Pathfinder: Empire of Ash

[Kismet]

The soft cries of a dying dwarf interrupt your restless sleep. After a brief struggle against the weight of your eyelids, you awaken in a crowded tent. You are lying on a threadbare cot, shoulder to shoulder with other victims of the plague. Towards the back of the tent a dwarven woman coughs out a prayer to any Gods willing to listen.


“I was wrong. By all the Gods I was wrong to doubt you.” Her chest heaves against the pain stabbing at her lungs. “Skarn, take this wretched fire from my body.” And suddenly, she grows quiet. Perhaps the Wyrmrot silenced her, or perhaps Skarn answered her prayer.


Without her weeping to flood the tent, you hear new voices outside. Above the muffled moans of other victims, an authoritative voice demands silence. “I've heard enough bickering from you lot. If you mean to survive then close your mouths and open your eyes.”


He continues to preach. "Our Gods will not help us. Our Queen will not help us. We only have a chance if we help ourselves. Can we agree on that much, at least?”


After a short, uneasy silence, four voices mutter non-committal sounds of agreement.


“Good.” The authority says. “Acolyte Seleste will continue to aid the sick. The rest of you will find out when the Constable intends to let us out. And this time, don't come back until someone gives you an answer.”


You hear distant shuffling followed by an exasperated sigh.


“We'll get through this, Alton.” Says a young, uncertain voice.


Alton makes no reply beyond a dismissive grunt.


A young woman enters the tent a short time later. She wears the robes of a priestess in training who has yet to commit herself to a deity. Beyond that you notice a springy mass of copper hair dangling below her pointed ears. The delicate features of a half-elf grace her dark face.


Seleste gasps when she sees the five of you rising from your cots.


“You...You should all be dead!”

 

[Vaneheart]

<p>


As his troubled nightmare faded into the darkness of his mind to be unremembered, Kazrik lets out a rough cough, and blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust to the light and his surroundings. He felt sweat soaking his patched clothes, at least he hoped it was just sweat. His mouth was as dry as a desert. He rose from his cot and glanced around at his surroundings, then grunted in confusion. He expected to feel feverish, but was not. The dwarf barbarian's mind momentarily spun as he tried to remember the events of the last few hours or possibly days, but it was a blur. He felt he could really use a drink. Kazrik looked at the unfamiliar half elf priestess and said a bit hoarsely, <span style="color:#0000b3;">"Where am I?"</span>


</p>

 

[Kismet]

"Pyreport. But I suspect you already knew that." Seleste replies to the surly dwarf. "You're in Docktown. Er, I mean, 'The West District'. The temples are overflowing from one end of the city to the other, so a few priests and priestesses dug there heels in down here to help."


"We're trying to help as many folks as we can." She pauses, then adds grimly. "For all the good it'll do them."


"But you're not like the rest of them, are you?" She looks at each of you, one after another, with awe in her eyes.

 

[Sherwood]

Wren pries her eyes open, feeling her strength start to come back to her. Rising up to a seated position, she looks around in confusion. The last memories she had was on the wagon train to . . . where? Pyreport? Somewhere that her father's influence can't make her come home for the wedding to that fat, pompous idiot. She rubs the grit from her eyes and manages to ask, "Can I have some water? I feel so thirsty." Especially after the fever nightmares that are thankfully fading from her memory. "What happened to us? Where are our things?"

 

[Kismet]

"Of course." Seleste conjures enough fresh water for everyone. She serves your refreshments in large wooden mugs, and nervously sets a flagon in front of Hoja's panther. Though the hungry cat is too busy gnawing on a bird carcass to slake his thirst. "Anything attached to you should be where you left it."


She mutters something to herself. "Though I 'spose their's no way to guarantee that. There's lots of thieves and cut-purses taking advantage of the chaos down here. But we kept your other belongings under your cots, and nobody's gonna get away with filching in here."


"We did what we could to keep your things tidy, but you adventurous types sure don't make it easy."She points at Kael's cot to illustrate her point. A masterwork backpack bulges uncomfortably beneath the mobile bed, leaving little room for his loose possessions.


"But we couldn't keep your weapons here. I understand how unsettling that must be for you, but too many people are trying to solve this problem with blades. Master Alton has them stored somewhere, though I doubt he intends to keep them."

CHARACTER KNOWLEDGE (

@Orikanyo): Kael's tiefling companion was as a familiar face around Docktown's pubs and taverns. By extension, so was Kael. The half-orc recalls seeing artisanal flagons like this at a local watering hole called The Backhouse Brewery. They served his friend's favorite mead there.

NEW ITEM (@Vaneheart): Kezrik finds a message in the bundle of items under his cot. The parchment is plain, but folded and sealed with care.

 

[SamueltheStrange]

The noise was enough to bring Drostir out of his slumber. He bolted up in his cot.


"I was there! I saw him!" He exclaimed excitedly before noting his surroundings.


Kissing the blacked fingertips of his left hand "thank you for this gift" his eyes fell on the copper haired woman who seemed to be the focal point of the room's attention. "Who are you, where am I?" Seeing her robes he added "and who of the wheel do you hold dear?"


He stood up from the cot just to stumble for a moment and sat back down. he took the mug from the woman and drained it nearly in one pull.


Looking towards the woman who had earlier called out to Skarn, kissing his fingertips and blowing towards her. speaking quiet and solemnly "I'm merely glimpsed the path you are destined to walk soon. Fear not for the stag is a kind guide on the winter path." He then turned his attention back to the conversation back to the others now awake with him, finishing the last of his water.

 

[Hanakai]

The nauseating smell of sickness and death gripped the air. Hoja scrunched up her nose at the smell, but it was somehow relieving. The fact that she could smell anything meant she was still alive. Hoja groaned and lifted her head to the voices, only half making out what they were talking about. Something about Gods and Acolytes. She could barely figure out who was talking, let along follow along with them.


She refused to stir until she heard someone else enter the tent. Confused, she turned her head up again to look at the half-elf woman. Was this the Acolyte those men were talking about? Hoja rolled over off the edge of her cot, letting herself fall to the ground onto all fours next to her brother. "Hey, are you alright?" The young panther purred as he looked up from his meal.


"I'm fine. Just confused," Hoja growled and seated herself on the floor until the room stopped spinning. The bronze-skinned girl grabbed the flagon from her partner and chugged its contents, not caring what it was. As she was drinking, she listened to everyone talk and ask questions. A lot of it was pretty pointless in her opinion. "Stags don't lead," She commented in a shaky common, "They just run. But why are we here?"

 

[Kismet]

...

Seleste struggles to remain respectfully grim. But Drostir's energy is infectious. The acolyte stifles a fit of laughter but a gigglesnort manages to slip out. Seleste clears her throat and steels her expression before addressing the priest's many, many questions.
"My name is Seleste and you're in Docktown recovering from a disease called the Wyrmrot. Which means you should probably slow down a little. You've all been through a lot."


She takes note of his attire and his precious silver symbol. "Are you a cleric of Solst? You must have come here with the others of your order. Your brothers and sisters were the first volunteers to care for the infected."


The acolyte watches Drostir drain the mug and puzzles over his final question. "Every aspect of The Wheel is sacred to me. To revere one God above the other five seems foolish. Can you imagine living in a world touched only by Skarn, or only Fleuriel? Then again, I've been an acolyte longer than anyone. So maybe I'm the fool."


"In any case, Master Alton says we don't get to choose our gods. The Northgods are proud creatures and they decide who is worthy of them. I always had doubts about that." She glances at Drostir's frostbitten fingertips. "But maybe he was right."


Seleste turns her attention to Hoja while Drostir is occupied with the dead Dwarf.

...

"We brought you here to ease your suffering while the Wyrmrot had hold of you. We thought it would take you as it took all the others. But if you can survive, perhaps others will too.

OOC: Oops we skipped @Orikanyo. Let's give the next post to Ori and then start at the top of the list with Vaneheart.

 

[Orikanyo]

"...Seems the blackguard of nature could not break this one."

​

A low grumble came from the large, and much to the joy of those whom it may concern, shirtless man began to rise from what would have been his grave. The fact he was still alive was let alone a miracle, the fact he could feel all of his body parts was another. He was recovering from a plague that was once thought to be the end of all who catch it. Should he thanks the gods? Or perhaps Lady luck(Whom was at most times fickle)? Or best he give thanks to the unyielding one?


It was likely her doing, for him to be able to fight off the sickness that claimed so many... perhaps she gave him the strength and fortitude to stave it off?


Regardless... he needed to make haste. He had a child to find, and if he had survived this, he had to make certain his friend's daughter did as well... Perhaps this woman who was mentioning his blades and equipment, though he himself thought many a time he should stop taking everything with him... he was a pack rat.. what could he say?


"Thank you for your-" he was cut off by the ravings of the stag shagger, he went on a trit about the stag and words he probably thought was... fitting for the occasion. Damn stag lovers, death ain't a walk down an winter trail, ask any soldier who fell from a fool's lucky pike.


"...Regardless, thank you for your-"


And once again, somebody interrupted him, a cat lover it seems... No less rude though...


He took a few moments to let the silence settle before letting out a long, long sigh. "I thank you for your hospitality." the man spoke, finally, as he rose from his bedding, well, less rose more fully sat up, he DID just recover from a death sentence you know. "These flagons, I know them well... Abit to well might I say. We aren't in The Backhouse are we? Me and a friend of mine came here often, Olgerd, he.. fell to the plague a short time ago... if we haven't been sleeping for a month mind. before I caught this death I escorted his child to a church of Flueriel..."


He spoke for a small time, then let the words sink in for but a moment, before he continued. "Seleste was it? I am Kael, do you perhaps know where this child is? Her name is Marigold, teifling, green eyes, dirty blonde hair just past her shoulders, lion's tail. A little charmer." he added the last part in with a small laugh, which then stretched into a loud cough... Seems he was still on the recovery... Luckily, water was helpful in that regard.


"I must find her once again, get her out of this damned place.."

 

[Kismet]

no slide

no slide

no slide Result: The acolyte isn't concerned about Kael's shirtlessness in any capacity. Which is probably for the best. She has enough distractions to contend with as it is.


Though she seems to appreciate receiving some thanks for once. "Oh, I didn't do much. But it's a nice thought. Thank you."


Seleste stares at the distinctive mugs and turns one over in her hands. "We're not in the Backhouse, but we're close. I heard the owners abandoned the place when the plague struck. That must be where Alton 'salvaged' our supplies from. If that's the case he's probably keeping your weapons there too."


After an uneasy pause she awkwardly offers a few words of consolation. Her voice is detached and minimally sympathetic. As if she were comforting someone mourning the loss of a pet. "I'm sorry about your friend. Olgerd, was it? It seems like everyone in Pyreport has lost someone. I wish I could say I've seen his child but I haven't had time to leave the immediate area. You should ask Alton when you go to retrieve your weapons."

NEXT: Vaneheart

 

[Vaneheart]

<p>


<span style="color:#0000b3;">"The West District huh? That's a bit far from where I was."</span> Kazrik noted this, then stood off of his cot and quickly examined himself for any new marks, bruises, or injuries, then stooped to check his belongings under the cot. The dwarf barbarian was a bit irritated that they had chosen to disarm him, but his momentary irritation faded when he found the sealed parchment. <em><span style="color:#006600;">Is this from Gundrak?</span></em> he wondered. Kazrik hoped he would be able to catch up with the dwarven merchant soon. He tucked the envelope in his belt as he gathered his things. Once they were gathered, Kazrik took one of the mugs of water and quickly drank it.<span style="color:#0000b3;"> "Thanks."</span> he said to the priestess. He took a moment to look at each of the others that had apparently survived the plague, and he wondered briefly at the odd half elf girl with the panther, and the seemingly strange mannerisms of the other half elf who spoke of paths and carried a holy symbol. His eyes lingered on the cot of the deceased dwarven female plague victim, and Kazrik whispered a silent prayer to any of the gods that would listen in this seemingly forsaken place. He felt that he didn't know very much about the faiths or religions, nor much about the wheels that Seleste mentioned, for that matter. Turning back to the priestess Seleste, he asked<span style="color:#0000b3;"> "Where can I find Alton? I'd like to retrieve the rest of my things." </span>


</p>

 

[Kismet]

"Well, the Constable was adamant about clearing the other districts. He didn't seem to care how far the infected were moved so long as they ended up here." She nods in response to Kazrik's thanks, looking pleased again. "Alton should be just outside. Or somewhere nearby. I would introduce you myself, but I must stay here with the sick."


"And...before you go, may I ask for a favor?"


The acolyte gestures towards the other victims of the 'Rot. Most are writhing on their cots, but victims who have yet to face the worst of their affliction are watching you. Hope welling up in their eyes.


"Please, lead them in prayer. Surely some God has blessed you. Maybe you can share that blessing with the rest of us."

Random Player Selection

A minor quest from Seleste

no slide no slide Result: Seleste seems to think Kazrik is equal to the task.


She locks eyes with Kazrik. He was willing to pray for one victim. Perhaps he'll pray for others. "Maybe you could say a few words for them?"

MINIQUEST

Kazrik may attempt to boost the victims' morale with a speech or he can pass the opportunity to someone else. Roll Diplomacy and describe Kazrik's actions to complete the quest.


NEXT: @Vaneheart has acquired a miniquest and gets another turn. Then Sherwood will post and continue the turn order.

 

[Vaneheart]

<p>


<em><span style="color:#006600;">A prayer?</span></em> Kazrik felt a little warm and anxious suddenly as many eyes looked to him for guidance and hope. He was briefly reminded of a story his half-ogre compatriot Gorug told him once, about being surrounded by a large host of eager, hungry, and angry goblins, and having to drive them off while armed with only a cork-puller. His mind raced over all the prayers and invocations he had heard during his almost sixty years. Finally, he settled on one, and hoped it might be enough. He began his prayer, <span style="color:#0000b3;">"Most prayers begin with a request to bow your heads. I would ask that you not bow your heads. I would like to ask that you take a moment to look around the room at all of the men and women here, in this moment, sharing together this grand experience of being alive. We share the same spectrum of potential for care, for compassion, for fear, for joy, for love. In the face of the gods and eternity, for mere mortals such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love. And love we have, as well as hope, for ourselves and one another. For if we can survive this, than there is indeed hope for all of us yet."</span> He paused momentarily, before continuing, <span style="color:#0000b3;">"And for those loved ones who have passed, and those who might yet still, remember that our accomplishments in life echo down the generations for all eternity. You will not be forgotten."</span> He finalized his prayer with a moment of silence and a brief incline of his head.


</p>

 

[Kismet]

Silence hangs in the air like a corpse swinging from the gallows. The infected cough and wheeze out "amen" and "so may it be"s. Fear still fills the tent from top to bottom but Seleste forces a smile anyway. She assures Kazrik that, at the very least, he didn't make things worse. "I guess it takes more than strong words to lift heavy spirits." She says.

Nothing changed, but Kazrik has learned something from the experience.





Seleste gives everyone a verbal nudge when the mood has settled. "You should find Alton quickly. He'll be relieved to know that some of you survived."

 

[Sherwood]

Wren was never a very religious person, but her recent brush with death has put a new outlook on things. She manages to mutter a quiet "Amen, " when the prayer is done, then she starts to gather up her things, checking in the hidden pouches for her gemstones and coins that she managed to liberate from her father's house. Pulling out a gem, she offers it to the woman helping them. "Here. Take this as my way of thanks for carrying for us. It is not much, but it might be able to help someone in need. Thank you. For everything."


Still feeling a bit shaky, Wren manages to get to get feet. She then says, "We might as well get moving. Alton is waiting."

 

[Kismet]

Seleste gladly pockets the gem. She wouldn't refuse any resource at a time like this.

"Thank you. I'll put it to good use."


The party weaves its way through the cots and emerges from the tent. It's barely daybreak. As the sun rises over the western sea, it bathes Docktown in a misty red glow. You take note of the district's elaborate wooden architecture and a stone wall the encircles the area. But you find no signs of Alton outside.

NEXT: Orikanyo