Equipment:
Token Art Credit: Upcoming
Music Inspiration: Forest Awakens, Fee Ra Huri, Moonlight Market, Floral Dances, Untamed
| Hair: Pale strawberry blonde that shimmers pink in the sun; cut just above the shoulders | Eyes: Bright seafoam green, soft dusky pink, or pearlescent white |
| Scent: Crushed clover under bare feet, morning dew, and hopeful wildflowers set abloom | Seasonal Touch: A soft wind without a source seems to be rippling her hair and clothes constantly |
| Skin: Pale, in low lighting luminescent lines of silver, bright blue or lilac can be seen on her skin like lightning | Metallic flecks of pink and electric blue are in place of freckles concentrated on her shoulders and collarbone |
Token Art Credit: ["Fey Light" by Shilesque](https://www.peakpx.com/en/hd-wallpaper-desktop-pevbu ""Fey Light" by Shilesque")
Music Inspiration: Slavic Dance, Federkleid, Happy Hare, Breath of the Meadow, Roadway
| Hair: Red-Brown with bright highlights of fire-touched Ginger; Usually up in a messy bun | Eyes: Honey-Gold, Deep Green, or Ember Orange |
| Scent: Clean air of a pine-shaded stroll, petrichor after a heart pounding lighting storm, and sweet honey wine dropped on the tip of the tongue | Seasonal Touch: Being touched by her you swear sunlight lives in her fingertips |
| Skin: Golden tanned, faint patterns of leaves just under her skin in direct sunlight, shimmering in patterns of gold and green | Metallic flecks of gold and bright green are in place of freckles concentrated on her shoulders and collarbone |
Token Art Credit: "Circe" by Liv
Music Inspiration: Forest Dance, Queen of the Fae, Ballad of the Three Wolves, Wretched Shades, Ride the Dragon
| Hair: Earthy Brown with highlights of literal gold and copper. Usually down, shoulder-length | Eyes: Pale lime-yellow green, Purple, and Gentle Brown |
| Scent: of festive cinnamon apple fritters, the moldering leaves fallen to the first floor, and the crisp hint of coming snows | Seasonal Touch: No matter what surface she walks on, her footsteps carry the sound of dry leaves crunching underfoot |
| Skin: warm caramel, at Dawn and Dusk, bioluminescent lichen of rustic orange and soft pink shows on her skin | Metallic flecks of Copper and Deep Cranberry-Red are in place of freckles concentrated on her shoulders, cheeks and collarbone |
Token Art Credit: "The Wolfpack" by Vyrhelle-VyrL
Music Inspiration: Moonsong, Something’s Not Right, Ice Dryads, Magic of Winter, Otherworld
| Hair: Long Black hair past her hips, kept down and slightly wavy. | Eyes: Luminescent Silver, Black, or Vibrant Icy Blue |
| Scent: of glinting silver starlight, distant woodsmoke on icy winds, and frost-touched flowers | Seasonal Touch: Touching her feels like touching the first winter's snow- cold but in a pleasing sort of way |
| Skin: Snow white, in the moonlight patterns of dark blue snowflakes can be seen in her skin | Metallic flecks of Silver and Moonstone are in place of freckles concentrated on her shoulders and collarbone |
- I'm down to RP any theme and plotpoint just warn me if there are spiders, assylums, and medical restraining
- The character is mecurial and sometimes that can take the wind out of a scene's sails. I do my best to make sure everyone's having fun, however, sometimes that's just how it goes.
- If something I say or do makes you uncomfortable, IC or OOC, you gotta tell me. I can't do anything about it unless you talk.
GM: 𝔍𝔞𝔡𝔢|Vincel²⁰|Bisky⁸|Lief¹⁵In the records for Marpenoth in the year of 1502DR another small page is found. The tiny script of 'Ansrivarr' fills the page.
Summons by the Order of the Gauntlant
Returning to the crypt by request of a member of the Order of the Gauntlant, I returned. Even had the summons not come, I would have, as the rot has yet to be cut away and the ashes spread to nourish new growth.
The Whitehawk that greeted us was agreeable enough, though hearing the nature of his work only strengthened my resolve in the matter of my continued involvement. Though, as last time, I was not alone. Lukan and Zephyra also returned with me, though two new spirits joined us.
Jack- A timid one, but he held himself well in the catacombs under the crypt. I did wound him in the course of the fighting, though in the end the debt was repaid and no more is owed.
Rillifen- One who appears after the fashion and name of one of The Seldarine. Of his intentions or origins, I know not.
Down into the catacombs under the crypt we ventured to seek the root of corruption, leading us, a cat marked with a rune of Deep Speech upon its skull. A thing of note, which would continue as the catacombs, lined with bones and skulls of many a creature, stirred at our coming. Skeletal minotaurs, blazing skeletons, and a bone naga were among them. A question arises as to what such bones were doing below the graves of halflings and humans in a small town like Shining Falls. A question for another time.
Linked, likely, to the presence of a powerful individual working in the tunnels. Surrounded by piles of flesh and bone, captives held in cages marked with runes, this Crone, for I know not if she is a hag, witch, or even as she appears to be, worked within a tome.
Surprised at our coming, she was not, and bothered by our intrusion, she was not. She simply strips the flesh from the bones of those within the cages, speaking of other places better suited to her work. Ones already set to her needs. Places that, assuredly, I will be seeking out to cleanse.
She left us in what I can only assume to be a teleportation spell. The Whitehawk had spoken of psionic power, and this only proves his senses were correct.
Perhaps the Crone thought her dead could stop our pursuit of her; perhaps she truly did not care. Her power seems quite strong, so I am inclined to think she fears us not. Her plans reach beyond us.
We dispatched the dead and returned to the surface. The Crone's tome was given to the Whitehawk, and I have the intention of working with him to decipher and translate what we can of her work. If we do find a clue in the book, it is likely either a trap, as she left it there on purpose, or it is but one of many places her rot has infected. Time will tell.
~ I am known here as Ansrivarr.
GM: LyssIn the records for Marpenoth in the year of 1502DR another small page is found. The tiny script of 'Ansrivarr' fills the page.
Assistance for Azriq of the Grand Library
Dusty spoke to me of the desert, and I was most pleased to join a request for assistance to Calimsham. It is much as he described. I wished to remain and observe the land's souls, but that was not the nature of why we were requested.
I traveled with other members of the Syndicate. D.U.S.K. included, though what hostilities she gave me were set aside for the sake of the work that must be done. The others that answered the call were:
Kaeno- A large soul trapped within a small body. He is well suited to combat, though I fear incomplete somehow.
Biscuit- A pleasing sight of a former time and one that I believe would be welcome company in future.
Onics- An overly quiet girl with too much emotion to contain within the confines of her chest. I suspect she will either learn to release it or she will explode. Only time will tell on this.
In meeting with Azriq, he spoke of one of the scholars of the library vanishing in search of a desert tomb which has no record contained within the grand library. The scholar is of the name Dioscorus. Little information was able to be gathered before we set out across the desert, but we were able to find our way with the directions provided. A curiosity that there exists no record of what is within yet there are directions clear enough for travelers to find it with little incident.
A puzzlement for another time, perhaps.
The tomb itself was a puzzle.
Four orbs to unlock, four riddles to solve.
A room with a painting charmed to hold the gaze of those looking upon it forevermore. It was unfortunate to be caught in its web, though fortunate to find. With no record of the tomb, the canvas was cut from the frame to offer to Azriq and potentially assist in finding more information about this tomb and the history within.
A room with a clock's face in the form of braziers awaiting life. The riddle within was cryptic, but with some trial and error, the shadow was made to lie upon the orb, allowing us the opportunity to move forward with our search for the scholar.
The next room was set with a trap of zombies, though they were quickly dispatched, allowing access to the third orb. It was here that the combat styles of my companions became clear. In future, should I venture alongside them again, I feel we will have better cohesion.
In the last room, another riddle awaited us. One which, when answered aloud, unlocked the remaining orb. Clever and rather innocent, a punny rhyme regarding a nose makes me curious as to the nature of the creator of the tomb. There was also a tiny closet found, noted with the plaque naming it the 'Closet of Disappointment '. The one who built this place seems uniquely minded.
Still, there was no sign of the scholar even as the last door was unlocked at last. It was not terribly surprising to find them within, transfixed by an undead dressed most regally. Though I do wonder if they made it through the guardians and the riddles and were reset, or if they came to be there by other means. A detail that we may yet be able to find an answer to, as we were successfully able to knock him out of his transfixion and kill the guardians at his command.
Bringing him back to the Library, we were able to offer some of what we learned of the tomb, and in turn we were given the name of the one who had taken command of Dioscorus- Psammetichus, the Desolate King.
I suspect that there is more to the telling for us to find, and when the time comes, I intend to join the next excursion into the deeper halls.
~ I am known here as Ansrivarr.
GM: 𝔍𝔞𝔡𝔢|Vincel²⁰|Bisky⁸|Lief¹⁵In the records for Marpenoth in the year of 1502DR another small page is found. The tiny script of 'Ansrivarr' fills the page.
The Harvyfest
Requested as guardians of the autumn festival in Shining Falls myself, and four others, were chosen.
Lukan- A man unbound from the constraints of societal shackles
Elspet- A quiet one who would prove to be focused on the people rather than the threat
Zephyra- One of elemental persuasion and a fair pairing to Lukan
Dusty- One that I had met before
Our presence was more than necessary, as an ill omen lay over the festival grounds from the first.
The tortured and agonized visages of pixies were set as illusions within jars to provide light. A sign that none seemed to notice.
While the others moved to their own ends, I went to greet the most distinguished guest of the evening: A pumpkin the size of a dragon curled upon itself in sleep. There I spoke with the farmer who had grown the pumpkin, and when asked of its transportation, there was a claim that two mules had done the work. Many a fine mule have I met, but no two of them could have accomplished such a feat. I desired to speak with them in earnest to learn of their strength myself. In the course of my inquiry, the farmer found amusement in my words. A sorrowful and lonely fellow I found him. I was full glad to offer some reprieve, yet he extended a warning to me. To leave that place.
I turned to gather the others, but it was too late. Festivities are not things stopped so easily, and as the giant pumpkin was cut, it unleashed the source of the farmer's warning.
An amalgamation of plant, flesh, and bone poured forth from the pumpkin. With it came creatures I now remember to be Rot Grubs. Burrowing insects that feed off flesh and strip it down to the bone in moments. It has been too long since my duties put me at odds with such beings, and I have since turned my reveries to the past that I may be better prepared.
Many souls were released that night before we were able to end the mass of ill-conjoined matter. But some were saved. Lukan fought with reckless abandon to the point of endangering himself. Elspet focused on the people and endeavored to assist them in their escape. Dusty chose tactics and distance as befits his critical-thinking mind. Zephyra fought with the breath of the elements at her side, and it was with a relish for the moment.
Once sure that the creature was dead, I followed the farmer's steps to the graveyard of the town, the others behind.
The plants, guardians and sentinels of the grounds, looked alive, yet their spirits had turned from nature, recoiling from me. A tainted place, and my first instinct was to burn it all to make way for better growth. New growth free of the memory of whatever horror had come to mark the land thus.
An impulse I did not act upon as Lukan descended into one of the crypts. Fitting, I suppose, as where does one cleanse corruption but at the root?
When the rest of us came to the crypt, there was another horror made of bugs and bones. It had burts from the floor of the crypt and attempted to devour us. In the end, it was unable. The crypt had been subject to scrawls of some language which I recognized but could not understand. A deep-rooted feeling of unease and disappointment filled me as the script pulled at some distant memory. I took careful note of the scrawl that I could see and took them for translation to D.U.S.K. In time, it came to be known that they were the words of madness poured out in the way that one might mumble gibberish, and the words were in the script of Deep Speech.
The reason for disappointment lay bare, and something that must be corrected with due haste.
The root of what happened has yet to be found, and as charged by my mentor, it will be cleansed.
~ I am known here as Ansrivarr.
The note that is added (belatedly) to the Syndicate's records for Eleint 1502DR is a small slip of paper no larger than a postcard. No matter the size, there seems to be an incredible amount of information crammed onto it, as the tiny curved script of the eladrin known among the Syndicate as 'Ansrivarr' fills it from edge to edge.
Eleint 1502 Dale Reconing
When the elders among the Keepers of the Grandfather tree came to me and bid me travel southeast, it was with reluctance. By the reckoning of the stars, it had been many years since I tread the paths in that part of the forest, so it would usually have been with eagerness that I took up the request.
Twas the reason they bid me go that made me hesitate.
I sought out my mentor for counsel.
It was by the wise words of theirs that I did heed the petition of the elders and began to watch and keep record of the point of concern. To observe, to question, to assess.
In time, I found myself seeking those knowledgeable about the area, which brought me to individuals associated with the Glass Fang Syndicate. The construct known as D.U.S.K, a man by name of Lief who spoke a shared tongue, two drow by names of Sylk and Wuyon'e, and a woman who lived with them by name of Tova were among them. Though there were others. Their dealings with me were the song of the Syndicate. A discordant and fractured tune which grates on the ears and offends the harmony of one's emotions. Only with one did I find common ground. But the song as a whole was found wanting in many matters. And most concerning was the confirmation that among them there was no druid.
An affront to say the least, though not unexpected given my observations.
Considering their contract with care, I found no clause which bound me to the Syndicate above my other duties and no master to serve which superseded my mentor's designs. As such, I determined that it only assisted me in the requested task if I were to join their numbers for a season. How long a season, I do not know, but when the time comes to leave this place, one may hope the song they sing will be a better one than the one sung to me.
~ I am known here as Ansrivarr.
