The Principality of Valorium. [IC]

[Miraqariftsky]

((GAH! Sorreh, error!))

...he strides through the muddy ground of the camp to meet the advancing creatures and gazes into the troglodytes' eyes as they close ranks. Though the mist obscures his sight somewhat, the spears of his eyes strike true.

He stands with legs slightly bent, torso ever so slightly crouched. The claymore he holds in a high guard position, its length held high above his head, the broad blazing blade wrought of heavy highlands steel shearing through the darkness, a beacon of light.

Soren then moves forward, past Rodion. The paladin lowers his sword to a middle guard but does not sheathe it. Thinking that simplicity would be better than eloquence in this situation, he says to the scaled creatures, "We come from town of Re-Marr. We come in peace but will defend ourselves if need be. We come to talk with your leader"

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Actions:
DETECT EVIL, dagnabbit!
Diplomacy: (1d20+5)[19]
Sense Motive: (1d20+7)[26]

[Beschoren]

Tasntafaal

Frowns - Oh, yeah, diplomacy...

actions: full def, fight defensively (those stack or they don't?), cancels the redied shot.

edit: OCC: the crystal of ilumination gives some good light, up to 40 feet. boss, did you remember those?

[Grey_Wolf_c]

Tasntafaal

Frowns - Oh, yeah, diplomacy...

actions: full def, fight defensively (those stack or they don't?), cancels the redied shot.

edit: OCC: the crystal of ilumination gives some good light, up to 40 feet. boss, did you remember those?

OOC: Full defence does not allow any attacks, so it is incompatible with fighting, defensively or otherwise.

Grey Wolf

[Glyphic]

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Yes, you have light. Most of the party does not have low light vision. Thus you and maybe Jyo-lan and ..someone? Can see out to 60ft, where the troglodytes stand at the edge of your vision, as you're 20-ft away from the fire.

I'd add more 'placement' but I'm drawing a map for all of you after this post.

Grey Wolf is correct about the Full defensive and fighting defensively.

A troglodyte at the front of their pack lifts his had from the heavy cudgel he (perhaps she; so hard to tell.) carries, and those around him halt their claws, readjusting their laborious loads. Quieted, laconic whispers escape their maws as they set their sacs and supplies on the ground. With discretion, they enter your camp, and your eyes truly glean their appearance. All prepare weapons, either their cudgels or Javelins.

The assumed leader comes to an elf's shoulders in height, and bears no plume upon her head. Her body is flecked with black and grey diamonds. Her claws are cut short, and she's missing an assortment of teeth.

The other three Troglodytes are male, with short, spiny plumes with thin membranes stretching through them. They are even shorter than the female, and their bodies only exhibit dull and yellowed scales.

All of them share similar traits; they’ve shed their skin very recently, and their claws are meticulously filed. Their bodies are sickly lean with hunger, showing skin taught against their bones. Each of them constantly blinks, and their shoulders and chins droop. They wear no cloth, nor bone, save their leader, who bears a crescent-shaped bone on animal sinew, around her neck.

In a loose formation, their tread into your camp, and their leader snaps her jaws, as she spews forth the very.. unpleasantly crude language of Giants. Her grip firmly rests on her cudgel, held in both hands. Her tail whips about in expressive manner, and her words are very firm and demanding. Her companions shift, bodies low. Their onyx eyes scan for any movement in your camp.

Edit: Sent a PM to Soren's player about Dectect Evil.

Also: I consider diplomacy a language based skill. Not speaking their language gives you a penalty, but you can still get your general message across with hand gestures, tone of voice, ect. Thus, their current attitude is unchanged.

[MorkaisChosen]

Rodion

Shifting slightly, Rodion says nothing but keeps watching, the point of his sword- the sword being, to a practitioner of the Sublime Way, another part of body language- down on the floor.

[Glyphic]

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Map is here. Let me know if you guys have trouble viewing it, or if it takes an excessive amount of time to load.

Cudgel-1 is the female, wearing the Crescent amulet.

The brown circles are -bright- light. Those of you with low light vision can see twice that. Rodion should have darkvision, so he's mostly good.

Jyo-lan is a tree. The little Triangle things on sticks are also trees.

[Grey_Wolf_c]

Caleun Tranil, disguised as old diplomat

Caleun leaves the shadows of the trees, giving a slight detour so as to approach the newcomers from behind the warriors[1]. His gait is unsteady, and he leans heavily on his twisted wooden staff as he approaches. His weapons are back in his belt, and his free hand is extended, showing no weapons. "Hello, we mean you no harm", he says in common, and then, on the assumption that dwarvish may be more understandable, he repeats, this time in the dwarven tongue, <Hello. We do not want harm to you or to us>[2].

Observing their taught skins over their bodies, Caleun slowly pulls out an iron ration, and offers it to the leading troglodite. To further make himself understood, Caleun takes a pinch out of the ration and puts it in his mouth, makes a show of munching and then swallows the food, before again offering the rations with a simple <Food. Please, eat. We want talk, not war or harm. Yes?>

Notes:

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[1]: route followed on the map: south east, southwest, southwest behind Rodion and Jyo-Lan/tree, west to the place besides Soren

[2]: I like to use <spoken> for anything said in dwarvish (human: "spoken"; elven: /spoken/ ). I'm open to alternatives, though

Others: Diplomacy roll in the next post (so I can preview/edit this one). Also, I've deliberately kept the dwarven simple. I assume that concepts such as "harm", "talk", "war", "food", "yes" and "no" should be fairly cross-language

Diplomacy, using one charge of Caleun's Wink brooch:
[roll]1d20+13[/roll]

Edit: I edited instead of quoting . Sorry for that.

[Grey_Wolf_c]

Caleun Tranil, disguised as old diplomat

Caleun leaves the shadows of the trees, giving a slight detour so as to approach the newcomers from behind the warriors[1]. His gait is unsteady, and he leans heavily on his twisted wooden staff as he approaches. His weapons are back in his belt, and his free hand is extended, showing no weapons. "Hello, we mean you no harm", he says in common, and then, on the assumption that dwarvish may be more understandable, he repeats, this time in the dwarven tongue, <Hello. We do not want harm to you or to us>[2].

Observing their taught skins over their bodies, Caleun slowly pulls out an iron ration, and offers it to the leading troglodite. To further make himself understood, Caleun takes a pinch out of the ration and puts it in his mouth, makes a show of munching and then swallows the food, before again offering the rations with a simple <Food. Please, eat. We want talk, not war or harm. Yes?>

Notes:

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[1]: route followed on the map: south east, southwest, southwest behind Rodion and Jyo-Lan/tree, west to the place besides Soren

[2]: I like to use <spoken> for anything said in dwarvish (human: "spoken"; elven: /spoken/ ). I'm open to alternatives, though

Others: Diplomacy roll in the next post (so I can preview/edit this one). Also, I've deliberately kept the dwarven simple. I assume that concepts such as "harm", "talk", "war", "food", "yes" and "no" should be fairly cross-language

Diplomacy, using one charge of Caleun's Wink brooch:
(1d20+13)[15]

[Glyphic]

A pair of dulled onyx eyes watches Caluen as he shambles from the brush. The male Troglodyte with a cudgel croaks three baleful words in giant. The last one he utters is similar to a Dwarven name; something similar, but twisted by giant, to "Bethany." His companions let loose hushed curses in Giant, and all of them take a step backward in reflexive unison. Their words echo through out camp, as the quieted whispers of at least five more troglodytes reach your ears.

"Beth" turns her cudgel in her claws, her mouth letting out coarse swears in Giant, followed by rushed, broken Dwarven. Her gaze rests firm on Soren and Rodion she speaks, "Is not-.. mountain in north for Longbeard! Go! Into Forge.."

She rests her cudgel in a neutral position, as her tired eyes catch sight of Caluen's ration. Moments of indecision trail after, with her maw locked tight. Her companions shift, averting their drooping eyes from the food; or perhaps Tanstafaal's light. An oddly soft hiss of Dwarven emanates from Beth, as she lifts a claw to touch her amulet.

"More. No by Longbeard. He will piss off."

[MorkaisChosen]

Rodion

Rodion glances round the others, not moving yet- he knows he isn't the most unthreatening person- but ready to act if no-one else will.

[Duke of URL]

Trevor

Unable to understand the dwarvish speech, Trevor nonetheless notes its effects and sees the hesitation in the troglodyte. He slowly edges forward to be able to provide close-range support if needed.

[DaTedinator]

Kojiro

Kojiro wasn't particularly filled with confidence with the way the Troglodytes were speaking and whispering, so he slowly, and nonthreateningly made his way to the front.¹

Once there, he took out his masterwork club - slowly, with two fingers, and keeping his other hand visible and open so that it was clear he intended no harm - then carried forward a bit and set it on the ground, next to the rations. He then stepped back from it, and asked Caleun, "Ask if they want to trade."²

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¹The square immediately to the south of Caleun.

Diplomacy Roll: (1d20+9)[18]

Aimed at the Trogs, not Caleun. :-P

[Beschoren]

Tasntafaal

Although the scout understend the (rather silly) dwarvish conversation, he had better not interfere. Sharp eye and bow in hand, nevertheless.

(If I so happen to see more trogs around, like sneaking in our back, I'll whisper about it to any close ally.)

[Glyphic]

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I've updated the Map! I wasn't able to place Kojiro exactly where he wanted to be, as he would then be sharing space with Tanstafaal. But I got him pretty close.

Tanstafaal's spot check reveals four more troglodytes, south of camp. They're sulking in the shadows, and stationary at the moment. Three of them have javelins, the fourth is unarmed. A few more, unseen whispers sound from the north side of camp.

The three males standing at Bethany's flanks inch closer to her as your party encroaches. The speech falls from their maws like a butcher working with a dull cleaver on rotten mutton. Their thick and choppy hisses land on her, and you see her shoulders slouch and her chest deflate.

Her lusterless eyes sweep over your group from behind half closed eyelids. With a hazy gaze, Dwarven seeps from her throat, but is lost among the males' rampant clatter.

[Grey_Wolf_c]

Caleun Tranil

<Bethany,> starts Caleun, <I am Caleun. No war. More food?> Caleun takes out a couple more rations, and carefully lowers them to the ground, this time touching them as little as possible, before continuing, while pointing at Kojiro <Friend will give you strong club if you give him something good. Then we are friends, and not war. We want talk to your longbeards, like friends. Then we go to human forge in the South> Caleun sounds firm but friendly, looking Bethany in the eye, but also paying attention to the other troglodytes, watching for any attempt to attack. <We have writting for your leader, saying we want talk,> Caleun finishes

[Glyphic]

The hideous gnashing of troglodyte maws spews on as the males talk through out Caleun's parley, urging their voices to Bethany's ears. The largest male rakes his claws over his cudgel, making shallow groves in the splintery wood. His guttural voice is the loudest among them.

Bethany's gaze finds focus on Soren's eyes, then turning partway to find Rodion's eyes as well. She stares into each for just moments. She frees herself from the weight of her cudgel, letting it fall unceremoniously at her feet. She takes a step, then irons herself with cavernous breath, letting her shoulders rise again. The bickering males quiet themselves, the slightest hint of awe and wonder crossing their expressions as Bethany strides before your group.

A fine hiss flows from her as she passes Soren and Rodion, her flanks left unprotected as she walks, "(Dwarven) We not take.. mere shalls from your Longbread." She reaches a open claw out, aiming to touch Rodion upon the shoulder.

She reaches the eastern side of the camp fire, kneeling a comfortable distance from it. The flames flicker, and shadows dance over her lean and meager form. She folds her hands together, her eyes looking over the embers. The fire pops and crackles, sending wispy embers and smoke into the night air.

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Rodion/MorkaisChosen, I need to know if you let her touch you before I can continue.

Tyriq is going to be massively Afk until monday-ish. He's given me permission to act his character in combat should it arise, throwing out heals.

Edit: I just wanted to note that Soren's Diplomacy check is the main one, and I'm counting all of you as assisting his check.

[MorkaisChosen]

Sense Motive: (1d20+10)[25]

Rodion keeps still, allowing her to touch him, unless it looks like she means him harm. He watches closely, trying to read the Trog's body language.

[Glyphic]

Through the subdued flames of the fire, you all notice Bethany's amulet shine, producing a faint blue and gold-glitter light. Her scales appear to darken, as previously unseen designs creep from under her scales, speckling her body with tiny crescents. She lets out a low, cautious hiss, like a musician tuning an instrument.

The voice she finds is masculine, firm, and instilled with a tinge of tranquility. She lifts a nubbed talon, beckoning the assembly of non-tree humanoids. Using Rodion's voice, she speaks in a somewhat orc-accented common, "I'm.. am Bethany of-," She pauses, a hint of dissatisfaction crossing her face. "Of The Crescent Moon Clan."

She turns to the trees, her forked-tongue issuing a sharp command in Giant. Repressed ruffles of movement sound from the undergrowth.

Her voice waxes before she evoke Rodion's speech again, her eyes gaining a minute luster, "There is.. no place for you, your elderly.. or our young in the north." She tastes the hair with her tongue, adding, "I.. and my Clan would like to travel to your Re-marr. And I will talk with you, and hear your scripts from your leaders."

From the trees.. come more troglodytes, A few the same size as Bethany; others are half, to near her height. Their fresh skin, gangly bodies.. The realization dawns as ten other troglodytes slide in silence, behind Bethany and kneel in the dirt. Seven males, and four females in total.. All Juvenile.

[MorkaisChosen]

Rodion watches as she uses his voice, keeping as still as possible so as not to provoke the Troglodytes.

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OK, that's a bit worrying after Dr Who on Saturday...

[Glyphic]

Bethany gathers the shard of a clan she controls around her, and an uneasy silence settles over camp. She still looks at each of you with trace amounts of hope reflecting in her grazed onyx eyes. A second female, gathers the youngest of children and a raw-hide sack. She gives them each a single bone sculpted toy. This female could be of the same clutch as Bethany, for they share attributes; this female also has a frowning-crescent branded on the top of her skill. As she leads this children into simple play, she examines them- checking the soles of their feet, listening to their pulse, and even snaps open the jaws of two to look at thier gullet. Jyo-lan, Rodion, Soren all notice a flicker of worry as she examines the smallest's maw.


Little swirls appear in the fog; smooth at first, turbulent within a matter of seconds. Whatever tranquility you'd managed in this wildness is torn away in a matter of instants. A dark and profane chill seeps into the bones and the ground beneath your feet. The evergreen trees about you droop and wilt for moments, dropping needles as something wracks their very life force. The life and heat of the fire fades without ceremony- abrupt, leaving your camp and troglodytes in utter, melancholy darkness. Rodion's darkvison falters entirely.

From somewhere on Southern Valorium, a long reverberating death-moan washes over the world, unimpeded by nature or magic. As the terrible pulse of some dying.. thing flows over you, the very essence of you shares the anguish of millennia of isolation, a millennia of captivity.. in duty to the world.

A minute passes, the world locked in silence..As light and life returns to the world, a sickening sensation crawls over your skin. Looking about at your comrades and troglodytes, hundreds of millipedes composed of despicable shadow rush down your flesh, and burrow into the soil under you. A claw of raw and pulsating shadow hovers behind Soren, pulling him to the ground as wicked claws wrack his body and pass through his armor as if it were cloth. Overcome, Soren topples; his face thrown into the dirt. He appears alive, but vacant; as if his his soul and mind are elsewhere.

The fire coughs, sparks flying into the air as it lights itself anew.

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I didn't want to have this event happen just yet, but hopefully it'll kickstart things.

Anyone wishing/allowing the millipedes to sink into them, PM me. It'll be insightful

[Duke of URL]

Trevor

"What in the nine hells was that?" He shudders at the too-recent remembrance of the feeling.

"And more importantly, what does it mean? Is it a sign? And if so, a sign of what? I was about to voice in favor of escorting these... children... to Re-Marr, but now I don;t know what to think."

[MorkaisChosen]

Rodion tries to shrug off the creeping things, and says, "Whatever this is, we will need all the help we can get. I say we should help these people."

[Tyriq]

Jyo-lan

Jyo-lan is overwhelmed at first by the sheer... magnitude... of what just happened. As the light and warmth returns, though, so do Jyo-lan's instincts as a healer. He quickly notices Soren's state, and rushes over to help. Without touching Soren, Jyo-lan searches his mind for information that might help diagnose and treat Soren's condition...

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What just happened?

Knowledge: Arcana (1d20+7)[18]
Knowledge: Religion(1d20+12)[23]

ps: Glyph, you accidentally referred to Jyo-lan as "Tyriq" up there. Hee!

[Glyphic]

Bethany's clan locks their scales, the eldest shoving the four younger to the center of a quivering mass of scale and tails. Fear trembles in their voices; most calling out for 'Mother' in Giant. Bethany, and another call out a stranger word, Bethany's voice ringing out in common, "Tarnist have mercy!"

The children receive sharp slaps of claw, to silence their barks and cries. Each slap is done with an effort of control. The last scraps of one bag are emptied, and the fledgling tribe nibbles on the last scraps of Animal fats. One male, slim and bony packs the Troglodyte's belongings while the children are distracted. Bethany herself does not partake in food, but steps forward. Her words are tiny, and sound remote as she looks to the sky, "The land cracks and crumbles beneath us. I.. feel we cannot stay here tonight. There is much unsaid between You and us. Leave the north to our Mother's pestilence. Let us.. return with you to your Re-marr. Nothing lies in the north but our dying, sickened elders."

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Jyo-lan: Fixed your name in the last post. Soren's body is wracked by unholy matter. He'll wake up perfectly fine when his player returns, but for now he's out of the action, mind fighting whatever it is that over took him in another plane. He's okay to touch.. but you swear you can see vile millipedes scurrying though his veins.

What just happened.. you're not completely sure. The invocation of Tarnist by the troglodytes, the harrowing moan heard all across the lands.. leads you to believe An Old God perished, but the creation and proliferation of such insidious energy is what bothers you. Certainly, nothing like this has happened or been recorded in ten human life times. You'll need somewhere else to research. But.. you get the sense that nothing (too) terrible will happen in the immediate future.

[Beschoren]

Tasntafaal

"AAHHHHH!!!"

The elven scout is not used to the sobrenatural, much less to the super-sobrenatural event that just happened. He hastely removes the... things... from his skin before coming back to himself.

Damm, I hate that kind of stuff! He looks at Jyo-Ian to see his reaction on whatever just happend - for sure the peacefull shaman would have at least some idea. If he was to panic, so would the elf.

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final tests week in college. sorry. npc me up if neeed, I won't even log to giantitp for the week

[MorkaisChosen]

Rodion keeps his eyes and ears searching for other approaching creatures, whether more troglodytes or some aftereffetct of the darkness. He is calm, as always, but with the faintest tinge of worry- no matter the swordsmanship, he cannot fight an influence with no physical form such as the darkness that surrounded them...

[Duke of URL]

Trevor

"I think we need some answers. Let us return to Re-Marr with our guests and try to find out if anyone knows what is going on. Making peaceful contact is well within our mandate, and this lot hardly seems capable of being an attack force."

[Miraqariftsky]

Soren Solaren

((Sorry if this was a tad too much artistic license... Ahem. Posting may still be sporadic, but I have returned... just in time, too...))


The ground shudders. Thunder rumbles. The fires burn.

The seething swarm of shadows that has consumed Soren begins to thrum. The daemonic bugs redouble their assault, crawling and biting and stinging ever faster and ever fiercer through both flesh and soul.

A hallowed light pulses from within the mass of darkness. Smoke arises, smelling both of incense and of charring.

Suddenly, a gout of flame slashes out from the depths of the swarm of shadowspawn, a blade of hallowed fire swung by pale arms bleeding red blood. The swarm rears and engulfs Soren once more, his war-cry choked by the thousands of tainted vermin crawling into and out of his mouth.

He collapses to one knee but both his hands still grasp the blazing blade, his symbol of power from Pu'ur. Dredging up strength from the very depths of his soul, he surges up in a spiral, sweeping the sword up and up until he brings it to a position right above his head.

The trail of flame in the air does not wither through the wind and rain. Rather, it stays and begins to swirl of its own accord, against the flow of the shadowspawn beneath and around it. Both firestorms--- of light and darkness whirl against each other, locked in a struggle spiritual.

Soren opens his mouth and the flames flood into his gullet, light blazing from his eyes. The storm of shadowspawn rears once more, preparing to finish off this impudent when the scion of the bloodname of Solaren stabs his blade into the ground. White fires flood out of his every orifice and the golden flames of purification join the earlier searing strands along their streams in the spirit-storm. A blaze blooms out of the paladin, consuming the swarm of shadowspawn, and for a moment, darkest night turns into brightest noontide.

A ten-foot circle of grass lies scorched around him and the falling rain turns to steam as it comes near him. Soren's armour still glows red like steel fresh from the forge and his eyes blaze with a burning white light. With a deep voice that pierces all hearts, speaks all tongues, a heaving chest and sparks spewing from his very mouth, Soren intones with tones that rise to a cresendo...

"Into the wells of darkness have I been
Oh ghastly sight and hideous din
A serpent older than eternity,
More ancient than gods and world-tree
Lies it now, bereft of breath
But not of power over death
The world shall be remade
Like a snake's new-skinned shade
It shall be broken and forged anew
Yet still be cast in ruin true
For an age unreckoned, darkness and despair
Shall abroad rule and ever fare
Light and life and love, embers in the dust
Oh blade of my soul, consumed by rust!"

At the very last note, the supernatural radiance fades from his form and he falls to his knees, his hands digging in the dirt, tears streaming from his eyes...

And then he stands and sheathes his sword, shambles forward and kneels before Bethany. Speaking in Dwarven, he confesses, "Ur hagd den gath mor'thak nor, ras khaz dun khur"

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I am but a firebrand, a torch, a burning blade, but I am not a lantern that I see through the darkness. Please enlighten me. What was it that died?

Speaking to his comrades, he says, "A vision, such as it was, I had. One of the great serpents that keep harmony in the universe has perished. Beware, one and all, for the elder evil that it has held back for eons is about to spring free of its shackles... gods forbid that it already has..."

[MorkaisChosen]

Rodion touches his sword- an impotent gesture, surely, given the nature of the threat- and says, respect for the Paladin shining in his eyes, "You have a great skill. I hope I can lend as much to the group..."

[Miraqariftsky]

Soren Solaren

Bowing to Rodion over clenched fists held over his chest, Soren shakes his head and says, "My thanks for your appreciation. May it be that what grace I have shall pass to you but it is at times like this that I would be glad to bear my blazing burden alone so that none else shall suffer as I do"

He then tilts his head back and opens his mouth, catching the rain and drinking ravenously to quell a burning thirst. Closing his eyes and stroking his goatee, he sighs and takes a moment in silent prayer while waiting for Bethany's answer. I am a vessel of flame... I fear that this purification may be too much for one as lowly as myself, that I might not be able to channel your burning grace... Purest Pu'ur, may you in your hallowed wisdom grant that I will not break in this reforging of the world and that through my strength, others may be uplifted and reforged into greater glory as well.