The World of Beline

Two Weeks Later

Two weeks have passed since the companions returned from Kragganthur, encountered the Inquisitor and pledged their aid to The Enlightened. Life, for this time, has returned to some semblance of normalcy. The exception being the fact that the companions have drawn the attention of the commonfolk of the city. It seems that word has spread of their doings; thwarting a band of highwaymen, braving the Blightfen to save the farmer’s daughter, delving into Kragganthur and retrieving priceless Dwarven artifacts, donating gold and aiding those in need.

Most of the commonfolk now treat the companions genially, those that recognize them offering friendly greetings or passing words of thanks. A few merchants and shop owners have even gone so far as to show their appreciation by giving some of their wares for free, such as street food vendors and even some small trinkets from curio dealers.

Two days after their encounter with Ahram, the companions notice signs put up at the museum declaring that, soon, there will be a new exhibit featuring the findings from Kragganthur. Most of the populace seem interested, though none moreso than the Dwarves, obviously. Once they had heard who was responsible, nights drinking at the Golden Grog while there were Dwarves about suddenly became very inexpensive for the companions as they were rowdily toasted and plied with their preferred drink by the stout folk.

In the midst of all of this good, however, there will always be a balancing of the scales as life is wont to do. The people continue to be heavily taxed and treated poorly. Not even the companions are wholly untouched by this. The Three Sisters was in danger of not being able to pay their taxes for this month due to, well, over taxation. It is becoming increasingly difficult for the people of Bramor to justify spending their earnings on things as frivolous as jewelry these days. Luckily, however, the Golden Grog did good business this month and, thus, Rosie’s parents were able to help their children make ends meet.

There have been rumors that the body of a local farmer had been found in an alleyway, bludgeoned to death. The body, however, seems to have been cleared away before the usual crowds had time to gather. This has led to the commonfolk whispering that it was the guards who are the responsible party. It surely wouldn’t have been the first time that the guards had been suspected of having a hand in the death of a citizen. The guards have been known for being heavy-handed and quick to antagonize. This has caused a dark mood amongst the people and much negative muttering about the law…far out of earshot of the guards, of course. There are those, however, who have been unable to keep their true feelings to themselves.

Vyncent Waete has been, personally, leading units of the city guards to quell those who are openly speaking out against the guards and, in some cases, the King himself. Those that are taken into custody for their dissension are brought not to the city jail but to the dungeons of Herrick Hold, itself. This has spawned even more mutterings from the citizens of Bramor.

The more elderly citizens, and even those few children who have heard the stories from their parents or grandparents, whisper that King Caelun keeps strange beasts within catacombs beneath the castle. They say that he uses prisoners as game for the beasts to hunt while he watches from a scrying mirror, as though it were simple sport. Not just prisoners, they say, but disobedient servants and those slaves he tires of. Most wave these off as simple tales told to heighten the feelings of ill will towards the King. Tales to frighten the gullible some call them. Whether the tales are true, or not, the general consensus is that none of the citizens would be surprised if the King were doing something of that nature.

With the squad of guards led by Vyncent, however, the dissenters are beginning to keep their thoughts to themselves. The one good thing that can be said about Vyncent is the fact that he seems to be hesitant to call upon the Inquisitors, content to deal with the problem himself.

While there has not been another incident involving an Inquisitor since the one the companions witnessed, they have not been completely out of mind. Each of the companions on the twelfth night after their return from Kragganthur had been visited by their pale, emotionless, disturbingly beautiful faces appearing to them in their dreams.

Or, more aptly, nightmares.

The nightmares have all been the same. The dreamer would have been experiencing a very normal reverie when, suddenly, the dreamscape reshapes itself. Whatever the surroundings of the dream had been, they now became a room that seemed to be made of black marble shot with threads of verdant green. Braziers set in each of the eight corners filled with obsidian fire cast a strange flickering light throughout the octagonal room.
Three of the ivory-skinned beings turned their expressionless gaze toward the dreamer. One pair of eyes entirely the color of whitest alabaster. One pair the deep crimson of garnet. One pair the deepest jet. While the colors varied, their effect was the same; they all caused intense fear to flood through the dreamer.
Their robes seemed to swirl and drift as though the Inquisitors were underwater while they began, as one, to calmly stride towards the terrified onlooker. Perfect white hands were raised and the dark, smoky, shadowy substance suddenly began to coalesce about the Inquisitors’ bodies. Tendrils of the thick mist twisted and snaked their way through the air between the pale beings and their petrified prey. Slowly, the tendrils reached towards the dreamers’ temples, as though the hands of a nervous lover extending tentatively to touch the face of their partner. The instant before the substance came into contact with flesh, the dreamer would get the overwhelming sense that, though they displayed no emotion, the Inquisitors would draw some sort of terrible pleasure from this act. Almost as though the pain they caused their victim would course back through the mist and fill them with the nectar of the Gods, themselves.
Then, the tips of the tendrils would slip into the dreamers’ minds and the most intense, excruciating, pain the dreamer could experience filled every fiber of their being. It was pain beyond cogent reasoning. It was as if the Inquisitors had invented a new kind of pain, one that even Hyryx, God of Pain, himself knew nothing of. Just as their victims would unleash a scream that would surely shred the flesh of their throat, the dreamer would awake with a cry, drenched in cold sweat.

The next day, each of the companions (save Rosie), would receive an invitation to dinner at the Golden Grog. The words scrawled upon the parchment were in Rosies’ mothers’ handwriting;

(Character Name), You are cordially invited to dinner this evening at the Golden Grog Taproom. A small group of Dwarven merchants stopped by the Grog this morning. They traveled to the city to visit the museum to see the exhibit showing off those items you most bravely retrieved from those ruins with my Rosie. Apparently, they found out somehow that my daughter and some of her friends were the ones who had made the trek into that place and wished to extend their gratitude. They dropped off one of the largest boars I have ever seen, a giant of a cask of their ale and all of the fixings to accompany. I, gladly, will prepare the meal for you all if you would care to come to the Grog this evening. Plainly speaking, having you all spend time here has been very good for business, lately. Seeing you all come to the Grog would, surely, draw some of the folk into the common room. My deepest appreciation in advance. I hope to see you all tonight. Very Sincerely, Priscilla Copperbottom

Comments

Xanis’ downtime schedule:
*Mundane Shopping: Fine Clothing, Healing Potion, Journal
*Library & Home responsibilities
*Research Prioities:
1st: The Faceless; who/what are they?; Will focus on Dwarven History that involves King Kurak, Kragganthur, Lienosea.
2nd: Inquistors; who/what are they?; Searches books on legends and demonology/other worldly stuff.
3rd: Misty Step spell
Rolls:
Knowledge (Arcana) 7 (rolled a 1)
Knowledge (History) 11
Investigation 15
Persuasion 10
Research Montage Music: Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler

Two Weeks Later
 

Just silence.

The scene opens up with a tight close up of high quality boots walking briskly. The plain boots built for comfort, not fashion.

Slow pan out till the hem of robes come into view the sigals of The Four are stitched every few inches.

Male voice off camera calls out, “Morning Patron Avaleen.”

Intro starts playing continuing the slow pan out of boots, skirts, waist.

She works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.

Cut to old (but hot) woman nodding while she converses with a horse.

She works hard for the money.

Turning she grabs the horse’s owner by the ear and confer a few rough words, before letting go.

So you better treat her right.

Quick pan away from the back of Avaleen’s gray hair as she points to some spot the horse’s owner didn’t muck out of it’s stall.

She works hard for the money. So you better treat her right.

Avaleen walking through the city again, waving at some friends.

She works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey. She works hard for the money.

Avaleen scowling and scolding others.

So you better treat her right.

Avaleen stopping by a sweets vendor to get a bag of hard candies. (An Eagle’s worth)

Onetta there in the corner stands And she wonders where she is.

Stopping a few street children she takes the time to tell them about the love and scorn of The Four.

And the rain still hurts, Some people seem to have everything.

Mending their shoes or clothes before giving them the candy.

Nine a.m. on the hour hand And she’s waiting for the bell.

At a beautiful temple she hits a gong every few seconds, smiling as worshipers who walk in.

And she’s looking real pretty She’s waiting for her clientele.

On her knees at the back of the temple in the short grass that is just beginning to sprout.

She works hard for the money.So hard for it, honey.
She works hard for the money. So you better treat her right.

Smash cuts of Avaleen sweeping off the paths of temple.
Washing the glass windows that channel the sunlight.
Cleaning Dishes..

She works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.
She works hard for the money. So you better treat her right.

Cleaning her armor. Mending the cloth banner of the four she uses as a shield.
Going to bed late, saying last prayers of her own.

Twenty-eight years have come and gone. And she’s seen a lot of tears.

More quick cuts of Avaleen in different districts of Bramore.
Mending the wounds of a tormented dog. Corning the kids who did the tormenting.

Of the ones who come in. They really seem to need her there.

Stopping by at the Toy Makers shop (I didn’t write down his name so I don’t remember it.)
She buys a few toys for her favorite little parishoners who she ran into looking in the windows.

It’s a sacrifice working day to day. For little money just tips for pay.

Forcing coin into the hands of somebody who tried to give her free apples.
Using Thaumaturgy as a distraction so she can pay and leave.

But it’s worth it all just to hear them say that they care.

Stopping just in sight of the vendor, smiling wistfully.

She works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.

Now she’s working in on a perfect square of grass rimmed by high walls, ivy climbing to the open roof. Puffs of flame going up every now and then.
(Rolled a 12+4=16 To create a Continual Candle. She has access to Continual Flame and basically I want to create a 1/20th size version of that. 1 Foot bright light and 1 Foot shadow. )

She works hard for the money. So you better treat her right.

Goes to visit Armick and Flabin at the week mark, just to check their progress.
If she succeeded in making Continual Candle she’ll put it on Flabin’s Cupcake.
If not he just gets the cupcake.

Already knows she’s seen her bad times.

Laying in bed staring at the ceiling, not crying but eyes big and watery.
Translucent image of a bald man with mutton chops overlaid on the scene, her husband Chjozan.

Already knows these are the good times.

Sitting in the Gold Grog at Rosie’s “Special Event” with a dreamily happy smile on her face, and an ale before her.

She’ll never sell out, she never will, not for a dollar bill.

Standing somewhere in sight of Herrick Hold, glaring and possibly planning.

She works hard. She works hard for the money.
So hard for it, honey. She works hard for the money.
So you better treat her right.

More quick scenes of her helping various citizens, either in the streets or in their homes.

Works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.

Pushing at the wheel of the flour mill giving one of the men a break to spend extra time with his family.

She works hard for the money. So you better treat her right.
She works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.

At a few of the farms within walking distance from Bramore.
Patroning, also helping out in whatever way she can. (Mending, Locate Object, Healing, Augury.)

She works hard for the money. So you better treat her right.
She works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.

Foraging outside the city for specialty herbs and spices, for Priscilla and Grendelhop to use however they want. (Another 12 + 8 = 20 | 4 + 2 + 4 = 10 pounds of “food”)

She works hard for the money.

Her getting to her meager room at the temple, practically collapsing into her bed.

So you better treat her right.

Watching some of Banri’s fellow Players act out some dramatic scene from some dramatic play.

Hiding her boredom.

She works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.
She works hard for the money. So you better treat her right.

Last scene is her sitting up in bed from The Nightmare.

Two Weeks Later
 

Awe, man! I had a nightmare, V!

Two Weeks Later
EmeraldKnightR EmeraldKnightR

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