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    Default Wastes of Shello - Group 3

    Wastes of Shello


    Heaven's Gate, the Island of Bliss

    This is what it used to be known as, now it is simply known as another cancerous rock off the coast of Shello. It, too was not spared in the wake of the undead invasion and the utter mutilation of the nation of magic. Very few live here, and those who do live here in despair. What used to be great palaces in trees and stone made with the bare hands of those who once lived there have become hideaways for anyone wanting to escape death and all those who both serve and escape it in undeath.
    Any peaceable survivors tend to gather in what used to be the town square, around a magnificent fountain of a centaur holding a bronze sword strait up, the statue itself standing an impressive 20 feet tall. A few tents gather around, and the sounds of newborn life are utterly absent... no children seem to grow here. A man in white walks around the dead city wearing white and using a walking stick with a mace's head on it, granting blessings, food, water and memorial services for all those who have passed.
    A quarter of a mile east of the fountain is what draws any people to this desolate place at all, a living, vibrant tree, still green(if not a bit sickly) and alive. Some say it is inhabited by a powerful Dryad shamaness, but no one is certain. If the tree should ever die, it is likely everyone here shall pack up and move on, likely to a dismal death.
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    Kasang

    It wasn't the grove. But it was something. Thought Kasang as he looked up into the tree. The Tall blue clad warrior had attracted a certain amount of attention. He had been standing below the tree for quite some time now. And his well made amour and excellently forged sword, marked him as both a knight, and as someone who would most likely be able to buy the town outright. Sighing Kasang left his vigil beside the tree and walked into the town square.

    Kasang waved aside the white robed preist, who asked if he wished a blessing. Thinking better of it Kasang called out to the man. "Friend Priest? A word."

    "Friend Priest I am looking for a man who I am led to believe may have passed through here. A tall man, Dark haired, stocky and bearded. His eyes... Stand out. You would know those eyes if you had seen them. I believe he may be being assisted by men like me. Warriors from the town of Hale on the coast of Tarzen. Only if our last meeting was anything to go by, their clothing will be shabby at best. Do you know of any such man passing through?"

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    The priest turned to him with gentleness in his weary eyes, "I... Perhaps I have, I am not entirely sure... Wait! Yes! I have indeed, I believe he was headed up Samak road whilst I passed him. Though I know not if he remained." He replied with kindness and with a feeling that he did all he could for the man, simply because he asked of it.
    "May the Lord of the Gentle Passing give you warmth whenever you find yourself shunted of the mortal coil." He smiles even wider as he blesses Kasang. Though grim it may be, blessings that expect a less than timely death are all too common on Shello.
    Last edited by Krimm_Blackleaf; 2008-04-21 at 03:39 AM.
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    Kasang

    A grim blessing. Thought Kasang. Samak road then. I suppose that is where I must go.

    "Thank you. If you see this man again, I would advise that you be wary. Digging into his backpack, Kasang removed a bag of coins. Which clinked heavily. "A donation to your cause, friend. Though I do not know what value the residents of this land place on them.

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    300 gold.

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    Default Re: Wastes of Shello - Group 3

    A slender, almost gaunt figure glides across the sky, its only companion a numb humming sound emitted by its rapid wing movement.
    A dryad, they say, Jerro thinks while approaching the tree. With an elegant turn he slows down his flight and holds on to the branches pulling himself into the crown with the help of his hands as well as his insectile feet.
    I might be the closest relative to such a creature for the next square mile, yet I don't know much about them. with a degree of respect he shows for only the fewest of living beings and canny movements he swiftly climbs through the branches to get a view into the direction of the town square. I wonder if I can get her attention he thinks, his almost diabolical grin forcing its way back onto his lips.
    He wispers in the Sylvan language: "Dryad, fey of the tree. Can you hear me? One of your kin wishes to speak with you."
    Jerro's face relaxes and the unwilling grin vanishes as he waits for an answer.
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    This place is a forsaken place...

    A tall, thin, whipcordish man wearing white robes and chausible gently lowers the dying man onto his bedroll, working to make the old soldier comfortable in his final moments. With a soft sigh and murmured prayers, he silently offered a bottle of wine, which the man took gratefully, and gently lifting the man's head, Garulf helped him to drink.

    "By the grace of Aeomon, go into the ever after in peace and comfort." The dying man nodded and allowed himself to be returned to a bedrest position, a soft cough the only sound he made. Closing his eyes, the man lay there a few minutes more, breathing softly... and then, the breathing stopped. With a sad smile, Garulf stood and stepped outside, greeting the old man's family with soft words; though saddened, it put their minds a little more at ease to know that the old soldier had died without pain. Bowing quietly, Garulf strode away from the tent, making his way to the other priest of Aeomon that he might be directed to where he could find supplies. He had just arrived, and there was still yet much to be done.

    "Hail, friend. Where can one obtain such things as our Order needs to bring comfort to the fallen? I have given my last to an old man making his final passing just now, and wish to purchase additional supplies."
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    It wasn't his usual...desire...to rely on others to aid him, but Bloodsword had not been heard of for awhile, a very strange thing for the crazed berzerker. It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the world. His own auguries revealed nothing of use. The word was, though, that this...whatever she was...had powerful nature magic that might prove useful to him. At least, if one were to believe the stories.

    That was his lot in life, lately, chasing down stories and tales. It was more than a little frustrating at times. How he prayed that someday he would come face to face with the monster that....

    He sighed Someday. He reassured himself as he tugged the leather lead on his warhorse. The two horses had weathered the boat ride well. It hadn't been easy to find someone with a large enough vessel to accommodate his wagon and supplies, but it had been gold well spent. He doubted that this place had even a drop of beer, wine, or mead within ten leagues.

    Mounting his tall warhorse, he nudged it in the flanks, setting it walking toward the 'town'.

    More like a camp. he thought upon seeing all the tents.

    He shifted his dark cloak back behind him, revealing the holy symbol he wore around his neck: a silvery, platinum disc engraved with a golden falcon head, the pupil of the eye a small, red ruby.

    Horus helps those who help themselves. he recalled. Perhaps not all these people are as helpless as it would appear.

    Seeing the robed man, Vauth stops his horse.

    "You there. Would you please point me to where I can find the living tree, the one that the stories say harbors a wood spirit?"
    he asks the man.

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    Religion - (1d20+6)[17]
    to see if Vauth recognizes whom the man serves, and any pertinent info about the god/goddess


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    The robed man smiles at Garulf, recognizing his attire and holy symbol, "By Aeomon's grace, it is good to see you." He walks over hastily toward him to shake his hand in both of his own, "There is indeed places you can acquire such goods, and if you require a bit of financial aid I'll be happy to give up my silver for your cause." He takes a small pouch with a few gold and silver in it from his belt and puts it in Garulf's hand, "On Kallin road, I believe it was called, they sell all you need in various shops."
    He then turns to Vauth and still wears a smile, "Indeed I know where to find it, it is where I love to pray the most..." He mutters another small prayer to Garulf before taking his hands from him and faces Vauth fully. "Simply go north of here, until you find the fountain... of a... centaur, I believe, and then... a quarter mile east of it you will find the tree." He smiles, "And may the Lord of the Gentle Passing comfort you whenever you find yourself at odds with the universe."
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    Garulf: 3 gold, 16 silver.

    Vauth: You immediately recognize him by his dress, staff and holy symbol that he is a servant of the Lord of the Gentle Passing, Aeomon.
    Last edited by Krimm_Blackleaf; 2008-04-21 at 06:58 PM.
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    Default Re: Wastes of Shello - Group 3

    Garulf smiles softly, accepting the bag in silence, but saying nothing... not just yet. As the priest turns to answer the hulking man's question, Garulf reaches into the satchel that is slung at his hip, and fishes out a handful of coins of his own, and places them in the priest's coin purse. Waiting patiently for a moment, he gently taps the priest on the shoulder once he has finished giving directions to the tree he had passed on his way into the encampment; it reminded him of the tree he had laid the Bishop to rest under, and the memory brought both fondness and a sad happiness to Garulf's mind.

    "Good priest, my travels have brought me from a remote monastery in the mountains of Tanzen, all the way here, to Shello... I have encountered many a fair and foul being, and have given every being their appropriate due, and have thus been rewarded accordingly. I cannot, and will not, take your money, but ask instead that you take a measure of my own, and put it to work in Aeomon's name," Garulf paused, taking in a slow measure of the tents surrounding the two priests, "It is plain that there is yet much to do... I will return as soon as I have bought what is needed, and begin to assist you in the work of our Gentle Lord." With that, the Fist hands the purse back to the priest, the bag noticeably heavier than when it was originally given.

    "Pray, good priest; what is your name, and where might I find this road?"

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    Garulf gives the priest his money back, plus 27 gold coins, which I am about to note down on my character sheet.
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    Default Re: Wastes of Shello - Group 3

    "...By the White Reaper... Thank you, good sir, thank you! I-I am Horace Dusk, and the road you seek is..." He ponders for a moment, "South-East of here, I believe." He looks back down at the coins in his pouch with a great smile and wipes a tear from his eye, "and again, sir, thank you dearly."
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    "Be at ease, Horace. My name is Garulf," the Fist paused, sighing softly, "Sadly, that must suffice, for it is the only name I have. I have been sent to help, my friend... your thanks, though appreciated, are not necessary." With that, Garulf gave Horace but a small smile and a nod.

    "By the Gentle Hand bring comfort to those in need, Brother. I will return soon." With that, the Fist headed south-east, moving quickly, but easily. His long strides would soon bring him to the shops mentioned by his fellow priest, where he would purchase many, seemingly unimportant things, such as strong wine, dried aromatic herbs to brew in tea, incense, and a new censer; his last one had been left at the abbey.
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    Kasang

    His donation made, and with the knowledge that he was on the trail burning in his head, Kasang returned to the tree. A short way from the base, stood alarge vaguely Horselike boulder. Leaning against it, Kansang whispered into where it's ear should have been.
    "Zephyr."
    He whispered to the stone horse. It stamped it's foot at him. Kasang sighed. For a magical construct it could be surprisingly uppity.

    Sighting an odd figure in the tree, Kasang paused. The figure certainly didn't seem like a local. That was for sure. Raising his voice Kasang called out to the figure.
    "I'm just passing through here myself. But the locals seem to consider that tree sacred. They might take you clambering over it amiss." Kasang's horse chose that moment to butt it's head solidly into Kasang's back. Kasang glared at the stone beast. Only the threat to his fingers saving the beast from a solid whack.
    Last edited by The Duskblade; 2008-04-22 at 03:57 AM.

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    Default Re: Wastes of Shello - Group 3

    Following the priest's directions, Vauth found himself at the tree he hoped would be able to aid him. Well, not he tree itself, but whatever spirit supposedly resided inside it.

    Hearing someone speaking to him from behind, the large man c-ocked his head backwards over his shoulder. "The locals will think what they want, as locals are wont to do." he replied to the stranger. "I have heard this tree harbors a nature spirit. Perhaps that is why they hold it sacred. Or maybe they're just clinging on to the last visible sign of hope." he shrugs his large shoulders.

    He dismounts from his large warhorse and moves closer to the tree.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Threeshades View Post
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    No response?
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    None from the tree
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    The old priest waves off his new friends and when he finds himself alone, he finally examines the bag handed to him by Kasang. His eyes bug and he finds it hard to breath for a while...
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    OOC: Giving old guys heart attacks. One of the many joys of life.

    Kasang

    "I've heard the same. Can't say I would know. I've never actually met a fae. That fellow seems eager to find out. Kasang looked up into the branches paying a little more attention. "Ok that guy is certainly not human... Or any other race I could name for that matter." Looking across at the recent arrival Kasang blinked. That was two strange creatures who's very existence puzzled Kasang, within a very minimal time frame. It looked like a warrior.

    "Sorry to intrude on your afairs, but what is it that brings you here. You strike me as a warrior. And a traveler. If so, I may have a proposition for you. Provided it works out for both of us." Kasang paid the price of a bruised hand. Delivering a whack to the horse that had started chewing on his sleeve. "I was under the impression that solid rock horses did not require feeding." He said to it in annoyance.
    Last edited by The Duskblade; 2008-04-23 at 03:39 AM.

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    Default Re: Wastes of Shello - Group 3

    A cloaked figure skirts the crowd, breathing heavily.
    Time for a rest.
    Matteo keeps to the edges, keeping his face hidden under his hood.
    Time for a rest...
    A small satchel of javelins across his back, it is easy to see that Matteo Swift is an adventurer. It is not easy, however, to notice his enlarged teeth and well furred face. The shifter watched the tree with interest, but still kept walking around the edge of the crowd.
    Keep moving... time for a rest...
    He clutched at the small medallion at his chest. Feeling the rage of the Storm in his chest, he keeps moving, though his muscles ache, thankful for the Vengeance. The Vengeance kept him going.

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    Just realizing that there was a 'person' in the tree, the man raises an eyebrow.

    "Strange indeed." he comments about the figure.

    "Yes, I am a warrior, of sorts. I have also done a great deal of traveling Shello." he says.

    "I'm seeking knowledge of some...thing." he looks at the tree. "I've lost its trail, and this story about the dryad came to my ears." he shrugs. "I usually work alone, my wits serving me just fine. This time, though, I find myself in need of some...aid."

    He looks at the man. "And what of you?"

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    Kasang

    "A warrior from the coast of Tarzen. I've come here to seek out and kill a murderer. A Lyncanthorpe. Kasang leaned against the horse. It was as good as a wall.

    "An old preist of the White reaper told me he was headed up Samak road. He seems reliable, and it's the best lead I have." Kasang stays silent for a second, in thought, before he continues.

    "I've fought the man before. In his beast form he swift strong and deadly. He's struck me down once before. And I flatter myself when I say that is not easy. And he is likely not alone. It seems he has retained the loyalty of a group of soldiers. Whether or not they are here to, I have no idea." The horse shifted. causing Kasang to straighten.

    "If you wish I could aid you with your task, in exchange for help with mine. The ability to act alone is a fine thing. But I would much rather not die alone."

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    Waiting for a few more moments Jerro stares at the branches, then he turns his sight back to the town.
    "Not quite the hospitable kind...", with a brief glance at the group gathering beneath him he suddenly loosens his grip around the branches dropping himself out of the trees crown, opening his wings in midair to fly a wide circle around the tree landing with a sudden stop just above ground in front of the men gathering beneat the tree.
    "If you're seeking a chat with the Dryad, she isn't really in the mood right now.", his face unwillingly pulls to a wolf-like grin.
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    "Interesting." the man says as he moves his hand to his chin, stroking it as he thinks. You notice that his hand, indeed, his entire arm, is crafted from a smooth, seamless, shiny metal.

    "It would seem that we share a somewhat common goal. I too am tracking a murderer." he comments. There is a pained look in his eyes as he continues "My family was killed by this...thing. I have swore vengeance against it, and in so doing, dedicated myself to the service of Lord Horus the Avenger." he taps the medallion around his neck. "This murderer of yours, did he kill someone close to you, perhaps?" he asks.

    Noting the words from the 'new' person, the man shrugs. "If the stories of her existence are even true."
    Last edited by MrScary; 2008-04-23 at 09:08 AM.

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    Shall I assume then that I find the shops without difficulty, and obtain whatever it is that I seek?
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    Quote Originally Posted by MountainKing View Post
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    Shall I assume then that I find the shops without difficulty, and obtain whatever it is that I seek?
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    Indeed.
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    "So you are trying to find murderers...", Jerro says kneeling dow in an animalic fashion, "tell me... what did they do... who did they kill and why.", his wings twitch on his back while he musters the two warriors before him.
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    "Aye." he replies simply. "I have been, for ten years now."

    "As for what this thing did, he murdered my wife and children. Simple as that."

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    Lucas Lorenzen

    A the sound of the word murderer, Lucas jumped uneasily. He had been sitting near the group, close enough so that he could easily hear the conversation, but far enough so that he could run at the first sign of trouble. He looked, smelled, and probably tasted like a common beggar, and grimaced just as repulsively. His home was destroyed, what hope had he?

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    One of the head town guards approaches the crowd around the tree. He appears to be a young to middle-aged shifter with long, black hair, yellow eyes and dark, almost grey skin. He wears a chain shirt and several belts holding pouches and scabbards. Here and there on him are bits of armor from rageforged plating and torn from the bodies of undead warriors. He unsheathes a jagged sword of bone and speaks in a thick Shelloen accent "Alreight, everyone! We aren't sure if there's a loovely wood maidan in haere, but in case there is, we need you folk to stay back from it... She maey need haer rest. Got it, all?"
    Last edited by Krimm_Blackleaf; 2008-04-23 at 07:00 PM.
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    Garulf located a small wagon, presently under the command of a lean and somewhat less than cheerful halfling, which he quickly discerned to be a merchant's cart. After paying what he suspected may have been doubled prices, Garulf gave the halfling merchant and sad smile, offering him a blessing.

    "May Aeomon smile on your soul, in this world and the next," he said, which was received with an almost surprised glance and a snort, followed by a "Be off wit' ya," which Garulf silently obeyed.

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    You know, I said this would happen, I always say it will, because it does. What joy I possess knowing that my hosted character sheet, is no longer hosted. Good thing I posted my sheet in the thread, eh wot? I'll get it rehosted when I can; until then, I'm noting on my copy of the sheet that Garulf has expended another 150 gold for: bottles of strong wine, bottles of strong liquor, aromatic herbal tea, tea kettle, censer, myrrh. He has also paid 50 gold for: 50 tindertwigs. All of these things are now in his haversack, thank the fates it's magicky.


    Having finished his shopping, the tall priest returned to the square, seeking out Horace.

    "I've returned, Brother; tell me, where can I begin to be of assistance?"
    Last edited by MountainKing; 2008-04-23 at 10:09 PM.
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    Default Re: Wastes of Shello - Group 3

    "Oh! You're back, my brother!" He smiles at Garulf as he returns. "There are still many dying about the city... It seems plague has taken it's frozen hold on this place as well as slaughter has in the past." He stands over a dying woman as he feeds her wine and comforts her as well as he can. "By the Lord of the Gentle Passing, may you find yourself at peace in death." He leans down and kisses her forehead as she lets out her last breath... and tears fall from his face to her bed-sheets.
    Last edited by Krimm_Blackleaf; 2008-04-23 at 11:38 PM.
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