough to break my resolve, what manner of horrors would a mummy lord bring forth? The seconds went by as we waited by the entrance, casting what magics we had left and downing the potions required for this next endeavor. We all knew it would be a challenge, but even with hindsight, we were ill prepared for what came next. We heard the sound of running feet, before Fern and Sadi broke out of the darkness and into the light of our flaming weapons. Behind them came the shuffling of heavier steps, slow and purposeful. As it stepped into the light, my mind broke. -- I found myself staring at the cavern wall, the sound of combat still ringing out from behind me. How long had I been out? I took a quick and measured breath, calming my nerves as best as I could. My heart was racing, but I knew what I had to do. I spun around to face the horror once more, expecting to lose my nerve, but the fear did not come again. Only the sight of a battered Astolfo and Toisin as they traded their blood for singular blows on the mummy lord. Reemul stood a distance away having just shaken off his own bout of fear. The first step was the hardest, but the second came easier as was the third. Closing the distance, I ducked under an outward swing of the mummy’s arm, following through the motion with an upward swing of my axe. The blow struck true, I felt the impact of my axe, but as I pulled back into a defensive stance, it was obvious that I would do little to no damage were it not for the fire enchantments on my weapon. And spells only lost so long. Toisin was our hardest hitter with his flaming great axe, and the mummy seemed to realize that, tearing into the dwarf at every opportunity. Expending all his healing supplies, he was reduced to waiting on the sidelines as the fight continued to drag on. With our spells wearing off and the lessons from my encounter with the demon ooze, I kept my shield up. My now mundane axe would do no good in harming the undead, and the mummy was unable to get past my defenses. Our spellcasters were no longer throwing spells, as it had activated an item of some manner, shielding it from magic. Even with it close to destruction, we could do nothing. At a stalemate, the mummy lord turned away from me, it’s attention now on Vera, who stood a distance away, the familiar look of terror in her eyes as she stood frozen. I moved to intercept, but slower than Astolfo did. Barely clinging to life, the color all but drained from his face, there was no hesitation as he threw himself in front of Vera. Astolfo’s death spurred action from one of the spellcasters, who pulled forth a rod and drew upon its magic to finally put an end to the mummy. -- The way back up was no less a challenge. We had thought to escape under the effects of invisibility, but the narrow halls and regrouping undead created a gauntlet of danger we had to traverse. And being that we couldn’t see each other, felt very much alone. Other than a moment of hesitation when I came across a form of undead I was not familiar with; seemingly created from the corpse of a powerful warrior and a horrid visage to match, I made it back to the upper levels. Where I waited for a time before the rest of my companions arrived. Vera carrying the still form of Astolfo over her shoulders. There was little left to do but fight our way back up towards open air.
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  A Proudfeet tale
  • rei_jin

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  ~Entry 16 - Testing myself~ When seeking to learn about your ki, there are two main avenues of exploration. The first is to centre yourself in a calm and peaceful place, and to look inward that it might be drawn out over time. The second is to place yourself in a high stress environment where you are forced to look inwards to find the resources to survive. This is far quicker, but far more dangerous and likely to result in failure and death. Of course, me being me, I went for the second. For all the supposed wisdom I have, I can be rather intractable. Three trips. Three deadly foes:- A Vampire Monk A Hezrou An Evil High Priest and his minions I have survived, having cleansed a tomb of undead, emptied a cavern of evil outsiders, and stopped a ritual to bring disease to Peltarch. What have I learnt? Well, other than that I need some tougher armor... I have learnt, that I am stronger as part of a small but cohesive team. I have learnt, that I can withstand blows that would fell many others. I have learnt, that I am not peaceful like many monks are... that I am violent and aggressive. To be fair, I already knew that last one. With nicknames like “Murder-mitts” going around, it’s kind of hard to avoid. Yet... that doesn’t bother me? I am three things: A scout:- the eyes and ears of a city A defender:- a shield to protect the ally A solder:- a weapon to destroy the enemy So, what have I learnt about my ki? If I have an elemental affinity, I’m yet to discern it. I seem to have a connection to all four... moving like the wind, overwhelming foes like water, defending like the earth, with the passion of fire. I know my ki is strong... it empowers me, drives me onward. At times it feels consuming, like I am simply ki given material form, that who Merlynna is matters less than finding an outlet for my ki. Is it internal or external? I can feel it in both, affecting the situation around myself, but also affecting me inwardly. Is it ranged or melee? Definitely in melee... I feel no desire to engage in ranged combat... I’d rather sit back and watch others use a bow than get involved myself with my sling. My actual preference would be to somehow be launched into the combat! Rule 34 - A hin fist will seek to know themselves, for until one knows themself, they will not be able to know their enemies So... melee and strong. That’s my ki. But that’s a pretty broad definition. I need to know this, to understand it properly, to be able to use it, control it, shape it, rather than having it do that to me. Mastery of the monastic arts is mastery of self. Maybe I have a longer journey to go on than I had hoped.
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  Leandro's Journal
  • Dermin_Lantaional

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  So, I was there the other night, and you know what? Bam. Let me tell you a strory. I went with Kania. Wow, ACID. Is that cool? Only if it comes in clouds! I mean, acid drizzling down the ground. Dripping drops working diligently for the crops, ain’t it? HAHA. MELT. I remember someone cut off my coin purse and, oh boy. OH BOY! What was that? Did you like that? SWASH! Paff. HAHA, look at your arm in the ground DOGGO, I cut yours off with my hoe. My rusty hoe. My famy’s arm. My arm. FWOOSH THEM VIVY! ! RUST! Man that felt awesome. I mean, I was once again with no coins, but. Whatever. FUN. I think I’m carrying over ten fireball necklaces. Willow said I shouldn’t burn the doggo’s forest, but c’mon. I mean, just c’mon. COME ON I just want to burn them doggos and maybe them forests in the way, a tiny bit. Not that it’ll get hurt. I mean, there are a lot of trees and fleas and-- R U S T HAHAHA. Wait, this is fun. Wait. ! R U S T HAHAHAHA. I think it was that cloud. Man, the dust. OH BOY, is that even related? I think so, baby. Tell me what’s what falls when you hit with a rusty hoe? RUST. Bigger now: ! Anyways, the other day, let me tell you a story. I think there were like five or six hins. No wait, it was actually a legion of hins. Thousands of millions looking for coal. Kania gave them the dust, I showed them the eye and the tongue. I think we hugged one or two. Kania suggested. But they were looking for coal. What a bunch of weirdos. Yep.
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  Raconteuse - Caling's tales
  • sciolist

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  'So, here I am admiring the wreckage of Astolfo's love life and the plates he's set himself to spin of who and what he cares about. When suddenly the Alarum is sounded! 'Foullest murder! And at the Dolvaks, which is no surprise at all to anyone over a hundred years old. Guards everywhere, holding the crowd back, rumour rife! What has happened? Yours truly wanders out and around pst the Edge to climb the battlements and go overlook the Alley. 'Horrible. I shan't go into detail as some of you are eating, but the guards are right to hold people back. This is a Crime Scene, and I've been at a fair few of those. Fortunately, that Iron-jawed champion of Justice Sir Shannon Magistrate Sir D'Arneau appears to render order to the City. The crowd are appeased when he names his favourite Elf as his new Inquisitor! 'Nay, Sir. Not I! I am but a humble recounter of tales, and drinker of ales, and with my fine inventory of goods, a broker of sales. The new Inquisitor is the pink-haired darling of the Bardic College, Syltria. 'Diligent examination of the crime scene occurs, and it would be most remiss for me to comment on an ongoing investigation, but... 'We know who did it. 'We know what they look like. 'Their days of freedom are numbered. I can say no more on that subject!
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  Sisters
  • Jyni

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  It had been a week since her prayers and she found herself wondering if it worked. Do the gods hear them at all or are they just there to play and torment us. Many must be praying at the same time she surmised. It could be I need something to get more attention to her prayer like she had thought once before at the altar. She scoffed and shook her head trying to clear it .. “These hopes of getting help are getting me nowhere.” She needed real power, just for a brief moment, and she needed a real path to that power. She found herself rubbing the leather of her black book. She placed the book back on the stand and continued working on its teachings. She gloved her hands looking down at the table her eyes barely visible behind the helm she always wore in Oscura. It muffled her voice as she talked to the lifeless body on the table “The book has real power, methods to make one more powerful and even those must hold some sort of sustained magic until used. Perhaps a battery of some sort .. a magic battery which could hold the magic until I required it. Build it up and then release in one massive spell.” She smiled at her idea while she soaked the rags and applied them to the corpse. “Not certain this will work for you but will will try.” She wrapped the body like she had seen the mummies wrapped in the crypt. Using the solution from the book the reasoned the solution would do the same to dead skin as her would to hers. She already felt she was more durable, why that was she wasn’t entirely sure, this was a way to find out. “Ok then”. She raised her hands and cast negative energy into the corpse .. the ray glowing red illuminated the rest of the room. She struck it 3 times and nodded. “Let’s see how you are in a few days.” She threw the gloves in the fire and collected all the left over parts of the mixture she had made to soak the rags. One by one she put them into the fire and watched them burn. Certain things seemed to take magical fire to successfully get rid of so the burning hands spell she found had become very handy. She packed everything that was left and wrapped her book in its special case tucking it away. She needed to find a permanent place where she didn’t have to hide all the components, mixtures, and experiments. The Priest should be able to help there. She thought as she cast invisibility and slipped out of the room, through the doors and into the city. As she walked, nodding to the other citizens politely, she couldn’t help but to think about the Altar, The Priests, the Promises, “Where is he .. he promised to help ..” by the time she entered the cave, It was Onyx who was in full control. Wielding a two handed sword she cut her way through the KoaToa not even stopping to grab their belongings. She ascended the stairs looking back at the group who followed her laying motionless on the floor. She felt better .. putting away her sword and casting invisibility again, she entered the snake cave and looked around . In a dark corner she removed her helm, sighing a bit of relief as she did. She quickly tucked it away and moved into the forest, stopping by the water to rinse herself of the nastiness of battle. She paused watching the blood disappear into the water, clean, and refreshed, it was never there in the first place. The stream carrying all the nastiness out to sea eventually, she thought. She splashed clean water on her face and as the ripples died down she caught her reflection in the water. She tried to remember the last 12 hours, it was all a bit fuzzy, some like a dream, some parts very real. “If I don’t remember then it must not have happened” she whispered to her reflection. Smiling she rose, clean, refreshed, ready to go once more into the world and find her friends.
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  "Finding a Balance of sorts" - A journal of Leena
  • JerrickRafe

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  An aberration to beat all others. Yesterday ... was a hell of a day. It started well, it ended well, but I can hardly close my eyes but to see that thing. It all started innocently enough. I wanted to talk with Batilde, and despite Roslyn's protests that things were, "Going to get philosophical again", the three of us decided on a walk in the woods. We had barely gotten started, when we ended up walking up on a camp of adventurers, resting by the corpse of a nearly 20 foot tall Gnoll, with tribal markings all over it. They asked me to help discern the cause of it's tremendous size, and having seen such before. I was able to quickly identify that it was ritual magic, much akin to an "Enlarge person" spell, but more of a shamanistic ritual. Satisfied, they seemed ready to move further into the woods, when a hooded woodsman showed up. He told us some things about the woods nearby, including the location of a town, and the direction of a section of the woods that NONE dare to tread, since those that do, seldom return. Obviously, with Wick, Batilde, Yaule, and myself ... not to mention Z and others who care about nature and/or the balance, the group easily decided that we were going to the town to learn more about the messed up section of woods, so off we went. The town, once we fought off hundreds of Gnolls, and freed a surprisingly spry old woman from their cage, had much to say about these woods, and warned us away, even begging us not to go in the case of some children. We left to the mutters of "fools" and the crying of children, into the apparently cursed woods. We arrived, finding an unnatural darkness, and an ominous feeling. There was nothing subtle about the wrongness in that place, but nothing specific either. I couldn't even detect anything particularly magical at work, though those attuned to the land as I am all shared my specific kind of unease, and a certain direction of the center of the wrongness. Then, the scary stuff began. It seemed like the group before us had been a mining trip originally, so I figured Z would lead, but he nominated me instead, so when we got in, I walked ahead, and found what seemed like localized rain, making a puddle between two trees. I checked it out, and happened to note that my reflection in that water made me look much prettier than I consider myself, more like Elaine, my twin. Yes, I know we're twins, but she just ... GLOWS. Her hair always falls perfect, her skin unblemished, she looks like me, but if painted by a master. Anyway, as I was wondering about that, I was pulled roughly away, suddenly aware that I was drowning. Apparently ... everyone else saw me, and Roslyn, stick our heads into the water and immediately drown ourselves, and only quick thinking saved us, as our friends pulled us out and made us cough up the water. Oh! On the way IN there, we saw a deer walk up to me, and as I pat it, it turned into a decaying corpse, and left it's skull in my hand. Shortly after that, a gypsy warrior walked up, and killed himself in front of us with a knife up through his jaw into his brain. So really, I should have known better ... A pretty flower made choking vines nearly kill another, and then statues past that were making people turn into statues too, for the looking at, before the rest of the statues turned into gargoyles, trying to eat the group. All in all, tensions were high, so I began singing a little marching song about Druids, to keep us occupied and distracted. The Druids go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah. The Druids go marching one by one, Hurrah! Hurrah! The Druids go marching one by one, a Flamestrike is brighter than the sun, and they all go marching on, to the cave, to the cave, they are brave .... I ended up signing plenty of those versed, as we fought, pushed, choked, bled, and suffered, only the knowledge, a feeling really, that if we JUST KEPT PRESSING ON, even when the air seemed poisonous, and on the verge of killing all of us, we'd get there, to the center, to the root of this evil, and be able to face it. No knowledge I came there with, could have prepared me for what greeted us. The ... "Thing" in the middle of a small, dark, clearing, was not of this world. It was not even of a known plane, and I've been to a few. I've fought demons, illithids, nightmares in the actual realm of dreams, but nothing ... nothing like this. Beyond our mortal planes, then beyond even those of the Gods, there are more places. Between places. Places that are neither fully real, nor reachable that I know of ... but sometimes, things come through it. I've heard the stories, and read the lore, but the reality of the things ... well that's just that. They do not FIT in our reality. It was unreal, in every sense of the word, except that it was there, making my mind disbelieve my eyes, and my other senses recoil at the smell, the touch, the sight of this horrific thing before me, which was ... well, I'll try to describe it. When you gut an animal, inside are squirmy, wet, squishy bits, and they're connected by membrane, soft or springy tissues, some of them just stretchy and strange looking. You'd never guess we had all that inside us, from the outside. This ... was as if some colossal creature was turned inside out, given 'life' to pulse and writhe and Gods Above ... screech horrifically, and then reach out with teeth and tentacles and tentacles WITH teeth, and spew forth other monsters at us, as we grew to understand that it was a living thing, a veritable infection on the land, living and growing like a cancer... becoming PART of our natural world, and perverting all it touched. I resisted throwing up, despite that assault on my mind and soul, steeled myself with spell and sword, and walked forward, cutting down the things it threw my way, shoulder to shoulder with the others who were not deterred, and got close enough to do what had to be done. Blades and spells hacked away at the thing, which thankfully didn't seem capable of defending itself past those tricks and taint, and creatures it spewed up ... so I got close, and began to chant, angrily screaming forth Kossuth's name in a plea to help us destroy the abomination, and raised my hands to the sky, even as it's creatures raked at me with their claws. My spells held me from harm, and then the world exploded in fire! A firestorm is divine fire, and even as it engulfed my allies and myself alike, none were harmed but my foes, giving up the control of the element to nature itself, to let IT do the purging, and protect it's protector. Flames ripped forth, the earth shook from the tearing of the air itself, and the creature SCREAMED, it's shriek enough to drive you mad if it had kept going ... but it was not finished. I was panting from the effort of the greater spell, being nearly at the highest level of my skill to cast, but it was not yet done. The darkness pressed in where fire had brought light once before, but I had one more trick up my sleeve, and I screamed out that if fire would not do, it could burn in the light of the SUN! I figured since all in this place was dark and gloom, perhaps letting in the thing that it so thoroughly kept out was exactly the trick we needed. Sunlight BURST forth, and the scream of the creature was infinitely more horrible, while the light form by spell appeared, flashed once, and then everything went WHITE. And then ... nothing. Nothing at all No sound, after that ear shattering scream, so loud we felt reality shake White, quiet, nothing. And then drips of water on our faces. The light dimmed, and became sunlight, filtering through the canopy, to fall upon the ruins of an unspeakable horror, something with no name, something that should not exist ... and was burned even past that mere moments later when I was asked to hit it again, just to be sure. 5 times, my mass lightning spell ripped forth, Talos seeming more than glad to hear my plea and aid me, and then there was but ash all around us, motes of dust lingering in the air from the devastation. Between Z's use of holy water, my fire, Willow's fire, blades and spells all around, and then that final burst of sunlight, it was done. It IS done ... We returned to the town to tell the amazed villagers, and even managed to get a reward, which was nice. I woke up in a sweat last night, that scream once more ringing in my ears, too ... but I'm sure that too, shall pass with time. For now ... I should probably go find Batilde, and have that talk that's been interrupted twice now. I got to talk to Yaule, and she acquitted herself well in that fight, as did Batilde before she had to turn back, so there's likely plenty to discuss. Today will be a good day, so long as I don't hear anything like that again while awake...
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  Value of Coins - Isendir's Musings.
  • Attentus

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  Been a while since i wrote a journal entry. Met a werewolf, Aelthas - who didn't tell me how to tame my 'inner worg'. Felt left out alone after that. Well, C'est la vie - such is life. Adventured a while, killed some worgs in a team then felt Nature's Call and travelled for a while in the woods exploring. During these travels, i felt love for woods, for nature. Perhaps a Ranger awakened in me. Have to talk with Ting about that. -- Isendir, newly awakened Ranger.
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  The World According to Ting
  • StCroix

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  Doubt.... yes and no... is bad for Ting to have doubts. People look up to Ting... and Ting just wants to do Ting things.... I am no leader am ... a specialist.... Fealar understood me..... my silence is no being rude... I am Ting... * sighs * do not take my silence nothing more than.... Ting
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  Travelling between worlds - Chea's Journal, part second.
  • Attentus

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  Value Words. Dear Journal, ... i am travelling to Damara with a escorted caravan, seeking love. They asked me if i will pay - i've answered: 'it's fine'. They asked how much is fine - i've answered: '100gp'. Thought i'll sort meanings of the words, so conversation goes smooth. 'poor' - transaction reejected. 'good enough' - 1 gp. 'good' - 10 gp. 'neat' - almost fine, 80 gp. 'fine' - 100 gp. 'grand' - 1000 gp. 'excellent' - 10 000 gp. 'awesome' - 100 000 gp. 'perfect' - 1 000 000 gp. i've considered modifying with other words, but finally settled for numerical pre-fixing. for example: '1 000 grand is perfect', '10 good enough is good'. ... etc. This should be simple and easy to use. -- Yours, Chea Allin, travelling witch.
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  Burning Scrolls - The Writings of Diadne
  • Robyn

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  Mirtul 16th Though this was the time of melting, the snows gave their last gasp of the season and began to blanket the commons in powdery white. It was early evening, and he appeared again in the commons, carrying stones from piles he stored in shadowy alleyways behind buildings. He made several trips, his meager clothing providing little relief from the elements, and built a circle with these stones in the commons. There, he built roaring fire, and prostrated himself before it. I had seen this man several times before and his presence always confounded me. His was unshaven, his clothes barely rags. He looked like he had eaten little, yet he possessed strength beyond what his wiry frame would suggest. He had refused my offers of assistance in the past, and seemed content to only “PRAISE THE FLAME”, which he did with ardent fervor. His presence always puzzled me. His attitude and actions were borderline manic, almost embarrassing, yet at the same time gave me strength. I could feel Kossuth’s power growing within me in small trickles at his prayer, suggesting a mutual connection to the divine in ways that surprised me. The guards came this time, claiming that there were complaints about him disturbing the peace. Fortunately, the guards left after a short argument, not expecting the degree of resistance they received when they made their intent known to have him removed. I tried to bless him. Kossuth has given me a small parcel of divine power, but all I’ve been able to do with it is create fire. I truly wanted to bless or heal this man, but that power doesn’t belong to me. So what I couldn’t do with prayer I offered with simple words of support and faith. It worked for a time. His mind cleared, and he told me the story of how he had fled from a temple of Kossuth east of where Jiyyd once stood. The temple had been overrun when the demons came, and now lay in ruins. He had sought shelter in Peltarch, and had been here since. At my insistence, he even drew a crude map of where the temple once stood. Then oddly he left, saying he had other fires to create. After thanking him I watched him go in silence, unsure of what else to say. Now I’m on the long road to Damara and the nearest temple of Kossuth. I will seek answers with the clergy and record keepers there and learn what I can about this temple that once stood east of Jiyyd. This could have been the final destination of the ill fated caravan I was on that left Surthay so many years ago. It may hold some significance in this regard, because if true, it was where I, the sword and shield were originally destined to be. But as implied by The Emissary, Kossuth had scattered them to force me to find them and learn of my significance to him. Perhaps he suspected or even knew it was to be overrun, and spared me by having the caravan attacked right at the moment when I would likely be safe. Had I been at the temple, I likely would have died there. After I learn what I can of this temple, I will plan a journey there. The man’s presence in the commons, his message to me, the power from his prayers … all of it hints at something grand which must be found, recovered or restored. Hopefully, Kossuth will see fit to tell me what he needs from me, and what I must do when I get there.
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  The Underhill Files
  • Fadia

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  A meticulously detailed rendering what appears to be a card back adorns this page in Roslyn's journal, showing a sphynx's face in front of a complex floral pattern. A coded entry into Roslyn's journal follow's on the following page. "What's easy to get into, but hard to get out of?" 'Trouble' was my answer and, Yondalla preserve me, I don't think I could have been more right. I guess it started with Vick getting a report from his Far Scouts. Constructs in the crypts - while certainly a step up from undead - warranted some investigating. It was a hard fight at first. One of our party, some knight with more brawn than sense, rushed into the tomb and nearly got himself killed. He'd left as soon as we got him on his feet, apparently deciding that whatever was down there wasn't worth the trouble. Trouble. Now that I think on it, maybe I'm the one lacking in sense. I mean whatever else you can say about him, the guy didn't wind up in the shit I'm in now. We're in, now. It wasn't long after he left that we saw the Sphinx for the first time. Not a true sphinx, mind, but a construct. He asked, "What is a warrior's worst enemy?", and I rattled off a series of passive-aggressive quips about our recently-departed knightly friend. All of which were, technically true - but none of which were the answer he sought. The sphinx turned back and disappeared into the crypt. We worked our way through the constructs. Cleared out the first room with some effort and more than a little trial and error. Vick and I did some scouting. Found one room full of some constructs that I couldn't quite make out. Going another way, we found three floating suits of armor. We went for the latter and made quick work of them. Pressing on, we found a huge bone golem. Again, it went down with a minimum of fuss. Then they sent Vick and I in to scout the next room. And gods damn, do I wish I'd seen sense like our knight. The room itself was empty, save for some interesting architectural choices. Large and mostly open, though part of it was gated off with another doorway beyond. As Vick scouted the room, I made for that. Upon entering, I found our Sphinx once more, who invited me into "his lair". That's always what a girl wants to hear, by the way. Just ask her into your lair and she'll swoon, I swear to fucking Brandobaris. I said something about needing a moment, and told Vick what I'd seen. Told him to get the others in case things went pear-shaped. As he went off to gather them, I stepped in. He didn't attack. He didn't make a move. All he did was ask, "What's easy to get into, and hard to get out of?" "Trouble", I answered. And that's when he opened his mouth, and out dropped a deck of cards. Magical cards. I went forward to pick them up, and before I could look back, he'd vanished. Leaving, I found our party coming up on the room, ready to do battle. But the tomb was quiet. No sphinx, no other constructs. The ones we'd seen earlier but not fought had disappeared just as well as the Sphinx had done. We made our way back to the surface, where I told them what I'd found. Told them my plan was to have a bard cast legend lore on it (by the way, turns out Nate didn't really need to, since he was able to tell me what it was mostly without assistance. Always good to know some bards.) which the party seemed to be mostly amenable towards. But something happened then as I went to put them away. The party started eyeing the deck. Moving for me. I've seen this happen before - hells, last time it happened I only got out of it by slipping an ioun stone on to Artemis. But as much as I may have liked the party I was with, there was nobody there that I can honestly say I'd trust nearly enough to do that. So I ran. And they instantly gave chase. Not that it did them much good. I lost them pretty quickly in the alleys, and ran for the college to get a letter to Nate and Isolde. Crept out to try and contact some Ceruleans I know, only to hear that now there's a warrant out for me, and a bounty on my head. Which is all well and good, except....five hundred gold? Really? Come on, Peltarch. You can do better. Notes left, I went into hiding. Until now, when thank the fucking gods I can call in some friends in the guard and the Ceruleans to get me un-fugitivized and look this damned thing over. Anyway, Nate tells me that what I have is a Deck of Hazards. Old Narfellian magic, it sounds like.. I've got it hidden for now, and I'm not telling anyone where just yet. Some others know how to open the box I've put it in. I think instead of giving a location, maybe I'll find some other way to lead them to it if needed. This thing can't be used.
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  The Long Walk, a Black Lion's Tale.
  • JerrickRafe

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  Blood and ashes! I got yet ANOTHER letter! They're speeding up, somehow, as if this idea is either getting more popular with time, or some folks just waited to submit them? I don't know, this is beyond me, as to how exactly this came about! As amusing as it is, I may have to BURN this letter later, though. Bloody bards ... Another letter is pressed between pages: Inquisitor Cecil! I heard you are looking for assistance. In matters concerning the arcane, I of course work for the Ceurleans. However, for other matters, I'd like you to know that I'm available to help. I consider you a good friend, especially after you took me into the Mermaid Inn room to show me your lance and let me work my magic on it. I know, after that night, that you treat your matters with long, hard thought, mindful of the stiff competition and swelling gravity. Things got a bit heated, of course, when we both felt the tingle of your lance, capable as it is to throb hearts and race minds. The mere sight of it weakened my knees. I digress, but only because my adoration of your lance and our time together with it informs my motivation to let you know that I, Nate Wingates, am here for you, Cecil Northman. Should you ever require any such assistance, or any assistance at all, please remember your good friend Nate and our fun times together in that inn room. Your good friend, Nate. I've of half a mind to find the EXACT person who started this all ... and make it so this stops, if it gets any worse than ... than ... THIS NONSENSE! By the Lion's whiskers, I don't want -this- kind of talk floating about. It's bad enough that some of those women look at me as if they think Ashena a myth. Let Wingates keep up his theatrics, and they'll start a brand new rumor about why I don't chase the skirts of any of these women with their eyes and comments and casual touches and fluttering eyelashes. I wonder, though ... with that list of "no-go" people I started on, perhaps I SHOULD consider these letters, and go pay one of the messenger-men with their pigeons, for an "Adventurer Short-List." I KNOW Borodin heard about this, but her usual frosty silence has prevailed, naturally. Therefore, I'm sure the same rule applies as before. Do what I need or want to get the job done, with respect of the law all the while. Got it. I'll have to think on how I want to do this... Dammit.
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  The Book Of Willow
  • Karnivor

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  Perched ontop of a half crumbled wall at Pixies Roost, the skinny half-elf lets her gaze drift across the cliffs and towering forests around her, then turns her eyes up towards the sky, where dawn is just about to break through the night's embrace. A soft grey mist cloaks the ground below, the first pale rays of light turning each tiny drop of moisture into sparkling diamonds. Willow watches, spellbound, the raw cold seeping through her layered clothing ignored until the moment's passed. Then she shivers, hops down from her perch and stirs new life into the slumbering coals of the night's campfire. While fragrant tea simmers in a small dented pot of hot water, she writes: "Growing up, huh? Turning sensible always struck me as boring, accepting responsibility as heavy and stifling. Growing up implied, somehow, doing the 'normal' thing, the same as everyone else, falling into a rut of the mundane and taking no risks beyond putting food on the table, probably with a litter of needy runts clutching ones skirts. A fate worse than death, thought the younger me, thrashing and wailing at the smallest attempt at making an adult out of her. But maybe it's my reasoning that's stuck in a rut of late. If I redefine to my own mind what it means to grow up, would it really be that bad? All things change, but ones old ways of thinking often linger even when circumstances change around us. I'm no exception to that, not really. I need to change too, don't I? Stamina, you said knowingly. I flustered inside, wanting to protest that I 'do' have stamina, I can go on and on and on so long as it feels right, so long as I'm doing what I love. But I bit my lip. That's not what you meant, I know just what you meant and to pretend differently would be pathetic. Sticking it out when the journey's 'not' to my liking, when there's blood, death and hardship, when my heart is heavy and low. Pacing myself, when my party bleeds and my fingers itch to dispense another blessing, reigning myself in when I long to let loose. Standing still, when the playful wind tells me to run and cavort, oh it's the hardest one of all! So that's where I'll start - with myself. I'll never be a stealthy ranger, watchful and quiet, a shadow passing by unnoticed - but I can practice a few other things. If I'm to manage taming any wild beast (or rather calming them 'cause I don't really want to coerce), I need to find that calm in myself first. 'Patience, Willow' - words a thousand times repeated, often with a sigh, a command instinctively rebelled against, but it's different, isn't it, if it's ~me~ saying it? Patience. This is going to be a tough one, Shaundakul! But I think I need it, I need to fight past the sense that I failed as a ranger, that I'm nothing without your grace. It seems contrary, but I kinda feel that focusing on me rather than you right now will make me a better priestess, 'cause I'm the one that needs to change. I won't become 'too' grown up though, no worries about THAT! Just the sort of grown up that's learned to be ready for all eventualities, yet still welcoming, no actively seeking surprises, new paths and secret places to discover! I went with sensible, for my reward too. I'd dreamed loftily of finding the EPIC pair of boots, winged, spring-loaded, soaked in ~amazingness~ masked by an unassuming worn-out look. I searched high and low, through countless dusty bins and reeking goblin containers, enjoying the looking and never quite minding the total lack of result. But yeah, alright - growing up means letting go of childish things, to an extent anyway. So practical boots it is, comfortable and sturdy, but I'm still Willow. So while I let an airy, aimless quest go, I built the boots with the aim of being able to follow a more specific dream. This insulation against electricity is 'just' what I need to explore the unchartered realms of the quasi-elemental plane of, yes, you know it, lightning!"
• 

  Eclectic Ramblings
  • StCroix

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  And wait.... one gives heartfelt compliments.... and he is handsome.... let barriers down... why? will only get hurt again.... * she crumples the paper up * is a whisper... * she murmurs * never happen