[D&D 4E IC] Residuum Revolution Arcane- Above ground!

daniant

In the year 250, a powerful force rises against the mystical chains that binds it. In the ensuing revolution and change of government, magic and the powers that once enforced an arcane brotherhood is brought under the heel of martial and primal might. The earth itself heaves up and overthrows the Eladrin oppressor.

Now, in the year 302, fonts of arcane wisdom have dried up. The fey and the rituals associated with them are anathema. Only the clergy have access to rituals, and children born with fey blood are immediately killed to prevent contamination. Veiled arcane heretics wander in the wilderness, and are slain on sight by a group of primal enforcers known as the nk’bara. Prince Almarak, the Dragonborn son of a long line of paladins who have ruled the country since the chaos of the revolution, is a religious extremist who controls the populace through brute force. This is Ydria, Land of the Emerald Crown.

However, a group of dissidents have risen up. Though some fear the stories of days long past when magic bound the people into servitude, others question whether they have exchanged one tyranny for another. Can magic be used to serve the people? And what of the rumors of fey refugees in other lands uniting to take Ydria back?

It is up to you, brave adventurers, to decide the fate of the nation…

Players
Bhow- Riishi Antera: Razorclaw Shifter Shaman (Stalker Spirit)
mightyjongyo- Alise Sellyn, Human Wizard
Illianthar- Persecutus, Revenant (Human) Warden
Anialos- Shen, Human Ranger
Tiger Burning- D'arcy, Half-Orc Barbarian
streever- Fyden Amarr: Half-Elf Bard
Dac- Hibiki: Male Human Swordmage
Witch_Hunter_84- Nkbarros Impkith, Tiefling, Scourge Warlock
finkle- Dietrich Uberwauld, Human Witchhunter (Avenger)

daniant

You have found yourself in an Enclave. It is strange to see so many like you in one place. In fact, it almost seems dangerous. People who do not believe in the government, people who practice arcane magic, fey, hunters of nk’barra, and people who just question themselves completely. You are all outcasts, and it is easy for you to talk unguardedly. The people talk about overthrowing the government, and there is even seditious talk about the Prince’s father, King Kalimstac, who might have been exiled by his son to Moon Isle for manifesting arcane magic: everyone knows that dragonborn often hatch “sports” who manifest arcane powers from deep within themselves.

This is a safe place, for now. The Elven watchers have an eye on the hidden entrance to the encampment. You know now from experience that you will eventually have to leave, however. There seems to be no safety anymore. Your only solace can be found in the new faces you see around the campfire at night...

streever

Fyden sits cross-legged in front of the fire, sheathed sword across his lap, and his cloak thrown back in the warmth.

"These lands beg for rebellion," he says to the people beside him. "Almarak's clerics chant and gesture, and fire incinerates a man--and this is not magic? This is not the same despotism they claim originates with the elves? It is a crime that they live without fear, surrounded by guards and sheep, while we hide and disguise our heritage."

Bhow

Riishi had been following a small band of Nk’bara for most of a week. She periodically crept close to observe, but mostly stayed well back. They made enough noise and left a broad enough path she could have shadowed them from behind the ridge, If she had wished. Yesterday, though, she allowed them to follow their trail arcing from east to south without her silent accompaniment. She had found something more interesting.

Small signs of another’s passage caught her attention several days ago, with increasing frequency. Soon it was obvious that many others, individuals and small groups, had passed nearby not long ago. Some had blundered and stumbled; others moved through the forest with great ease leaving few marks. Who?

She followed the converging trails here, observing (from the undergrowth) a more varied collection of beings than she’s ever seen. Presently Cherka barks a soft growl, and a small voice on her other side squeaks, “You should go inside! They’ll like you.”
Riishi turns, startled, focusing just quickly enough to see a sprite wink at her and disappear. Addressing the panther beside her, Riishi admits “I guess they know we’re here. You’d best dress for company.” As they rise, the panther softens and shrinks until it's the size of a medium-ish dog: no longer a panther, but few would dare call it a housecat.

Inside, Riishi is greeted politely, and moves among the crowd (Cherka padding beside her) in silent amazement. So many types of people, and so much magic! The base of her spine tingles in warning. Magic means danger from the Nk’bara. But the comfort and ease of the others soon infects Riishi. As she relaxes, her natural personality emerges, and she eagerly engages those around her with questions.

As her mingling brings her closer to the fire, she squats with a small arm draping across Cherka’s back, listening to a fine-featured man preach about fear, hiding and Nk’bara crimes: subjects she also knows.

mightyjongyo

Alise couldn't even remember the last time she had been able to relax like this. After living in a city where no one would think twice about turning her in to the nk'bara, it was a great relief to be able to freely talk with others like her. Already, she has gotten advice on how to improve her talents, new ways and tricks to apply her craft. Still, a decade and more of constant paranoia clung to her, and she found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, expecting the worst.

As she wanders around the camp, she overhears a bard - or at least he looked like a bard - ranting against the injustices they have all suffered. "Why indeed should we hide in fear while they flaunt their own otherwordly powers? But that is why we're here, are we not? To change the course this history has taken?"

streever

"Spoken like a true hero, stranger," the bard says, greeting this newcomer. "Fyden Amarr, at your service. Sell-sword, explorer, teller of tales, and vagabond. Sit down, drink with us, and we'll put our heads together around this problem."

Witch_Hunter_84

A momentary hush falls over the crowd, many turn to see a Tiefling with a broken horn entering the camp brazenly. A hood pulled up over his head, obscuring his features save for the one intact horn, Nkbarros Impkith walked proudly amongst the gathering of arcane personas. At home amongst those that called the current government the enemy of their way of life, Nkbarros proudly displayed hanging around his neck a necklace made up of the finger bones of nk'bara he had hunted down over the course of his "rebirth". The demon had made him pformidable over the years and had asked for little in return other than motivating Impkith to kill more and more nk'bara (which he was more than happy to do).

Those fine people look like good company, introduce yourself boy, the demon spoke to Impkith. He strode over to the fire, taking an open spot and introduced himself in an almost happy tone for someone so violent looking.

"Good day to you friends," Nkbarros began amicably, "I am known as Nkbarros Impkith, I'm a somewhat notorrious hunter of the nk'bara. I must say it is good to be in the company of so many like-minded folk. Murdering nk'bara in the wilderness, moving from cave to cave, gets old pretty quick I must say." At the mention of the word murder he felt the demon wince at his faux pas and say to him Too much information there my boy.. Nkbarros kept the smile on his face, clearly he had much to learn about interacting with people who weren't trying to kill him.

Bhow

The light hairs along her neck bristled as Riishi listened to the introductions. My, she thought, They certainly are…passionate.

“’Rebellion’ is a strong word,” she volunteered brightly, but went no further as Impkith stepped forward.

Warlock, she almost hissed, instinctively rocking backward, legs coiled to spring. Having been granted her own gifts by the grace of the natural world, she distrusted those who sacrificed so much to unknown entities of questionable intent. Seeing the muted reactions of the others and comforted by Cherka’s bulk, Riishi held her ground, with narrowed eyes. And now he speaks of murder…

mightyjongyo

"Alise Sellyn," she replies, taking a seat nearby. "Librarian and illusionist. A strong word? What else would we call a gathering of those who seek to rise against their oppressors?"

Alise raises her eyebrow at the word murder. She felt like she should have been surprised, but really, what for? This was a gathering of those with a bone or two to pick with the nk'bara - naturally there would be a few who have already began to fight back.

"You must have quite the skill, to be able to so casually speak of disposing of nk'bara, Master Impkith."

Witch_Hunter_84

"I've been playing cat and mouse with them since I was a child. Had necessity not forced me to take the easy path to power maybe I could have studied a more prestigious arcane discipline. But we are under seige and it's tough all around though isn't it? Maybe one day I can forsake this path, but not while the nk'bara are out there."

streever

Fyden shrugs, looking at the embers. "Stranger heroes have existed. Battle of Dunnsfall, nearly 3 centuries ago. Dwarven soldiers, outnumbered and locked in battle with an orcish horde which threatened to sweep over the continent, were joined by an ancient dragon who slaughtered a quarter of the orcs.

War makes strange bedfellows. If you can kill Nk'Bara, I'd happily fight by your side."

Finkle

Dietrich had the neck of his longcoat fastened as high as it would go, using it to hide the sneer that had been permanently etched across his face since he had come within sight of the enclave entrance.

He inhaled deeply, nostrils itching at the scent of brazen heresy being flaunted and celebrated as if it was not the source of all that was wrong with the world. Not for the first time today Dietrich felt his gut squirm, its meagre contents objecting to the witchhunter's actions that flew in the face of all that he had previously held dear and holy. Every fibre of his being urged him to unfurl his coat, draw his sword and Kord's symbol and bring down the wrath of his god upon these infidels. Perhaps indeed he would soon give in to these urges, a final act of religious zeal before being hopelessly overrun by this unnatural assortment of heretics, but for now he kept his holy symbol firmly hidden within his coat, mayhaps a passerby recalls Kord's firm stance towards the arcane.

Or perhaps the witchunter's unease was at the fact that in the hours that he had spent inside the perimeters of this safe house, he had yet to see any evidence of true evil. He had witnessed lovers embracing each other in the firelight, perhaps comforting each other over the fear of being hunted for their elvish heritage. There were children playing together, casting light cantrips to amuse themselves and their parents. Dietrich's sneer grew more pronounced as he wrestled with doubt over the actions of his lifetime of sending people like these to the stake.

He had settled on a rock just outside of a small campfire, where a foppish minstrel mouthed off about revolution and confronting the nk'bara. If Dietrich was to find any confirmation of the evils of the magic users, this would be the place that trouble would bubble to the surface. Sure enough, the half-elf was already attracting a crowd of onlookers, including a magic user hiding behind the guise of a librarian. Dietrich would have to remember to look out for that trick in the future.
The witchhunter's trained eyes scanned the gathering crowd and he caught a glimpse of someone whose face caused his heart to skip a beat. Maria? No, the girl was not the sister that he had sent to the grave. Indeed, at a second glance there were very few features that the young girl shared with Maria, but nevertheless the sight of the girl caused uneasy guilt to bubble in the pit of Dietrich's gut. Despite the unusual cat that accompanied the lass - there was clearly some glamour about it that did not allow his eyes to focus upon it for too long - the witchhunter's years of experience told him that there was no trace of the arcane about the girl. No trace yet.

Dietrich shifted off of his perch and made his way behind the crowd to where the girl sat. At least there was one life that he could save on this day. The girl gave a slight start as the tiefling that had now taken centre stage spoke about his murderous tendencies. Yes, the witchhunter thought, that is the appropriate reaction. Look at his face girl - that is the true face of what we are dealing with here today.

Dietrich leaned behind the girl and whispered in her ear, "This is no place for you, girl."

Witch_Hunter_84

streever wrote: »

Fyden shrugs, looking at the embers. "Stranger heroes have existed. Battle of Dunnsfall, nearly 3 centuries ago. Dwarven soldiers, outnumbered and locked in battle with an orcish horde which threatened to sweep over the continent, were joined by an ancient dragon who slaughtered a quarter of the orcs.

War makes strange bedfellows. If you can kill Nk'Bara, I'd happily fight by your side."

"That is good to hear, not everyone realizes that we are in a fight for our lives here," Impkith said in a somewhat sad manner, "Though I would not wish to walk this path for the rest of my life, but they won't stop until either we are all dead or they are. We are locked on this course of death and our only option seems to mete it out in kind."

Although he kept himself from showing it, Impkith noticed the man in the longcoat whispering to the Shifter, Riishi. Keep an eye on that one my boy, he doesn't seem to want to be here. Nkbarros made a mental note of his secret benefactor's advice, but thought best to keep up the appearance of amicability.

"Greetings friend," he said to the newcomer, "what brings you to this august gathering?"

Finkle

Dietrich stands up straight at the tiefling's words, cursing himself as a fool for doing anything to draw attention to himself.

The witchhunter snarled at the warlock's address. "I had come to this place to find a safe haven for those who have none in our land. Instead I find self-confessed murderers being welcomed with open arms. It would have been best that I had come here seeking disappointment, for that is what I have found."

streever

"Friends... what is the matter?" Fyden says, drawing himself to his full height. "This man slays those who hunt down our friends and colleagues and slaughter them. While no one loves murder, one must admit, for every Nk'Bara he kills, dozens of half-elves and simple hedge wizards live.

A safe haven? This is a war council, friend. The Nk'Bara he kills have ensured we have no safe havens. They hunt us, watch us, and then slay us--men, women, children.

My name is Fyden Amarr. I want to see our people free to live side-by-side with the citizens of the Emerald Crown, not hunted and slaughtered like wild animals. You look like a man who knows how to wield a sword. Why not join us?"

Dac

Consciousness, when it came, came slowly. At first all he heard was the occasional sound – a laugh, a shout, fading quickly below the surface of his awareness. Smells rushed in, damp and laced with the scent of well-cooked meat. His mouth watered, and he was suddenly aware of how dry it was. He tasted cool air, and warm light flooded the corners of his closed eyes.

Feeling was the last to come, and Hibiki wished almost immediately that it hadn't. He opened his eyes and groaned, his hand moving to the pain in his chest.

“Don't move,” someone said. A soft, smooth hand closed over his and set it back down at his side.

Hibiki twisted his head to look around. The voice had come from a woman – pale, beautiful, dressed in a thin earth-colored shift.

And she had pointed ears.

“Where-?” he asked, his voice croaking. The elf offered a canteen at her side and tipped it against his lips. Instead of drinking, Hibiki lifted his other hand and took the canteen himself. He wasn't going to be treated like an invalid.

He drank. “Where am I?” he asked at last, his voice normal.

“Safe,” the elf answered. If she thought it was rude of him to take the canteen, she didn't show it. “In a cave about five miles from where you were attacked.”

“Attacked?” he repeated, searching back in his memory. It was still kind of hazy, like gauzy spiderwebs covered his mind.

“Yes, one of our scouts found you being assaulted by the nk'bara.”

“Nk'bara?” he asked again, and then paused. He frowned. It was coming back to him now. He'd been jumped about an hour after leaving Meer Lake by five nk'bara. After roughing him up a bit, four had held him down while the fifth took a club and went to town. He'd passed out somewhere in there. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I was. How did I-?”

“The scout was able to distract the men and doubled back to retrieve you. He brought you here. We've been tending your wounds for three days.”

Three days? No wonder he felt so hungry. “I guess I should say thanks,” he muttered, taking another swig of water. It wasn't just pride – he didn't like the idea of being helped by an elf. He was in deep enough on this magic crap as it was without making friends with pointy-ears.

“Don't mention it,” the woman murmured. “Can I ask you something, though?”

Hibiki paused and glanced at her. “What?”

She pointed. “Why didn't you use your sword?”

His blood ran cold. Slowly, he followed the path of her finger to his other side.

An enormous blade lay lengthwise to his body across the cave floor, its business end sheathed in a protective wrap that looked as if it were new.

“Where did you find that?” he asked, glad that despite the quick beating of his heart, his voice was at least steady.

“I didn't. I assume the scout must have. It was already there when I returned from gathering yesterday – Chi'laran must have forgotten he'd had it, somehow.”

“Yeah,” Hibiki said hollowly. “That must be it.”

He didn't want to know what she'd think if he told her the truth. He'd thrown the damned thing in the lake and sprinted away as fast as he could. It was just his damned luck that he'd have to run into the nk'bara without a weapon.

Three days. If what the elf was saying was true, it had showed back up after only two.

Not good. It was getting faster.

He looked back at the pointy-ears. She was looked at him expectantly. “They got the drop on me,” he finally answered. “They got my sword away from me before I could react.”

It wasn't a terribly convincing lie, and Hibiki sucked at fibs to start with, but she didn't push further.

Several hours later the cave got a little noisier. Semi-secluded off to the side, Hibiki tore into a loaf of bread and a nibble of cheese. He had propped himself up against one of the walls, his bare, calloused feet towards the fire.

From what he'd been able to piece together, he'd been rescued by some sort of revolutionary movement. Magic-users pissed off about the fact that magic-users got shat on, plotting some kind of revenge. One of the people around the fire even claimed to have killed a lot of nk'bara.

Just perfect, he thought sarcastically. Just Goddamned keen.

He ripped another mouthful and swallowed hard. His bandaged chest throbbed, and he winced, hissing and putting his hand over it. “Y'all are just asking to get your asses kicked.”

Bhow

Dietrich wrote:

"This is no place for you, girl"

Without turning, Riishi nods in agreement with the words of the man behind her. She did not come here to start an armed revolt against the king. The Nk’bara were loutish, even abusive. But she had never feared for her life, nor considered stealing theirs.

And nearly every face reflecting the firelight around her, she realized, was marked for death by the Nk’bara, from the murderous warlock (who had earned if not chosen his fate) to the children hiding in their mothers’ skirts. The latter surely deserved a chance to grow up.

But paying slaughter for slaughter was no answer.

Closing her eyes, Riishi listened for the guiding voices. She knew she had arrived at a fork, and knew not which path to follow. But the voices, this time, were silent. They, too, seemed to be waiting…

Fyden wrote: »

"Why not join us?"

“Join what?” asked a clear, high voice. Riishi realized that she now stood in the center of everyone’s gaze, and that the question had been hers. “I mean,” she stammered, trying force her swirling thoughts into a coherent sentence, “This has been called a ‘haven’ and a ‘war council.’ We’ve heard of ‘rebellion,’ ‘oppression’ and ‘murder,’ ‘murder,’ ‘murder.’ But answering slaughter with slaughter only breeds slaughter. You,” singling out Nkbarros, “claim we are locked into a path of death, with death being our only possible answer. But that way lies only death for all, 'a fine dance for the Raven Queen’s last ball'” this last quote from a well-known dirge directed at the tale-teller.

With that she faltered. Her pent-up frustrations vented, she glanced around self-consciously and squatted again, distractedly scratching the neck of her cat (which, due to the dancing firelight, seemed larger and more protective of her than before).

streever

"We have to defend ourselves, don't we? We can't live on the run forever. I can't at least," Fyden says, shrugging. "Pretending I'm someone else... using false names... it catches up to you. There must be others out there who can oppose the Prince. What other option is there?"

daniant

A little gnomish woman comes up to you all, offering some soup.

"There's no use fighting against the nk'bara. You know that they have the Prince and his family by the short n curlies." She squints up at Impkith. "You're a brave one, lad. You've seen many a strong man fall, haven't you? But the nk'bara will be there as long as the crown is corrupt and lets them get away with their extremist murder and destruction. You know they were the ones that pushed for the old King's exile, right?"

She pauses to pass a bowl to the slumped man with the dark hat and fierce scowl.

"You could never kill every nk'bara. They are hiding everywhere, and where one dies, another appears. But to understand what hold they have over the royal family. Now that would be a secret worth dying for." She smiles sadly at Deitrich. "We all have lost so many to their evil ways."

Finkle

Dietrich was momentarily shocked by the support that the tiefling received from the minstrel and other onlookers. The witchhunter was used to walking into a village, denouncing a magic-user and then having the weight of the villagers' pitchforks behind his crusade. In some ways, however, Dietrich could understand why the murderer was receiving a hero's welcome. These were an oppressed people, hounded by relentless foes. Would they not celebrate whoever was able to stand up to the nk'bara, no matter his appearence or morality?

As the girl got up to speak, Dietrich took this opportunity to blend back into the crowd. For the first time this day, the girl's words almost forced a smile to break accross the man's lips. Headstrong. Willful. These were to be added to the list of traits that the strange girl shared with Dietrich's sister.

"You could never kill every nk'bara. They are hiding everywhere, and where one dies, another appears. But to understand what hold they have over the royal family. Now that would be a secret worth dying for." She smiles sadly at Dietrich. "We all have lost so many to their evil ways."

At the gnome's words the demon in Dietrich's gut writhed about in guilt. The witchhunter glanced to the left where the children that he had observed earlier were now asleep in the arms of their father, no mother to be seen. What had happened to her? Had she been unfortunate enough to visit the barony of Harkenwold recently?

Dietrich visibly shuddered at the thought and the questions that had haunted him for these past weeks returned with greater vigor.

Witch_Hunter_84

daniant wrote: »

"There's no use fighting against the nk'bara. You know that they have the Prince and his family by the short n curlies." She squints up at Impkith. "You're a brave one, lad. You've seen many a strong man fall, haven't you? But the nk'bara will be there as long as the crown is corrupt and lets them get away with their extremist murder and destruction. You know they were the ones that pushed for the old King's exile, right?"

"Well little friend if you know where this King of yours is who will ride in on the Platinum Dragon itself to deliver us, I'll sit and stare at the sun with you till he comes. Failing that I'll kill every one of those mage hunting bastards that comes at me or anyone else touched by the arcane. So long as they keep hunting us I'll keep taking them on any way I can." Impkith suddenly turned and faced Riishi, her cat (which seemed bigger to him than before) hissing a warning in his direction. He lifted up his leather coat, showing an intricate series of scar tissue which looked as if it had been deliberately (and slowly) cut into his torso. The patterns crafting some sort of interconnected script, for what purpose unknown.

"I'm one of the lucky ones darlin'. The children that some of the nk'bara have done this to didn't get the reprieve I did. This is the closest they've come to killin' me an you better believe I won't ever give them that chance again while I'm breathin'." With that Nkbarros Impkith covers up and takes a seat, staring into the fire and looking very tired.

streever

"Thank you," Fyden says, accepting the soup. "You seem to be familiar with the intrigue, ma'am. You're right, I'm sure, but how on earth do we turn the snakes out of the garden? If someone manipulates the court, there must be some way to find them--to get them out."

daniant

The gnome glances at Fyden.

"I'm sure I don't have to say this to some bright gentlemen and ladies such as yourselves, but the rumors suggest that the king has been exiled and imprisoned on Moon Isle. Now you would not be able to get there easily. Really the only way to get to the Isle would be to fly."

She grins toothily at Impkith. "I think you've actually hit nearer the mark than you realize, young man."

streever

"I've never been to Moon Isle..." Fyden says quietly, a sense of wonder spreading on his face. "Seems a shame, a place I've never been..."

Don't ask her about the dining, he chides himself mentally. This is serious business here.

Bhow

"Ride... a dragon?" Riishi asks the gnome, with a sideways tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow.

daniant

"The trick is convincing the dragon the ride is worth it," says the gnome lady with a wink. And she disappears back into her tent.

mightyjongyo

"Well, that would certainly be the experience," Alise comments as she drinks her soup. "So, anyone know any dragons on a personal level?"

daniant

The gnome is in her tent and does not respond.

Map of Ydria:

streever

"Frankly it sounds insane, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth trying. What else are we going to do? Sit around a campfire and await the Nk'Bara?"

Does Fyden know of any dragons?

history to remember stories:
History: 1d20+4 13

Nature to use his knowledge of the natural world
Nature: 1d20+5 11

Finkle

Dietrich's eyes narrowed as the conversation began to turn serious. The gnome's leading suggestions had turned what could simply have been a few hot-heads letting off steam into a potential plan for action. This was when things could begin to turn ugly.

It had not been overly difficult for the witchhunter to infiltrate the arcane enclave. He had passed an old tinkerer on a nearby merchant road, and Dietrich had recognised a few outlawed potions and trinkets among the fool's wares. After not-so-gentle persuasion Dietrich had extracted the nest's whereabouts and safewords in return for the man's safe passage, but only after the artificer had made Dietrich swear on Kord's name that he would bring no harm to those seeking shelter here.

Dietrich was a man of his word, but there were many in his profession who did not share this trait. The witchhunter was convinced that if he had managed to infiltrate the compound then others must have as well. This was exactly the type of conversation that would bring them to the surface.

From beneath the wide brim of his pilgrim hat, Dietrich Uberwauld surveyed the gathering crowd.

Insight roll to scan the crowd for anyone acting suspiciously - 25

daniant

Dietrich:

Try a perception check to survey the crowd and then I'll use your insight check to see what people are saying and whether or not they seem genuine.

Fyden:

Aren't dragons just part of the legends?

Witch_Hunter_84

Nkbarros sat and contemplated what the gnome meant by hinting toward the king and dragons, he also wondered where they would find a way to fly to Moon Isle. If at all possible Impkith wanted to avoid going in hoc in asking a dragon for a favor like flying them all to the island. Dragons were ancient and wise creatures, he didn't need one of them piecing together where his powers were coming from and outing him in front of the group.

There's always another way my boy, just put your mind to it. Nkbarros tried to remember if on his travels he knew of any other flying mode of transportation that could get them to the isle, a friendly flock of griffins, a used Pegassi dealership, anything . . .

History roll (any other mode of flying travel other than dragons)= Natural 20!

streever

Fyden shakes his head in amusement. "For a moment I took that gnome seriously. Dragons? In this day and age? I haven't heard a reputable story--or seen evidence of one--in any of my travels. Maybe we can get passage on a boat..." he thinks to himself.

Finkle

Perception check, as requested! 1d20+10=25

daniant

Deitrich:

You see a figure leaving the gathering. You don't know why, but it makes you worry a little bit. He seems to be headed off to the north...

Impkith:

You've heard of Moon Island and know that all boats that go there are heavily guarded by nk'barra and paladins of noble blood. In your travels you have heard rumors that in the East people ride on floating magical saucers or magical winged creatures, but almost all magical creatures seem to have disappeared from Ydria since the age of fey.

Finkle

At the sight of the figure leaving the gathering, Dietrich's instinct for trouble told him that further investigation was needed.

He stood and placed his hand on the girl's shoulder. "You seem like you can handle yourself in the wild," he says through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off the figure disappearing into the shadows beyond the campfire. "How are you at tracking?"

Perception to keep track of the figure - 1d20+10=15

Witch_Hunter_84

"There is passage to Moon Island by boat, but the port is heavily guarded by the nk'bara and nobles who owe their position to the current throne. Walking into that would be suicide. I have heard legends in my travels that there may be some fey holdouts to the east that would have access to winged or other modes of flying transportation, but it is mostly legend. Unless we plan to find out if the legends are true I don't know what our move here is."

daniant

Deitrich:

As the figure moves farther away, it disappears into the night.

A tall man with what looks like eladrin heritage stands up in the crowd. "Giselda has interesting ideas, but she is just a gnomish crone, with peculiar superstitions. I have heard her ideas before."

He looks at you by the fireside and says, "A group of sturdy folk such as yourselves would have no problem contacting the kingdom beyond the Eastern Reaches. They say that an Eladrin Empire still exists there in a utopia and no race is slaughtered, no child abandoned. Perhaps they would come to our aid and help us shed this dictator and his regime."

mightyjongyo

Alise muses over the man's mention of the Eladrin Empire. Had she ever read anything about that? There were an awful lot of books in the library, after all...

History check on Eladrin Empire: 1d20+9 = 24

"Well, sneaking in may be a possibility. Regardless, we could use allies. We have few enough as it stands. But would they risk their safety to aid us?"

streever

"They must yearn for the chance to restore their old glory," Fyden says, as he thinks about the man's words.

"At the very least, it may be the safe haven some of us are seeking. I'm going to find it," he finishes, buckling his scabbard to his belt and securing his buckler to his arm. "Is anyone interested in joining me?"

Witch_Hunter_84

Nkbarros had never heard of such a place before, an entire Empire where the fey and arcane were not killed at birth? The concept was almost too big for him to comprehend, the prospect for military aid in overthrowing the current regime also appealed to him. Taking on the nk'barra by himself had always been too big an endeavor for him alone, at best he was fighting a solitary war that would most likely end with his death, this gave him the possibility to end all the nk'bara in his lifetime.

"I am most definately in friend. If this nation does exist it represents hope for all those like us, even if they can't help us in sending troops we will have discovered a place where we can finally be safe from the nk'bara. We can set up an underground that can transport refugees out of the reach of the nk'bara forever!"