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Mitch
Posted in Flameweaver
Traveling Journal - To Cryptgarden, Part One Of...
I hate being watched.
I hate it even more when the watching party doesn't reveal themselves.

The aforementioned asshole was nice enough to send us a Chimera on the road a few days ago. I decided to try and hold the creature's attention while the rest of the group took it down. To their credit, they made short work of it and didn't give it the range it needed to fly or shoot more flames than we could handle. It makes me hopeful that I made the right choice sticking with this group, and that we might make it through all this alive.

After the beastie turned to ash (Something they do, apparently) it left behind a little black gem. Like an idiot I took the thing without thinking. Zuke identified it as some kind of scrying device, and we quickly concealed it on a passing wagon going the other way.

The town of Red Larch was fairly uneventful. Ori seemed hesitant on going into civilization looking like she does, so I decided to disguise myself to something similar. Roshim got in on the act as well. Of course when all was said and done, his was regarded as welcome and novel whereas mine was just more of 'Mitch being an asshole.'

Caring what these people think of me is really starting to get annoying.

Putting that aside, I'm going to have to wait on making any notable purchases until we either get back to Waterdeep or make it to someplace like Neverwinter or Baldur's Gate. These podunk towns are quaint and all, but they either don't have what you're looking for or are too ignorant of what they have to know it. Most of what I was looking for were gifts for other members of the group, but that ruby is more important. If I'm going to do what I plan on doing, it will be essential.

Not that I've told anyone that. The look Mistmi gave me when I said I was going to the temple was telling enough.

I still haven't proven myself to them, and that bothers me. I care about proving myself, and that bothers me more. I'm used to being the outsider and getting by on self-reliance and knowing what to say, but these people act more like... like what? A family? Who knows.

After a few days of downtime while the wagon's roof was repaired (Thanks for that, Chimera) we set off again. On the way we came across a ruined old tower set a bit back from the road. I made Orn and myself invisible and went to check things out. The entrance was blocked, but after a tenuous bit of climbing I was able to peek into a window and see a giant of some kind inside. I threw my voice around the chamber enough to make her curious, and after a moment or so the brute moved the blockages to the entrance and shambled out in a random direction.

I'd love to say I planned that, but sometimes these things just fall into your lap.

Orn and I took turns looking about inside, but aside from some silver and a couple of potions there wasn't much of worth. We headed back, and instead of gratitude or relief I received the same old scrutiny and exasperation from the Gnomes.

We managed to avoid a confrontation with the giant as well as the Blood Hawks (I found out what these were later on from Orn, nasty little pieces of work), get something of worth and get out but it still wasn't good enough. Sometimes I wonder if anything will be.

I suppose if things haven't changed by the time we reach Cryptgarden I could always convince Roshim to speak to the dragon on our behalf. The look on Mistmi's face would almost be worth the horrible, caustic death.
Session: Game Session - Saturday, Apr 07 2018 from 6:00 PM to 1:00 AM
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...Or Die Trying.
Sunsebb 15, 604 CY
Strider brings news from the West
A mass of evil has been spotted in the caves of chaos

Sunsebb 16 604 CY
A raiding party attacks the group and the Lance Battalion
200 Orcs and 2 Demons

Sunsebb 17
The group enters the Demonweb
Session: Game Session #149 - Thursday, Apr 05 2018 from 2:00 AM to 5:00 AM
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Epic!
This is the End......
Anton is confronted and defeated with great loss from the party.
Holy Horse dies at the hand of the undead
Kilkennard deals the final blow
The group leaves Ravenloft through a portal that opens in a fountain

The group returns back to Greyhawk and Oerth.
The year is 604 CY
Winter

The remaining members of the outlaw lance battalion approaches.
Their leader Tormand recognizes Kilkennard and dismounts.
The fellowship learns of the fall of Verbabonc and the Cathedral of St. Cuthbert.

Make camp with the Lance Battalion.

St. Cuthbert appears before Grimm and Kilkennard.
He gives them a choice and provides help......
Session: Game Session #148 - Thursday, Mar 29 2018 from 2:00 AM to 5:00 AM
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Epic × 2!
Page 12
Something happened. I do not understand, but I can no longer make things jump. Solisar thinks that the goddess of magic has taken away my power. I do not think that that is fair. Hakam says that my people, the forokell, must not be aloud to use magic. Why are the gods not fair?
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Blazing Encounter
Lark, stiff from the long hours sitting and sleeping in the wooden cart, pulls her arms upwards in a stretch. Two and a half long, long days of travel, chasing after the cloaked horseman. One of the “cultists,” presumably, given his unsanctioned use of magic. Lark frowns at the thought; it seems incomprehensible for any Gifted person to reject the support and guidance of the College. And what did that one in the inn mean, “on our side”? Siding against whom?

She peers out the back of the cart into the inky night, but the feeble light of the swinging lantern only reveals enough of the surroundings to ensure the horses keep to the packed dirt road. She had offered to set a brighter light, but Gwain advised against it, pointing out that it would make them more visible as well. She’d feel more secure if Serenia were here… The woman may be a little unpredictable, but there’s no denying she has sharp senses and quick reflexes. Her sudden disappearance in Strinehm Falls, that wave of negative energy… It felt wrong leaving without her. But they’d found no traces to follow at the ruins of the inn, and according to Rhyzan’s information they have precious little time to spare in intercepting these cultists before they flee to the east. Lark lets out a small, unhappy sigh. She didn’t like leaving the inn in shambles either; innocent people shouldn’t be made to suffer from this kind of reckless use of magic. At least she had been able to help the woman in Strathford. It felt like the right thing to do, even if it set her Zeon reserves back a bit…

The chill night air gathers into a faint breeze, making the grasses on either side of the road whisper and the lantern shadows leap. A briny scent drifts to Lark; they must be nearing Gillamoor.

Suddenly, another sensation tickles her consciousness. Up ahead, a magical presence… No, two. Two spells being held. Fire and… Essence?

She climbs gingerly over the huge sleeping form of Gwain to reach the front of the wagon, where Rhyzan sits with a tense expression and a tight grip on the reigns.

Lark taps his arm gently. “I sense something up ahead. A magical presence,” she whispers. Rhyzan narrows his eyes and slows the horses slightly, peering even more intently into the darkness. Lark turns to rouse Gwain; the giant stirs with a grumble, groggy from too many hours of travel and too few of sleep. “Two signatures, directly ahead,” she continues. “One of Fire and one of Essence.” At the mention of fire magic, Gwain’s spine stiffens and he grabs hurriedly for the breastplate and pauldrons he had removed to sleep.

They carry on cautiously while Gwain adjusts his armor. A moment later, Rhyzan speaks in a low voice: “There, out in the field. There’s a saddled horse, but I see no rider.” Lark’s neck prickles and she strains her senses against the still of the night. The Essence spell, it seems to be off their path slightly, away to the right. But the Fire spell…

She suddenly grabs Rhyzan’s arm, her voice rising in alarm. “Stop! Stop, on the road—!”

Rhyzan jerks on the reigns to pull the horses to an abrupt halt just as a dark figure steps out from behind a roadside hedge. A pale hand emerges from the folds of the hooded cloak and snaps its fingers.

The road in front of them explodes in a blaze, upending the cart and knocking Lark, Rhyzan, and Gwain backwards into a heap amidst their supplies. Wood smoke and the stench of burning horse hair cloud the air as the three struggle to untangle from each other and the canvas covering of the cart, and with ringing ears and Lark manages to drag herself out of the wreckage and to her feet.

The red glow of embers reveals the silhouette of the cloaked figure, which had been walking unhurriedly towards the wreck, stop in its tracks, taken aback by the emergence of survivors. Lark can feel the figure gathering Zeon for another spell and draws on her own power to respond, but before either can act a giant armored hand appears from the front—now the top—of the wagon, and drops a heavy blow over the cultist’s head.

In the same instant, the trace of Essence magic Lark had sensed earlier off the road suddenly flares into a new spell, and with a rustle of leaves a tall humanoid figure leaps out of the brush, slashing at the reeling figure with feral intensity. The cultist screams as flashing blades gouge into his back, tearing his cloak to shreds.

Lark seizes the opportunity to cast her Bonds of Light, and glowing white chains materialize around the wounded cultist, immobilizing his arms and tethering him in place. Rhyzan—badly burned but finally escaped from the wreckage of the cart—lunges in and deals a swift blow to the man’s head, knocking him unconscious.

With one threat neutralized, Lark and Rhyzan spin to face the newcomer. A woman, similar in build to Serenia but with a darker complexion that hides her features in the low light, straightens up out of her fighting stance. Blood drips from her… claws? But her posture seems oddly open and relaxed. Another breeze fans the smoldering embers, and in the gentle flare of light Lark can make out dark wavy hair littered with bits of flora, a flash of yellow-green from the woman’s feline eyes, and a familiar smile.

“…Kalan?”

The smile grows bigger. “Lark! I was hoping I’d run into you!”

Rhyzan still stands poised to fight, and he keeps his gaze fixed on Kalan as he addresses Lark. “You know this one?”

Lark blinks. “Um, yes. She’s also a wizard of the College, part of the frontline dispatch. Sorry— Rhyzan, this is Kalanchoe Radichi; Kalan, this is Rhyzan… um, just Rhyzan,” she gestures back and forth in introduction, then turns to Kalan again. “Are you out here on assignment? But… wait, you’ve been looking for me?”

At Lark’s introduction, Kalan sticks her arm out cheerfully towards Rhyzan in greeting; he stares at the huge, tiger-furred claws in the place her hands should be, and does not reciprocate. Kalan doesn’t seem to notice, though, and quickly turns back to Lark. “Well… sort of, and sort of. I was on assignment in the Forest of Nagreau this morning, but then Grandmaster Araldier showed up, pulled me out, and dropped me here. He said you were involved in something and needed help, but then he disappeared again without explaining. I explored the town over there a bit earlier, but I they’re not very helpful. Or nice. Didn’t find any clues, so I was hoping you’d turn up soon!” She chuckles, seeming to take the abrupt shift in her circumstances in stride.

Lark’s brow furrows as she listens. The Grandmaster again… Did he know about Serenia’s disappearance? Does he have reason to believe something dangerous lies ahead which called for more power in the party? Or does Kalan have some connection to the vision and the crystals they seek?

She looks around at the gathered individuals. Gwain has returned the ruined cart to it’s upright position and is attempting to salvage supplies; Rhyzan has bound the unconscious cultist in physical ropes and is checking his body for traps and weapons; Serenia gone, and two more dead horses. Kalan picks up the tattered remains of the cloak, seeming to test the weight of something hidden in the folds.

What game is afoot?
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Tags: Journal , Lark , Recap
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