Chapter 12: Shadows in the Dark

[Jeff]

“I am bound in the cellar and fettered by chains that limit my magic on Eberron. I cannot speak of guards placed outside the Lighthouse, but from what Greshnaza tells me it is an aloof island with few visitors. Thus I have been secreted in plain sight, for all can see this place from afar and it is not large, or deep. There is a human sage who lives in the Lighthouse named Eldamir Fallowcrest. The Lighthouse is his private residence and a library for those granted permission by either himself or the Coin Lords. While I would not see him slain, he is not ignorant of my imprison. He is not an evil man, but for wealth has looked the other way. I alone will have words with him when I am free.”

“The true threat is Greshnaza herself.”

As if on cue, the dark-robed figure you followed earlier emerges from the wall beside the chest. Instinctively each of you averts your eyes, but her hood is drawn very low and you cannot see her face. A pair of long serpents flows out from the hood, eerily quiet. The rest of her body is as still as if she were a statue herself. There is still a scimitar in her hand, and no sign of a scabbard.

And as if sensing the tension, Llash-Tava says: “Do not judge her. The Coin Lords have purchased her body from the Cult of Vol. In punishment for her efforts against them during her life they have transformed her remains into an abomination. She is akin to a wight, but retains her powers of petrification and her skill in combat. She is exceedingly dangerous, and will use all her talents against any who intrude upon my prison. In this she has no choice; she is a slave, a sundered being. While her mind and body are cursed in undeath, her ghost cannot venture far but. Her spirit cannot depart.”

Greshnaza the medusa speaks then in more hollow voice. “I wish that you free me as well.”

“And to do so you must destroy her physical body,” the sphinx adds as her gaze drifts to Adamant and Streko, the only two among you with religious icons displayed openly, “Preferably with spells of divine light.”

Belarin is distracted in his sight by the appearance of the ghostly medusa, but is able to return to his assessment of the treasure…

[Jeff]

Among the items scattered about the skeletal remains, you see a warhammer, a pike, a mace, and a longsword. There is a single suit of splint mail still worn by a mostly-intact skeleton, and components of a suit of plate mail armor scattered about. It looks like someone would have to meticulously gather the pieces up to get the suit back together, which would require picking through the filmy remains. There is also a half-buried helmet that gleams with gold. Aside from the dusty film covering them, all of these look to be well crafted.

Every single one of these weapons and armor glows with a magical aura to Belarin, as if lesser items were discarded by this chamber’s former owners. He detects faint auras of abjuration (the helm, mace, the splint mail), divination (the scattered plate mail) and evocation (the longsword, the warhammer, the pike) among them. The chest itself is unmagical, but various auras of evocation, abjuration, and divination lie within.

[Brian]

Condign's footsteps echo dully as he approaches Belarin and Kal. These stones have come to know sorrow, he thinks. They have learned it from ancient blood, and from the lost marrow of the dead.

Bitter thoughts for a bitter place, comes another thought, unbidden, and he almost winces. We have been here too long.

He comes to a halt next to his friends. "We should have Shorak examine the chest," he tells Kal. "The sphinx spoke of healing, and we are in dire need." He turns to Belarin. "Do you see anything of interest?"

[Ken]

"Quite a bit," says Belarin. The presence of the magical items seems to have removed some of his exhaustion. "Those weapons," he continues, pointing to several items without changing his position, "and those pieces of armor. A welcome collection." He turns his head to look at the chest. "THAT is not enchanted, but the items within are. The schools of evocation, abjuration, and... hmmm, divination. Nice."

[Dave B.]

Shorak shows the bracelet to Belarin. "What do you make of this?" He says. Once Belarin has given his opinion, Shorak will go over to the chest to examine it and if it is free of any traps, he will open it up to get a look inside.

[Darren]

Kal nods at both apparitions in front of him. "We will see it done, ladies. I give you my word." Leaning against the wall, Kal begins to sink to the floor. "Now, if you will pardon me for being so rude, we must rest, or there will be no further assistance. Our friend - you may know her, Histra ir'Serrell? - will be searching for us, and will hopefully arrive soon. I would ask, if I may, that you show her the same kindness you have shown us and let her know we are here. We owe her a great deal, and will need her in order to return to Eberron."

Kal watches his friends poke through the treasures on the ground like a parent watching his children open their feast day presents. "Be careful," he says, now fully seated on the ground next to Tangat, leaning against the wall with his legs stretched in front of him. "Remember that our host said that some of these items may not be as harmless as they seem."

Stifling a yawn, Kal cranes his head to look back at Adamant. "Thank you for your offer, my friend, but we will continue to keep watch in shifts. Remember that we are still in Dollurh, and Histra's warning still remains clear in my mind. We must not lose ourselves. Talk to each other. Remember who you are." Kal's words are swallowed by a massive yawn. "And don't forget that the emissary is still out there. And the yugoloth. Safety is not guaranteed."

With a wink at Condign, Kal adds, "Wake me in four hours," and then drifts off to sleep.

_______________________________
I'm ready to start the rest period whenever everyone else is. I'll let you guys deal with the items on the ground. None of it is of immediate appeal to Kal. His biggest concern is getting everyone back to fighting form and then figuring out how to get home.

[Jeff]

When Shorak holds up the bracelet to Belarin, the warlock sees a decidedly necromantic aura surrounding it. Beyond that, he can deduce nothing more than Shorak: that it is likely related to the faith of the Devourer, especially given the clerical magic used by its wearer.

Shorak examines the chest but finds nothing suspicious about it....

---

Shorak's Wisdom (Perception) roll to check for traps: 5
Fortunately for him, if ever he springs a trip on himself, he's got the right feat to try and avoid the effects!

I think the Invisible Castle may be down for good. In any case, it's showing as domain expired. So the roll above was made on the Rolz site.

---

…so he lifts the lid.

And nothing untoward happens. He immediately sees a considerable amount of coinage! It looks like a mixture of silver and gold, a few thousands pieces in total. It would take some time to organize and count. Nestled on one side is a trio of potions bound together with twine. All three are clear vials with reddish fluid in them. Belarin sees these radiate evocation and thinks these could be the “safe” healing potions Llash-Tava mentioned.

There is also a disk of silver or mithral on a fine chain; painted upon it is a stylized eye. Belarin detects an aura of divination upon it.

There are two cylindrical clay-like gray tubes sealed with metal caps. Transmutation radiates from both of these.

[Ken]

After telling Shorak what little he can determine about the bracelet, Belarin gets up, slowly walks over to the now-open chest, and crouches down next to the half-drow. He stretches forward as though to run his fingers through the coins, but a sharp pain in his arm interrupts him. He closes his eyes for a moment, waiting for the pain to recede.

He gingerly points at the reddish potions and says, “I’m reasonably sure that these are the healing ones. I wish they were wine.” He carefully picks up the silvery pendant with the eye. “Hmmm, clairvoyance or some other enhanced sight?” He holds it out to his companions. “Someone try it on. Shadow knows I’ve glimpsed enough things today I wasn’t meant to see.”

He holds up the two gray tubes. “Transmutation…” One eyebrow raises. He turns to Greshnaza. “Stone to flesh? Is that what these are? An ‘antidote’ to your gaze?”

[Brian]

"Rest," Condign tells Kal. "Everyone who wants to sleep, do so. Adamant and I will stand watch."

With four hours to kill, Condign wanders the chamber, identifying pieces of plate mail until he believes he has them all located. He figures the chainmail he has worn for years, spoils from a barbarian chieftain he killed in the Demon Wastes. It sufficed for the time, but he has yearned for something better.

The plate is magical, but is it cursed? The sphinx cautioned them--not everything here is beneficial--the plate emanated divination magic. He has no idea what that could mean.

If you have not risked, you have not lived. One of Lorjad's many sayings.

"Time to live," Condign mutters, and approaches the armor's breastplate. Sheathing his sword, he bends down, picks it up, and hopes for the best.

_______________________________________________________

No one in the party can use plate mail, (Adamant has his own) so I think it's okay for Condign to see if he can use it. I'm not sure if Condign would need to assemble all the pieces before any curse happens or he finds out if it can be attuned. I'll wait for more information from Jeff.

I hope this doesn't come back to bite my in the butt.

[Dave B.]

Shorak takes the pendant from Belarin and puts it back in the chest. "Perhaps we should rest first, before we start 'testing out' the magic items?" He nods at the scroll cases, "Do you wish to keep those on your person? I will stay awake with Condign, so that we may talk and remind ourselves of who and what we are." He turns and smiles a crooked grin at the Tiefling. "Adamant may be able keep watch while he rests, but he's a terrible conversationalist during that time as well."

Shorak will use one HD during his short rest while on watch, assuming he can. 1d8=5.

[Jeff]

“I do not know of this woman,” Llash-Tava says in answer to Kal’s question. “If she enters the chamber above, Greshnaza will alert you, and will present her with the same riddle to approach me. It is...required.” After a pause, she adds, "Thank you. I will return." Her face vanishes from the cloud of light and the cloud itself sinks back into the ground.

Dec 10, 2015 11:07:39 GMT -4 Ken said:

He holds up the two gray tubes. “Transmutation…” One eyebrow raises. He turns to Greshnaza. “Stone to flesh? Is that what these are? An ‘antidote’ to your gaze?”

“Those have nothing to do with me,” the medusa replies without facing him. “I know only that the potions will heal.” Greshnaza then turns and walks back into the wall.

As the others take rest, Condign painstakingly begins to gather the pieces of the plate mail armor. The dusty film covering all the skeletal remains leaves a distasteful scent in the air when it is disturbed; it revives vague memories in Condign’s past, smelling a little bit like substances used by alchemists of his original tribe. Most definitely it is fleshly in origin.

Regardless, the warrior in him is cheered by the heft and strength of the plate mail pieces that he is unearthing and gathering like a puzzle. It is all in very good condition and he’s confident that he’d be able to fit it over the quilted fabric that insulates his existing chain mail. He also sees runes carved in filigree in almost every piece of the armor and upon studying it, decides it is dwarven. He doesn’t know the language, but he’s seen the handiwork of dwarves many times and has always liked things they’ve rendered in metal. When he lifts up the central breast plate—and is reminded at how much heavier this armor would be than his chain—he is surprised to find it surprisingly bereft of design. In fact, the chest area is almost intentionally blank. Seeing his own face reflected in the breastplate, Condign can’t help but smile, wondering if sahuagin or undead claws would have such an easy time getting through this.

What do Condign and Shorak speak about during this hour?

A short while later, Adamant's restful silence is interrupted when he hears Streko begin to speak in his sleep. "...it's difficult," the halfing says, frowning. A short while later Adamant sees Streko lick his lips a little bit and says something about sausage but most of it's gibberish to him as it is spoken in the Halfling language. Then, a few minutes after that, he whispers in common, "He's a good boy, a good boy. Here's another. Don't tell Kal."

Adamant instinctively looks over to the "good boy," which he's pretty sure is Tangat. The wolfhound is very much still unconscious and not even dreaming. Kal looks despondent but at least at peace at the moment.

And then Streko's eyes flutter slowly open. He immediately feels the pain of his many wounds, but he also senses right away that battles have ended. And when he turns his head he sees Adamant—who looks in poor shape but at least he's upright—and then everyone else. No Histra, however.

---

A short rest comes and goes!

Streko regains 1 hit point. He's conscious. No more loafing, Rixman!

Shorak regains 5 hit points with his hit die roll. Anyone wish to use hit dice? Dave W., go ahead and roll for Adamant if he's expending those two hit dice.

I assume everyone is happy to now commence with a long rest.

[Brian]

Condign sits with Shorak, pulls a cloth from his backpack, and begins wiping down the pieces of plate mail.

"My parents died when I was young," Condign begins. "In the Demon Wastes, tieflings are considered favored because of our kinship with devils, and the tribe gave me what they considered a 'privileged' upbringing. Better education. Better food." He hesitates. "Protection. The barbarian humans were forbidden from hurting me, from even touching me without permission. It seemed so...odd. In a warrior clan, I was not allowed to fight. That changed when I came of age and was given a blade. Now I was expected to fight. I spent hours on the training fields, learning to strike and block and grapple, until I could not lift my arms. Then I was forced to continue fighting. The training went on for months. I hated it. I hated my life. I hated everything. There came a point where I wished for death. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should be grateful. But I could not help it. I felt miserable. I did not belong. I felt like an outsider. Then I met Jyoti."

He puts down a cleaned piece of armor, picks up a gauntlet, and begins wiping it. "She came from another tribe. They had invaded, and we defended. None were left alive, except Jyoti. Being a tiefling, she was spared. My mentors paired us up. It seemed a natural thing to do. We learned together. I taught her to read. She taught me how to find clean water by simply holding two sticks. We became inseparable. I did not want to fight. I wanted to spend time with her. I became lax in my training. It seemed harmless. After all, I was happy." Condign starts to clean another piece of armor. "We asked permission to marry and it was granted. The ceremony date was set. Preparations were made. I could think of little else than spending my life with her.

"Barbarian raids are common in the Wastes. Tribes via for land to support their people. It is a way of life. The day before the ceremony was to take place, one of the larger tribes attacked. A barbarian, an ugly human with a scar running down one arm, made his way through the defenses. He found Jyoti and me. I took up my sword, but had let slip my training. I would have easily defeated the brute had I not made mistake after mistake. He disarmed me. When he went for the killing blow, Jyoti jumped in front of the blade. It ran through her. I can still see the blood spilling from her wound, the look of surprise on her face. She died, all because I had ignored my training. She died because of me."

Condign stops cleaning the armor piece. "When she fell, I finally became a warrior. What I lacked in skill, I made up for in anger. I killed the barbarian, taking his head from his shoulders. I killed nineteen more during the raid, and I have been training ever since."

"Enough about me," he says, resuming his cleaning. "What about you?"

__________________________________________________

Condign was going to use his spare hit die, until I read where he would only gain back half during the long rest. I even rolled it on Rolz. But I decided not to use them and to keep them for some other time.

Jeff, does Condign pick up anything about the armor as he is cleaning it?

[Dave W.]

The warforged has heard and seen all that passed. He tries hard to not listen to Condign and Shorak's conversation. He know he is sometimes forgotten about and does not want intrude.

Dec 10, 2015 12:49:13 GMT -4 Jeff said:

And then Streko's eyes flutter slowly open. He immediately feels the pain of his many wounds, but he also senses right away that battles have ended. And when he turns his head he sees Adamant—who looks in poor shape but at least he's upright—and then everyone else. No Histra, however.

Adamant crouches down close to Streko, scraping and creaking noises echo in the chamber. "Hush now, my friend," a heavy metal hand rests gently on the halfling, "sleep now. All is as well as it can be." Adamant gently touches Streko's hair, as he has seen Esthryn Tavven do once. "You and we are safe."

Once the halfling is quieted, Adamant will stand back up and return to stillness.

---

I'll use what I had rolled before...

dlw32:2D10+4 → 19(10 +5 + 4)

It doesn't necessarily make sense for anyone but Addy... he's supposed to be the tank... it makes me itchy to be down to 4 hp...

[Jeff]

Aside from appreciating the craftsmanship of dwarves, Condign doesn’t learn anything knew about the armor pieces while he cleans them.

Belarin, seeing Condign touching the armor so much, can’t help but wince inwardly. Even Kal, who has studied magic in different ways, understands that cursed magic items are not always obvious. Some do not reveal their curse until it is too late. They also know that such curses cannot be detected by standard means. Many are the stories—some clearly made up, some legitimate, and some maybe drifting out of Thelanis—that haunt the minds of every adventurer the world over. Suits of armor that smother their wearers, helmets that implode, and backbiter swords are tavern fodder across the Five Nations. But greater are the number of stories—real and imagined—of fantastical weapons of elder times.

[Joe]

Dec 10, 2015 16:12:31 GMT -4 Dave W. said:

Adamant crouches down close to Streko, scraping and creaking noises echo in the chamber. "Hush now, my friend," a heavy metal hand rests gently on the halfling, "sleep now. All is as well as it can be." Adamant gently touches Streko's hair, as he has seen Esthryn Tavven do once. "You and we are safe."

Streko moans, feeling the gentle caress through his hair. He nods and closes his eyes.
_______________________________________________________________________

Streko will continue to sleep until he is awakened for his watch, although he won't know he has a watch until after he's awakened.

[Dave B.]

Shorak gets the feeling the bracelet may serve someone of a more priestly bent, so he puts it away and pulls out the puzzle box to fiddle with during his watch. Listening to Condign's story he stops staring at the box, but his hands continue handling it, feeling for any catches or loose panels.

Shorak nods as Condign finishes. "Why is it that great loss seems to drive many into a life of adventure and danger?" He smiles with a hint of melancholy. "Tragic events led me to this life I now lead. Being a half breed in a tribe of Drow wasn't as harrowing as one might think. My parents loved me and supported me. There was teasing, sometimes mean, but mostly I was accepted and treated as one of the tribe. I was not as strong as the other dark elves my age, so I wasn't cut out to be one of the warriors. But, I found I was a natural at scouting, stealth and deception. It came in handy more times than I can remember."

"The Arus'tar tribe were charged with protecting a sacred area in the Xen'drick wilds, the ruins of Dal Olam. There was occasional unrest between the Drow tribes, but never outright war. Until one day our tribe was attacked by another Drow tribe and Giants. Thanks to one of our mages I was spared. Although, I was knocked unconscious and was spared the sight of my entire tribe being wiped out. One of my cousins also survived, but he ran when the shielding spell expired. I was too groggy to stop him, and in shock at the evidence of the massacre that was all around me. I found the dead bodies of my parents. From their positions, I could tell my father protected her to the last. I cried the tears of a teenager and felt no shame at that. I buried them there in the ruins and gathered up my father's weapons and armor and a few small possessions. I said my farewells to my tribe and Dal Olam, and made my way to Stormreach.'

He looks down at the box in his hands and shrugs. "You can pretty much guess the rest. Street urchin, ragamuffin and then the rogue I am today. I could never get into stealing just for the sake of it, so I decided to use my talents to help people. Working as a guide and scout. Oh, I still plied my trade as a thief and burglar, but only to return items to their rightful owners. I guess that's not entirely true. I hold a strong fondness for the street urchins, so I sometimes took from those who had too much to help those kids out."

Shorak looks up at Condign and smiles. "We've been through a lot. Both in the past and now side by side. I'm glad to know you Condign, and to have fought and survived by your side."

"I hope we continue to survive. I have a bone to pick with Krez. He attacked the Merrow Down and I will see that he pays for that and his other crimes." Just for a moment, Shorak's smile turns extremely cold. "If he has hurt Morsha, I will see his death be as painful as possible." He shakes his head. "Sorry, the Drow in me can bring out a bit of ruthlessness."

[Jeff]

The hours begin to roll by....in peace.

After four hours of watchful inactivity, Adamant begins to feel a measure of resolve and stability again. Although his compose plating still looks battered and dulled, he feels the wooden ligaments in his neck tighten and his head is righted. When next he speaks, he finds his voice grown strong again. Likewise, the silence has given him the focus needed to pray again.

Do Kal or Belarin converse during their wakeful hours?

---

4 hours in and Adamant had completed his long rest. This gives him half his maximum hit points (this is a warforged thing), which is 36 hit points, so this puts him at 61 hit points. He gains 4 hit dice back. The lifedrain (of the wight's touch) dissipates so his maximum is 72 again. His Lay on Hands healing pool is at its maximum, as is his Divine Sense and the use of his Channel Divinity ability. And all his spell slots are full again.

Dave, go ahead and choose which spells you wish to have prepared for the next 24 hours.

[Darren]

If we're up to Kal and Belarin and assuming we are still following my initial plan, we're up to hour 6.

Despite having finally slept, Kal still feels tremendous aches in his body. He moves stiffly around the room, trying to loosen up some of his joints. He checks the many straps and buckles around his right leg, tightening a few and loosening some others. He looks up and catches Belarin looking at him, but says nothing as he returns to his work. Satisfied, he flexes his leg a bit and continues his pacing.

"So, Belarin," he says without looking at the warlock, "do you really hear voices in your head?"

[Ken]

When he's woken for his turn to stand watch, Belarin stretches his arms and immediately regrets it, as recently formed scabs rip open on his skin. He's not fully rested, not even remotely, yet he feels the fey-gifted magic dancing through his veins.

When Kal speaks, Belarin reacts to the seemingly innocuous question as though Kal had filled his veins with ice water. "I... well... the voices are... my personal bond to the fey. They would tell me secrets, mock me mercilessly.... every flower on Thelanis has thorns. But...

"I'm... I'm not who I was. I'm not even sure what pieces are left of me, or what pieces were even mine to begin with. The Lich...." He lets out a long sigh. He slowly puts one hand over his face, as though to feel the flesh. Kal can see that, through the warlock's fingers, Belarin's eyes are wide with fear.

"I wanted that power," he says. "I reveled in it. By the Host, Kal... It was glorious." He lets his hand fall. "And it was frightening. It was like... like... sliding down a steep hill in the middle of the night -- that delicious razor's edge where you can just barely control what you're doing, yet you have no idea where you're going or what's in your path. I knew exactly what was happening while I was draped in the Lich's Aspect. I knew what I was saying. But...

"I can't even apologize. I'd spent weeks seeking that darkness, believing that it would help me fulfill my mission, that it would give me an edge. And now that I've had it, have tasted its filth fully..." There's a long pause. "The voices in my head that you joke about, that we ALL joke about? They're gone. Silent. And that terrifies me. Is it an aftereffect of the Lich's Aspect? A rebuke from Raeshara?" Tears form in his eyes. "I am a ship unmoored. It seems I must... change my ways. Reforge the bonds of my pact."

_______

Simul-post! Kal's question is actually perfect, though. I've revised my post slightly to accommodate.

I’ll use Belarin’s last two Hit Dice just as we cross the “short rest” threshold:
Belarin:2D8 → 11(8 +3)#Rolling Hit Dice for healing. He heals 11 points, and he regains his spell slots and fey powers.

[Jeff]

And by this time, Tangat has begun to stir. He looks in very poor shape and Kal can see the pain in his eyes. The horrid wound of the yugoloth's axe is still event, but his body has held together. With his black liquid eyes, Tangat looks up at Kal and his tail thumps a little. Kal knows the dog can always muster some enthusiasm.

---

Tangat gains 1 hit point and is conscious again, but is content to lapse back into true sleep for his own long rest.

[Brian]

With his watch over and the plate armor cleaned, Condign lets Kal and Belarin take over. He sits, his back against a wall, and tries to sleep.

[Darren]

Kal places a hand on Tangat's flank and smiles. That smile is still there as he looks up at Belarin. "I cannot thank you enough for his life," he says. He stands to face Belarin, the man who he has come to think of as a brother. "Unmoored? No, I don't think so. You've simply found a new harbor. There are new voices for you to listen to," he looks at Streko, at Adamant, at Condign and Shorak and Tangat. "You and I share a bond that the others will probably never understand. We have power coursing through our veins that is wild and untamed. Have you ever felt that heat in your blood, Belarin? Sometimes, I think my skin will peel right off, that surely there is actual fire raging across my bones. Frightening? Of course." Kal grins. "But it is exhilarating. And it does not master me, and it will not master you."

Kal leans in closer and his grin is wider. "But honestly...are Raeshara's breasts really that divine?"

[Jeff]

Hahahah. Can't wait for Belarin's reply on that one.

By the way, some of you have stuff in private threads now, so be on the lookout.

[Ken]

Belarin laughs, a sound that to him is so wonderful he has to really concentrate on stifling the convulsions so that his friends can continue sleeping. “Well,” he says, wiping new tears away from his eyes, “I did create an oath to immortalize them. You have no idea." A pause. “Thank you for that."

He looks over at Tangat. “So, tell me of him, Kal. I mean, I’m well aware of the concept of a familiar, though I’ve never attempted to forge such a connection. Did the pet precede the familiar in this case? Were dogs important to you and your family? I get that sense.”

[Darren]

Kal laughs along with Belarin. It seems so long since they were able to do that. It's a welcome sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shorak sleeping and his laughter fades away to be replaced by a look of puzzlement. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and looks back at Belarin.

"Tangat and I met on the Plains during the War. There was a battle," he says, pausing to remember, "a large battle, and more than a few casualties. Through the middle of the fight came this streak of gray." Again, a pause. Kal seems to be searching for words. Finally he waves a hand, dismissing all of it. "We served together after that, Tangat and I, though he was never given an official commission," Kal says with a laugh. "Most of my superiors weren't happy to have him there. Something about military protocol, or so they said, but the men began to think of him as a good luck charm." Kalarian smiles at the memory. "He led more than a few charges, I don't mind telling you. Bravest damn soldier in the whole army."

Kal reaches out his right arm to place his hand on Tangat's head. He pushes his sleeve up, revealing his dragonmark. "I'm not really sure exactly when the bond happened. Like so much of my power, it just came about unbidden. It wasn't all at once. There was no sudden flash of lightning. It was slow and gradual. A feeling that built up in my mind, an awareness. I would look at Tangat and just know what he was thinking. I mean, everyone assumes that with some animals, you know? But this was different. He could be on the other side of camp and I knew he had just grabbed some foot soldier's lunch, and narrowly avoided the kick that followed. It wasn't until the War was over that I talked with some of the scholars at the Keep and found out about familiars. I just assumed that was what happened to us. I never was great with my studies."

Kalarian looks at Tangat for a long moment. "Have you ever seen a Talentan tangat? Wicked looking weapons. The Halflings say that the curve of the blade allows it slice more cleanly through a man, so the blade doesn't get stuck on bone, you know?" Still looking at Tangat, Kal whispers, "Simply marvelous."

_________________
In case anyone was curious what the tangat and the sharrash look like:
eberron.wikia.com/wiki/Talenta_Tangat

[Dave W.]

After hours of standing completely still, Adamant moves. He tests his reach and arches his back. He walks a pace or two. Serviceable, still not complete but much better, he thinks. Thank You, my Lady for seeing my friends and I through this dark place. I would humbly request You continue to look after my friends who are not here: Syrdan, Rinti, the Tavvens, and the crew of the Merrow Down.

The warforged moves as quietly as possible, trying to not disturb those resting. He finds Condign and very gently touches his shoulder. "Shhh. Rest, it is just your friend," he whispers. He prays to Dol Arrah on his friend's behalf with a soft, sing-songy sound.

Adamant approaches Kal and Belarin timidly. In a quiet whisper… but clearly as his voice no longer broken… he intrudes on their conversation. "I'm sorry to interrupt, I just need Kal for one moment." Adamant lays a warm metal hand on the human spell-slinger and chants softly:

"August Lady, Your vassal humbly beseeches you, cure this my friend, Kalarian d'Deneith, of the illness he suffers. Make him well in body and spirit."

Next, Adamant turns to Belarin, "It is good to hear you laugh." He places a hand on each of the human’s shoulders and for a moment stares directly into Belarin’s eyes, looking for something. Whatever he finds, Adamant releases the warlock, "Perhaps next time you need to take on the aspect of something you could choose something more pleasant … like a warforged."

"But I do not mean to intrude..."

---

So as discussed, that’s 10 points from Addy’s lay on hands ability to remove disease from Kal and poison from Condign.

Let me get back in a bit (like tonight) on spells. It's been crazy this week... I think I’m going to look at spells that do radiant damage based on the warning of the sphinx. I assume I don’t get new spells at 8th.

[Darren]

"Thank you, my friend," Kal says to Adamant, feeling his strength returning. He covers the large metal hand with his own of flesh and bone. "It's odd," he says, "but I've always had a mistrust of warforged. I saw them do some horrible things on the Plains...." His voice trails away. He looks up at Adamant. "Anyway, I had always assumed that all warforged were monstrous constructs, built for war, built to kill, to tear people apart at their master's whims. You have shown me that not all warforged are cut from the same cloth," he laughs and says, "or, I guess, built from the same forge." He offers a respectful nod to Adamant. "It is an honor to call you my friend."

[Brian]

Condign's dreams grow troubled. He is fighting for his life against a foe he cannot see. His blade is folly and his shield a phantom, for his enemy lurks within, coursing through his veins, unassailable by conventional weapons. In the gossamer darkness of sleep, Condign sees his flesh fail, his organs rot. Death has finally come for him.

Condign's dreams grow restless. He hears a voice. Someone touches him. Light seeps into his dreams, white and pure and filled with love. It takes up battle for him, assails his enemy, and shatters the deadly poison threatening his life. His fever breaks. His pain eases. His body begins to heal--

--and in the light of god, Condign sleeps.

[Ken]

Dec 11, 2015 16:35:02 GMT -4 Dave W. said:

"Perhaps next time you need to take on the aspect of something you could choose something more pleasant … like a warforged."

"I don't know about that," says Belarin with a slight smile. "You were pretty scary when you lost your temper during my... transfiguration. When we get back, I'm going to find you a kitten -- should settle you down."

[Joe]

All he hears are the soft, muffled voices of his friends surrounding him. He sits next to a fire. His friends sit around the fire as well, all quietly meditating, praying or sleeping as the fire warms them, heals them of the worst of their agonies. Even Tangat lays curled restfully near his companion. A shadow stands in the darkness beyond the fire. No, two shadows. Streko feels a deep understanding between the two figures and he also feels as if he knows them. He wishes to stand and give a proper bow, but he remains sitting.

"Olladra. Dol Arrah. Thank you for all you have done for us. I honor you with my life, my spirit and my devotion."

He doesn't expect a response form them and he doesn't receive one, at least not verbally, but he feels a sense of joy and satisfaction from them. He wonders if that is his own pride, or if the two Gods of the Sovereign Host truly have blessed them. He chooses to believe the latter.

The fire grows and the warmth is suddenly all-encompassing, but not painful. Not destructive. More of Their handiwork.

"I shall sleep now and be fully rested for when I am once more needed. Next time, my blessed Olladra, I shall NOT fail them as I did this time. Next time, I shall not fail..."

The darkness surrounds him. His friends blend into it and the light of both Olladra and Dol Arrah gently fades away.

And Streko sleeps some more.