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Post by irishmagician on Oct 14, 2013 17:10:03 GMT -4
Naerwen continues to focus on her 'Detect Magic' spell, identifying that there is one 'strong' aura on the female. There are numerous 'faint' auras and one 'strong' aura on the male.
Strongarm continues to look at the unconscious female on the ground, and replies to Naerwen without looking up.
"....She is Jun Zi, the Master after which this Dojo is named. She is...was...," he begins to say, but his head falls into his hands as he pauses for a moment before he continues again. "...She was one of the people who taught me the art of combat. After what happened in town, I meant to check in with her...in case...." Another pause falls over him.
"I was too late to save her. That damned thing snuck up on us when I wasn't looking. I should have been more careful, I should have..." His words seem to escape him at this point, and he tries to make his way over to to Jun Zi, almost stumbling over several times in the process. "What is wrong with her? She still seems to be breathing, but why does she not wake?" Strongarm asks, his voice fraught with sadness and anger.
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Post by Naerwen on Oct 14, 2013 23:59:29 GMT -4
Naerwen frowns in sympathy as she picks up on the man's emotions. If she weren't concentrating on learning more about the magic she would have given him a hug. "I'm not sure what's wrong with her. There's a strong aura of magic on her, but I'm still trying to learn more about what sort ... you have a strong one as well in addition to a lot of faint ones. Do you have any magic items on you?" Naerwen continues to focus on the individuals in the room to attempt to learn more.
(Does the man have a lot more scratches/bite marks than the lady or no? Also, where is the "strong" aura(s) coming from ex: neck maybe? Can I do a spellcraft check to ID the magic? If so, I'll post it for sake of saving posts/time. If she needs to focus for a longer time she will assuming the party is ok with it.)
Spellcraft: [dice=20] +10[rand=92839098531933263157936414242267802464109175025117355075399144548]
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Post by irishmagician on Oct 15, 2013 15:43:40 GMT -4
Naerwen focuses further through her Detect Magic spell, allowing her to determine that the 'strong' aura on the female is coming from the strangle marks on her neck, and that the aura is made up of two different schools of magic. She also determines that the numerous 'faint' auras on Strongarm come from his armor and shield, presumably magic items; whereas the 'strong' aura comes from the bite mark on his neck and only has one school of magic emanating from it. She is unable to glean any additional information without a Knowledge (Arcana) check.
The exertion of dragging himself appeared to have been too taxing, as Strongarm plops down heavily on the ground next to Jun Zi, breathing heavily. "Magic...items?" he asks, rhetorically. "Torag's beard, of course I do! A couple years of adventurin' will teach you to always have some magicked armor handy!" He wipes his brow again, looking once again at the throng gathered around. "Forgwynd, ye' got a mighty odd group following ye' around. Why is that gnome riding a goat?" He pauses briefly after asking, thinking a moment. "Actually, scratch that. When it comes to gnomes, ye' really shouldn't ask. Nevermind."
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Post by Naerwen on Oct 15, 2013 18:47:50 GMT -4
Naerwen gave a small grin as the man mentioned his adventuring and such. "Good point." After pausing for a moment she finally confirmed her assumption. "The strong auras of magic are coming from the wounds inflicted by the creature, but I can't identify the specific magics, because I'm not familiar enough with Arcana." Nodding toward the woman Naerwen remarked, "She has two types coming from hers ... and you only have one type. I think that's about all I can manage to figure. I don't know if it's something that could be dispelled or not." After chewing on the inside of her lip for a moment she turned to the Vulgrim and Trazish. "What do you make of all of this?"
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Post by zeferin on Oct 17, 2013 1:58:19 GMT -4
Trazish, wiping the ichor from his blade, sheathed it and turned to the dwarf. Eyeing Ayame, he said, "Don't mind her. She's odd even gnome standards." Looking around the room, Trazish added, "Now, why don't we try to move somewhere else where this isn't blood and a rotting corpse to catch our breath and find out what happened to your friend. Personally, I would love to know why a Revenant, of all things, decided to...pop in for a chat."
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Post by irishmagician on Oct 18, 2013 23:14:36 GMT -4
Strongarm nods in response to Trazish's request, doing his best to struggle along with the party to a relatively safer place.
(OOC: And here is an excellent place to nudge the plot along a bit. I will give the party until Sunday afternoon for any further RP they wish to do, after which I will 'fast-foward' the group to bring you all back to the Temple back in Oakdale; where you all will regroup, get healing for the two injured/comatose NPC's, and get more information from others while you are there.)
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Post by blackhawk on Nov 4, 2013 15:12:20 GMT -4
(OOC: Hardcore Derped on this and didn't RP anything. My vote is to reset us at the next plot point as you mentioned and we can make an attempt at regaining our groove. Sorry for failing, Sean.)
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Post by irishmagician on Nov 12, 2013 20:41:42 GMT -4
The return journey to Oakdale is uneventful, at the very least in the sense that group does not have to once again fight for their lives on the trip back. The chaotic energy continues to dance around the sky, the light of the dwindling sun mixing with the energy to provide strange hues above. Arriving at the Temple, several priests rush up to tend to the wounded pair, leading them away as Strongarm mutters irritatedly about simple flesh wounds. Mother Amara arrives to greet the party shortly thereafter, flitting about the throng like a concerned mother hen. After ascertaining that everyone had a platter heaped with homemade food and a cot to sleep on if they so desired, she hurries off to join the priests in their administrations to the injured in the Temple.
Shortly before sunset, an acolyte comes to speak to the group, his vestments rustling softly in the echoing openness of the nave and the silence permeates the air. "Abbot Solonius has instructed me to inform you that he wishes all of you to meet with him in the morning, after breaking the morning fast. Beyond that, he has told me naught else except that he will look into the situation regarding the two you have brought here today." The acolyte lingers briefly should anyone question him, and leaves shortly thereafter to return to his evening duties.
Tidying-up OOC: Everyone receives an appropriate amount of XP to bring you all to Level 8 (which is the next level up for you all, I believe). Additionally, you all have the benefits for an 8+ hour rest until the next morning. You all have until this coming Sunday for any further RP you wish to do on this thread, after which I will begin the next thread for Part 3.
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Post by Naerwen on Nov 12, 2013 21:26:46 GMT -4
Before the acolyte leaves Naerwen asks how Erfryn is faring. She hoped that he was well enough to speak with them, but feared he may be in the same condition as when they last left if not worse.
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Post by myinsanemind on Nov 15, 2013 1:16:30 GMT -4
Ayame hears the mention of her master and wanders over to see what is happening. Dumbles nibbles on Ayame's shoes.
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Post by blackhawk on Nov 18, 2013 13:38:22 GMT -4
Vulgrim spends some time talking to his old master, discussing the chain of events that led up to his passing out at the Dojo once again.
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Post by zeferin on Nov 19, 2013 15:18:56 GMT -4
After making it back to the Temple and talking with the acolyte, Trazish was exhausted. Excusing himself from the rest of the group, Trazish made his way to in hopes to find a quiet corner to meditate and pray in. As he searched, he became uncomfortably aware that he was in a temple of one god, looking for somewhere to worship a different goddess. The last thing he wanted was to cause a commotion as he openly worshiped the Lady of Bones, though that seemed to occur more often than not.
After finally finding what looked to be a room that no one had been in for quite a while, Trazish finally relaxed and began to set up the small shrine he had with him. Setting out a dried black rose, dried lavender, a ritual dagger and a copy of The Bones Land in a Spiral, Trazish finished by lighting some small, black candles and began to commune.
Looking back, so much had happened in three days. He had had his gender changed twice, his race changed twice, and, though he was back to being male, he was feeling bitter and angry over losing his elf blood. As he saw it, his whole being was due to his elf blood. His mother’s death, his father’s death, his reason for become an inquisitor: all because of the elf blood that ran in his veins. Now? Now he looked much more eerily similar to his father, to the man that through away his life and abandoned his son over the madness of trying to raise the dead. Deep down, though, Trazish had always knew that is was partially his fault for all that. His father went mad because of his wife’s death, and it was Trazish’s existence that caused his mother to die that night. His mentor had told him that it wasn’t his fault and that it was his father’s own decision to try to cheat Pharasma and that it was the villager’s decision to attack his mother, but guilt was hard to overcome.
As he prayed to his Lady, Trazish asked, “If my drive was the blood in my veins, and now I have lost that, what is my new drive? I don’t want to abandon my promise to you, my Lady, but I feel that I have nothing left in this world left to fight for. My honor as an inquisitor still stands, but my pride as both human and elf is gone. I wanted to prove to both of them that they were not superior to a half-bred. I wanted to show them that I was better than them all, but how can I if the scale in now tipped? My Lady, please help your servant.”
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Post by irishmagician on Nov 21, 2013 23:35:45 GMT -4
The acolyte pauses a moment in his departure from the group, a mix between an amused and exasperated look passing quickly across his face. "Lady, I believe he is doing well as can be expected given the circumstances. I think that he will speak with you at the same time as the Abbot," he says in reply and then continues on his way.[/color]
Vulgrim finds Strongarm being bandaged and inspected by several healers amongst some cots nearby. His bloodied armor lies stripped off to the side, though his shield lies within immediate reach near the base of his cot.[/i] "Bloody hells!" he exclaims as one of the healers ties a bandage around his chest a little too tight, causing them to jump back startled as Strongarm winces. "What are ye' trying to do, crush me ribs in half?" The healers look at each other, shrug, and leave to gather more of their supplies. The smith looks up to notice Vulgrim's approach, an exasperated look on his face. "Oy, Vulgrim. Tell those bloody medics to bugger off, I swear they're tryin' to kill me. Don' know what's worse, them or that blasted monster back at the Dojo." He swings his legs over to the edge of the cot to face the dwarf, the wan light of the Temple illuminating his straggly black hair and heavily scarred face. Strongarm unconsciously rubs at the bite mark on his neck, still a vivid red against his tanned muscular shoulders. "Ye look like there be somethin' on that mind of yours, Vulgrim."[/color]
The room in which Trazish meditates is silent as a grave, the sounds of the various activities going on in the main portion of the Temple failing to pierce through the wall of the room. The flames of the candles lit around him sway almost hypnotically, causing shadows to dance around the walls before him. Time seems to slow down during his meditation, eternity manifest in the silent contemplation of Trazish's thoughts. The tranquility is touched briefly by the faintest scent of frankincense and myrrh, even though no incense burns on the altar before him. All of the lights of the candles dim sharply, as a small gust of air bearing the scent blows through the room. Trazish can hear the pages of the book on his altar flipping open in response to the force of the air, obvious to him as the light of the candles resume their brightness as the gust fades. The book lies open on a page with an image of a balanced set of scales held by blindfolded woman, standing before a gate leading into a graveyard. The phrase 'All lie equal under Pharasma's gaze in the Boneyard' can be read on the other open page of the book. In the flickering candlelight, the shadows that fall on the book seem to form an image of two figures standing on either side of the woman in the picture; one obviously having an elven stature, with the other appearing human. Another sighing gust of air passes through the room, carrying the scent of incense, this time extinguishing all of the candles in the room. When Trazish's eyes adjust and he is able to see again, the book lies closed in its original postion; as if it had never been open in the first place.
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Post by Naerwen on Nov 22, 2013 19:25:55 GMT -4
Naerwen is somewhat taken aback by the Acolyte's unexpected response given that she had only asked how Erfryn was doing. She shrugged it off and took a look around. Deciding that there were far too many people mucking about in the Temple she wandered outside. After a few moments she found a rather large, majestic looking Oak tree that had a perfect resting place at the base of the tree's roots. She gave an offering to the tree and stepped back to a respectable distance (away from any roots should the tree be hostile). After some thought she posed a question in the Oak's language. "Dear one, I'm sorry to disturb you. I wonder if I may ask a small favor of you." Bashfully she elaborated further, "I wonder if you could help me communicate with the Great Oak ... I suppose perhaps to pass along a message for me or help me learn a way to pass a message along on my own?" She cautiously waited for a response.
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Post by myinsanemind on Nov 26, 2013 1:25:05 GMT -4
Ayame cheered when she heard her master was doing better. She hoped off Dumbles and danced around him in a sort-of jig cha cha as she let out woops and hollars.
"Master Erfryn-sama is getting better, Dumbles!"
She took the goat's head into her hands and planted a loud, popping kiss upon his wet nose. Dumble's sneezed in response and let out a bleet of surprise.
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