Out From the Door Where It Began
Subject: Vacation
I do not remember if I sent this to the group but I will be on vacation from Friday Mar. 31 until Thursday April 6. I will be able to post on Friday, April 7.
I will be meeting Karl for dinner on Friday in DC.
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Vacation
So send all bribes for the DM to me. I'll be sure he gets them. ;-)
From: Ty
Subject: is everyone ready to go?
Should I write a new turn?
From: Scott
Subject: Re: is everyone ready to go?
Go, man! GOOOOOO!
From: Mark
Subject: Re: is everyone ready to go?
Go for it.
Let's finish this thing by Thursday. :)
From: Ty
Subject: Out from the door where it began...
Bartok finishes strapping the last of his gear to his pack, checking his ropes and climbing equipment one last time. The Belneth had said that these men would need him, and the only thing he can think of that he is better at than most is climbing Kessel. That must mean the Gods need him to climb. He sits back for a moment, eyes closed, thinking of his previous ascents, mentally revisiting each face and path on the mountain. Only a handful of his people had ever reached the summit, and he was one of them. Though it had not come without cost. He silently prays to Mielikki for the souls of lost friends, and for protection for those he is with now.
Nearby, Rennik is sitting on his pack, chewing on the leather wrapped round his axe handle. His eyes are distant and hard. One hand absent mindedly scratches Tichenor behind the ears. The wolf, for his part, keeps one wary eye on the big winter wolf lying near the fire with Manut sitting on him. Tichenor and Cutter had made a sort of uneasy peace early on, but Tich maintains a wary distance from the much bigger wolf.
Farron and Sa'id sit at one of the tables, poring over their books and notes. Farron is writing in his traveling spell book, Sa'id making comments and suggestions as he works. While they work, the two wizards are oblivious to the rest of the world.
Kasen sits on a stool near Manut and the fire, slowly oiling Truth. The huge blade gleams like a mirror, and seems to have its own inner light. Pensive sits cross legged on one of the tables, and watches the Knight care for his weapon. There is a ritual to it, not unlike the meditations the monks did before practicing their skills. It is the ritual that prepares a man to test himself even as far as death. Pensive can feel the deep calm in Kasen, the centering of his being. He hasn't quite woven himself into the fabric of the group yet, but he is comfortable in his own skin, and Pensive knows that many never know that peace. Under the monk's robes, the amulet of Elvira is warm and smells like grass.
Garyth comes back into the lodge, Vincy right behind him. He looks over the rest of his men, and smiles. Robert, Munchy, and Osred sit on the floor. Robert is telling a joke. In his typical fashion, the build up is long, elaborate, and no punch line could ever be enough pay off. But that doesn't matter. Robert makes every inch of the story count, with many asides and interjections that are funnier than the joke itself. Garyth walks over and gives the guardsman a playful swat on the head. "You men ready to go?"
Osred nods, "Ready, Sir. Just give the word."
Garyth looks around the room. Most of them had been up since before dawn, preparing. The Sunmaster was the only one who hadn't come out yet, and it was quietly agreed that he should be given as much time to rest as they could afford. But it's time to go. Garyth says, "Can someone go get the Sunmaster, and make sure his gear is ready? We leave in fifteen minutes."
Farron and Sa'id immediately close up their books, and go to the Sunmaster's room.
Rennik gets up, shouldering his axe. "I fear for the old man, traveling in those cold and damp sewer tunnels. We barely made it ourselves."
Garyth nods, "Better that then risk him going down the gullet of a swamp dragon." He rubs his ribs in a sudden memory of pain.
A few moments later, the wizards return, supporting the old cleric between them. Fellus is grimacing. "I'm afraid my joints are acting up this morning. This usually happens after I use a powerful prayer, and the one I used to get here yesterday seems to have hit me harder than usual. Growing old is a terrible thing."
Robert says, "But it's better than the alternative." Munch just smacks him in the head. "That is such an old joke. You need to get some new ones."
Rennik throws his pack over his shoulder. They were going back into the wilds. Without anything being spoken, leadership passes from Garyth back to him. "I will lead. Let me stay about fifty feet ahead of the rest of the group. In the main group, the soldiers take the outside positions and protect the mages and the priest. Bartok, you take the extreme rear, and watch for followers. Let's go."
[Pausing here. Please check in with a ready to go, or RP if you like.]
From: Mark
Subject: Re: Out from the door where it began...
Bartok grunts at Rennik's assumption of command, but seeing that the humans accept it, and knowing that his own skill in the forest pales next to the rangers, he accepts it. He makes sure that all his gear is strapped down and that his greatsword is locked in place. Nothin worse that a sword rattling out of a scabard while climbing.
He waits for the rest of the party to move out and brings up the rear, about 50 feet back.
OOC: Ready to go.
From: Jake
Subject: Re: is everyone ready to go?
Yep, I'm more or less ready--just have to roll for HP and I'm good to go.
From: Matt
Subject: Re: is everyone ready to go?
Ready to go.
Back to the Temple; Magic Horses
Subject: Re: Out from the door where it began...
Sitting at a table beside Sa'id, studying, the peace Farron felt in the Sunmaster's circle continued. It was like he was back in college, a good friend at his side, probing the realms of arcane power -- the closest he had ever been to what he thought of as heaven. He knew their peace was an island in the eye of a hurricane, but that only barely lessened his enjoyment of that peace.
Surreptitiously, he kept stealing glances at Sa'id, wondering what he was working on so seriously. He was amazed earlier when his friend burned several pages of his notes, something Farron would have thought Sa'id would die to protect. "What we learn is one of the few things we really ever have", Sa'id had once told him. That had stuck with him for years. He wondered what Sa'id had learned that had led him to destroy something formerly precious to him. Before that, he would have said that he knew Sa'id better than he knew anyone. But as much as Farron was glad to have Sa'id by his side in this, the whole of the past several weeks had only served to show him how little he really knew him -- and therefore how little he knew anyone.
But he didn't want to pursue that train of thought. He wanted the peace to last as long as it would. And besides this study time had proved to be one of the most productive he'd ever had. He was putting the finishing touches on two new spells he had discovered and was almost itching to try them out. Granted one of them was just a more potent version of a spell he already knew - the power to summon creatures from another realm -- but it would, theoretically at least, allow him access to creatures of greater power, or perhaps larger numbers of the creatures he already knew he could summon. The other spell, one he was most proud of, was one he may not have even tried had he not been along on this journey. He knew the party had been watched at various times, probably from the moment they first met Elise at the farm in Overlook. Since then arcane powers had been bent all over the island as the demon and his minions spied on the people of Overlook and Nesalin (and probably each other). Though he could not pinpoint the times exactly that the power had been used, he knew it had, and had been working on correlating times the party must have been scried on with times in his diary when he felt the most paranoid and exposed. Try as he might, he couldn't quite discover how actual scrying was being done, especially over such vast distances, but he did think he could tap into a version of that power to extend his own sight at least into another room, and around corners. He would try this spell tonight before sleep, if he didn't have occasion to make use of it before then.
"We leave in 15 minutes"
Farron turns to Sa'id and without a word, they both close their books and go to assist the Sunmaster. The man seemed more frail this morning, his bones creaking and groaning as he got out of bed and dressed. But even so he made little complaint. Old men should not have to carry such burdens, Farron thought. They should spend their days in libraries, and by the fireside, not traipsing through the jungle with god knows what on their heels, or more likely waiting in their path.
As the group prepares to leave, Farron turns to the Sunmaster. "Sir, may I summon a mount for you to ride? It will allow us to go faster, and be less taxing on you, I believe. At least until we get to the edge of the jungle?"
From: Raja
Subject: Re: Out from the door where it began...
OOC: Great turn, Karl. I'm ready to go.
From: Mike
Subject: Re: Out from the door where it began...
OOC: I'm also ready to go.
From: Ty
Subject: Back to the temple; magic horses
The group stands outside Gully's in the early dawn light, the soldiers warily eying the forests around them, and Rennik quietly discussing routes with Garyth. Gully moves around the group, pressing the last of his hard rolls into their hands, and promising that he and Manut will be fine since he plans to follow the boy over to Kalama territory as soon as they leave.
Farron offers again to summon Fellus a mount, and the old man looks like he is getting ready to be indignant, then suddenly smiles and lowers his head. "You are right, of course. Pride tells me that I can walk to the demon on my own two feet, but of course, that would only slow the rest of you down. Thank you, Farron. I would appreciate the mount very much." Farron quickly conjures it up, and he and Sa'id help the Sunmaster get seated.
Rennik and Garyth appear to finish their conference, and Rennik heads off into the brush without a word, the wolf at his heels. Garyth whistles to his men, "Flank Farron, Sa'id, and the Sunmaster, and keep your eyes on the forest around you."
Osred organizes the men, and adds his own encouragement for them. "If the Sunmaster gets so much a sliver because one of you wasn't paying attention, I promise that man will regret it." His thick scabbed hands, and scarred face are all the threat he needs.
Once Rennik has moved about fifty feed ahead, Garyth leads the main group into the brush behind him. Bartok lets the group get another fifty feet in before he follows.
Rennik, having seen Farron put the old cleric on a mount, sets a punishing pace through the forest. By the time the mid day break comes, the wizards help Fellus off his mount, and then collapse. The Sunmaster himself is so saddle sore he can only lay on the ground with his eyes tightly shut. Garyth is telling his men, "Ten minutes. Eat fast boys." When he sees Fellus and the wizards, he asks with concern, "We are only stopping for ten minutes. Will you be able to continue?"
Fellus nods emphatically, not opening his eyes. "We will, Captain. We are not tired. We are merely conserving our dread powers for the battles to come." He then opens his eyes and winks at Garyth.
The group does not stop until nightfall, when the forest is as black as a cave. Rennik finds them a decent camp site with a trickle of running water. Garyth has his men set up the tents quickly, and the Sunmaster is sleeping soundly inside his tent within ten minutes of stopping. He claims not to be hungry, and doesn't take any of the cold beef and bread the rest of the men eat. After Garyth sends two men off to patrol, Rennik pulls everyone else into a circle. "We are taking a more direct route to the tunnel entrance this time, so we should be there by tomorrow. My worry is that they will have either collapsed the tunnels to prevent their use, or that they will have added additional defenses there. If that is the case, we could go overland, but I am doubtful we can bring the old man through the jungle safely. In any event, we will have to decide that when the time comes. The real question in my mind is how we get into the temple. The demon's creatures will have surely blocked the passage Cadfael used. They are now aware of its existence. The main entrance has no doors, but would undoubtedly bring all of the demon's remaining troops down on us. Any other ideas?"
From: Mark
Subject: Re: Back to the temple; magic horses
"I have climbed the mountain several times but no nothing of this temple you speak of. I have always climbed the mountain from the other side and am not familiar with this side. I am sure I can get us to where you want to go safely, but I will need someone to tell me where we need to go. I am sorry."
From: Scott
Subject: Re: Back to the temple; magic horses
OOC: Remember, there was a shaft leading directly into the demon's chamber from the mountain's face last time we came to the temple. It was designed to allow light into the oratory, but that may be our entrance this go-round.
It is exhilirating carrying the holy symbol. And frightening. This is what the Kaishin was meant to do, sweep the Path with blood, renewing it, strengthening it. Promise's coming was already changing things for Pensive, and wasn't the holy symbol proof of that? When he is alone, Pensive cups the figure in his hands, and brings it close to his face. It smells of grass and earth, and a sweet breeze seems to surround it, tickling Pensive's nose.
Ancestor of the Elves, my ancestor whom I never knew. It is hard to think the words, to acknowledge the...pain. Pain, that's what this was, and jubilation. Pain, because where had this ancestor been all his life? Where was its protection, its love, when he'd been with the Gnomes? Where was it when he, alone of all the acolytes to walk the Path, could not light the fires on Grace days because he didn't have an ancestor to call his own? I was born from Bannock's Ire, baptised in snow and wind, and now this Elven thing has come to me, and it is what I wanted and feared more than anything. My Ancestor, my people!
His people. How were the Elves his people? Elvira and Overlook were more precious to him than the ruins of Aleandell.
I have been alone my whole life, my Ancestor. Forgive me, that I am a poor host.
He whispers to the holy symbol, telling it of his life, and inhaling the continual breeze from the figurine.
Osred's Morning Ritual; Farron After the First Day's March
Subject: Re: Back to the temple; magic horses
Exhausted, Farron has nothing to offer. He can barely think of anything beyond setting camp and just not marching through the woods anymore. He will see to the Sunmaster, helping to make him as comfortable as possible. He will consult with the others as to the best location to bed down and will cast Tiny Hut there, once he has determine that he will be able to remain in one spot for the night (i.e. he can't exit the hut once it is cast or he breaks the spell).
Once he is able to bed down, he will test the new Arcane Eye spell he recently added to his spellbook. He will cast the spell to create the eye within the tiny hut. He will take a few seconds, testing the eye, looking around the hut, then he will send the eye off in the direction they will be headed in the morning (having ascertained this from Rennik, et. al earlier). He will move the eye with increasing speed, testing it by moving it through the trees, above the treeline (stopping once to get a 360 degree look) then continue on until the spell ends. (1 min/level) He doesn't really expect to find anything, but anything of interest (spot check?) he will either report immediately if it seems important, or take note of and report in the morning if it isn't urgent.)
From: Jake
Subject: Re: Back to the temple; magic horses
[OOC: This is taking place at the break of dawn the day after the Sunmaster's blessing. Sorry for the delay in getting the turn out.]
Osred wakes, feeling easier than he has in weeks. The Sunmaster's blessing, the sharing that all of them had participated in, had lifted the acid fog of darkness from all of their hearts. The physical darkness shrouding the isle didn't feel so oppressive as it had the day before; the old man had channeled Pelor's light. The demon-summoned gloom still obscured the sun's light, but was powerless to block that light's essence, now that Fellus had opened their eyes to it.
Rousing himself as quietly as possible, Osred takes up his longsword, and steps gingerly between his sleeping companions. He nods silently to Robert, who is on watch, and steps out into the dim morning air. As he walks, his mind is on the events of the night before, of the feel of Pelor's light. It was different than that of Heironeus, somehow gentler without being any less powerful. Less harsh. It was the first time he'd felt the touch of another god of Good, and it bore thinking on.
In the grey half-light he kneels, facing east, the flat of his naked blade cool against his forehead as he utters the invocation. He rises and holds the sword before him, its point level with the eastern horizon, holds it until the muscles of his forearms and shoulders cry out in agony. Finally, in a blur of motion too quick to see, he whirls, the sword flashing up as though to parry some unseen blow, then lancing out again even as he spins to a northward-facing position. The sword rises and falls as the cleric whirls, moving so quickly as to seem to form a cage of steel around him. As he spins, lost in the intricate movement of his prayer, the air around him seems to brighten with the familiar light of Heironeus and he feels his awareness lift up and out of his body.
Although entirely detached, he is aware of the singing ache of his muscles as his body continues its dance, of the sting of sweat in his eyes, the runnels of it that pour down his body, soaking his tunic. He savors the hum of the grass growing underfoot, the rightness of the divot his boot gouges in the turf as he lunges forward. The snoring of Robert, now asleep at his post, the rustle of a skink dashing from the shelter of a fallen tree to a nearby rock, the slow churning of the clouds, the heat and light of the sun above them, the fear of the men and Halflings of the island, the joys and agonies of life across all lands, the light and darkness chasing each other eternally across the face of the world, the dark hate emanating from the mountain and its resonance with other darknesses lesser and greater, the cleansing light of the gods of Good, at once unique in all of its flavors and simultaneously an undifferentiated whole--all of it floods into him, through him, from him, and it is perfect, a rightness beyond imagining.
Whether this perfect peace lasts for a moment or an hour he has no idea, but eventually he feels it begin to recede. He grasps at it, and becomes aware in his reaching of himself as an individual again. He finds himself sprawled across turf torn to mud by his dancing, his sword held firmly in his left hand. He rolls effortlessly to his feet, invigorated rather than exhausted by what he has experienced. Even now the memory of his vision is fading, but his understanding has expanded, and his body seems to thrum with the power of the gifts his god has given him to aid in the coming battle [ooc: ie Hello level 7]
He walks back to Gully's and steps across the common room to the kettle of porridge the innkeep has hung above the hearth fire. As he passes Robert he claps him on the back, hard enough to send the Falcon's porridge sloshing over his bowl's rim. "Have a nice nap, soldier?" he whispers as he passes, not stopping to give Robert an opportunity to reply.