Session 33, 8.23.19 As Sword’s Edge stayed the night within the safety of the Tree Ghost Tribe’s home, they learned that their hosts were by no means refined, but nor were they monsters. They were merely men and women that reflected the forest’s brutal nature. While their ways sometimes seemed savage with the cursing, shows of strength and blatant mating rituals, they were also incredibly rich in culture. As everyone settled down to the last of their mead, stories by the great fire were shared, from the sagas of Uthgardt to the heroics of the Battle Father’s mightiest followers. By the end, Sword’s Edge understood that the Tree Ghost Tribe didn’t worship power. They merely recognized that their culture could only be secured by the prowess of their most courageous. As night grew late, the Tree Ghost warriors collapsed one at a time right where they stood. By the witching hour, a heap of nearly forty Tree Ghosts snored and snorted in the Great Hall. While some of Sword’s Edge tried to find a hammock, fur blanket or bench in the wide room, others thought it easiest to rest outside. By dawn, Sword’s Edge had helped themselves to the nearby stream’s water, used prestidigitation to clean armor and weapons, then did their daily trainings together. Only the few guards sworn from drinking watched, while the rest of the forested mountain slept as if Faerun counted on it. Shortly after sunrise however, the crushing of earth stomped through the Ghost Tribe’s lands. The heavy and purposeful steps of Chief Boorvald Orcbane woke a few stragglers sleeping on the outside hills. They leapt up with spears and axes, mistaking the Chief’s stride for that of a stampeding bull, but quickly bowed their heads when reality struck their eyes. Chief Boorvald, along with his groggy son, Thorgil, bastard son, and bastard child, Waldemar, approached. “The secret to the Grandfather Tree is that there is no secret at all,” Chief Boorvald would bellow as he straightened the equipment on his belt. His eyes would focus on Korax. “We shall go to the bluff on top of the Ten Breasted Scarlet’s peak. There the path will take us to the hidden glen where the Grandfather Tree, and all its brethren, await.” _____________________________________________________________________________________ Naivara : This place, The High Forest, is primal to Naivara. The veil between this world and the Fae is so thin that it calls to Naivara’s most primal emotions, losing all inhibitions in place for the fervor of the Eladrin she descends from. More yet, the High Forest is so in touch with the primal elements that it’s as if the very wind is speaking to her. Naivara knows that this isn’t a message she should receive, but it’s one that the element of air bequeaths to her for years of loyalty. A slithery voice smooth like a snake, but deep enough to fill a canyon speaks… “It is Dire that you aspire to light a fire by the Great Briar sitting on the quagmire. Once you retire by your bonfire, I will require that you look higher to the buyer of your lute’s choir.” (Dire Woods: A forest-within-a-forest, encircled by pale oak trees, this woodland was remarkable due to the prevalent arcane energy, caused by the fall of Karsus .) Translation: “You need to light a fire by the Great Briar located near the quicksand pits in the Dire Woods. Once you rest, I’ll fly to you in order to gift you for bringing the lute.” Nazir : As Nazir trekked the journey, smiling at the birds that landed upon his fingers, the chime from his Sending Stones would call to him. The voice of Sufia would speak to him through the stones. “Sabah alkhyr (Suh-bah AL, Hairy){good morning}. We’ve had our fill of camp confrontations from pixy parties to fungus fights. However, it is a riddle in the wind that scares me lately. It bellows mist between trees, calling us to come home.” Selitae : As Selitae stairs into the fire, listening to the crickets, she’d hear the familiar voice of her love, Veriel. “There’s such a sad love in my memories of you. I’d capture the moon to place it in your heart and steal the sky for your eyes to prove I’d be there for you.” His words, sweet as honey and soft as summer rain, haunt Selitae. It’s hard for her to forget what he said. “I’ve learned that my lineage is darkened in shadow. I may be part of the War of Tears in Cormanthor. If so, it will tear me apart, but you deserve the truth. I beg you, keep it secret.” INVESTIGATION CHECK (Advantage): The War with the Army of Black, Battle of Bleakness, Attack of the Army, was in 714 DR. While Veriel may be older than Selitae, he’s no elder like her father. Whoever he may be related to would have to be a long lived father or grandfather. While there’s no record of any traitors, most of the historical lore was destroyed during the destruction of Cormanthor. Perhaps Selitae needs to ask questions when she sees her Aunt. That is if she makes it. —————————————————————————————————————————- THE GRANDFATHER TREE After navigating through narrow crags, Sword’s Edge would relent from a cliffside overlooking a glen of fantastical trees. Four great oaks, at least a half century old, crown the corner of a mammoth tree scratching up at the clouded atmosphere. Though it seems narrow for its height, the adventures realize that its actual base is as wide as a lord’s manor with bark thick as plate mail. As Sword’s Edge approaches, they notice a set of sturdy warriors painted in mud surrounding the hilltop where the Grandfather Tree sits. Each spearman wears a wood helm with horns made of barbed branches and cape made from a mesh of leaves. They bow to Chief Boorvald as he approaches with the party. As Sword’s Edge reaches an intimate distance, they watch as leaves shed from the giant plant’s branches. It’s as if the Grandfather Tree is weeping, yet its reaching arms do not grow naked. There’s a strange outcropping as well. Rows of hardy eskers web down the hill, and the adventurers are quick to realize that the roots descending into the earth make up the enormity of the hillside. But as the rest of the party takes in the great site, Korax perceives something else entirely. The groans of the far reaching branches, the rattle of leaves, and the very gestures of the swaying limbs seem to speak. “Come, come to me, Mighty Korax,” the Grandfather Tree seems to beckon. “Come and get to know me better.” ————————————————————————————————————————— Korax : As the indomitable Korax explores the tree, circling it like a lion before striking its prey, he would notice a large patch of moss along its backside. As Korax narrows his eyes at the Bryopsida (family of moss), a limerick (5) of tendril like extensions with what can only be described as human eyeballs would blink at Korax before receding into the tree. If Korax brushes the surface of the moss covered bark, he would feel a hollow cavity behind the drape of flora. As Korax lifts his head, he would notice that Sword’s Edge seems preoccupied with subtle, but no doubt purposeful distractions likely caused by the Grandfather Tree’s strange magics. Some listen as the Chief gives his guards orders, while others explore the rest of the landscape, none giving the stalwart Korax any of their attention. “Come, mighty Korax,” the Granfather Tree seems to call without saying anything at all. “Come and get to know me better.” ———————————————————————————————————————- Cyrano : Cyrano, exhausted from a night of studying a culture in the most abrasive way possible, would rest his head. As he does, a mist would start to form in his mind’s eye. As he exited the grey fog, he’d step out into a vast wood line of gnarled trees with soft earth. Cyrano would study his hands, and notice that he was no longer his Aarakocra form, but the flesh and muscle of Janequin Kent. Before him, by a pumpkin orange fire, was the beautiful soft face of Nastasia Benkrum. She chewed her bottom lip as she rubbed her forearm, shyly looking to Cyrano. “Apologies my friend, but I know that there are a great many miles between us. Since that is the case, I thought it only fair to meet with you back where I found you, upon a dream.” (After response) “We don’t have much time Janequin, so I wanted to update you. In case I don’t make it to Waterdeep,” she’d hold her hand up in explanation, “Which I entirely hope I will, but in case, you must know a few things. First, Cylyria Dragonbreast has agreed to help in Undermountain. You must know that she is one of our most capable agents. That should give you an idea of how much the Harpers already trust your honor.” (After another response) “Next, I must heed warning. I have studied the ways of the Sable Minstrel. He will not fight fair. Expect many illusions and enchantments. When you can, cover your ears and disbelieve any obstacles he puts before you. He is more slippery than a nematode and slyer than any fox. Do not underestimate him.” (Final response) “You always speak such kind words. Such is why, I must admit, that I’ve grown fond of you. Janequin, do not ask why, but there is a chance that my most recent Harper assignment will not allow me to see you again. If that is the case, then may I ask for a simple dance?” Nastasia would hold out her hand, and a soft tune of ballroom music would dance within the trees. (If Cyrano takes her hand) The pair would waltz into a graceful spin. Nastasia would rest her soft head, smelling of jasmine and vanilla, on Cyrano’s head. As Cyrano squeezes his eyes, he’d notice that he’s adorned in a fine pair of clothing that capture the night’s sky, while Nastasia adorns a gown made of pearl like ocean foam. As the pair continue to grip one another, spiral and step under the dark forest, the young human would look up and smile before pressing her lips onto Janequin’s. “As I said before, upon a dream,” she’d smile while resting in Janequin’s shoulder. As Cyrano awoke, he’d notice that a hard stone had been pressed upon his clavicle, exactly where Nastasia’s head once laid. —————————————————————————————————————————- Korax Part 2: Upon entering, Korax notices that he is entombed in a cavern that outlines the shape of the tree, minus a few great feet that take up the timber’s thick bark. Clung to the walls are reams of ridged roots gnarled in different directions. Korax’s helm would react, forcing his eyes to adjust. Only then would he notice that before him was a natural stage of wood grown from hundreds of years of effort. Korax the Imposing would stretch his massive chest wide as he spotted a single polished branch plucked, and standing atop the organic platform. Before he could react however, a girl, no older than five, with flesh made of bark and hair made from rotten vines would approach. As she stepped forward and grasped the branch, a network of roots making up a cape would cling from her back. The creature’s jaw would creak open, and shockingly, it was not a young girl’s voice. Rather, it was the gravely groan of an old man long past his prime. “The Mighty Korax finally makes his presence known,” the Grandfather Tree would announce. (response) “I know why you are here,” it would say in its broken glass tone, “and I do have what you yearn for. However, Toril rejects you and your kind. You are not meant for this realm. It is my duty to make you understand why. Would you so soon put out the light I give? It will cost you nothing, which I’m sure will make you happy?” (response) “And yet,” The Grandfather Tree would say ominously, “it will cost you everything.” All at once, Korax’s sight would be covered in mage-fire and he would return to his home realm just moments before he was ripped from it. A great battle between the Tetekura and the half-human abominations took place. Only, Korax was not himself. No, he was the one known as the Betrayer, and he was fending off his compound along Groaning Rock. Before him was a demonic general known as a Balor, that stood before him. “It won’t be long now before they take your compound,” the Balor declared. “Yes,” The Betrayer agreed. “Once the fools drag into my trap, I shall have enough power from their ruin-tattoos to unleash my great plan.” The Betrayer pet his strange and unusual focus, a raw rock of ruby glass with the fires of the Abyss burning inside. “After the army of Tetekura are destroyed, I will have no one to interfere with my anchor here at Groaning Rock, and the leylines will allow me to go back-and-forth between our realm and the future breeding grounds for the Demigorgon’s army. Toril.” “Be quick about it then,” the Balor would declare. “Our Demon Lord’s bloodlust starves for new worlds. This Toril has managed to repel every infestation thus far. It’s the only reason we deal with you, mortal. You may have insight to the relentless stink of your kind that repels our Master’s endless plans.” Just then the great door of the compound would smash inward, cracking, but not collapsing. The Betrayer would smile. “I will not fail. The blood that is about to be shed should be strong enough to store within my focus. I will take it to Toril where I can then open the Gate.” “And what name will you go by?” “Look for a mortal from Toril by the name of Sarsicus to beckon you. Anyone else on the other side can be sacrificed.” The Balor would furrow its brows, grunt, then disappear in a cyclone of flame. Just then, a second large crash at the doors would nearly break in the door. Tetekura roared in a strange harmony of war chants. The Betrayer ignored their mocking, mumbling to himself as he retraced the drawn runes of his trap. “Come in friends,” The Betrayer would mumble to himself, “my plan is perfect, and shant possibly go wrong.” The Mage-Fire would then pull back from Korax’s eyes, brining him back to the Granfather Tree. “And so you see what has been chronicled,” The Grandfather Tree would cut in. “Your guile interfered with your Enemy, sparing hundreds of other Tetekura safely secured on the distant battlefield. They wait for you, their destined leader, to return to your lands. But it appears that your efforts have only temporarily thwarted the Betrayer. He works towards carrying on. However, he desperately needs your blood in order to continue with his plan. The stronger you become, the better his chances of opening the gate with your blood. And so, you need this,” the creature would raise a branch, “in order to follow your next step. The Witches of Rashaman, guides in this world and yours, to help thwart the Betrayer.” (Korax talk) “Well then, it appears there’s only one thing left to do Korax the Mighty. You must come and take my branch, plucked specially for the Witches. However, like all troubles, there is a lesson to be learned in the struggle. Come and take the branch, but first, you must battle your greatest foe, yourself.”
p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000}
p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000; min-height: 12.0px}
p.p3 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #20a603}
p.p4 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #807f7f}
p.p5 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #0d6002}
p.p6 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #a30003}
p.p7 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #0d6002; min-height: 12.0px}
span.s1 {font-kerning: none}
span.s2 {font-kerning: none; color: #807f7f}
span.Apple-tab-span {white-space:pre}
Just then, a dark replica of Korax, with gray skin and red ruins would appear between Korax and the speaker of the Tree. Any of the clone’s steel appears to have survived a dragon’s flame, blackened and charred, and his axe handle is a gnarled piece of wood. The silent double would point accusingly to Korax before lifting his axe and pounding his chest.