im afraid i don't know what you mean yes several of our magic defenses failed shortly after the loss of our Countess. we think this might be a more subtle attack from the waists but this is unlike them they don't have many undead among their ranks. at the end of the world the weave is warped and pathways to the maelstrom are common leaking wild magic into the natural growth and creatures in the verdant waists making great creatures and trents along with far more dangerous creatures leaking through predominantly proteans. at this point we know very little about this threat and i myself know even less.
"Let me be more clear then. What is the name of this planet? And this realm? "What kind of creatures inhabit it? Is it human only?" "I'm sorry if this comes across as callous, but who was the Countess? Was she a mage of some kind? If so, what kind of magical defenses did she maintain? And to protect against what?" And do you know who the people from the wastes are? Do we have any idea of their agenda or what they hope to achieve by breaking through into your lands? "When did this leaking of the maelstrom into your Plane start and is the warping of creatures the only thing it has created? "What are trents and proteans? Are they simply normal lizards and creatures grown to mammoth proportions? Or are they are race apart?" Shiro scratched his chin. Here was evidently the leader of the town at least and he seemed clueless as to the nature of the battle that he was fighting. "Can you tell me how this began? Was the conflict initiated by the people from the wastes? Has there been any communication from them?" Shiro rubbed his eyes. "I would also like to speak to any eye-witnesses of the spectres. If we are to rid the land of it's presence I would know of it's make-up, actions, any known abilities and the region that it seems to inhabit."
as you have been told you are in Evermarch the wider kingdom is the Riverlands. the kingdom at large? that is a list to long to state hear the world is full of many creatures. Evermarch is much more limited we have tight borders and it is rare indeed for something that cant fly to sneak in. most dangerous creatures are disposed of given time hence why you are hear. you may encounter harpies or manticores in the high mountains but there is little cause to bother them. "...if i must. the Countess Ester Evermarch was not a mage she was a statesman a talented leader and beloved by her people. i was proud to marry into the Evermore line. she will be missed." the barons face is hard as stone his words slow and measured. the defenses are complicated some are antient wards bound to the walls others are kept in place by the tower all are there to hold back the unreal. the tears do not just change things they break the world at a fundamental level and the beings it makes have a aura the destroys what is near. swords melt armor turns to dust... and men die. the wards are there to impose law on the lawless and prevent this allowing us to fight and keeping our world from falling into ruin. also more mundane things such as empowering magics and the like. what need for agenda does a creature driven mad have? they rampage ether from pain or some new way of thinking. it differs from being to being some do. not come our way at all others do few are intelligent enough as to tell us why, and the ones who are need little explanation. Proteans hate order in all forms even having a solid shape that is forced upon them when they enter our world is painful to them. as such they seek to destroy our world it is in their nature. since before any one who now lives was born and some of our magi are very very old. large creatures made out of wood and plants. proteans are harder to describe they are formless given shape and have no set nature they are creatures of pure chaos. regardless this is neither hear or there i did not call you hear to fight them no one knows the origin of the tears save maybe Nethys himself. 300 years ago when the riverlands where formed the gate was built and the wardens where put in place to guard it. there was no initiation we are not at war we are merely under attack. very little, most conversation is imposable beasts and trees do not speak and druids can not commune with the corrupted creatures. some conversation has been held with the proteans but it is hard their language is not known my many out side of the tower and their words drive men mad. must i keep repeating my self? you have a list of the people who are relevant and a write demanding their complaints. what more do you need? the region is forested the manor old but well kept. there is a crypt beyond the manor where the Evermarch line has been put to rest
With the promise of a long walk out here in this desolation of snow and ice, Ohmen worked to set the group, such as it was, being composed of little more than Shiro, Drew, BigBang and himself, off with a brisk pace and little wait. These rolling hills of snow, snow that couldn’t even manage to shine white and pure, but rather remained gray and dull, would no doubt get the group’s high spirits down. Not even to mention the fact the biting cold had begun to settle in ever since they had stepped through the threshold of the door. The walk was just as described. Uneventful, In fact, it was the very definition of the word… though that was surely expected when one enters, as Wisdom had worded it “Silence’s domain, where not even the rats and crows dare dash and caw.’ the only break from one continuous landscape, bar the promise of a city still far off, were perhaps the rubble of some forlorn building rising here and there. Their rotting supports and rusted metal beams weighed down heavy by both the snow atop them but also their histories. A testament to silence’s reign. - A slight spark lighting up his cold, emotionless face at the sight of people, even if they were guards. The sound of his metal-plated boots crunching against the snow, whilst the night wind whips his black cloak Ohmen is fast to approach. He had decided better than to switch forms, afterall, didn’t this city call out to the group specifically? After a minute of standing, one of the guards having retreated to discuss the nature of these ‘visitors’ with his higher-ups, the answer appeared to be yes, to an extent... Inside the city is a scramble of guards and civilians alike, it felt good to leave the rolling hills behind and to be once more within the company of others, even if these circumstances were undoubtedly strange… ‘The Last Bastion. Evermarch’s realm.’ The words seemed to slip off the tongue, had Ohmen, Wisdom recognised them from somewhere before? Just as the changeling was beginning to become acclimated to the sudden presence of talking, of noise, in the same way one’s eyes must get used to the dark after all light has been snuffed out, He and the others are called to what looks, and felt to be a meeting room. He who Ohmen now knew was the Barron approached a handful of minutes later, joining the group with a deathly stare, one which Ohmen returned in earnest… As the Barron speaks, explaining the purpose of them being called here, Ohmens fingers tingle slightly.. Most Likely because of the biting cold, or even perhaps the fact that it was clear the Barany was being attacked from two sides, and in that slight turmoil, that confusion, there would be opportunity. Giving a glance to Wisdom, who Ohmen knew would no doubt be listening to every said word, the wizard takes out a small page, passing it to the bird in partnership with a pen. The raven begging to scribble down the situation in surprisingly well-done script. Sitting back, Ohmen watches as Shiro pushes to the forefront of the conversation. It mattered not how or what he said the group’s movies were, only that he inquired both knowledge and reward for this foe, the so-called spectre of woe… - Giving a nod of understanding, Ohmen puts a hand to Shiro’s shoulder “I doubt we need to worry about the wastes, after all I am sure we will have much time to learn about them once these ever urgent, ever pressing threats are quelled." Ohmen gestures toward the baron, turning the conversation back to the spectre they had been called here for. “I am sorry for your losses, your men, and your people’s Countess… With that I suppose we have little more to discuss here?” Ohmen snatches the writ from Wisdoms beak, looking over the list of relevant people. And now standing up, he reaches out to shake the Barons hand, in both greeting and respect for his toils and losses alike. “It is late here, and If we are to devote ourselves to such a task, we need rest. Now, I will be heading to my room unless there is more I need know.” Beginning to make his way toward the door, Ohmen looks to the group “I suggest we take our time, first talk to those relevant as suggested, then familiarise ourselves with the city and gather supplies before making our first foray into the mountains. first the manor.. Then the crypt. To fear the dead is to give them power, and that I will never do unless the power is to me. Goodnight. And know.” Ohmen gives a gentle bow “my Lord that I wish you well with all."
Shiro nods at Ohmen and accedes to his wisdom (both his mind and the bird). Bowing to the Baron, he thanks him for the information and turns to the man servants ready to guide them to their room. Azaphor whispered to him and her whispers reminded Shiro that all is not necessarily as it seems. Keeping his magical and mundane senses keen, he reminds his fellows to be alert and bids them good night.
you are lead to what looks to be a spare barracks many beds line each side of the room with a trunk at the base of each bed. one seems to be taken by what you would assume to be your new team mate
Shiro strides over to the new individual and offers his hand in greeting. "Hello friend, I am the Magus Shiro. Known here apparently as the Dark Blade. These are my fellow adventurers." Shiro proceeds to introduce each of them. "What is your name? And how did you come into the Baron's employ?"
Gesturing to the door Ohmen steps to the side, allowing the others to enter first before following behind, having to bend down slightly due to his unnatural height. Grateful to be once again inside and given respite from the biting cold, Ohmen looks down both sides of the room with an emotionless gaze. The room itself was for the most part bland. Many beds lined its linear walls, whilst its stone walls captured the shadows of many flickering torches. at the side a particular bed is a singular figure, that of a Kobold which prompts Ohmen to paint a friendly smile onto his expression. That must be the ‘Threespears’ the Baron had referred to, a useful asset in their quest, he would surely know much of the city, and hopefully of its problems too. Whilst most, if they were given the ability to change their clothing at will, would no doubt shift into something far more relaxing, Ohmen instead retains his attire. That of cold, now made icy rusted gauntlets, and ever black, ever-shifting cloak, its surface covered in a frosty rime... although upon entering, Ohmen does make the effort to gently take off his deer antler headdress. placing it beside the closest bed to the door whilst letting down his hood to reveal elf-like perfectly symmetrical features, black hair and sparkling eyes. From a glance of one of his fellow adventurers, it would look no different from the form he usually maintained. However, this time his features were more perfect and chiselled, eyes shining ever so slightly in the cool night air. - Seeing that Shiro had already begun to acquaint himself with the Kobold, Ohmen begins to organize and place items into the trunk at the base of his bed. Hand full of a clutch of incense sticks, Ohmen quickly asks the others if they would mind him lighting one, as he does so the thoughts, and following thoughts, regrets cut his sentence short... If only he had bought those Ghostbane incense sticks from Kia.. 75gp… In hindsight the cost would have been so low for such usefulness, then again, all those months ago his reservoirs, a better word being puddles, of gold had dried up… Oh, how far had he come? Oh, how far had he to go. A new determination in his actions, Ohmen loosens the grip upon his staff of enchantment, having leaned it onto the bedframe before placing those scrolls he had yet to strenuously copy into the trunk. With his hands empty, Ohmen finally felt like he could rest. Though there would be many more hours before he would sleep. Besides, He was not of the kind who could let himself drift off in some unknown, far-flung land surrounded by unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar walls. All on top of the ever-presence of Insomnia, the demon which persisted to haunt his early morning, and late night hours alike. Ohmen now glances towards the direction in which the spectre awaited them… Sleep, Tiredness, they were chains by which his mortal frame was bound unto. Only in death would they be escaped... Standing up rather suddenly, Ohmen whispers to Wisdom, the Raven opens its eager wings. the bird now headed out to not only get a better look and sense for the city, its architecture and its people, but also with the task of finding any supply shops along with magic scroll sellers. Back in the warmth of the spare barracks put to use, Ohmen now reaches approaches Threespears, reaching out to shake the Kobolds hand, talking in friendly draconic “Asou mut libban de wægn Threespears with pron ðe ic hæbbe been old unl¯æd. Rôtmêtan êow Three-Spears, ðêah−hwæðere mîn glædmôd êow cûðlic cwylmiangrôwan weargbr¯æde dafen forweard, êac by nânne weriend bêgra hêanlic æðele. Yfel fara tôêacan and me orfeorme êower culture’s hâlettung, sam sê oes winnan welhwilc prooferhêafod syndrig. êac gif êow[would foresettan, yfel canne gewissum forðlêoran into traders tunge.” (“You must be the Threespears we have been told of... Glad to meet you Three-Spears, For my kind you certainly do go by a peculiar title, but by no means a poor one. I do apologize for me lacking your culture’s greeting, if it does have any in particular. And if you would prefer, I can certainly proceed in traders tongue.”)
As you enter the room, you spy perhaps one of the more unusual kobolds you have met. You're pretty sure it is a 'he,' though it can be hard to tell with kobolds sometimes. Under a set of worn, studded leather armor, he's wearing a tatty tunic and pair of trousers. Spectacles with lenses of dark crystals hide his eyes. A battered, floppy leather hat lies on the bed next to him, alongside a long, woolen, winter coat. A bandolier with ten pouches crosses his chest from left shoulder to right hip, and a battered leather satchel rests on the foot of the bed. At the moment, he has a mortar and pestle in his hands, singing softly to himself as he grinds up something fragrant and earthy-smelling. "My friend the al-che-mist, he taught me what to mix! My friend the al-che-mist, he taught me what to do! I know when I throw this my target will go BOOM!" As you enter the room, he stops singing, looks up, and cocks his head to one side. "Well," he says quietly as he catches sight of the group. "You are certainly an interesting collection of potentiality if ever I saw it..."
He listens to your introductions and nods, slowly, but you notice his clawed hands never stop working on the contents of the mortar in his lap. "So Shiro, Ohmen, Wisdom, and Izema? Interesting. Well, as I am sure the Baron has told you, I am Threespears, of the Glass Pestle. As to how I came to work for the Baron, well, to be honest it was kind of an accident. I have been here for a few years, but I am not from around here. Indeed, I dislike the cold intensely, but know not how to proceed with returning to my homeworld." Pausing his speech, he brings the mortar up to examine the contents more closely, then nods and adds a small piece of some kind of root to the mix and goes back to grinding away. "I borrowed a magical device from a friend, with the intent on coming here merely to learn about alchemy more suited to this climate, only to find that the device I borrowed had not enough power to return me home once again. The Baron..." he trails off, a little embarrassed. "He took me into his employment when my original patron, the Countess, passed suddenly." Frowning, he glances over at his satchel. "Truthfully, I suspected foul play was involved, but they would not let me examine the body to look for toxins, so I do not know for certain. Regardless of this fact, the Baron pays me well for the compounds he and his soldiers need to continue fighting against those beings that plague their lands. Which," he adds in a sour, but quiet tone, "does not mean that the second I figure out how, I shall not hesitate to put this frigid location behind me and return to some place a tad warmer..."
"We are all glad to meet you Threespears and would greatly appreciate your help in investigating this matter. The Baron has told us you have a list of people who may know something of this matter and we would like to speak with them tomorrow (after we peruse the Baron's library). If you are agreeable, I say we sleep and then go forth." Shiro looks to Drew, Ohmen and Threespears for agreement.
"Any help I can give will be done so freely. The Countess was truly an excellent patron and aided me in my researches. Her death was sudden and unprecedented, and I, for one, would like to know what occurred. I do have a list of people I was going to speak with about this, but was hesitant to act upon my own. I might be a skilled alchemist, but that does not mean I am not, at the core, still a kobold." Pausing in his work, Threespears reaches into the satchel on the bed next to him and pulls out a battered book. From the look of it, most of the pages are blank, but a few in the front have unusual symbols and notes scratched on them. He leafs through them until he comes to a page where the contents are written in normal Draconic. "One of the outriders who was sent to investigate the attacks by this spectre is convalescing nearby with the healers. Marcus if his name. He might be able to give us some information on this spectre. Piran the mortician and his assistant performed the autopsies on the spectre's victims - the ones I was not allowed to consult on - and while they would not give me any information about what they found, they might tell you. Hmm..." Flipping the page, he hems and haws over his notes and nods. "Oh yes, Madame June, the Countess' Head Maid. She was in charge of the househould servants and may have some inkling of unusual happenings going on while I was away." He pauses and glances up at you. "Oh, I should probably mention that I was in the library when the Countess died, digging into my own research. Ichabod, the Head Archivist and Keeper of the Library was assisting me in my work, so if you have any queries about my whereabouts when the Countess died, he can vouch for them." Frowning, the kobold casts Ohmen a look. It is hard to tell with the dark-lenses glasses on his face, but you think he is looking the unusual mage over. "You look like the magic type. Hopefully, you'll have some idea of what we are dealing with, where enchantments are concerned. The local mage's guild is... um... rather..." Trailing off, you suspect he is trying to come up with something polite to say. "Well," he finally mutters slowly, "in a pinch, the mage Nazaric has an apprentice that I am on good terms with. I would rather not say whom, as Nazaric does not approve of my presence in town. If we absolutely need to get into the tower, I might be able to get one of us inside with his help."
"Your knowledge will be invaluable Threespears. Shall we rest and begin on the morrow?" Shiro looks to the others in the group, questioningly.
"I am good with this idea, as I would like to finish working on this compound before we set out. Besides, it is very late, and likely none of those we should be speaking with are awake..."
In the morning, once all the members of the party have woken, washed and dressed, Shiro speaks to Threespears: "I would like to visit the Baron's library first to get any spells which may assist us on this quest, but by lunchtime I would like to speak to whoever you think should be first on the list to talk to."
"Truthfully, I care not whom we speak with first. I shall follow your leads in this endeavor. I will, however, follow you to the library to continue my own research, unless you have objections?"
a new day dawns. the trip to the library is uneventful people seem calm considering the situation. apon reaching your destination you find a large stone building, inside are entire hallways lined with shelves and books acolytes walk the halls tending to the books like a garden.
Last to sleep, first to wake. It had become routine at this point. Ohmen tried to force himself back to sleep, his efforts, however, were to no avail, especially now a faint morning light, made hazey from both the film of frost which coated the glass, and the light mist in the air had welcomed itself in through the windows and rafters. Its arrival promising a new day, and all the opportunities within. Rubbing his eyes from any fatigue, Ohmen gently stands to two feet, placing his cloak upon him before reaching out to grab his staff.. Perhaps he could get a sense for the nearby streets before the others woke. It was only now as his grip was wrapped around his staff did he notice that Wisdom was perched atop it… The bird's eyes were open, yet the creature was unmoving in all but the gentle in and out of its breath, a feature only noticeable due to the Raven’s size... Ohmen, however, had realised the bird's presence too late, having pulled staff, which causes the bird to suddenly flick out its wings, whilst its talons grip onto the staff’s crystal pointed top… Yet somehow, despite the circumstances, Wisdom had retained their balance. Folding her wings in a much looser manner, Wisdom speaks rather calmly despite being woken in such a jarring way. “With The sombre clouds slit open by a soaring RaVen’s wing, we may watch as the twilight fades into its blazing reds, oranges and yellows. As Each colour throws off its shackles and delivers us in defiance of their King, he who wears the constellations his CroWn and darkness of night his CloAk I say to you now, Good Morning Ohmen.” “And as this day dawns, know” Already knowing what singular sentence Wisdom would say from mornings past, Ohmen reaches out, allowing the bird to hop onto his wrist before it speaks. “Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer” Steading his staff, Ohmen listens as the bird continues. “Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer, and It will be your doom if you underestimate the foe you wish to face. The Kobold.” Wisdom turns to stare at the Kobolds occupied bed “Will be invaluable to this endeavour, Knowledge is the torch that lights the way, whereas the sword is that which you use to cut through it." "Some slice blindly into the darkness, it is they who saturate the soil with their own blood, feeding the evil therein." "Others use the torch to illuminate the foe, it is they who strike down with evermore precise blows." "Which side do you lay unto Ohmen?” With a deep breath, Ohmen sits down crossed legged onto his bed, Lighting an incense stick of Sage before replying “We will surely see.” Minutes later, Ohmen becomes aware that Shiro and the others were now waking. And with a few minutes more, the group sets themselves on a visit to the library.
Shiro respectfully hails one of the acolytes, shows him the note from the Baron and asks where he could find the books of Arcana.
the acolyte nods and heads of motioning you to follow. you quickly take note that despite walking as normal he is blindfolded as are many of the other acolytes more so as you are taken deeper down one of the many hall ways. you are brought to a arched room that looks less like a library and more like a store room with books scrolls clay tablets wooden rods... and less savory items all held in cubby holes and tables. "if you need any thing be sure to hail a brother we live to speak the words"