29/04/2021 Who Watches the Watchers? Faust Greyheart
May 1, 2021 13:42:15 GMT
Queen Merla, the Sun-Blessed, Jaezred Vandree, and 4 more like this
Post by WillJ on May 1, 2021 13:42:15 GMT
My beloved Margret,
The last month has seen me distracted. Since the terrible incident with the baby dragon, I had not been able to concentrate properly. This week I resolved to make a difference in this world. I would assemble a team, head out to the place on this map marked 'Treasure Cave' and find a way to remove any desire from fellow adventurers to visit. Saving whoever or whatever lives there. Perhaps balancing the scales a little. I wrote a note in my finest cursive, explaining at length my plan. Next to the other notes on the jobs boards, it looked awfully verbose. I do wonder whether some of the adventuring community would bother to finish reading it.
I sat in the great hall of Fort Ettin in the early morning on the day I had specified. I had butterflies in my stomach; would anyone turn up to help? Coll calmed my nerves with a cup of fragrant tea and reassuring words. He had been instrumental in distributing the notes and seemed to approve of my intent. My nerves were further settled by the arrival of both Felix and Dwirhian. Fine bards each; both who had been there when we found the dragon. Fast becoming people I know I can rely upon. I hope they know they can count the same from me. Next came an imposing half-orc named Varga and a halfling lady with a mischievous glint in her slightly red rimmed eyes named Kelne. Although unknown to me, it was clear they knew each other and had been drinking heavily the night before. They seemed less than delighted as Felix loudly tuned his guitar.
The team was rounded out by the arrival of the venerable Sister Velania, her arrival announced as always by the sounds of a heavenly choir. She approached, her eyes seemingly fixed on Coll. Perhaps I read too deeply into such a small glance, but I swear as the two talked and Velania gave Coll a beautifully wrapped gift that there was a touch of romantic chemistry, a sense of electricity in the air. Maybe just my romantic heart hoping that others find what we had together.
Explaining my goal to the team, each in turn graciously agreed to help. We set out to the south making our way to the Feythorn. As we walked; Kelne would nip off the path, pull up beautiful flowers and try to attach them to our outfits while we were distracted by other matters. I think everyone noticed but her enthusiasm was infectious and our spirits were lifted. By the time we had set camp Dwirhian was covered in fresh snowdrops. Varga moved into the darkness to set traps and Felix struck up his guitar. I had the honour to dance with both Dwirhian and Sister Velania. Both light as feathers on their feet. I settled down onto my bedroll happy and confident.
The next morning we entered the Feythorn properly. Such a thick canopy, dark mossy floor and knotted roots crawling over themselves. Compared to the bright saturated landscape of the Feywild itself, this felt more oppressive but also far more real. While climbing trees to check our route, Dwirhian told us she had seen a mountain in the distance but it wasn't there the next time we looked; Kantas is a most curious place. One thing the Feythorn did seem to have in common with the Feywild was a slightly malleable and sentient nature. Following our flawed efforts to navigate our final bounds to the cave Kelne became angry and shouted at the trees. I tried to placate them; reassuring them that we would leave no litter and were trying to reduce how many adventurers disturbed their little section of the world. I don't know whether fearful of Kelne or convinced by me; the wind picked up and pointed us in the right direction.
As we got closer we came across 3 wooden signs each more aggressive than the last; each trying to keep us from approaching the area. After a lengthy discussion on the best course of action we decided that to be truly successful we must approach the cave and explain our actions to its inhabitants. After all, the current signs had not disuaded us, indeed only drawn us in. Moving forward from the third sign Kelne snuck off to one side hoping to provide an advantage if the situation devolved into fisticuffs. Stepping onto some inconspicuous looking mushrooms she announced our presence. An otherworldly screech emitted from the innocent looking fungi. Seconds afterwards a rock hurtled from a nearby bush and struck Varga. This was followed by shouting in a tongue I don't understand. We pleaded peace and from out of the bush stepped a tiny gnome child. Wielding a wicked looking axe and brave enough to stand up to a group such as ourselves. She introduced herself as Zekham and announced she would be taking us to her grandfather.
Approaching their small village by the mouth of a cave, my introductions fell on deaf ears and it seemed for a moment that we would have to defend ourselves from these innocents. The exact opposite of why I had asked this team to join me! We were saved however by Varga; who stepping forward praised the elder gnome for his parenting skills, bringing up suicidally brave grandchildren who were willing to fight battles they knew they would lose. This elder gnome was terribly old, older even than me. He took this compliment and explained his role was not one chosen. Tragically he had been forced to help raise this group of gnome children after the remainder of the village had been lost trying to protect them from undead adventurers. Lured to the cave with promises of loot, killed by whatever inhabited it and returned from the dead by the magic permeating the land they had brought a cycle of death. A cycle the map I held was helping to perpetuate.
Our hosts were very clear that we should not enter the cave. Acknowledging their concerns we explained our intent. Despite distrust, built from years of listening to adventurers with false promises we eventuallyput together the bones of a plan: We would find an alternate cave, re-position the signs around that cave and then within the cave place poetry, religious symbology and other 'non-material treasure'. Returning to Daring Heights we would claim great success, that we had emptied the cave of both its monstrous inhabitants and its fabled treasure. Rendering it no longer a place worthy of interest. A lie, but one that I think is for the greater good.
Drawing on Velania's faith we decorated this new cave with poetry dedicated to Selune. Moon imagery in every verse we carved and scrawled the classic odes: Dancing in the Moonlight, Moon River and When the Moon hits your eye. She seemed pleased with our work and we slept soundly under a bright moon. In the morning, our gnome friends had left us but shown their gratitude, covering our sleeping forms in flowers. Varga even found little Zekham's axe. To her no larger than a letter opener but filled with sentiment, I am certain she will keep it for a long time to come.
Returning to Daring Heights, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I haven't changed the world but perhaps I have made it a little safer for that family of gnomes for now. Arriving at the academy we told our tale and the students removed the cave from their map. A job well done. I gave each of my team mates a small pouch of gold to thank them and we then hopped through a teleportation circle to Port Ffirst. I find myself there now, sat drinking a small cup of tea enjoying the sun and writing to you. Later today I will look around this town to see if there is a tailor who might make me another dinner jacket. Despite initially being upset by the theft that led to me only have the option of formal wear; I have taken it up as something of a uniform. Part of my 'adventurous persona'. A good tailor will I am sure be able to adapt it to perhaps be a little more practical for the more energetic lifestyle I seem to have adopted.
I remain yours, always.
The last month has seen me distracted. Since the terrible incident with the baby dragon, I had not been able to concentrate properly. This week I resolved to make a difference in this world. I would assemble a team, head out to the place on this map marked 'Treasure Cave' and find a way to remove any desire from fellow adventurers to visit. Saving whoever or whatever lives there. Perhaps balancing the scales a little. I wrote a note in my finest cursive, explaining at length my plan. Next to the other notes on the jobs boards, it looked awfully verbose. I do wonder whether some of the adventuring community would bother to finish reading it.
I sat in the great hall of Fort Ettin in the early morning on the day I had specified. I had butterflies in my stomach; would anyone turn up to help? Coll calmed my nerves with a cup of fragrant tea and reassuring words. He had been instrumental in distributing the notes and seemed to approve of my intent. My nerves were further settled by the arrival of both Felix and Dwirhian. Fine bards each; both who had been there when we found the dragon. Fast becoming people I know I can rely upon. I hope they know they can count the same from me. Next came an imposing half-orc named Varga and a halfling lady with a mischievous glint in her slightly red rimmed eyes named Kelne. Although unknown to me, it was clear they knew each other and had been drinking heavily the night before. They seemed less than delighted as Felix loudly tuned his guitar.
The team was rounded out by the arrival of the venerable Sister Velania, her arrival announced as always by the sounds of a heavenly choir. She approached, her eyes seemingly fixed on Coll. Perhaps I read too deeply into such a small glance, but I swear as the two talked and Velania gave Coll a beautifully wrapped gift that there was a touch of romantic chemistry, a sense of electricity in the air. Maybe just my romantic heart hoping that others find what we had together.
Explaining my goal to the team, each in turn graciously agreed to help. We set out to the south making our way to the Feythorn. As we walked; Kelne would nip off the path, pull up beautiful flowers and try to attach them to our outfits while we were distracted by other matters. I think everyone noticed but her enthusiasm was infectious and our spirits were lifted. By the time we had set camp Dwirhian was covered in fresh snowdrops. Varga moved into the darkness to set traps and Felix struck up his guitar. I had the honour to dance with both Dwirhian and Sister Velania. Both light as feathers on their feet. I settled down onto my bedroll happy and confident.
The next morning we entered the Feythorn properly. Such a thick canopy, dark mossy floor and knotted roots crawling over themselves. Compared to the bright saturated landscape of the Feywild itself, this felt more oppressive but also far more real. While climbing trees to check our route, Dwirhian told us she had seen a mountain in the distance but it wasn't there the next time we looked; Kantas is a most curious place. One thing the Feythorn did seem to have in common with the Feywild was a slightly malleable and sentient nature. Following our flawed efforts to navigate our final bounds to the cave Kelne became angry and shouted at the trees. I tried to placate them; reassuring them that we would leave no litter and were trying to reduce how many adventurers disturbed their little section of the world. I don't know whether fearful of Kelne or convinced by me; the wind picked up and pointed us in the right direction.
As we got closer we came across 3 wooden signs each more aggressive than the last; each trying to keep us from approaching the area. After a lengthy discussion on the best course of action we decided that to be truly successful we must approach the cave and explain our actions to its inhabitants. After all, the current signs had not disuaded us, indeed only drawn us in. Moving forward from the third sign Kelne snuck off to one side hoping to provide an advantage if the situation devolved into fisticuffs. Stepping onto some inconspicuous looking mushrooms she announced our presence. An otherworldly screech emitted from the innocent looking fungi. Seconds afterwards a rock hurtled from a nearby bush and struck Varga. This was followed by shouting in a tongue I don't understand. We pleaded peace and from out of the bush stepped a tiny gnome child. Wielding a wicked looking axe and brave enough to stand up to a group such as ourselves. She introduced herself as Zekham and announced she would be taking us to her grandfather.
Approaching their small village by the mouth of a cave, my introductions fell on deaf ears and it seemed for a moment that we would have to defend ourselves from these innocents. The exact opposite of why I had asked this team to join me! We were saved however by Varga; who stepping forward praised the elder gnome for his parenting skills, bringing up suicidally brave grandchildren who were willing to fight battles they knew they would lose. This elder gnome was terribly old, older even than me. He took this compliment and explained his role was not one chosen. Tragically he had been forced to help raise this group of gnome children after the remainder of the village had been lost trying to protect them from undead adventurers. Lured to the cave with promises of loot, killed by whatever inhabited it and returned from the dead by the magic permeating the land they had brought a cycle of death. A cycle the map I held was helping to perpetuate.
Our hosts were very clear that we should not enter the cave. Acknowledging their concerns we explained our intent. Despite distrust, built from years of listening to adventurers with false promises we eventuallyput together the bones of a plan: We would find an alternate cave, re-position the signs around that cave and then within the cave place poetry, religious symbology and other 'non-material treasure'. Returning to Daring Heights we would claim great success, that we had emptied the cave of both its monstrous inhabitants and its fabled treasure. Rendering it no longer a place worthy of interest. A lie, but one that I think is for the greater good.
Drawing on Velania's faith we decorated this new cave with poetry dedicated to Selune. Moon imagery in every verse we carved and scrawled the classic odes: Dancing in the Moonlight, Moon River and When the Moon hits your eye. She seemed pleased with our work and we slept soundly under a bright moon. In the morning, our gnome friends had left us but shown their gratitude, covering our sleeping forms in flowers. Varga even found little Zekham's axe. To her no larger than a letter opener but filled with sentiment, I am certain she will keep it for a long time to come.
Returning to Daring Heights, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I haven't changed the world but perhaps I have made it a little safer for that family of gnomes for now. Arriving at the academy we told our tale and the students removed the cave from their map. A job well done. I gave each of my team mates a small pouch of gold to thank them and we then hopped through a teleportation circle to Port Ffirst. I find myself there now, sat drinking a small cup of tea enjoying the sun and writing to you. Later today I will look around this town to see if there is a tailor who might make me another dinner jacket. Despite initially being upset by the theft that led to me only have the option of formal wear; I have taken it up as something of a uniform. Part of my 'adventurous persona'. A good tailor will I am sure be able to adapt it to perhaps be a little more practical for the more energetic lifestyle I seem to have adopted.
I remain yours, always.
