Glory and Gore - 16/08/2023 - A Kavel Perspective

Divine Scrolls?

Archie, my elderly human wizard friend (and housemate) was working on a spell scroll in the courtyard. He had just finished, and had handed the scroll to Juniper, his awakened-shrub assistant, to put a fancy tie around it. Mendal, my dwarven cleric friend (and other housemate) was lifting kettlebells with me. Mendal actually made the kettlebells; he’s a Clan Crafter and forge cleric. He made the weights with his craftsmanship and magic, and they are really good kettlebells!

As Juniper carried off the scroll, I asked both my friends, “are there spell scrolls for clerics?”

“Sure,” they both responded.

“You don’t make them, Mendal?” I enquired, having never seen him do what Archie does.

“Nope. What am I always saying Kavel?” Mendal asked between cleans of the kettlebell he gripped, and answered himself, “a cleric of the forge forges. He doesn’t make magic scrolls, nor does he attend temples and listen to peoples’ whining… if he can help it.”

My dwarven friend continued to outline his perspective for us.

“You see Kavel, people want clerics to give them life improving or reassuring advice. They don’t want clerics to hand them magic scrolls, it doesn’t fit the solution they were after; namely someone else dealing with their problems. So, people go to clerics to hear spiritual advice, but then the clerics will only mouth crap that’s sufficiently cryptic enough that if you fuck up following the advise they, the cleric, have plausible deniability that you employed their advice incorrectly. If things escalate then the cleric, if they are blessed enough, ask for guidance from their god. Said god, ironically does the same plausible denialling move as their clerics and gives wishy-washy advice back. And you see, clerics will either swallow up the advice they’re given from on high, or simply not have the balls to call their god out on their bullshit.”

“Gods give bullshit advice?” I asked, seeking clarification, while Archie was looking my way, giving me one of his looks that said, “take what Mendal is saying with a heavy pinch of salt.”

“I reckon so,” Mendal responded with a nod. “And let me just say to the pair of you,” Mendal pointed at both me and Archie for emphasis, “if my divine blessing becomes stronger, and Lord Moradin blesses me with power to directly contact him for advice, you know what I’ll do with that power?”

“Go on?” Archie asked, interested to hear the response, and I nodded.

“I’ll do fuck all with it, and give Moradin a break from cleric whining! Hasn’t he given me enough power to deal with things myself? What’s all this cleric magic for, if not providing your own solutions to your own problems?”

“That's a very positive perspective actually. Good to hear, Mendal,” Archie said surprised yet proud. “I am still, after all these years though quite baffled, as to why a god could find no one else more suitable a candidate to be divinely blessed.”
Mendal was hastening to respond with words he used frequently, that is to say, “fuck off.” But, Archie cut him off, raising his hand towards Mendal so that he could carry on talking, “... truly Mendal, it is a testament to how good you are as a craftsman that the god of the Forge said, ‘you know what, I’ll let him have this divine blessing anyway.’”

To this, Mendal laughed, “ha! Yeah, probably.” And we all laughed. I hoped Moradin was laughing too.


The Other Dascinvale Party?

I was at Portal Plaza with comrade Oziah, my aasimar, sword and smite master friend.

Last week, when comrade Zola and I were helping Oziah acquire a castle by killing monsters, Zola asked us to come help her in return. Zola wanted to attack the Wild Hunt. Us three all have an unfortunate experience with accidentally aiding the return of the Lord of the Hunt - some more than others (Zola especially). So, with a feeling of responsibility and aversion to having been tricked; Oziah and I were happy to help our half-drow, Ellistraee warrior friend in her party to strike back at the Wild Hunt. We just needed to wait for Zola, and hear where we were going, and what the plan was.

Comrade Zola was late.

To be fair to Zola, she was late because she is habitually late. While we were waiting, Oziah and I talked about the importance of maintaining shoulder strength and mobility. This is true for everyone, everywhere, at any age. For warriors - for sure. Do you use a weapon? A sword perhaps? Then you better look after your shoulders if you want to use it right. Comrade Oziah and I also talked about the renovations her and Delilah, her wife, were getting started for their castle. They were in the planning phase. Oziah was trying to decide between oak and cherry wood for some of the new furnishing. As a proficient woodworker, both; carpentry and woodcarving, I mentioned that oak is best for the floor - harder. Oak will dent less. Consequently, cherry wood being less dense is easier to carve, which could be better for more decorative furniture.

We looked up in the sky when the shadow of a flying mount flew over us, and circled Portal Plaza in its descent. It was Cor’Vandor ridden by his master Zola, but also carrying another rider. Oziah and I were trying to work out who the other rider was. Oziah mentioned that she hoped it was a healer.

Oziah, Zola and I share a similar role in any adventuring party - we are the frontline. To be fair to those two; they are the damage-dealers. I hit extremely hard with my fists. I don’t really use my clubs, maul or anything really. Not when my fists hit like warhammers. As good as I am though, Oziah and Zola slice monsters up with radiant, magical slashes that it’s surprising our enemies don’t surrender upon sight. But, they are the damage-dealers, while I, some people say am like those metal water tanks, like nothing could harm you if you are inside one. They call me a ‘tank’, or even a damage-sponge. Either way, damage-dealer or ‘tank’, Oziah, Zola and I are frontline party members. Together, we were not short of members for the front. Good stuff. But, Oziah expressed that in the absence of a healer in the party, she had an experience once she’d rather not repeat - she had to act as the party’s healer. She was not fond of that. It did not gel well with her frontline preferences. To our delight, Cor’Vandor’s second rider was comrade Glade, the earth genasi, divinely blessed druid. We had a healer.


Zola’s Plan

“Who are we killing?” Oziah asked.

“Not sure,” Zola replied. This concerned me.

I asked Zola where we were going to find the Wild Hunt and what the rest of her plan was. To this, Zola was also not sure. My comrade was not reassuring me. “Guess they are in the Winter Court,” was the best Zola could give us.

Fortunately, when four experienced adventurers gather, people tend to come to you with requests, and as it happened, someone from the land of Dascinvale, in the Feywild, approached us - Zola specifically, or rather the ‘Sword Saint’ as this person, Konra called her. I’d never heard of this name for Zola. It’s a pretty good name. But Smashy Hands is better.

Konra had wings, and was small, tiny really, and also very exhausted. We took Konra to a nearby bench, where they explained that the Wild Hunt had been on a rampage everywhere. People had been joining the Wild Hunt’s ranks, some willingly, others not. Recruitment had been happening fast. Oriniax, the Lord of the Hunt’s huge fey-elk mount has an ability to move so quickly it seems that the Lord of the Hunt can be everywhere in short order.

Konra gave us a frosty branch of foxtail amaranth to help us planeshift straight to their village Dascinvale, which bordered the Summer Court and Winter Court, and explained why the well flowered plant was frosty.

We wanted to escort Konra to a temple for healing, but they said we must make haste. I supposed the faster we left, the more likely we were to stop the Wild Hunt from raiding another village and enthralling more people, like how Zola and I experienced back when the Lord of the Hunt returned.

We gave Konra directions to the nearest temple, and quickly stopped by a magic shop so Zola could buy a Scroll of Silence - she was hoping this would prevent us being enthralled again, if the Horn of the Hunt was blown. I made a mental note to tell Archie that Scrolls for the Silence spell were in demand.

On the way back to Portal Plaza, Zola and I told Oziah and Glade all we experienced when we chased the Wildlings to the Feyverge where Drusilia completed the ritual to bring back the Lord of the Hunt. There was a point where I flying tackled the magical, masked satyr - one of the chief Wildlings. If I had landed better, I reckon I could have fractured his spine. Regardless, I grounded him, mounted him, and pomelled him with my fists. Zola then followed up, and killed him with both swords plunged into his chest. Oziah gave us a pep talk about how we’re going to hunt the Wild Hunt, and I felt inspired by this, as if no one was going to survive my flying tackle if I got them.


Dascinvale? - The Glory and Gore Party

Dascinvale is a village right on the border of the Summer and Winter lands, in the valley between two mountainscapes. Assuming this was Dascinvale. We saw no sign, and never verified. It was nice though. Although I prefer homes on mountains (like my home on Iron Mountain), or the inverse where homes are below the ground, but still within rock (like the Damphenite Tangle). Though, homes with a good view of a mountain are still nice. Due to the uniqueness of the location though, one half of the sky and mountains had a vibrant warmth to it, whilst the other half was piercingly cold.

Comrade Glade did the druid wildshape thing and turned herself into an eagle to look around from above while the rest of us went to the village.

In the village, no one was working the land, or out and about. Windows were boarded up too. The villagers were hunkering down. I could see giant elk tracks leading away from the village heading towards a forest. Oriniax’s tracks, I thought. Zola said she could hear the sound of a hunting horn in that direction. She didn’t immediately mention this though, because she seemed to be trapped in the moment, as if someone was speaking to her. She said she was receiving guidance from her god. It was a bit cryptic what Zola said she heard. This made me recall what Mendal said that gods tell their blessed followers things in unclear riddles because they don’t actually know what to say. Oziah interpreted Zola’s god’s words as ‘don’t go on a murderspree.’ Apparently this was what the gods usually say. I wondered what this said about paladins…

We managed to talk to a villager who reluctantly opened the door for us, and did their best to keep his excited daughter from interacting with us too. These people were earthy type fey, and were also sprite-like in height. Their house was regular humanoid tall though (which is still short for me).

Oziah talked to the father in a manner as if she had been possessed by both comrade Velania and Lolli combined - she was so earnest and friendly. It was truly strange. But, it meant that Zola was able to talk to the daughter uninterrupted and learn what the daughter was eager to tell us. We learnt that this family stuffed their ears with cotton when the Wild Hunt passed by not too long ago, only about an hour or so at the time. The cotton prevented them from being enthralled. The Wildlings had also taken the village’s pigs and grain.

After the family went back inside their home and bolted the door shut, we found Glade back in her humanoid form casting a divination spell trying to get advice from her god. More riddles were heard. These ones we interpreted as, ‘as long as Oriniax is part of the Hunt the Hunt will be harder to stop.’ Seemed like good advice, but once again I thought back to Mendal, and then could hear him saying, “if you do stop her, and that makes things worse - plausible deniability bid lad!” Correctly interpreted divination or not, it seemed correct to target Oriniax.

Comrade Oziah had picked up on my interest in sprites. I had made the observation that the sprite-folk in Dascinvale(?) were weak looking compared to the warrior-like ones of the Damphenite Tangle. When I told her about Nathalie, my fiance, there was interest in the obvious. This is why we like magical potions. Specifically Potions of Growth (or reduction, depending on whether it’s Nathalie or I taking the potion).


The Hunt for the Wild Hunt

As we followed the huge elk tracks out of the village into the forest, Oziah tried some of her magic, and attempted the Locate Creature spell - she had met Oriniax before. However, the spell had some fine-print about it’s effectiveness close to a body of water, and there was a river along our path.

At some point further into our hunt, I decided to have a go. I cannot speak to gods or cast magic, but if I think really hard about an environment I usually find the answers come to me, if the answer is within a three mile radius. And also, Mr. Bear, or another animal happens to be nearby and helps me out.

I thought about Orianix, where another village might be, and other powerful fey. As we walked, we came across a very large rock with a man-made hole in it, and next to the rock, I saw a giant bear. The bear pointed out for me the direction where Oriniax was. Then I realised that this Mr. Bear was in fact Messikammen, King Mr. Bear, in his bear form! The others could see him too. (If it’s any other bear, my comrades have never been able to see them, which then leads to accusations that I must be hallucinating).

As Messikammen shuffled off, I asked him to say hello to Eustan and Mai for me. The others said it was very impressive that I could summon an Archfey. But, I didn’t summon him, he was just there out on a stroll.

Messikammen had pointed out two fey for me. One was Oriniax, the other, his sniffing motion had indicated, was much nearer to us. Behind the large rock, was a satyr man. His name was Kruxeral, a man Archie has met a couple of times now when he helped with business to do with the Temple For All Seasons.

I asked Kruxeral if he knew if Jasper, the elf-fox man, was truly dead from when the Lord of the Hunt speared him, and he vanished down one of his magic fox holes. Kruxeral didn’t know, nor did he care, which he indicated with an aggressive tone. He was very pissed off with those of us who helped Oriniax get her memories back (not me).

Kruxeral then accused Zola of killing his father and postured as if ready to charge. I wondered why Zola would kill Kruxeral’s father, then realised that I had in fact witnessed Zola kill a male satyr once - the one I had flying tackled and pommelled with my fists during the ritual that freed the Lord of the Hunt from his imprisonment. Kruxerhal confirmed that the satyr was his father. I suppose I had assisted greatly in that kill, but still Zola had delivered the coup de grace. Before the matter of my assistance in Kruxeral’s father’s death could be brought up Kruxeral was lecturing us on not knowing what we were dealing with.

The party at this point had had enough of cryptic messaging from gods, they were not going to take it from a fey. Comrade Zola was especially pissed off and demanded to know what the Wild Hunt truly is. It seemed Kruxeral could at least tell us where they were exactly, as in response to Zola’s question he answered indignantly, “why don’t you ask them?!”

Three arrows shot towards us piecing Glade’s shoulders, wounding her deeply. I grew a little angry at the observation that I had not fulfilled my purpose of ‘the tank’ at that moment. At the same time, comrade Oziah’s eyes glowed as a set of raven-like, angelic wings grew from gaps in the back of her plate armour. Oziah seemed fiercer than ever at that moment. Kruxeral stood up from the hunched down aggressive stance he was in, and vanished.

The WIld Hunt had found us. We were supposed to be hunting them. I looked at my comrades, and it was clear we were in agreement that no matter the odds, we would in fact be the hunters.


Charging Forward

Flanked by my paladin comrades, one on her flying mount, the other flying with her new wings, I burst forward from the clearing with the large rock and giant jumped forwards into the thick of the forest to confront the archers that loosed arrows into Glade. Some arrows flew past me, the archers’ aim was thrown off by my unexpected bursts of flight. The arrows that did hit me, I relied on my iron-strong constitution and goliath endurance to resist any pain they delivered.

A volley of magical golden spears accompanied the onslaught of arrows. They vanished when they hit something. Magical or not, I cared little for them as most barely managed to piece my iron-strong goliath body.

The sylphs did what they do, altering the direction and speed of the wind in our direction and making weather work against us, inflicting our bodies with a cutting cold chill. I could hear both Drusilia’s and Oriniax’s voices in the far distance beyond a hundred feet of trees.

The wolfhounds charged into us like the frontline of an army’s infantry, but to little success as my paladin comrades cut them down with radiantly powerful slashes of their swords, and many of them were repelled as they hit me, as I charged forward against them. But, there were many of them. To stand still would overwhelm us, support would be appreciated.

Glade riding Deimos led a counter charge of a dozen giant rams against the wolfhounds, battering them away from me, preventing a pile-on from occurring.


Targets in Sight

To my right, I saw Oziah bank right in her flight as her raven wings were now accompanied by a skeletal set of wings that shadowed her raven wings like a necrotic shroud. Comrade Oziah was charging towards the Lord of the Hunt, the giant hunt master, with her sword ready to piece his flesh, and with a promise of enmity inbound.

While Oziah had found her target, I was busy swinging hounds into other hounds as I stormed forward, picking a fresh one up every now and again to throw at the next charging pack. As the giant rams came in to assist, I took advantage of this, to leap back into the air, and press forward, crashing into hounds when I landed, and getting closer to the white hyde of a giant animal I could see in the distance. I waved at Zola on my left flank, she was casting a divine light that had the fey people scatter away from her. When she saw my wave, she understood that I had line of sight on Oriniax. Zola flew to join me.

As I flew, I could see some of the Wildlings were two feet tall, and wore similar clothing to the Dascinvale(?) family we met. I didn’t know if the sylphs or hounds were enthralled, but the humanoid Wildlings, I felt they were all enthralled.

The terrain before us started to change. Trees seemed to move location. The hallucinations of the terrain were Drusilia’s doing. I did not care. I trusted my strong body would handle the impact of charging into solid trees by mistake. More hounds and sylphs had been summoned though, and Glade’s giant rams were busier than ever. Glade made the terrain work for her, as the limbs of the trees snatched up as many of the hounds as it could, entangling them in their grasp.


Target Locked - Operation Smash and Slash

Hounds and sylphs that were heading towards comrade Oziah to cut her off from her path towards the Hunt Lord, turned to their left to switch targets from her to me and Zola heading towards Oriniax. Hounds and sylphs were lifted off the ground and out of the air, as a sudden destructive wave of radiant force carried them away from their position with a thunderous impact.

My way was obstacle free. I pressed into the ground with my feet and burst forward into the air toward Oriniax who was in her giant elk form, and drove my shoulder, as I landed, hard into her side by the base of her spine and heard a fracturing crack as I gripped two mounds of fur around her waist with my hands. Oriniax’s hind legs grew weak, as she collapsed to the ground in serious pain. And as I wrestled the giant elk into a side-control pinning predicament, Zola came off of Cor’Vandor behind me, both blades glowing with mighty, radiant light, and brought flesh tearing sword slashes down on Oriniax’s knee joints. Oriniax screamed out in agony.

The world seemed frozen, as Oriniax’s ability to move was continuously brought to a state of debilitating impairment. Drusilia screamed in wide-eyed horror. The sound of a horn blew in the distance and its note carried on forever. Zola lined up a final slice to Oriniax’s neck. She paused. She then slashed, bringing one of her two magical blades towards Oriniax’s bare neck. And she cut away some of the fur around the jugular. It was a very precise cut, but it was no killing blow.

All of us had reached the clearing where a maimed Oriniax lay, Zola; would be executioner at her head, and I; still pinning Oriniax down.

“Are you going to finish it? Or leave it? The Lord of the Hunt, towering above me, at twice my 7’5” height asked Zola.

“As far as I am concerned, my hunt is done,” Zola replied. Whether sparing Oriniax from death was the best course of action right then, I did not know. But, it was what comrade Zola had decided. I did not know what would happen next. But, I would stand with her.

“Then leave!” The Lord of the Hunt shouted back at her, at all of us, like a command, and then we vanished.


Back Home

One day had passed, we discovered, as we stood in Portal Plaza.

Zola had hoped we had sent the Wild Hunt a message. Me too. Zola seemed concerned. Oziah seemed quite proud of her; Zola’s actions and her stance that maybe the advice she got from her god was wrong.

Glade had hoped for a less violent outcome. I asked her what she thought of the outcome we obtained. Comrade Glade does not like to interfere with the natural cycle of life and death. She wishes to never have to kill anything, but despite her non violent ways, she understands that the cycle she speaks of would be significantly less interfered with if the Wild Hunt were not hunting. So, comrade Glade reluctantly approved of our strike against the Wild Hunt.

I told my comrades I would use my Sending Stone to update Nathlie, in the Feywild, of our actions, and maybe she would be able to monitor the situation there for us. It was annoying for me that the Lord of the Hunt has the power to banish us back to the Material Plane. Since we were in the Summer Court, I was hoping there may have been a way for me to reach the Damphenite Tangle.

I asked Glade if she wanted to come back to my home and meet Juniper, Archie’s Awakened Shrub wizard assistant. Glade said she’d drop by some time.

I once again offered Zola to come stay with; me, Mendal and Archie on account of her homelessness, and now a seemingly lost favour with her god. Zola, it seemed to me, was getting mixed signals from her god, and Mendal was wiser than ever. I mentioned to Zola that she could have my bed, while I slept on the couch, and that my bed was by far the biggest of the three. But, comrade Zola said it’s best she go back to her temple in the Witching Court where she might be able to get answers. This seemed sensible.

With two of my comrades gone at that point, it left me and comrade Oziah. I remembered her oak and cherry wood dilemma, and offered to take her to Morgana Starbright’s workshop, where I learnt woodcarving, and also how to speak sylvan from Sammi Heidan, one of her employees and fellow woodcarvers. At Morgana’s there were samples of different shades of oak and cherry wood, and other woods; so Oziah could better make a decision on what to go with. Plus, she could take small samples back to Delilah and show her. Oziah agreed this was a good idea, and so we left Portal Plaza for Morgana’s workshop. When all the renovation decisions have been made and the castle repairs are done, it will be nice to see the restored castle, Fortune’s Favour.