Aug 20, 2025 10:45 pm
Seelah finds a comfortable place to rest.
I will take the next watch then, our ebony erelander replies.
I will take the next watch then, our ebony erelander replies.
Act II, Chapter Two: Memories of Dawn
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Aug 21, 2025 9:00 pm
"Third watch," Petra offers after Azote and Seelah claim the first two, spooning out soup to any takers.
P.S. I rolled a 17 on my Perception check in my recent post.
OOC:
Petra and Varin are Small, so they count as 1 creature for the stone soup spell. That means 4 more Medium creatures can eat the soup if they wish?P.S. I rolled a 17 on my Perception check in my recent post.
Aug 21, 2025 11:44 pm
Jasir, as is usual, is quick to find a place to land his pack and draw himself up to his full height and stretch. Though it takes a bit of mental effort he opens his cloak to better soak in what heat he can from the fire, considering the little leaps of flame and crackling of wood in quiet reflection. Kaelith's words draw his attention and see him perk a little bit.
"Perhaps it augurs well for what lays ahead. Would that I had time to study the spellform upon those cairns... So many arts lay lost and buried," he sighs with a quiet undertone of regret. "It's like finding the remains of a castle that's been long lost to time and memory... torn down to its foundations. You can only look at it and imagine what it must once have been like."
He sets such things aside and moves to retrieve his mess gear, gratefully accepting some of Petra's stone soup with a bow of his head and a murmured thanks. "Then I shall take the final watch," he adds to the conversation, moving to unfurl his bedroll while giving his ration of soup an opportunity to cool. He seats himself upon it then and folds his legs beneath him to idly stir his spoon through the mush, only removing the wrap from around his mouth to eat.
"Perhaps it augurs well for what lays ahead. Would that I had time to study the spellform upon those cairns... So many arts lay lost and buried," he sighs with a quiet undertone of regret. "It's like finding the remains of a castle that's been long lost to time and memory... torn down to its foundations. You can only look at it and imagine what it must once have been like."
He sets such things aside and moves to retrieve his mess gear, gratefully accepting some of Petra's stone soup with a bow of his head and a murmured thanks. "Then I shall take the final watch," he adds to the conversation, moving to unfurl his bedroll while giving his ration of soup an opportunity to cool. He seats himself upon it then and folds his legs beneath him to idly stir his spoon through the mush, only removing the wrap from around his mouth to eat.
Aug 22, 2025 1:17 am
FROZEN BARRENS | MARCH OF SNOW & ECHOES | BRISK MIDDAY
Snow hushes to a silver veil as the first light crests the Dolmen hills.
The night yields without disturbance, no whisper of Shadow, no stir of cairn denizens. Snow builds in quiet drifts, softening the outlines of the pines and cairns alike until the world seems wrapped in a single pale cloth. By morning the air has steadied to a clean, cold clarity, the faintest breath of thaw rising from the east.
Kaelith is already up, scanning the horizon where a ring of stone teeth breaks the skyline: the Dolmen of New-Dawn. His hand cuts the air in a silent signal, and the column begins to form once more. Packs are drawn tight, embers buried, tracks obscured.
The Northward the march resumes.
The morning march is steady and untroubled, cold air filling lungs, the constant sift of snow settling on cloaks and lashes. By midday the pale sun crests behind veils of cloud, throwing a thin wash of light across the Barrens. The column crests a final ridge of frost-hardened earth and finds itself looking down upon the vale of the Dolmen of New-Dawn.
From the hilltop vantage, the stones stretch in ordered ruin: a circle of massive uprights jutting like broken teeth, lintels toppled or half-buried, their faces carved by time and winter into runes that refuse to be forgotten. Shadows pool black at their bases despite the sun’s feeble light. For a moment the company halts, breath steaming in the thin air, taking in the place spoken of in half-remembered verse and whispered fear.
And then the wind shifts, cold, sudden, carrying with it a whisper that does not belong to snow or stone. The Dolmen waits, its silence heavier than a battlefield. Ahead lies not merely stone, but the threshold of something older, and far more dangerous.
Snow hushes to a silver veil as the first light crests the Dolmen hills.
The night yields without disturbance, no whisper of Shadow, no stir of cairn denizens. Snow builds in quiet drifts, softening the outlines of the pines and cairns alike until the world seems wrapped in a single pale cloth. By morning the air has steadied to a clean, cold clarity, the faintest breath of thaw rising from the east.
Kaelith is already up, scanning the horizon where a ring of stone teeth breaks the skyline: the Dolmen of New-Dawn. His hand cuts the air in a silent signal, and the column begins to form once more. Packs are drawn tight, embers buried, tracks obscured.
The Northward the march resumes.
The morning march is steady and untroubled, cold air filling lungs, the constant sift of snow settling on cloaks and lashes. By midday the pale sun crests behind veils of cloud, throwing a thin wash of light across the Barrens. The column crests a final ridge of frost-hardened earth and finds itself looking down upon the vale of the Dolmen of New-Dawn.
From the hilltop vantage, the stones stretch in ordered ruin: a circle of massive uprights jutting like broken teeth, lintels toppled or half-buried, their faces carved by time and winter into runes that refuse to be forgotten. Shadows pool black at their bases despite the sun’s feeble light. For a moment the company halts, breath steaming in the thin air, taking in the place spoken of in half-remembered verse and whispered fear.
And then the wind shifts, cold, sudden, carrying with it a whisper that does not belong to snow or stone. The Dolmen waits, its silence heavier than a battlefield. Ahead lies not merely stone, but the threshold of something older, and far more dangerous.
Aug 23, 2025 6:24 pm
It seems we’ve arrived, Seelah eventually remarks. I will use my talents to detect evil as we trudge forth, friends.
@WhiteDwarf No evil detected.
OOC:
Detect Evil every 30’.@WhiteDwarf No evil detected.
Aug 25, 2025 1:44 pm
The mysteries of the rune-carved stones of the Dolmen--for rituals, collective burials, or both--beckon.
But they must not forget threats that could come up from behind, so Petra does what she can to obscure their tracks and make as few sharp sounds or eye-catching erratic movement as possible as they move forward.
Except the dwarrow earthwitch is pretty tired from yesterday's battle, using Aryth's Gifts in strange new ways, and the painful memories seeing the Fell raked up, so her efforts end up a little slipshod.
But they must not forget threats that could come up from behind, so Petra does what she can to obscure their tracks and make as few sharp sounds or eye-catching erratic movement as possible as they move forward.
Except the dwarrow earthwitch is pretty tired from yesterday's battle, using Aryth's Gifts in strange new ways, and the painful memories seeing the Fell raked up, so her efforts end up a little slipshod.
OOC:
Survival Check to avoid patrols or other predators.Last edited August 25, 2025 1:48 pm
Rolls
Survival - (d20+11)
(7) + 11 = 18
Aug 25, 2025 3:22 pm
Sensing need for potential precision, Seelah helps her dwarrow friend with obscuring the party’s tracks. Sifting snow gently over footprints as the group travels forth!
Rolls
Seelah: Survival (Wis) - (1d20+0)
(14) = 14
Aug 25, 2025 4:37 pm
Azote & Tork are more than wanting to avoid patrols.
Last edited August 25, 2025 4:38 pm
Rolls
stealth Azote, Tork - (1d20+8, 1d20+7)
1d20+8 : (8) + 8 = 16
1d20+7 : (3) + 7 = 10
