Session 90: Smoke and Terrors
General Summary
The Wildcards leave the remains of the defiled fishing village and begin journeying to the west to Mawr Taesi, to report the events at the village and garner aid to continue their journey to Pelenspayar. As they learn more of the history of the elves, Skulk receives a visitor who may be more than they seem...
Session Commenced:
The 21st day of Cyr, 1622 TER
(Day 574 of the campaign) Session Concluded:
The 31st day of Cyr, 1622 TER
(Day 584 of the campaign)
34 days since Departing Tor Sionis.
As the Wildcards caught their breath and began to tend to their wounds, Gemris began examining the bodies of the dead fisherelves, soon determining that they were not the original inhabitants of the village - mere facsimiles created by whatever aberrant monstrosity had been inhabiting the offal troughs beneath the gutting shed. A quick survey of the troughs revealed the putrefying remain of the village inhabitants. Neldor, the Generic Elven Ranger™ struggled to keep his rations down as he wheeled Fidholon around and began the journey west to Mawr Taesi, to report the desecration that had occurred. As Morthak flew above on Yothtook to scout ahead, Neldor guided the rest of the Wildcards beneath the jungle canopy, through winding paths over and beneath enornous tree roots, the air redolent with the scent of dirt and jungle leaf litter. Reaching a dense thicket of thorny vines, Neldor pushed his way through and following, the Wildcards found themselves once more ascending a nturally grown pathway that led into the canopy of the jungle itself, a naturally moulded tunnel through the treetops almost 20 feet wide and plunged into a near twilight beneath the thick jungle overhead. After traveling a solid day, Neldor brought them to a stop at a Fireshrine - a small stone firepit, the only place within the Wildway where the elves permitted a fire. As they drew up to camp, and Yothtook and Gemris engaged in a little playful banter that led to frost-encrusted Delver eyebrows, Skulk began regaling Neldor with stories of their travels, and the ranger picked up on his mention of the banshee, Augatha. As Galindann drew deep puffs of his sylvan tobacco, the pipesmoke swirled into images to illustrate Neldor's story as he first sung a mournful song, then began to relate the tale in common. Augatha was an elven sorcerer who, at the end of the Age of Paucity, had settled within the Gracewood, a large forest in nothern terrenos. Her beloved was Eihlion, a powerful Eligist within the Elven capital of Feyr Ardun, and a trusted advisor to the High Eligist, Ionen III. There came a day when two refugees fleeing the realm of the Feyrie made their way into the material plane through an ancient Way, and sought asylum within the Elven lands. Ionen, jealous of the magical power they brought, took them in. But little was he to know they they ran from the Queen of Air and Darkness herself, and she would not let her prize get away so easily. She sought them, following them through the Way, and her Wild Hunt began laying waste to the continent in order to reclaim them. As war raged in the north, Ionen mobilised the Elven army to march in support of the younger races. But the sinister words of Mab herself began to coil their way into his ears, and in time, as the war drew on, Ionen's elves began to look less like a force of relief and more like an occupation. Eihlion counseled against the Elven presence in the north, but Ionen would not listen. Augatha made the Gracewood a haven for those who sought peace. Any fleeing the war could walk amongst its trees safely, and the wood itself rose up in defence of the forest inhabitants against any who might wish them ill - goblin, fairy, Elf or Human. But as Ionen grew more and more avaricious under the influence of the Unsidhe, eventually he had Eihlion slain as a traitor. When word of Eihlion's death reached Augatha, she was driven mad with rage. She cast down all protective enchantments on the Gracewood, and the unsidhe flooded in to carry out their wild hunt. Finally, they reached the center of the wood where they found her, poised. She fell upon her husband's sword and with her heart's blood, drew on a curse so powerful it split the ground asunder. One of the mountains to the east was torn apart and erupted, spewing toxic ash across the entire wood. There were no survivors. Skulk then asked about his patron deity - the Pale Lady. Neldor confirmed that the elves knew of her as The Raven Queen, and again, surrounded by images of swirling pipesmoke, related the story of her ascension. As Ionen withdrew the elves behind their borders and raised the Thornwall before his death, the martyrdom of the refugees and their ten thousand followers sealed the ancient Ways and restored the Celestial Scale, driving the unsidhe and other extraplanar usurpers from Dyrn. But without an outlet, that magic led to an Age of Abundance, as newly rediscovered magic grew out of control. Ionen's successor, the Paladin Prince Iandric, set out on a quest to remedy this plight. He and his crew sailed for many months, accompanied by a frail blind sorceress and pursued by drau elves who refused to accept the atonement for their invasion, cut off from the coadunation and newly turned to worship of Lloth. Eventually he discovered the Isle of Fel Eris, and the Necromancer's Tower, and while Iandric's crew fought to the death against their drau pursuers, Iandric carried the sorcerer up the crumbling stairs of the tower. Atop the tower, Iandric fulfilled an ancient prophecy by dying thrice and opened a new pathway - to the Fell, within the realm of Feyrie. With this, the Leylines were whole once again. Magic could flow from the Feywild to the Shadowfell unimpeded througn the Leylines across Dyrn. The abundance of wild magic was dulled, remaining only as sparks in the souls of some who were born during that Age of Abundance. Within the Shadowfell, the sorcererss climbed an endless stair, with each step shedding more and more of her mortality, until she crested the top, taking on the mantle of the Raven Queen and becoming a new goddess of death and fate. Over the subsequent ten days of travel, the group slowly caught up with their own interests. Gemris, taking advantage of a gap in the canopy one evening, took the opportunity to update her shield with new star patterns. Two new firebugs native to the south alighted and she allowed her swarm to mingle with them, delighted when one of them chose to stay in her lantern. Skulk presented her with an exquisitely illuminated parchment star map of both hemispheres of the night sky, glimmering silver ink seeming to be empowered by the twilight almost in the same manner as his eventide book. Gemris also spent an evening contacting Geoff, her awakened tree friend within the demiplane beneath the Grey Tower in Tor Sionis, and confirmed he was still well. Sofia took the opportunity to scry on Mylla and The Refuge, and found that the children and their protectors seemed to be doing well. Galindann sent a report back to his handler within the Order, and received a reply, which suggested that the changelings had been spotted making some new movements within the desert... As the Wildcards approached their destination, the Elven town of Mawr Taesi, still recovering from a dragon attack, Skulk found himself dreaming one night while on watch. He found himself in a familiar spot - a place from his early days, in the north, a snow-covered valley, and found himself face to face with a kindly faced 'forged fellow - apparently a potter, by the nature of the lumps of clay arranged before him and the muck coating his arms and hands. As they conversed in his dream, though, it became apparent that there was more to this potter than met the eye. The kindly 'forged told Skulk that he had been made by Vha'Atuan, and that while his mistress, the Navigatrix, had a particular goal in mind, that he had a different pathway to achieve that goal. The potter had left the creature in the fishing village to seek out new thought and memories - and it had presented him with Skulk's and Sofia's. And of the two, Skulk was the easiest to find in his dreams, although even that had proved challening. As Skulk watched him knead the clay before him, he stepped forward to touch it himself - and was immediately met with an intense revulsion. Dropping the clay, Skulk began to become suspicious. The old 'forged offered him a gift - something Skulk had loaned him, and that he was ready to return. With some trepidation, Skulk reached out and took the simple clay pot that was being offered, and as it crumbled to dust it released a silver mist of memories - memories of Skulk's past, of his meeting with Mylla and the other Wildcards - and of a desperate run through a moonlit, snow-covered forest. The potter remarked that the Navigatrix had already met Skulk, although Skulk didn't know it. That she had been seeking a memory from him, but by the time she got to him, another had already taken it. The potter finished by asking Skulk to send his regards to Sofia, and to tell her that he was very keen to meet her, as he likewise had something of hers that he was ready to return. The conversation finished, as the dream faded, with the potter explainign to Skulk that he had much work yet to do - as he kneaded the clay, it ran crimson red, and the sound of agonised screaming was carried by the wind...
The aftermath of the battle at the fishing village.
The Potter
The 21st day of Cyr, 1622 TER
(Day 574 of the campaign) Session Concluded:
The 31st day of Cyr, 1622 TER
(Day 584 of the campaign)
34 days since Departing Tor Sionis.
As the Wildcards caught their breath and began to tend to their wounds, Gemris began examining the bodies of the dead fisherelves, soon determining that they were not the original inhabitants of the village - mere facsimiles created by whatever aberrant monstrosity had been inhabiting the offal troughs beneath the gutting shed. A quick survey of the troughs revealed the putrefying remain of the village inhabitants. Neldor, the Generic Elven Ranger™ struggled to keep his rations down as he wheeled Fidholon around and began the journey west to Mawr Taesi, to report the desecration that had occurred. As Morthak flew above on Yothtook to scout ahead, Neldor guided the rest of the Wildcards beneath the jungle canopy, through winding paths over and beneath enornous tree roots, the air redolent with the scent of dirt and jungle leaf litter. Reaching a dense thicket of thorny vines, Neldor pushed his way through and following, the Wildcards found themselves once more ascending a nturally grown pathway that led into the canopy of the jungle itself, a naturally moulded tunnel through the treetops almost 20 feet wide and plunged into a near twilight beneath the thick jungle overhead. After traveling a solid day, Neldor brought them to a stop at a Fireshrine - a small stone firepit, the only place within the Wildway where the elves permitted a fire. As they drew up to camp, and Yothtook and Gemris engaged in a little playful banter that led to frost-encrusted Delver eyebrows, Skulk began regaling Neldor with stories of their travels, and the ranger picked up on his mention of the banshee, Augatha. As Galindann drew deep puffs of his sylvan tobacco, the pipesmoke swirled into images to illustrate Neldor's story as he first sung a mournful song, then began to relate the tale in common. Augatha was an elven sorcerer who, at the end of the Age of Paucity, had settled within the Gracewood, a large forest in nothern terrenos. Her beloved was Eihlion, a powerful Eligist within the Elven capital of Feyr Ardun, and a trusted advisor to the High Eligist, Ionen III. There came a day when two refugees fleeing the realm of the Feyrie made their way into the material plane through an ancient Way, and sought asylum within the Elven lands. Ionen, jealous of the magical power they brought, took them in. But little was he to know they they ran from the Queen of Air and Darkness herself, and she would not let her prize get away so easily. She sought them, following them through the Way, and her Wild Hunt began laying waste to the continent in order to reclaim them. As war raged in the north, Ionen mobilised the Elven army to march in support of the younger races. But the sinister words of Mab herself began to coil their way into his ears, and in time, as the war drew on, Ionen's elves began to look less like a force of relief and more like an occupation. Eihlion counseled against the Elven presence in the north, but Ionen would not listen. Augatha made the Gracewood a haven for those who sought peace. Any fleeing the war could walk amongst its trees safely, and the wood itself rose up in defence of the forest inhabitants against any who might wish them ill - goblin, fairy, Elf or Human. But as Ionen grew more and more avaricious under the influence of the Unsidhe, eventually he had Eihlion slain as a traitor. When word of Eihlion's death reached Augatha, she was driven mad with rage. She cast down all protective enchantments on the Gracewood, and the unsidhe flooded in to carry out their wild hunt. Finally, they reached the center of the wood where they found her, poised. She fell upon her husband's sword and with her heart's blood, drew on a curse so powerful it split the ground asunder. One of the mountains to the east was torn apart and erupted, spewing toxic ash across the entire wood. There were no survivors. Skulk then asked about his patron deity - the Pale Lady. Neldor confirmed that the elves knew of her as The Raven Queen, and again, surrounded by images of swirling pipesmoke, related the story of her ascension. As Ionen withdrew the elves behind their borders and raised the Thornwall before his death, the martyrdom of the refugees and their ten thousand followers sealed the ancient Ways and restored the Celestial Scale, driving the unsidhe and other extraplanar usurpers from Dyrn. But without an outlet, that magic led to an Age of Abundance, as newly rediscovered magic grew out of control. Ionen's successor, the Paladin Prince Iandric, set out on a quest to remedy this plight. He and his crew sailed for many months, accompanied by a frail blind sorceress and pursued by drau elves who refused to accept the atonement for their invasion, cut off from the coadunation and newly turned to worship of Lloth. Eventually he discovered the Isle of Fel Eris, and the Necromancer's Tower, and while Iandric's crew fought to the death against their drau pursuers, Iandric carried the sorcerer up the crumbling stairs of the tower. Atop the tower, Iandric fulfilled an ancient prophecy by dying thrice and opened a new pathway - to the Fell, within the realm of Feyrie. With this, the Leylines were whole once again. Magic could flow from the Feywild to the Shadowfell unimpeded througn the Leylines across Dyrn. The abundance of wild magic was dulled, remaining only as sparks in the souls of some who were born during that Age of Abundance. Within the Shadowfell, the sorcererss climbed an endless stair, with each step shedding more and more of her mortality, until she crested the top, taking on the mantle of the Raven Queen and becoming a new goddess of death and fate. Over the subsequent ten days of travel, the group slowly caught up with their own interests. Gemris, taking advantage of a gap in the canopy one evening, took the opportunity to update her shield with new star patterns. Two new firebugs native to the south alighted and she allowed her swarm to mingle with them, delighted when one of them chose to stay in her lantern. Skulk presented her with an exquisitely illuminated parchment star map of both hemispheres of the night sky, glimmering silver ink seeming to be empowered by the twilight almost in the same manner as his eventide book. Gemris also spent an evening contacting Geoff, her awakened tree friend within the demiplane beneath the Grey Tower in Tor Sionis, and confirmed he was still well. Sofia took the opportunity to scry on Mylla and The Refuge, and found that the children and their protectors seemed to be doing well. Galindann sent a report back to his handler within the Order, and received a reply, which suggested that the changelings had been spotted making some new movements within the desert... As the Wildcards approached their destination, the Elven town of Mawr Taesi, still recovering from a dragon attack, Skulk found himself dreaming one night while on watch. He found himself in a familiar spot - a place from his early days, in the north, a snow-covered valley, and found himself face to face with a kindly faced 'forged fellow - apparently a potter, by the nature of the lumps of clay arranged before him and the muck coating his arms and hands. As they conversed in his dream, though, it became apparent that there was more to this potter than met the eye. The kindly 'forged told Skulk that he had been made by Vha'Atuan, and that while his mistress, the Navigatrix, had a particular goal in mind, that he had a different pathway to achieve that goal. The potter had left the creature in the fishing village to seek out new thought and memories - and it had presented him with Skulk's and Sofia's. And of the two, Skulk was the easiest to find in his dreams, although even that had proved challening. As Skulk watched him knead the clay before him, he stepped forward to touch it himself - and was immediately met with an intense revulsion. Dropping the clay, Skulk began to become suspicious. The old 'forged offered him a gift - something Skulk had loaned him, and that he was ready to return. With some trepidation, Skulk reached out and took the simple clay pot that was being offered, and as it crumbled to dust it released a silver mist of memories - memories of Skulk's past, of his meeting with Mylla and the other Wildcards - and of a desperate run through a moonlit, snow-covered forest. The potter remarked that the Navigatrix had already met Skulk, although Skulk didn't know it. That she had been seeking a memory from him, but by the time she got to him, another had already taken it. The potter finished by asking Skulk to send his regards to Sofia, and to tell her that he was very keen to meet her, as he likewise had something of hers that he was ready to return. The conversation finished, as the dream faded, with the potter explainign to Skulk that he had much work yet to do - as he kneaded the clay, it ran crimson red, and the sound of agonised screaming was carried by the wind...
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Report Date
07 Dec 2022
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