That Which Was Lost – 22.02.2024 – Delilah
Mar 12, 2024 16:12:53 GMT
willjenkins, Andy Davy, and 1 more like this
Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Mar 12, 2024 16:12:53 GMT
The following report is written in a mix of common, symbols, elvish, infernal, goblin and draconic, and is kept secured in an Infernal Puzzle Box.
ASSIGNMENT REPORT #51
People of the Dawnlands:
Pipper – mage/tinkerer/inventor, lizardfolk, female
Zola Rhomdaen – divine warrior/versemaker, half-drow, female (recent name change due to Aeschira heritage/House ties); Mount: Cor’Vandor (fey)
Itzal Xolani – spar velah’rnair/grave cleric, half-orc, non-binary
Kurtz – mage, adult green dragon (was once possessed by Shadows from the Fell), male, father
Varitch Bonewhisper – mage, lich
Jeanne – fighter/warrior, undead humanoid (unknown), lich’s henchman, deceased
Maria & Her Sisters – wraiths/spirits, Jeanne’s “sisters”(?), deceased
Aliesha – fighter/barbarian, undead tiefling, lich’s henchwoman, deceased
Rat-Man – (not actual name), rogue, smoke-stepper, undead humanoid (unknown), lich’s henchperson, deceased
Undead Dragon – undetermined type of dragon before becoming undead, deceased
The Notice:
None. Gathered the party myself. Objective: Retrieve the hammer/artefact of Moradin and deliver to any kind of believer, follower, or church of the dwarven god.
The Job:
With Ankaa’s attack on the Starling’s Nest and her threats to Carnán’s safety, including his tree house, I could not risk posting any kind of notice so she could not easily track my movements. I chose a more direct approach, gathering those whomst I thought best, or who came recommended, and who are most efficient in getting this task done. Moradin gave me three years, but I did not want to leave this somewhat distant sword hanging over my head whilst the time remaining to deal with the Problem-That-Will-Not-Go-Away has been growing ever shorter.
Pipper was an obvious choice, knowing the full context of why I needed to do this quest. Rhomdaen came from Daybreaker’s recommendation since my lady could not come with me at the time of doing this. It was both of them who suggested the medic-come-spar velah’rnair, Xolani. Our paths have crossed a few times in the training square (NB: Warehouse Fighting Pits). They are quite formidable in the Arts. A quick debrief to catch Rhomdaen and Xolani up to speed and we were returning to the Sunset Spines.
Tracking down the artefact required but a thought on it and I knew where to go. It was as if the heart Moradin gave me was as eager to complete this as I. We travelled up mountains — not to exactly the same spot as where the Ironbreaker Clan once lived, but close enough. Turns out, we were not the only ones seeking the artefact, which really only made this that much more fun.
A lich — because it seems my path will always come back to getting in the way of necromancers — and their cohort were already in the mountain canyon. Xolani and I were able to get the drop on the knight before the lich took notice. Then the usual thing happened: a fight broke out.
I became the bane of one slow, dullard of a fighter who could no naught but chase me around like a buffoon; Rhomdaen’s expertise in calling upon divine proved most potent against all of them; Pipper’s artifice blasted those enemies that could not fly from the safety of distance with accuracy; Xolani, despite the lich taking their wits from them, ended those who were meant to be truly dead. The only point of concern was when the undead mage summoned an undead dragon. Things could have turned dire, but for my father, who’s concern for me meant that he came and dealt with that threat so we could focus on our objective.
It nearly cost him his life.
The report ends here.
The weight in her chest from the bronze heart that now beat in her chest was fully hers, not tied to any gods. The change happened the moment she handed the artefact over to Mendal Vultan, an ally of Kavel’s and devout worshipper of Moradin. Not many things have felt right in her life but the moment of handing the hammer over was one of them. Now the heart was hers completely, its purpose was to beat her fiendish blood until the day she shuffled off whatever mortal coil Delilah still possessed.
Now, after returning home to Castle Daybreak, and seeing her father looking paler than usual with dark necrotic wounds that stayed even from his draconic form she wanted to scream. They weren’t healing as fast as they should and whilst he was not getting any worse, he was tired.
It concerned her more than she would ever say.
Medicine has never been her strong suit — it was the antithesis of everything she could do and is — but being Demona’s daughter meant she had learned a thing or two for tending to necrotic wounds. Kurtz was silent as she worked, focused solely on her hands and not paying attention to the way his eyes were glued to her face. Finally, the silence got too heavy and she had to say something..
“I appreciate you coming to help me when you did, father,” she says haltingly, almost like her words were molars refusing to be pulled. Delilah couldn’t use the shadows in the same way on him any more, not since he had been freed of them. But their wispy fingers did what they could, helping her coax the rot to lift so she could cut it out with her smallest, sharpest knife. “But…”
She cut deep and he made a sharp intake of breath from the unexpected pain. Immediately, her taloned shadow hand was taking the knife from her and she was placing a fresh salve onto the wound. Kurtz let out a low rumble of discomfort which Delilah outright refused to acknowledge. “Was it really the smartest move?” she asked instead, setting the jar aside and picking up a strip of cloth. She began binding his arm tighter and tighter until she reached the strip’s end and tied the bandage off. That was the last of his wounds for now. In another eight hours they would need to be changed again. It was not the fastest way of healing but if her father refused to ask for Oziah’s help then she wasn’t going to point it out. Not directly.
“Ankaa is drawing closer and she will strike soon.”
“…subtle…” came the amused remark from the shadows around her.
Kurtz either seemed unphased by her pointed remark or was in too much pain to do more than exhale what almost sounded like a sigh. “She might. Or she might just continue to send these.” He picks up several of the pieces of paper with letters on them and lets them fall back onto the table.
How could she forget Ankaa’s thrice annoying message? They had been delivered when she had travelled to Port Ffirst to help Wren find out who or at least what kind of poison was being put into their soup kitchen’s broth. The notes had been found all over the keep, not just by Oziah either but some of the Daybreaker legion as well. They had brought all envelopes to their leader and when Delilah had returned, she found Oziah obsessively working on the puzzle.
Her father had offered help but Oziah had refused. A matter of pride, perhaps. But when Delilah offered it had been a few days and an indeterminate number of wine bottles later, which meant frustration won out. Kurtz assisted her and by the time even they had lost patience they were only able to get nine words:
They got the gist of it.
Kurtz carefully stood up from the table and rolled his shoulders. He winced but only slightly. Delilah was sweeping the corruption riddled bandages into a basket before walking over to the roaring fireplace. She upended its contents and there was a hiss and crackle as they began to burn.
“I recently witnessed a Dragon give its life to protect people it did not know.”
The pale half-elf frowns and half turns to look at her father. He was looking out the window, hands clasped behind his back, no sign of pain anywhere across the panes of his face except for a slight glisten to his brow.
“I couldn’t bear to not intervene when I saw you were in danger,” he continues. “I know I am never going to be some paragon of goodness and light in the world, but letting you die really would put the nail in the ‘worst father ever’ coffin.”
Delilah gives a low, dry laugh. “Oh, so we are admitting to caring about having a good parental status?”
Kurtz doesn’t react, just continuing to look out the window. After a beat he closes his eyes. His reaction wipes the wry smile from her face and something begins to prick at her eyes. Delilah clears her throat, turning towards the door. “I am sure we would have had it under control. The lich was the puppetmaster, after all. Take them down, the rest follow.”
The gumption was not behind her words. In fact, she wasn’t even really aware of what she was saying. All she knew was she couldn’t be in the same room as him right now, not when he was so weak. It would make her weak and then-
Before the thought could finish, Delilah steps into the long shadows by the fireplace leaving the room and her father behind. Whatever Kurtz was about to say to his daughter, died on his lips. Another kill for the girl who was to murder as maestros are to music.
Kurtz RP co-written with the sublime willjenkins 🐲
ASSIGNMENT REPORT #51
People of the Dawnlands:
Pipper – mage/tinkerer/inventor, lizardfolk, female
Zola Rhomdaen – divine warrior/versemaker, half-drow, female (recent name change due to Aeschira heritage/House ties); Mount: Cor’Vandor (fey)
Itzal Xolani – spar velah’rnair/grave cleric, half-orc, non-binary
Kurtz – mage, adult green dragon (was once possessed by Shadows from the Fell), male, father
Varitch Bonewhisper – mage, lich
Jeanne – fighter/warrior, undead humanoid (unknown), lich’s henchman, deceased
Maria & Her Sisters – wraiths/spirits, Jeanne’s “sisters”(?), deceased
Aliesha – fighter/barbarian, undead tiefling, lich’s henchwoman, deceased
Rat-Man – (not actual name), rogue, smoke-stepper, undead humanoid (unknown), lich’s henchperson, deceased
Undead Dragon – undetermined type of dragon before becoming undead, deceased
The Notice:
None. Gathered the party myself. Objective: Retrieve the hammer/artefact of Moradin and deliver to any kind of believer, follower, or church of the dwarven god.
The Job:
With Ankaa’s attack on the Starling’s Nest and her threats to Carnán’s safety, including his tree house, I could not risk posting any kind of notice so she could not easily track my movements. I chose a more direct approach, gathering those whomst I thought best, or who came recommended, and who are most efficient in getting this task done. Moradin gave me three years, but I did not want to leave this somewhat distant sword hanging over my head whilst the time remaining to deal with the Problem-That-Will-Not-Go-Away has been growing ever shorter.
Pipper was an obvious choice, knowing the full context of why I needed to do this quest. Rhomdaen came from Daybreaker’s recommendation since my lady could not come with me at the time of doing this. It was both of them who suggested the medic-come-spar velah’rnair, Xolani. Our paths have crossed a few times in the training square (NB: Warehouse Fighting Pits). They are quite formidable in the Arts. A quick debrief to catch Rhomdaen and Xolani up to speed and we were returning to the Sunset Spines.
Tracking down the artefact required but a thought on it and I knew where to go. It was as if the heart Moradin gave me was as eager to complete this as I. We travelled up mountains — not to exactly the same spot as where the Ironbreaker Clan once lived, but close enough. Turns out, we were not the only ones seeking the artefact, which really only made this that much more fun.
A lich — because it seems my path will always come back to getting in the way of necromancers — and their cohort were already in the mountain canyon. Xolani and I were able to get the drop on the knight before the lich took notice. Then the usual thing happened: a fight broke out.
I became the bane of one slow, dullard of a fighter who could no naught but chase me around like a buffoon; Rhomdaen’s expertise in calling upon divine proved most potent against all of them; Pipper’s artifice blasted those enemies that could not fly from the safety of distance with accuracy; Xolani, despite the lich taking their wits from them, ended those who were meant to be truly dead. The only point of concern was when the undead mage summoned an undead dragon. Things could have turned dire, but for my father, who’s concern for me meant that he came and dealt with that threat so we could focus on our objective.
It nearly cost him his life.
The report ends here.
The weight in her chest from the bronze heart that now beat in her chest was fully hers, not tied to any gods. The change happened the moment she handed the artefact over to Mendal Vultan, an ally of Kavel’s and devout worshipper of Moradin. Not many things have felt right in her life but the moment of handing the hammer over was one of them. Now the heart was hers completely, its purpose was to beat her fiendish blood until the day she shuffled off whatever mortal coil Delilah still possessed.
Now, after returning home to Castle Daybreak, and seeing her father looking paler than usual with dark necrotic wounds that stayed even from his draconic form she wanted to scream. They weren’t healing as fast as they should and whilst he was not getting any worse, he was tired.
It concerned her more than she would ever say.
Medicine has never been her strong suit — it was the antithesis of everything she could do and is — but being Demona’s daughter meant she had learned a thing or two for tending to necrotic wounds. Kurtz was silent as she worked, focused solely on her hands and not paying attention to the way his eyes were glued to her face. Finally, the silence got too heavy and she had to say something..
“I appreciate you coming to help me when you did, father,” she says haltingly, almost like her words were molars refusing to be pulled. Delilah couldn’t use the shadows in the same way on him any more, not since he had been freed of them. But their wispy fingers did what they could, helping her coax the rot to lift so she could cut it out with her smallest, sharpest knife. “But…”
She cut deep and he made a sharp intake of breath from the unexpected pain. Immediately, her taloned shadow hand was taking the knife from her and she was placing a fresh salve onto the wound. Kurtz let out a low rumble of discomfort which Delilah outright refused to acknowledge. “Was it really the smartest move?” she asked instead, setting the jar aside and picking up a strip of cloth. She began binding his arm tighter and tighter until she reached the strip’s end and tied the bandage off. That was the last of his wounds for now. In another eight hours they would need to be changed again. It was not the fastest way of healing but if her father refused to ask for Oziah’s help then she wasn’t going to point it out. Not directly.
“Ankaa is drawing closer and she will strike soon.”
“…subtle…” came the amused remark from the shadows around her.
Kurtz either seemed unphased by her pointed remark or was in too much pain to do more than exhale what almost sounded like a sigh. “She might. Or she might just continue to send these.” He picks up several of the pieces of paper with letters on them and lets them fall back onto the table.
How could she forget Ankaa’s thrice annoying message? They had been delivered when she had travelled to Port Ffirst to help Wren find out who or at least what kind of poison was being put into their soup kitchen’s broth. The notes had been found all over the keep, not just by Oziah either but some of the Daybreaker legion as well. They had brought all envelopes to their leader and when Delilah had returned, she found Oziah obsessively working on the puzzle.
Her father had offered help but Oziah had refused. A matter of pride, perhaps. But when Delilah offered it had been a few days and an indeterminate number of wine bottles later, which meant frustration won out. Kurtz assisted her and by the time even they had lost patience they were only able to get nine words:
I AM GOING TO KILL BIRTHDAY YEAR LOVER EVERY
They got the gist of it.
Kurtz carefully stood up from the table and rolled his shoulders. He winced but only slightly. Delilah was sweeping the corruption riddled bandages into a basket before walking over to the roaring fireplace. She upended its contents and there was a hiss and crackle as they began to burn.
“I recently witnessed a Dragon give its life to protect people it did not know.”
The pale half-elf frowns and half turns to look at her father. He was looking out the window, hands clasped behind his back, no sign of pain anywhere across the panes of his face except for a slight glisten to his brow.
“I couldn’t bear to not intervene when I saw you were in danger,” he continues. “I know I am never going to be some paragon of goodness and light in the world, but letting you die really would put the nail in the ‘worst father ever’ coffin.”
Delilah gives a low, dry laugh. “Oh, so we are admitting to caring about having a good parental status?”
Kurtz doesn’t react, just continuing to look out the window. After a beat he closes his eyes. His reaction wipes the wry smile from her face and something begins to prick at her eyes. Delilah clears her throat, turning towards the door. “I am sure we would have had it under control. The lich was the puppetmaster, after all. Take them down, the rest follow.”
The gumption was not behind her words. In fact, she wasn’t even really aware of what she was saying. All she knew was she couldn’t be in the same room as him right now, not when he was so weak. It would make her weak and then-
Before the thought could finish, Delilah steps into the long shadows by the fireplace leaving the room and her father behind. Whatever Kurtz was about to say to his daughter, died on his lips. Another kill for the girl who was to murder as maestros are to music.
Kurtz RP co-written with the sublime willjenkins 🐲