Targos

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Alalla

gardensun

Jan 5, 2019 7:25 am
Jan 5, 2019 7:25 am
Re: Targos
Alalla moves to sit, but isn't sure what to do with her tail. She stays standing.

As the mayor speaks, Al's shock grows. "I... I can't believe she did those things for me. I would have nothing if not for her, and I never knew. I wish I had known her properly. I'm sorry." She lets the words hang as she contemplates the woman and her quiet kindnesses.

"As for what now..." Alalla shrugs wearily. "Continue on, I suppose. I have promises and duties to fulfill. I don't know if my authority means anything anymore, but I am chieftess to a tribe of orcs near Kuldahar. They are my responsibility, and I once aimed to help as many flee Gruumsh and find freedom in civilization as I could. I don't know if I am even capable of helping them now, but I can hardly quit. But for any of that to matter Poquelin must be stopped."
Last edited January 5, 2019 7:40 am

Araklusta

Jan 5, 2019 7:25 am
Jan 5, 2019 7:25 am
Re: Targos
A light headache begins to build in Zenithral's temples, and he recognizes the feeling. When next he sleeps, he knows a vision from Mylandra is likely to come.

Vincent

yaroto98Inactive forever!

Jan 5, 2019 11:58 am
Jan 5, 2019 11:58 am
Re: Targos
Vincent's eyes bolt open as he feels his magic rush back into his body stronger than ever. Not wanting to disturb his friends, he opens a window and jumps out. As he hits the ground, he rolls just like he'd been taught, preventing any damage. Standing up and brushing himself off, Vincent looks around to gain his bearings then heads off into the direction he last saw Pomab. Looking around and being careful not to be seen, Vincent checks for Pomab or sign if where he may have gone.

Rolls

Stealth - (1d20+5)

(13) + 5 = 18

Survival - (1d20+7)

(11) + 7 = 18

Zenithral

Carcabob

Jan 5, 2019 5:01 pm
Jan 5, 2019 5:01 pm
Re: Targos
Zenithral rubs his temples and sighs. In an effort to procrastinate sleeping, Zenithral tries to find and purchase charcoal and incense from somewhere in the town to ritually resummon Fluphy. He doses off once during the ritual, jolting awake in frustration but eventually manages to finish it.

Yes, we survived. No, I don't want to go to sleep...

So tired...He and Fluphy scour the battlefield for arrows worth reusing or recrafting. Sleep... He starts to cut off broken arrowheads and stack them in a pile, nearly cutting off his finger a few times. Fluphy grabs his face with its tendrils and looks him in the eyes.

Fine...I'll sleep... He returns to the inn and goes to a room. Bleary-eyed, he looks at the townspeople already crowded in there and opts to sleep in the common room.

Lord Ulbrec

Araklusta

Jan 5, 2019 6:57 pm
Jan 5, 2019 6:57 pm
Re: Targos
"I think most people misunderstood her. Her own folk, for starters. She was always supposed to outlive me..." Lord Ulbrec grunts deeply to clear his throat. "But she loved this town, and its people, in spite of our follies. If she, an elf, could accomplish so much good for stubborn people such as us, I am sure that you will be able to find a way to help those you care for." The words are surprisingly warm from the militaristic man.

Ulbrec reaches beneath his breastplate and with some difficulty removes a worn, thin book. "My father belonged to the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, an allegiance of holy warriors and priests dedicated to peace and order. I once thought it a pretentious name, but the years and wind seem to have dulled my skepticism." His scarred fingers tap the cover, and Alalla notices a faded, stylized heart embossed there. "I was raised in the Order, but in spite of my father's lessons all I learned was weaponry and pride. I left, convinced that I could find my way in life by the strength of my own arm." He sighs deeply. "It was a long, hard road that led me here to the edge of civilization, and by the time I arrived I realized I wasn't nearly so wise as I had once thought. You know as well as I how difficult it is to keep order in a place like this. But sometimes that struggle brings out the best in a man or woman. I had to step up and lead these people, because there was no one else."

He holds the book up. "The lessons here were invaluable to me in learning to lead, to become the best version of me that I could, but I can only take these tenets so far. Someone as young, wise, and determined as you might be able to benefit more from its teachings than I. You know... become something better."

He holds the small book out for Alalla to take.

Araklusta

Jan 5, 2019 7:27 pm
Jan 5, 2019 7:27 pm
Re: Targos
Vincent begins his search at the charred remains of the town hall. Due to the fighting that overtook the streets it's difficult to find a trail, but then Vincent remembers that both a group of militia soldiers and Erevain mentioned having spoken with Pomab at some point last night.

That particular group of guards managed to avoid most of the fighting at the wall, so some of them may still be alive. After meeting with Alalla and Ulbrec, Erevain is likely checking up on the Cort family to their shop and residence.
OOC:
Up to you: militia guards, or Erevain? The survival check is easily enough to find either.

Vincent

yaroto98Inactive forever!

Jan 5, 2019 7:33 pm
Jan 5, 2019 7:33 pm
Re: Targos
Hmmm, best go with the guards since I can't trust Erevain not to try to stop me again. Vincent then heads off in that direction.
Last edited January 5, 2019 7:33 pm

Alalla

gardensun

Jan 5, 2019 7:49 pm
Jan 5, 2019 7:49 pm
Re: Targos
Alalla listens with surprise. "When I spoke with you last I was looking for help from the gods, but it was only because of Erevain that I came. I was angry with the gods. It was easier than feeling rejection, and I believed I could continue on my own as I always had. I didn't realize then that was pride." Alalla clenches her fists, and her tail swings with agitation. "It still infuriates me that a god might help me now, when they wouldn't before, but..." she sighs and lets it go. "My pride cost me much, as well as those around me." Alalla reverently accepts the book. "I won't make that mistake again. I can still learn from the god's tenants, even if the taint of a devil is not preferable to orc blood."

Alalla holds the book tightly. The stress of the day threatens to overwhelm her, but her tears stay safely locked away. "Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for letting me stay."

Myllandra

Araklusta

Jan 5, 2019 8:28 pm
Jan 5, 2019 8:28 pm
Re: Targos
Zenithral's visions seem less fluid than before. Once they seemed like gazing into a clear pond, where every so often a ripple would pas over the surface and change the perspective of what lay below it. Now, however, the images and scenes change much more erratically. He realizes that he has seen many of these before, and then his stomach flip-flops uncomfortably as he recalls his first vision in Easthaven, and he is unsure whether he is viewing a memory of a past vision, the current vision, or some strange blend of the two.

The images seem to have nothing in common beyond a fragmented sense of urgency...

An ancient oak tree. The Great Oak of Kuldahar.

Something distorts the vision. A star, falling from the sky?

A black wolf that sits and waits. The symbol of Kresselack, the Black Wolf. The Vale of Shadows. Jhonen...

It burns as it falls, leaving a trail of smoke. Buzzing in the ears.

A robed, headless statue. The Temple of the Forgotten God, from where the Heartstone Gem was stolen. Tunnels, trolls, snakes. Mother Egenia. Yxonumei.

Incredible speed. Awesome power. The falling star radiates both. The buzzing gets worse.

A dragon skull with an eye socket of terrible depth. Bilewing. Poquelin! Those robes and that script...

Pain. Burning, agonizing pain.

A disembodied, spectral hand that claws towards the sky. The Severed Hand. Erestor. Lance and Mona. Arannis. Aeri?

Light so bright as to wipe out all vision. Blazing, furious heat. Still falling.

A pool of frozen water, something dark and indescribable beneath its surface. One of Icewind Dale's great lakes, perhaps. Lac Dinneshere?

A person in the light. Falling? Or flying down on wings of flame? Sword in hand. A woman's face, beautiful and terrible. Tears of frustration. Of rage.

A furnace glowing red and orange with molten slags of metal. Ilmadia? Wherever this means, Zenithral's mother is there!

A pool of writhing darkness below. As a force of brilliant, raging light, the figure hits the pool. And is devoured.

Sorrow...

A single shard of crystal that pulsates with pale light. Reflexted in its surface is Myllandra's strange, hooded visage...

"Zenithral!" The vision changes, and Zenithral finds himself face-to-hooded-face with the deva. The result of such a tumultuous ordeal staggers the archer, and Myllandra reaches out a gauntleted hand to steady him, but she pulls back and allows him to recover on his own. "You saw the Pretender's true form. Did he touch you? Are you well?"

Zenithral

Carcabob

Jan 5, 2019 9:21 pm
Jan 5, 2019 9:21 pm
Re: Targos
"Ugh...I hate these riddling visions..." Zenithral mumbles, holding his head. "I am physically in tact," he answers. "Mentally? Troubled. Emotionally? Afraid...yet I don't wish to face even that fear." He turns away and puts both hands on the back of his head and exhales, cheeks puffed out.

"I know you can't answer many of my questions, but how do you know I saw his true form, but nothing else? And will the gods intervene if the war between the demons and devils does get out of hand, or will the world be doomed if we fail? How dire is this really? In other words, can I keep just worrying about protecting people, or must I get involved with the hellish war on a grander scheme?" Zenithral recounts details of the battle, their encounter with the Pretender, Alalla's transformation, and his own belief that the devil wants to somehow acquire the souls of orckind. Whether she already knows this, Zenithral wants to speak his mind. "We believe he's going to Dorn's Deep, but how can we face such a foe? I feel closer to divine power than before, yet further from true victory than ever."

Zenithral sighs and shakes his head. "I left Bryn Shander because I was tired of the looks. The commander. The other captains. The look of shaming. Blame. Unforgiveness. The vision led me where to go, and I've certainly done good things, but..." Zenithral closes his eyes. "I still feel...Just. So. Blind." His eyes snap open and he clenches his fists. He turns to Mylandra and shouts. "Where does it end?! How many more impossible situations must I blunder into?! How many times must I nearly die and watch my friends do the same?!" Tears fall from his eyes. "I don't know how much more suffering I can bear for others...I want to go on, but every inch of me feels like giving up..." He sniffs derisively and turns away. "But of course, you can't answer that, can you?"

Kalden

Araklusta

Jan 5, 2019 10:27 pm
Jan 5, 2019 10:27 pm
Re: Targos
Vincent finds one of the those guards standing on a street corner, apparently 'overseeing' the work to remove corpses from the town. He seems happy to be doing nothing while the rest of the townsfolk work.

Vincent recognizes him as Kalden, apparently Alalla's ex-boyfriend. He cradles a large crossbow. He doesn't seem to notice Vincent's approach.

Lord Ulbrec

Araklusta

Jan 5, 2019 10:35 pm
Jan 5, 2019 10:35 pm
Re: Targos
Ulbrec shrugs. "The gods... they've got more on their minds than we could ever know, don't they? I don't know if they wouldn't help you before... but with Gruumsh and this Belhifet so interested, why wouldn't the greater beings of good and justice take note?" He gives hisbhead a rueful shake. "I certainly can't speak for them, but I can speak for me, and Elytharra, and for Targos. We are glad and proud to have you."

He stands and gives Alalla a salute, then gestures to the book. "I hope it brings you some peace and happiness. Best we all get some rest, now."

With that, the older man gingerly makes his way to his room.

Myllandra

Araklusta

Jan 5, 2019 11:00 pm
Jan 5, 2019 11:00 pm
Re: Targos
Myllandra's emotional state is always difficult to discern, but from the way her hood dips forward slightly and her wings of light slump, Zenithral might venture to say she is discouraged, or perhaps mournful.

"I know this is hard for you, Zenithral." Each word reverberates as though spoken within a cathedral, though in this strange dreamstate the surroundings are most always vague and unformed. "I wish I could give you all of the answers. Were it up to me, I would... She trails off with a sigh of her wings. "I honestly do not know. I am commanded to impart only pieces of your path, just enough to illuminate what is necessary. But you have made great progress!"

She waves her armored hand, and Zenithral sees a setting sun on the horizon. Or, perhaps, a rising sun? For as long as he watches it, it doesn't seem to give any indication either way. There is something about the light and the way it passes through surrounding clouds that comforts him, however.

"Every step you make is a step forward. Every heroic deed, and every word of kindness and hope you share with the world makes it better. The people you meet. Your friends. You are leaving your mark on the world, and it is one worth making!"

The deva's wings ripple, and she is suddenly just in front of Zenithral. The movement is sudden, but not jarring. It just is. Almost, he thinks he can see a hint of features within the hood.

Myllandra continues to speak, and from this proximity Zenithral can feel the reverberations warm his soul. "The Blood War... we are told not to dwell on that conflict. It is far too tempting to think we can keep our distance, for in our pride we might presume to judge and act when we should not. But you..." She pauses, looking on him. "You are one able to see, to learn, to act without bias. You are infinitely better equipped to handle this situation than the hosts of all the heavens."

Vincent

yaroto98Inactive forever!

Jan 5, 2019 11:04 pm
Jan 5, 2019 11:04 pm
Re: Targos
Vincent finds a nice hiding spot close to Kalden, but not too close. Then, initiating a conversation in his mind.

"Kalden, I am a being of unimaginable power for a mere mortal such as yourself. I have a test for you. Answer my questions, and you will be rewarded with life. Refuse and you will be killed. Now tell me, where is Pomab?"

Rolls

Intimation to tell truth with advantage - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)

1d20+7 : (19) + 7 = 26

1d20+7 : (16) + 7 = 23

Zenithral

Carcabob

Jan 5, 2019 11:18 pm
Jan 5, 2019 11:18 pm
Re: Targos
Zenithral wipes away his tears and looks up at Mylandra as she speaks, feeling the warm light of the distant sun and of Mylandra's presence. When she stops speaking, Zenithral turns his head, gazing at the sun. It was odd to stare at it, yet it didn't hurt his eyes.

"Alright." he finally says. "I think I understand...at least a bit more...I will try." He nods, and turns to Mylandra, managing to show a ghost of a smile. "Thank you."
Last edited January 5, 2019 11:20 pm

Kalden

Araklusta

Jan 5, 2019 11:24 pm
Jan 5, 2019 11:24 pm
Re: Targos
Kalden's feet actually leave the iced ground as Vincent's voice assaults his mind, and then the man slips and falls hard to his rear on the ice. "Aah!" He looks around, muttering to himself, but Vincent hears every word. "P-P-Pomab? How should I know? The guy cast a spell on me and my friends last night. Who knows where he's gone?" He picks himself up off the ground. "All I know is that he took off running opposite the way we found Al and that creepy guy. And the ghost. Scared the Hells outta me, that thing."

At this point, townsfolk are eyeing Kalden warily.
OOC:
Vince would put together that the Pomab probably went to the Cort residence after speaking with the guards last night.

Also, make a perception check.

Vincent

yaroto98Inactive forever!

Jan 5, 2019 11:31 pm
Jan 5, 2019 11:31 pm
Re: Targos
Looking around at the townsfolk, Vincent carefully makes his way to the Cort house. As he leaves, he whispers into Kalden's mind.

"Ah, so you choose failure. I will come back for you when I am bored and need an entertaining death to lighten my day."

Looking around once more he thinks he sees something odd.
Last edited January 5, 2019 11:40 pm

Rolls

Perception - (1d20+2)

(15) + 2 = 17

Alalla

gardensun

Jan 5, 2019 11:56 pm
Jan 5, 2019 11:56 pm
Re: Targos
Alalla's salute is crisp despite the tears in her eyes and lump in her throat. "We are glad and proud to have you."When Ulbrec is gone she touches the heart on the book softly, then turns to Erevain.

Whatever she is going to say dies on her lips as she catches sight of the charred horns on the floor and the tail trailing behind her. "Come on. My family will be waiting for us." Al takes her snowy cloak from where it hangs near the door and puts it on. After a few turns to reassure her that if she keeps it close her tail is safely hidden beneath its length, Alalla exits the inn and heads for home.
Last edited January 6, 2019 12:06 am

Gelarith

Araklusta

Jan 6, 2019 12:17 am
Jan 6, 2019 12:17 am
Re: Targos
Impossible. There, in the crowd, is a dead man.

Gelarith, an elven mage of Hand of the Seldarine, known to Vincent's before his imprisonment. Killed by an aboleth atop Labelas Tower just before the entire Hand was destroyed. And here he is, grimacing as he tries to pull an orc body over to a wagon.

The elf looks up and makes eye contact with Vincent. His eyes widen, and he turns to run.

Myllandra

Araklusta

Jan 6, 2019 12:44 am
Jan 6, 2019 12:44 am
Re: Targos
Myllandra's wings glow all the brighter with Zenithral's smile. "Child, I cannot tell you how all of this will end. But I will say that the Pretender has not yet touched you, because he fears you. The day that he does touch you, it will be because he has weighed his options very carefully, and he will have set precautions. It will be a risk that he -"

A low peak of thunder rumbles across the dreamscape, the ominous interruption causing Myllandra to cut her counsel short. "They disagree with me. Go, Child. You must rest for what is to come."

She raises her wings high and they flare with white light, sending Zenithral back to his rest. A few more images register in his mind before true sleep takes him. The falling star. The woman. The tears. The wings of fire. Poquelin's robes...
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