Act 2 Scene 3: “To 'Where the Old Bones Lie'” (Game Thread)

[TristenC]

Jerry sat in her most comfortable chair before a warm fire, curled up with a good book. The book was a fiction… or a mythology. It could be hard to tell with the older tales. Perhaps some truth lay deep within it, hidden amongst the chaff of storytelling. Tonight, however… tonight she read mainly for pleasure, not for study. It was rare that she took the luxury, but… well the little things seemed to matter so much more these days. The sound of another, moved behind her. Her other… her companion… Fascinating… the other half-elf murmured as he read one of the dusty tomes she kept. Volumes upon volumes lined her study on various types of undead. The majority of the texts referred to those that drank the blood of the living… like her father had…

A pang of pain welled up in her, but she pushed it down. She had settled that account, difficult as it had been… costly as it had been. Merrick cleared his throat, muttering something about dryness. Did you really read all of these? There are so many… you must have been quite studious… even as a child. He pauses a moment and chuckles, I suppose that could be said of myself as well… Merrick crosses behind her, dragging a gentle hand over her shoulder as he does so; glad to steal even that minor touch as he passed nearby.

They had returned to her homeland after the… ordeal. Merrick had said there was little left for him at his ancestral home; a land that shunned half-elves and outlanders alike. They had made a space together, and it was a cozy little haven from the world where the pair could genuinely be accepted for themselves. Behind, Merrick approaches the window where the sun drifted now behind the near buildings. Unseen by his companion, he marveled at his hand in the dying light before he shut the curtain. Chuckling, a dry and scratchy sound, her lover speaks again. Amazing to think so much knowledge exists on the subject… still… he coughs lightly, even in a lifetime one could hardly learn it all… could they.

Jerrry made a non-committal noise at the remark, engrossed in her own volume for the moment. Why… even in this world… even with such… established history and observation… who knows what variants could come from the Domain of Mists, hmm? he mused as he wandered closer. Another slight cough, and he muttered something about being thirsty. Why… even someone of your vast training… there must be something… he leaned close and kissed the top of her head, something so unusual that you missed... his lips met her cheek. …that you didn’t even see… his mouth moved to her slender neck as the clammy breath caused her to shiver inadvertently. … you didn’t know… the lips met her skin once again… what I became. A slight gasp was all the reflex she made as the ivory fangs slipped smoothly into her throat…

===

Pytor sat on his stool, a bit weary in body but light in spirit. The music of the common area washed over him as he sipped at his mug near the door. He had put in a full day, and now it was time to relax a bit… well… not too much, he was working the door for the tavern. Looking over the assembled people, he recognized many of them; friends, acquaintances… by and large an easygoing crowd. He rarely had trouble from any of them that couldn’t be settled with a few words. He raised his mug again; arm only a little tired from working the forge all day. He didn’t really need the coin of a second job, but he found himself here most nights; the music was superb…

A young woman with flowing blonde hair sashayed her way towards him, tugging at his arm to dance. With a coy smile she tried to coax him from his stool, but he only grinned and shook his head. Tempting as it was, when he took a job he stuck to it. She pouted only a moment before a sly grin crossed her pretty features. Turning, she lowered herself slowly onto his knee; peeking at him over her own shoulder with a giggle as she sat on his lap. Instinctively his eyes went to hers before shooting nervously to the woman on the stage. The redheaded musician continued her song, unabated but noting his current predicament. With an equally sly grin, she winked at him and turned her attention back to the crowd.

It still bore some getting used to for him… apparently she didn’t mind if he… flirted a little… In fact, she seemed to tease him about it to the point of… well… almost encouragement. In fact, if things kept progressing the way they had, he almost wouldn’t be surprised if she invited the girl to join them after the show for a little… relaxation. Stroking his leg, the blonde stood and moved away, twirling and clapping and laughing as she cast smoky glances over her shoulder back at him.

Abruptly the door burst open and a man entered in a sodden cloak that seemed more jagged tears than cloth. The fellow staggered and nearly fell face-first to the bar-room floor before Pytor caught him. The cold damp soaked into him immediately as the howling wind outside lashed at the common room. The others danced and sang along, undaunted by the disturbance. Speaking assurances to the sickly man, Pytor helped him set his feet aright. Slowly the sodden hood slid back from the concealed visage. A twisted countenance of utter hate glared back at him beneath the streaming raindrops; eyes glowing with a menacing red light. The deformed head of Bertoli burned into him with righteous vengeance! Withered hands, strong as a smithy’s vice, snapped around his neck as the pair toppled to the hard wood floor. All around the others danced and drank and sang, oblivious to the struggle. He beat ineffectually at his attacker; like beating an anvil bare-handed. Slowly the world drew in on itself as he felt consciousness slipping away… his final thoughts of his cousin… the man he had killed… with his own hands…

===

Pyros’ legs moved as fast as he could will them to; beads of sweat slipping down his face. He panted from the effort, but no force from the heavens or below could stop him before his challenge was done. The final strains of the song ran out and he all but collapsed to the tavern floor. Pure laughter rang out nearby like the chime of a silver bell, Pyros, I don’t know where you get the energy. Elsa laughed bemusedly. She wore another of her pretty yellow sun-dresses, a new one this time. She had taken to wearing more of them now that all of the cavern delving and woodland travel had tapered off. Nearby the redheaded musician announced her next tune and began to play a jig.

Without thought, his feet resumed their rapid array; nothing so organized or planned as a formal dance or even what one could call a pattern. But in his humble estimation, it was far better. Elsa chuckled again, shaking her head slightly in amusement. He jump-spun a step and the music faltered. As he landed, the echo of his boots on the floor rang out through the room. The song had stopped abruptly, and looking up he found no one on the stage… His head whipped around and he found nobody at the tables… no servers manned the counter, and no people on the cleared floor for dancing… Even Elsa was gone…

Turning again, the walls lay bare and stretched from corner to corner without breach. The windows…. The doors… all gone. He opened his mouth to make a witty observation about the place being ‘closed’, but no sound issued forth. Finally a noise, soft and faint, broke the pervasive silence. At first it was difficult to identify, and the Kender peered beyond the counters, beneath chairs and tables, and behind barrels and sacks. Finally he turned, and there on the stage knelt a young girl; weeping broken-heartedly. A voice echoes in his mind as the girl sobs… her voice... You’ve forgotten me… The twin barbs of pain and loss stung him to his soul.

Would you have even tried to save me…? Tendrow’s voice asked, full of hurt and mourning. Were you… so eager to be rid of me? it went on as the slim figure on the stage continued to sob uncontrollably. You promised… I think… I think you never even loved me… The room goes dark as if all the lights had been quenched at once; plunging him into an impenetrable night. … now you’ll learn how it is to be alone…

===

Cross soared. Misty white clusters of crisp, fresh vapor whipped by his face as he sailed through the sky. Free. That was the only word for it. His heart leapt for an instant as he broke through the puffy white clouds into the golden sunlight above. The sky greeted him with brightness and warmth, and he let loose a wordless cry of utter joy in thanks. A dark figure broke through the smoky carpet beneath him… one familiar to him. You move well. It called to him. Fenrir had continued to serve him well and dutifully since leaving that bleak land… yes free was definitely the word there too.

Passing beyond the edge of the clouds, he spotted a shape below. With a Whooop! and a swoop he turned and spiraled down towards it with curiosity. As he drew nearer, the shape resolved into the figure of a person… it was waving to him! Laughing he waved back. More figures stepped into view below. He laughed again, waving at his friends as he descended with enthusiastic speed. They had been through a lot together, but they had made their way out of that cursed land.

As he dove, the image rippled... like a calm pond struck with a stone. Danger!! Predator!!! Fenrir cries out in his mind. Cross began to turn, but knew it was too late as a wave of magic washed over him. Weightlessness took over, and the violet-eyed elf plummeted through the sky! Wind whipped by his ears in a deafening roar as the ground rushed towards him. Calling upon his training, Cross wove threads of magic to allow his descent to continue with the grace of a feather. Another blast of magic lashed out, countering his spell!

Gravity turned his body and finally he saw the true form of those below; an elven woman with skin the color of soot and hair stark-white like his own. Loriana! With a cruel laugh, she watched as his body tumbled to earth. Impact. Blinding pain consumed his being. Grinding broken bones and the shock of stunned muscles screamed across his consciousness like wildfire through a dry field. The exquisite agony obliterated every other sense, such that he never heard the Drow approach until she spoke. Thank you, young one. She said mockingly. You have finally returned my dagger to me… Hmm…. I think I shall have the raven stuffed. Cackling laughter filled his ears as Cross slipped away… into oblivion.

===

Mira sipped at her wine; she had developed a taste for the red again. Life was good again… or should it be ‘for a change’? Life had always been a struggle for her, but lately… lately she had found some peace. Traveling helped, and there was so much of the world to see. Traveling with her friends was a true joy. Elsa and Pyros stood nearby, giggling together. This ‘new world’ of Elsa’s was rich with culture and adventure… and they actually appreciated her music here! They had in that dark land as well, to be sure; but there was definitely something to be said for enjoying a round of applause without having to look over your shoulder every few minutes for some hairy shapechanger thirsty for your blood. Finally life was… how she had always dreamed it could be.

A fine mist seeped in under the tavern door. That was ok, it could be good for atmosphere. Yes… yes she would play a hunting melody next; take full advantage of the surroundings. Should she play something sad? Or maybe something a little creepy… she chuckled to herself. Everyone enjoys a good scare… right? The fog gradually filled the seating area as she took the stage once more. A sharp shriek pierced the calm murmur of the common room. Silly girl. the bard chided the stranger in her mind. Whoever was frightened by simple mist?

Shapes in the fog began moving. Aaah, people were already rising to dance to her tune or make a request. Little did they know what she had in store for them. Glowing eyes shone in the obfuscating mist… no… no it must be the lamplight… A shape resolved and she let loose a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Merrick… though he stood oddly. It was rare that he got drunk; silly man. Another approached and her breath caught again, only this time because she did recognize the figure immediately… it couldn’t be… Yasir?! she called aloud without thinking.

Snapping her mouth shut, she flinched. Not terribly professional to shout out some man’s name in the middle of a song. Then again, who cared! She was among friends and he was back!! She almost threw down her lute to run to him, but managed to set it clumsily atop her stool as she rushed to meet him. Nearby she saw Elsa was coming too. She must have seen who it was; and Pyros would be so excited his story-telling friend was back! The bard rushed amongst her companions, a broad smile on her beautiful face.

Blood poured from Merricks mouth… oh no! Was he injured? And he was clutching something… was… was that part of Jerry’s robe? Yasir finally shambled into full view, but… why was he wearing that fur cloak? Ridiculous, it was much too hot for cloaks. The wolfhead atop his body leered at her hungrily. An arm tumbled from the lupine mouth as its drew back in a rictus snarl. Terror streaked through her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes a way from the familiar arm… Pytor!!!

Elsa emerged next, covered in fur. She grinned evilly at her friend as she toyed with a pair of mice. Poor little mousies shouldn’t have to suffer such a cruel life without their Pyros. There really is no point for them, you know… she muses. In a blur, the Elsa-thing stuffs the mice into her mouth and crunches noisily on them. C’mon Mira, she speaks around the squirming morsels; dead bits of mice tumbling out as she continues. it’s time for you to join us. The others refused, but we’d be soooo sad if you did too… JOIN US! They shouted as one, the trio lunging forward…

===


Crisp dawn broke cold and damp in the forest, the last sentry starting from a momentary doze. Artanis sat staring at the dead embers of the fire, sharpening his silver longsword. Adrastia scanned the forest nearby, a strange tightness to her eyes and mouth. Gradually the group wakes; the cold and damp having long ago settled into their bones. The long road was nearly behind them… and ahead lay the Crown.

===========
It is now Thursday, March 6th, 736 BC (Barovian Calendar)

-The area indicated by Jaconos’ map is only a few hours away from camp.
-Adrastia’s information has also led her here for those creatures she hunts

Casters pick your spells for the day please ^_^

[Nocturno]

A whisper as he wakes: "Tendrow, of course I did...

Pyros will shake his head and spring into action.

"Coffee?Ofcourseweallwantcoffee...thosedreamsaregettingworse!"

He will set to work making coffee, and helping prepare food if someone else pitches in.

[Jenara]

"Yasir? No.. no you left me, you bloody left me to deal with this on my own!" The Bard calls out in a harsh whisper, reaching out, her fingers grasping the closest thing she could find.

Gradually the world begins to come into focus, the scent of the morning dew filling her nostrils, yet it was the smooth firm flesh between her grasp brought the world into focus. She was still here? Still in this land of Nightmares? Squeezing the flesh between her long digits, she assures herself that she was real.

"Elsa.. They are getting worse arent they? Was I..?" Lifting the mass of red curls her bleary eyes begin to focus, "I.. I don't know." She pauses, halting her words she raises her hand to the others. "Another day, a little closer to getting out of here." Touching the Cleric on the face she raises herself to her feet, stretching upwards, her lithe body uncoiling like a cat, arms raised, her back bent fowards pushing out the chest she felt she had always been cursed with.

"Lavez-moi propre, Réparez mes coutures blessées, Nettoyez mes rêves ternis." (Wash me clean, Mend my wounded seams, Cleanse my tarnished dreams.) The Bards voice lifts the melody, the words in Harmonian as her arms are raised, a cool mist covers her form before she shakes the dampness from the strands of red.

"Much better." Twirling her body becomes a blur as words leave her lips once more, "Destiny, destiny protect me from the world. Destiny, hold my hand, protect me from the world." A sheen of small blue scales appear around her body, melding to her frame layer upon layer until she comes to a rest.

(Cantrips [1d20] = 11 Pass)
Casts Armor: 13 Hp (8+level)

[Chris1234]

Jerry sits bolt upright, as if electrified, and clutches her neck. ""Mystra preserve me, no holes."

She looks at Merrick and feels guilty for being so suspicious. She checks anyway.
With one hand on the fire-hardened wood that's always under her pillow (or folded cloak in this case), the undead hunter pokes Merrick with her other hand. "Wake up, Merrick! I need you to do something for me." When she's got his attention, she adds, "Open your mouth wide, please."
She inspects for any fangs that should be there.

If none, she explains and explores whether they had identical dreams; probing for any differences in detail that weren't purely down to vantage point.

[mltillis]

Desperately Pytor tried to pry the steel like arms of Barsali away from his throat. The muscles in his arms and shoulders burned from the struggle as he twisted about upon the floor. Gradually the agony of his muscles supplanted the craving for air. Dripping with sweat he wallowed in the dirt as the first light of dawn broke upon the camp. The gypsy's knuckles clenched white around the ash handle of his hammer as if he meant to pull it in two.

It had been another dream, Pytor realized as he picked himself up and brushed off the dirt. That Barsali had attacked him within it was no surprise. Barsali had haunted his dreams long before coming to this cursed land. But the woman? Why was she there in his dream? It was true that the free-spirited bard reminded him of the women from his tribe, at least the ones that he took notice of. And he had perhaps bantered more with Mira than both Jerry and Elsa. But that was just out of courtesy to Merrick and Pyros? Was it not? Watching Mira rise, he pondered if there was some hidden meaning.

She was indeed quite fetching, he had to admit. Not just the fiery hair and her face, her whole body moved with an eye-catching grace. Her garb, wetted by the sudden mist of summoned water, clung to her form revealing a sylphlike figure with well-turned curves. And the way her bosom jutted out as she... Realizing that he was ogling Mira and his breeches had become cramped, Pytor turns his head and quickly walks towards the horses. "I've gotten covered in dirt and grime. Once I feed and water Satâr de Ceaţă, I'm going to rinse my shirt in the stream and douse my head."

[Jenara]

"Finished?" Mira asks with a smirk as the Gypsy turns away. "You shouldn't go alone." She pauses, no intention of offering her own services, "Stay in sight of the rest of us, or at least in earshot."

[Nocturno]

"I'll keep him company!" Pyros drops what he was doing and races after Pytor.

[mltillis]

"For the now. Just like wine, too much beauty can cause a man's head to be light and flighty when it should be clear." Pytor replies as he turns away. Unbuttoning his soiled shirt, he tosses it by his bedding and goes to fetch Satâr de Ceaţă her water and feed. Once his steed is momentarily taken care of, Pytor tosses the shirt over one shoulder, grabs a bar of soap from his pack, and rests his hammer on the other shoulder. "Even if my sister was not present, I am not such a scoundrel that I would tempt the gentlewomen here by disrobing and bathing within their eyesight?" As he slowly walks away he asks Pyros. "So tell me Pyros, do Kender swim?"

[Nocturno]

Swimofcoursewedo!Especiallyonbathday.Whereareyoufrom?We allseemtobefromallover!?!"

[mltillis]

"My tribe traveled the lands of the Sun Kingdom on the World of Genwald. Where are you from?" Making their way to the brook the pair head downstream from where the party has gathered water. At the first sizable pool, Pytor sits and begins to pull off his boots. "The water looks refreshing and I smell like a dung heap."

[Nocturno]

"Nah, you aren't that bad! I've smelled dung heaps before."

Pyros will mimic the actions of the human.
"I used to wander Ansalon, but now I'm here, pulled through the mist to meet Elsa. And these damned wolves." Pyros rubs his shoulder thinking of the wound he received on the shore of the river outside of Harmonia.

[mltillis]

"Perhaps not as bad. But I still smell" Pytor washes out his shirt and hangs it upon a low hanging branch. "What was Ansalon like?" Pulling off his breeches and underwear, Pytor wades out into the pool. "I take it that you are fond of Elsa? Ahh... The water has a bite to it but is refreshing all the same."

[Jenara]

"I'll let you get away with that because you said I was beautiful." Mira grins watching him leave. "I did say within earshot!" She adds if only to herself and Elsa. "I swear, I'm not looking for anyone, honestly."

"Ok, let's get ready to move. Study if you had to, I know I do, that wiped me out."

[TristenC]

Artanis shakes from his almost trance-like state at the Kender’s enthusiastic assault on the morning. He sets about putting coffee on and stoking the fire. I guess a little coffee couldn’t hurt anything. We wont be here long enough for anything to track the smell down… he says. Once it is ready he passes it about and douses the fire.


Elsa pats the bard’s hand on her arm reassuringly. One step closer… soon we won’t have to worry about all of this, we’ll be home… well, my home. You’ll like it there, Mira. I just know it. The Halfling rises and begins preparing for the day, a look of determination on her pretty face.


Jerry wakes with a start, feeling for puncture wounds on her neck that aren’t there. The Undead Slayer watches her companion cautiously, preparing to deal with the unthinkable. With a series of nudges she wakes the dark-haired half-elf, who regards her confusedly at her odd request. Slowly he opens his mouth, brow furrowed. As her hand goes to push his lips out of the way so she can see his teeth, he snaps his mouth closed with an audible clack! He chuckles a little, somewhat incredulously. What am I, a horse?

Gradually the reason dawns on his still sleepy mind, and he nods. Oh, I see… one of the dreams again… He places her free hand over his heart where she can feel the rise and fall of his breathing, and faintly the pulse of his heart. Abruptly he notices her other hand is out of sight as if holding something. Umm… what exactly are you…

After the tense moment passes between them, Jerry mentions her dream and inquires about his. Merrick does little more than to say that his dream was not the same; as they had sometimes been.


Pytor rises and tends his steed, finding Adrastia’s already seen too. Once he and Pyros begin to move away, Artanis goes along as well to act as a lookout while the other two get cleaned up. Adran rises in a somber silence and begins his study for the day. Fenrir sticks close to his master, but in the trees above.

Once the bathings and camp preparations are complete the group is finally prepared to set out.


===
Mira uses a cleaning cantrip, pass
Mira casts Mage Armor on herself [13/13 hps]

If there is anything else people want to do in camp, now is the time.

Can I get a rough marching order? Front-middle-back will suffice

We have:
Adran, Adrastia, Artanis, Cross, Elsa, Jerry, Merrick, Mira, Pyros, Pytor

[Nocturno]

"It was great, until someone figured out how to make those dragon things... then it ruined everything. Everyone was in a horrible mood with the war and all. But it seems to be getting better again."

As Pyros is known to do, he will jump in have a quick bath, then get dressed again. Probably in the time that Pytor managed to just get used to the chill.

Pyros will run back into camp shaking and exclaiming:
"What a rush, that cold water sure wakes you up!"

Pyros will stick near the front, wanting to see everything first.

Cross will stick to the middle, still a bit shaken from the whole mortal wound thing.

"Take to the skies friend? See if you can spot anything coming our way?"