Chapter 14: A Cloud of Fear

[Dave W.]

Adamant listens with care to the old orc's advice, "Yes. I will put my faith in Greshnazza. We were on very good terms at the end; I trust that she has not betrayed me. Thank you... I appologize, I have been distracted. I do not know your name. I am Adamant."

Aug 24, 2017 6:42:26 GMT -4 Brian said:

Melethos cranes his neck to look up at the stone giant. If the sun were out, the tiefling would be standing in the giant's shadow. "Impressive," he says, then turns to Adamant. He holds out Greshnaza's scimitar. "I think this next part is yours alone."

"Indeed," Adamant looks up as well. The warforged takes the weapon from Melethos, "Thank you my friend."

Moving closer he addresses the giant, "Hello. I am Adamant, a vassal of Dol Arrah. I seek Greshtuza. I would speak to her on behalf of her brood-sister, Greshnazza."

Adamant's friends will have noticed a change in his manner since the lighthouse. Whereas previously he would often try to minimize the impact of his 6'5" Adamantine-covered frame by slouching, now he stands tall. In other situations this might seem imposing, standing at the foot of the stone giant however, even Adamant looks like a child.

Adamant's chest still bears the crest of Cyre etched into it. Attached to his left breast is the holy Octogram of the Host. On his back is a heavy metal sheild. Though there are dents and signs of recent damage pretty much everywhere, the warforged has made some effort to keep clean... except for his legs which for some reason are mud-covered up to the knees. The other exception is the warhammer at his hip. The warhammer looks scorched as though it recently was in a fire.

Adamant has a deep, bass voice but there is a warmth to it.

[Dave B.]

Shorak waits patiently near Adamant, his stance relaxed even as his red flecked, violet eyes dart here and there, always staying alert to his surroundings.

His cloak covers him completely. There is an occasional glimpse of his worn leather armor and the small hand crossbow tethered to his belt. His ashy black skin, marking him as a half-Drow, is covered in swirling white tatoos. He is thin and lithe. He carries himself lightly and with confidence, seeming both relaxed and ready to spring into action at the same time.

[Jeff]

The stone giant looks down at Adamant in silence. Then he steps aside and makes a noncommittal gesture towards the opening. It's clear that he and his party are allowed to pass.

So with Adamant in the lead, you enter. Only Starg and Thul stay outside.

Inside the tent, the "rooms" seem to just be cordoned off with curtain walls, and you step into what is probably the largest of the tent's chambers. A bitter incense fills the air, and there are two tall braziers on pole-stands set on opposite sides, burning with low but very real flames.

The floor of the tent is open to the ground, but large flat stones have been laid on the grass like flagstones. When you first walk through, you're stepping past the bald, muscular man who'd been standing outside only moments before. Here he stands guard again, but with a two-handed sword sheathed yet still in his gradp, point facing down. The firelight glitters off his body in tiny little pricks of light, revealing that his skin is actually very fine scales. And his eyes are those of a serpent's. He says nothing.

Two women have halted some activity, breathing just loud enough to suggest that they'd just been sparring, or exerting themselves in some way. They are robed in sleeveless silks that allow free movement, almost like monks, though each holds a curved dagger. Spiraling gold bracelets and armbands adorn them both.

And then they turn to face you, hissing sounds emitting from the writhing mass of snakes around each woman's head.

Those of you who are not quite fast enough to look away feel relief to see that their hypnotic, serpentine eyes are looking up, at some point in space above you. It is unnerving to look upon the face of a creature such as these, but despite the vague reptilian features, they are beautiful. Utterly exotic. Nothing like the ghastly face of the undead medusa.

"What do you know of Greshnaza?" one of the medusas demands as she steps toward you, without introducing herself. Her tone is imperious.

Her serpents hiss and fixate on the scimitar in Adamant's hand.

[Joe]

Aug 24, 2017 13:33:41 GMT -4 Darren said:

Kal shrugs as he looks at Thul's back while the other man walks away. He moves to stand next to Melethos and Belarin, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the newcomer. "That one's not much of a talker," he says to them. "Still, I found out that he's apparently got the ear of the Karnathi king. Or, at least, he had it. So that's something. In any event, he looks like he can handle himself in a fight."

"Well, then, perhaps I should go introduce myself. I have found most non-talkers enjoy the silence. What better way to get him used to being in our group than to do my best to annoy the living hells out of him for a short time. Or, at the very least, get him to talk just to shut me up."

Streko walks over toward the tree under which Thul currently leans. His white and black robes are darker than they would be if they were dry and mud dapples the lower edges of the cloth. If he is wearing armor, it is hidden behind the thick fabric. His handy haversack is nestled tightly across his shoulders and back and also seems soaked through, but still, oddly, strong enough to hold whatever is within its confines. His holy symbol, the well-worn and oft-used domino symbolizing his Goddess, Olladra, seems to glow slightly, as if the energies within are resisting confinement. His dark brown hair, usually thick and unruly, lies matted on his head. At just about four feet tall, the halfling strikes an interesting, if unimposing figure as he strides toward the newcomer.

"Greetings," he says leading with an outstretched hand hand. "I am Streko D'Jorasco, healer and proud worshiper of Olladra. I'm sure you've heard of Her. While I do have a tendency to talk, some might accuse me of waxing poetic at times, complaining at others, I can assure you that I am also quite a good listener."

He smiles.

"Should you, at some point, wish to speak to me, or to any of us, actually, it could, perhaps, make this assignment of yours, which I see thrills you to no end, a bit less...bothersome for you. We all have our roles to play in this grand adventure. You can stand alone...and die...or you can join us. Together, we are powerful. Perhaps powerful enough to destroy Krez all on our own. Separately, we will not survive this journey. It is common sense."

He bows, the smile firmly etched into his face. It is a smile filled with hope and promise and, most importantly, caring and compassion. A smile perfectly suited to a healer and a priest.

"Do as you will. We shall be over there, completing our tasks. Good day to you." He looks up into the sky as the rain continues to pelt the land and, for a brief moment, Streko frowns before turning away and walking back to his friends.

[Elvis]

He weathers the halflings prattle with a sneer, not saying anything.

After several awkward moments of silence, mercifully the halflings returns to the medusa's tent with the others.

[Ken]

Belarin finds himself holding his breath as the medusas reveal themselves. The Brelish military fortess/monastery where he spent his childhood overlooked Drooam, and so he'd heard many bedtime tales of medusas and other "monsters." Even after meeting a medusa (or at least her spirit) in Dolurrh and then fighting her undead form, he still had to repress the urge to hide under the covers.

Belarin is a human in his twenties, with unkempt black hair, a thin, pale face, and green eyes that often seem to dance wildly. He's currently wearing fine, slightly padded clothing of green, gray, and black. His matching green cloak is embroidered with beautiful gold and silver designs along the edges. He has a dagger in a belt sheath.

[Dave W.]

"Greshtuza, I am called Adamant." The warforged gathers his will and looks at Greshtuza directly, "I come on behalf of Greshnazza, your brood-sister. It grieves me to tell you that she has fallen. As she passed, she requested I bring to you her scimitar and her story."

"Her tale is long and I know only a part of it, but I would tell that part out. I will be bold and say that we were friends at the end though I did not know her long."

"She was captured by the Servants of the Blood of Vol… I do not know how long ago. They bound a wight to her somehow. It was evilly done. They made her a monster. Undead and medusa. She was sold to the Coin Lord Wylkes to guard a prisoner, the sphynx Llash-Tava."

"My friends and I fought Greshnazza in the form that had been corrupted. I… fell in battle. I don't fully understand, but the inner-most me moved to a shadow realm… not Dolurrh really… in between the two I suppose. I can not be clear about the details, I'm sorry."

"But your sister was there, not the monster the Servants created; the real her… the inner-most Greshnazza. We talked for a short time and then she was … released? My friends in the waking world had destroyed her wight-form. I saw her fade."

"She asked me to tell you that she is free. She said that you would be searching for her and…" Adamant is incapable of having a catch in his throat, but there is clear emotion in his deep voice, "... that you should stop now."

Adamant looks at the medusa and holds the sheathed scimitar out, formally offering it. "I say all this, the Truth as I know it, by my word as a servant of Dol Arrah and by my oath to my friend, Greshnazza."

[Brian]

Melethos stands silently as Adamant tells his story. The warforged is simple and direct, but his words are filled with a raw passion and honesty that belies his constructed nature. Melethos never knew, until he left the Demon Wastes, how much bigger and more wonderful the world was outside his fiery homeland.

Young for such a valiant warrior, Melethos is a tiefling: tall, lean, but well-muscled. Horns curl away from his forehead, and his golden eyes can sometimes burn with a fury that reflects his devilish heritage. Rarely seen out of armor, his splint mail has a slightly greenish cast. A longsword rests at his hip, and a small round shield hangs on his back. Tied around his belt is a braid of hair, the last token he possesses of his dead love, Jyoti. With his long black hair and red skin he would undoubtedly look fierce, if he weren't so gosh-darned handsome.

When Adamant is finished, Melethos waits for the medusa's reply.

[Jeff]

Greshtuza listens as Adamant speaks, her body as still as a rock. Her eyes, which had been staring above him so as not to meet his gaze, now look down the ground. The serpents that writhe around her begin to hiss and undulate. Behind her, the other medusa is less composed. She clutches at her blade and seems to coil up like a spring, ready for attack.

When Adamant finishes, Greshtuza steps close to Adamant and places her hands on the scimitar—not taking it yet. One hand grasps the hilt, the other part of the blade. She squeezes hard, and her right hand seems to intentionally draw blood on her fingers.

Watching this, Kal feels a throbbing in his abdomen. He now bears the livid scars of where this blade had penetrated him multiple times, had send him sliding into the dark—where he would have stayed had not Streko revived him quickly. He can still remember the unbelievable pain, and is quite sure an echo of it will live on his memory forever. Looking at this medusa, whose countenance is exotic and fair in its own way, he cannot see the resemblance to the ghastly, hateful one he'd faced.

"Tuza," the other medusa calls out. "A ritual of truth?"

"No," Greshtuza responds immediately in a strained voice. "This is truth."

Adamant has never fully understood the body language of those with flesh and blood, but he can see that this female is in emotional pain. Her grief is clear.

Releasing the scimitar, she steps even closer to him now. He stands tall before her, a tower of metal looming over a shorter, slender body of scales and skin. He can see the eyes of her serpents watching him, studying him, and she reaches out with both hands and takes hold of him firmly. Her hands slide briefly along his arms, searching, and then to his chest until she fines the edges of the composite metal plating there, which a layer of stone is visible. Then her own two eyes focus on that stone. Adamant doesn't know what she's doing, but senses no threat.

Greshtuza touches the tips of her fingers to the stone of his frame. "Naza was fascinated by your kind. Said she'd wanted to speak with one someday, possibly forge a friendship. She believed...we believe...that our people were born of the deep stone, given life and power greater than others. The Shadow it was who gave the harpy her deadly song, who hides the displacer beast from its foes, who heals the wounds of the troll. And the gift of our eyes...elevated us above the weaker kind who were given no gifts at all by their uncaring gods." She trails off, but then taps Adamant's chest. "Naza believed the warforged were born of the Shadow as well, that they had an unrevealed purpose. Forged in war merely to placate the humans for a time, to inspire them to unearth your souls..."

She lets out a sigh and steps away from him again. She keeps her gaze downward, while her serpents continue to study him. "It has been some time now. I believed my brood-sister to be dead. You have brought me confirmation and certainty."

[Ken]

Belarin says sympathetically, "Her soul was trapped in a vile prison. It's a testament to her strength that she was nonetheless able to reach out and aid us in freeing her spirit. I'm sorry for your loss."

[Brian]

"Your brood-sister was both bold and tormented," Melethos adds softly. "Too fine a warrior and woman to be left in that hideous state. While we mourn her passing, we do not regret what we did for her. May you and your sisters find solace in our news." He bows slightly. "Thank you."

[Jeff]

"Where was she imprisoned? Where are her remains now?" There is venom in Greshtuza's voice, not for you but for those responsible.

[Dave W.]

Adamant keeps himself relaxed as the medusa touches his stone body and speaks of the Shadow. "I am not wise or educated enough to say where we come from, perhaps that is right and it is why I could speak to your sister in a shadow-realm. But know that she did have a warforged friend before the end and that there was joy and peace when she was unbound from the wight."

Aug 27, 2017 9:12:56 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"Where was she imprisoned? Where are her remains now?" There is venom in Greshtuza's voice, not for you but for those responsible.

"Under the lighthouse there are rooms and caverns. If you go down through the library you will find a large chamber. Be sure to follow the ash path. Her remains should lie there. It was strongly defended by other undead and troops of the Coin Lords… at least it was a day or so ago."

Adamant will describe the way down.

[Dave B.]

Shorak watches and remains silent, not feeling it is his place to speak during this exchange. He is grateful for the opportunity to look upon the Medusa, without fear from their gaze. He does bow his head in empathy to Greshtuza's grief.

[Jeff]

Greshtuza listens carefully to what Adamant describes, her eyes cast downard. Her companion listens as well, but her eyes remain upward. You sense there's a cultural or social expression in this. Either way, the serpents are ever watchful of you directly.

Greshtuza says, "We are here as ambassadors for our queen, Sheshka in Cazhaak Draal." Belarin knows precisely where that city is; it was the city in Droaam closest to where he lived in the Byeshk Mountains. The locals there regarded it as a fearful place—a city of medusas and their servants—though threats never came from there. It was the harpies and gargoyles in the mountains and foothills that his community was most wary of. "Greshnaza was was impatient and went about too boldly. Understand, in a city so far from the 'civilized' nations of Khorvaire, both medusas and the followers of the Blood of Vol can walk more openly. Here, the temptation to show oneself becomes great. I warned her, and felt it was only a matter of time before they ensnared her. I did not expect them to do more than slay here, if they could. I did not expect them to...use her. For this they will pay dearly. I will see to it."

With her eyes down, and her serpents tracking the movements of Adamant and the rest of you, she says, "I will pay the debt that my sister cannot. What would you ask of me?"

[Dave W.]

"Oh, no. I am sorry I left out part of the story... I am a poor storyteller, this duty should really have fallen to someone more clever with words."

"There is no debt owed here. When we were in the shadow realm she helped me to get an important message to my friends in the waking world that got them back to the correct path and out of danger. It is an irony, but we may not have been able to free Wylkes' captive without her help; the guard he set."

Adamant risks reaching out to touch Greshtuza's scaly arm... trying to convey the compassion his face can not. "And she was my friend. How could I ask for anything more than a measure of comfort for her family?"

"Accept her sword, perform any rites your people observe... remember her. I can not ask more."

[Jeff]

Serpents hiss defiantly as Adamant lays his hand on her arm, but Greshtuza herself does not recoil. Instead she places one hand over his, then says, "Regardless, it is a custom of my people that gifts be observed when they can be given."

She withdraws her hand and slides a ring from one finger. It is made of some darkened steel or silver, though it still gleams at the edge, and it is carved on opposite sides of the band to resemble the chests and heads of armored warriors—one male, one female—who are crowned in feathered helms. It is a curious piece of jewelry, not what Adamant would picture as the work of medusas. Not that he would know better. He can also see that a stone must have been set in the ring once, but now there is only a dark crater there.

"This was a spoil of war from long ago, but it has been damaged. Nevertheless, it retains some of its power." She takes the hand Adamant has reached out with, turns it over, examining the large hand and its three thick metal fingers. "I wonder...." She touches the ring to one finger and it slowly expands in width, more than tripling its size to accomodate the paladin's digit. She slides it on, and Adamant does feel a tingling senstation—he can feel latent energies within it.

"When you have bonded with the ring, it will store a spell or two, if you know any." She tapes the dark hollow where its stone would have been once, then her eyes drift to the Octogram on Adamant's chestplate. "If you revered the Shadow, it would be greater still." She shrugs and gives a sad smile. "But I have been told that if a proper replacement stone could be found, it would store yet more."

The medusa's gaze now fixes mere inches below his own, and her expression becomes almost menacing. "Do not insult me by refusing this token of my gratitude, Adamant of the Host but who has come on this errand, I have no doubt, at the Shadow's behest."

---

This is a Ring of Spell Storing, but of a lesser variety described in the DMG. It can store two spell slots (that's one 2nd-level spell, or two 1st-level spells)...for now. As she suggests, if you can find a valuable stone of the right size, a skilled artificer could repair it and then it can store up to five spell levels. It requires attunement to both cast a spell into it or out of it, but anyone can use it.

[Darren]

Kal steps forward, clearing his throat as he places a hand on Adamant's arm. "Actually, my dear, there IS something you could help us with, and it would serve both of our purposes well. Your complaint is with the Coin Lord, Jonas Wylkes. We have drawn much ire from him while freeing your brood-sister. He hunts us, now, which makes it difficult for us to operate. If you and your sisters here would help, we would ask that you cause...distractions....for Lord Wylkes. Keep him occupied and his eyes off of us. Hurt him, for the hurt he has caused you."

____________________
EDIT: I cross-posted with Jeff, apparently. Not sure where you want to put this, timing-wise, but I'll let it stand.

[Dave W.]

let me slip Adamant's reply in before Kal's request...

Aug 28, 2017 10:59:06 GMT -4 Jeff said:

The medusa's gaze now fixes mere inches below his own, and her expression becomes almost menacing. "Do not insult me by refusing this token of my gratitude, Adamant of the Host but who has come on this errand, I have no doubt, at the Shadow's behest."

"I will not refuse your gratitude. I will wear it and use it in remembrance. Thank you, Greshtuza."

[Jeff]

Kal's use of "my dear" has both medusas' eyes widening and their serpents writhing anew. Though they do not turn their gazes on him directly, their attention is on him suddenly and he feels he's walked to the edge of danger.

"Wylkes will be made to pay, in due time," Greshtuza says, "But we are few, and we are here for diplomatic reasons. Reasons that I feel may be evaporating now regardless. I will at least look into tossing a few tripwires before his feet, if that helps you."

[Brian]

"It would help," Melethos says from behind Kal, then steps forward. "The Coin Lords have done little to protect this city from the storms. People are dying, and more will perish if nothing is done. We have to beg your leave, my lady. Our duty here is finished, and other duties call." He motions to Kal and Adamant to follow as he heads for the tent's exit. "We are low on time and need to prepare. The giant's tent is nearby, and we have to collect that Thul fellow. I swear I could sharpen my blade on his gruffness."

____________________________________________________

I'm guessing that everyone has had their say by now. Melethos will head out of the tent with the expectation that the others will follow. Of course, if anyone has more to say or do here, by all means do so.

[Dave W.]

"My friend is correct... I'm afraid we do have pressing business. I thank you for receiving us and for your generosity. It may be that our paths will cross again. Until then fare well." Adamant hands Greshtuza the scimitar, and bows before exiting.

[Jeff]

"May the Shadow hide you from your foes," Greshtuza says, bowing, after she takes the scimitar in hand. The bald-headed snake-eyed man pulls aside the tent flaps, overseeing your departure.

Outside, you see Thul and Starg standing near each other. Neither looks very talkative (as usual), but both are close enough that they might have been.

The stone giant is still here. He just looks at you.

[Ken]

Belarin follows Melethos without comment. He's eager to be away from the two medusas.

[Dave B.]

Shorak crosses his arms at his chest, his hands balled into fists at either side of his chin. He closes his eyes and bows slightly and somberly. A funereal bow of his tribe. He knows no other way to show his respect and sympathy for Greshtuza's loss. He turns and exits the tent, joining the rest of the group.

[Joe]

Streko steps up to Greshtuza and bows deeply. "For what it is worth, I am the one who freed your sister's agony in this realm and allowed her spirit to be free of its shackles. I sensed a wondrous spirit of great intelligence and curiosity in Greshnazza. I grieve with you at the loss of her body, but rejoice in her freedom now. I curse the Coin Lord who enslaved her spirit and thank you for not only your precious gift, but any assistance to 'trip the foul beast' who would do what he did to your sister. She will not be forgotten and, in fact, will be honored. Thank you. May you be safe and successful in your diplomatic endeavors."

Streko bows again and takes his leave, returning to his friend's sides.

[Elvis]

Thul looks over at the group as they emerge from the tent. To his surprise, no one has been turned to stone.

When the halfling steps out unscathed, Thul seems almost crestfallen. But only momentarily.

He waits to see if they need to run any more errands before getting on with it.

[Brian]

Melethos signals to Thul. "We are returning to the giant's tent to prepare for our journey," he tells the human. "We plan on about an hour's rest and preparation, and then we will be off. We welcome your company."

Without another word, Melethos leads them toward Kruthor's tent.

__________________________________________

I'm assuming Thul will follow.

[Jeff]

It doesn't take long to return to Kruthor's camp. The old hill giant is kneeling on the grass, where he has dug a hole in the ground. At his side is also a large brown bag—and you realize you've been seeing bags like this all over the camp, some well cared and stitched with designs and some completely plain, like his. Giants seem to favor bags over backpacks.

As you approach, Kruthor is scooping earth back into the hole before him, as if burying something. He looks up at your party. "The talisman will be ready within a couple of hours. In the meantime...." With a series of grunts owing to his age, he climbs back to his feet with the help of his birch staff. The little round birds have returned to it now. Behind him, another hill giant attends to his elder like some sort of acolyte. By now you're pretty sure Kurthor must be some sort of druid. Behind him on the large boulder that juts from the ground, you can see new designs have been drawn on its face in a chalky substance.

Thul sees that Tallis has gone now. Starg and Aven just remain watchful, standing by and waiting. At the edge of his vision, Kal can see the two Gold blades, Randul and Orlan, are still waiting on him. The shifter glances his way, reminding him that Kal still needs to brief them.

Kruthor takes up his bag and reaches one hand in. He pulls out a slender, gem-studded wand, a pair of bracers, and a small basket of fruit. He places all these on the ground. "I said I would send you with some things to assist you, and these are what I have to offer." He gestured broadly at the whole area. "There are also others who can trade with you, if you require anything else."

Now can begin a short rest. You can also use this time for attuning any magic items (in conjunction with leveling up), and if anyone does wish to seek out anything else (not just anything, of course, but some simple good are acquirable in a short amount of time—we won't have to roleplay through it completey), say so now.

[Elvis]

Finding the thickest piece of canopy, Thul sits beneath the tree and retrieves his pipe kit and patiently packs it. The hood of his stormcoat is up to keep the rain from ruining his work. Once the draw is perfect, Thul settles back as comfortably as possible and continues his silent observation.