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AJA
Senior Scribe
USA
784 Posts |
 Posted - 01 Feb 2025 : 03:07:33
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"Pearl divers on the moon'? I think someone has been breathing too deeply of the halfling's weed!
What will you try to fool me on next, "goodly drow on the North Pole"?
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AJA
YAFRP
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
11964 Posts |
Posted - 01 Feb 2025 : 15:07:56
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quote:
Originally posted by AJA
"Pearl divers on the moon'? I think someone has been breathing too deeply of the halfling's weed!
What will you try to fool me on next, "goodly drow on the North Pole"?
Well there be rumors.... along with some rumors of some "jungle drow" as well.... 'twould seem that the lost lands of Katashaka, rumored to have so recently returned, hold many a mystery much as the moon. |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
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AJA
Senior Scribe
USA
784 Posts |
Posted - 09 Feb 2025 : 01:23:19
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Astralbarre
Netherese lich. Sits in his hidden fastness and sends his agents out into Faerûn with one singular urgent purpose; to seek out any shards or whole pieces of Netherese salt-glazed pottery, as originated in the town of Torlhauk that he ruled over, on the receeding shores of the Narrow Sea, and gained a widespread popularity in the dying days of the Empire there. The secrets of this salt-glazing process have been rediscovered again in the modern Realms, but their craftwork pales in comparison to those of Astralbarre's times (and, even if they didn't, he wouldn't bat an eyeless eye at them anyhow, inferior as they must be). The shelves and displays of his abode groan with white and cream-colored vessels, accented with the barest splashes of color, and in the corners the shard-piles tower into a voluminous majesty only approachable by the coin-hoards of full-grown wyrms but still, he seeks more. There must be more, there needs to be more.
His agents are familiar among the Bedine, who refer to him as The Meaningless Man, the one who trades valuable foodstuffs and materials for worthless scraps of ceramic. His agents are less familiar, but still known, among the Black Network, as they sometimes find themselves scouting or squatting among the same ruins or oases, for very different reasons.
One day Astralbarre will achieve his true goal, to find the ruins of Torlhauk, long lost to the sands and shifting fortunes of the Anauroch, and restore the ancient kilns there, and rebuild the mighty potters' wheels, and sit back and laugh as all Faerûn trembles, brought to their knees by the mighty glory of Netherese salt-glazed pottery!
Larloch knows of Astralbarre but considers him just another one of those decayed and deluded unfortunates, too uselessly insane for his own purposes. He does keep an eye on the enchantments the lich has created, the ones that allow his agents to efficiently sift through large quantities of earth and sand in search for even the tiniest desired items, and also the ones that knit back together an object from even the smallest individual parts, on a level of flawless integration that no other mages' mending spells have ever managed to match.
The Dead-Marchers
("those born into the grave, and those who choose to rise from it") Mercenary company. All members enter into contracts allowing the necromancers of the company to step in and raise their fallen corpses as undead, to continue to serve and fight alongside their living fellows. Some sign on for the guarantee of continued payment to loved ones after their death, some simply have no other place to turn to and regard an extended stay alongside their brothers as an honor worth being retained for. Others only know battle and relish the thought of their mortal remains continuing the fight on Faerûn, while their souls go onwards to raise havoc in the Halls of Tempus.
The Dead-Marchers strictly honor their contracts, and their contracts alone; they take great care to separate their fallen from the battlefield, and never randomly raise the corpses of enemies or unaffiliated dead. It is this strict adherence to their own personal rule of law that ensures their acceptance, however distasteful it may be, even to those potential employers of Lawful or Good alignments.
There are a few other companies of similar make scattered across Faerûn, most notably The Illustrious Bones (based among the city-states of the Tashalar and into Lapaliiya), The Coffin-Crowned (who find ready employment in Chessenta) and The Ones For Whom Myrkul Must Wait (active in Semphar and Murghôm).
Irrym Sulanheer
The former "Master Mage of Mintar". His ambitions were always greater than his self-given title and his mastery of the Art was always far less. Irrym at one point discovered an ancient series of terrible wards under the city called The Seventeen Seals, and leveraged this knowledge to insert himself into the entourage of the ambitious Baneite, Teldorn Darkhope.
On Midwinter's Eve 1362DR, when Teldorn launched his conquest of the city, Irrym's sole duty was to safeguard The Seventeen Seals and ensure their stability through the chaos above, but the rioting mobs and the sudden appearance of an adventuring company called the Knights Errant panicked him, and the Seals, home to such wretched horrors as The Red Threshers, Ninilnurr the Mockery That Dances, The Once-a-Man, and The Knees of The Mountain (that mountain being the titanic Azozuz of the Red Angularities, and the Knees his mighty lieutenants, who knelt before him and swore to serve him in death as in life), were sundered and their inhabitants released into the city above. "The Master Mage of Mintar" quite suddenly recanted his position and his title, and begged succor from the Knights as they concluded their business in the city and made a hasty return to the safer confines of Waterdeep.
Irrym has since weaseled his way into a position at the Castle as the head of their alchemists, where he oversees the crafting of the greenfire (Greek fire) used by the specialized Guard gauntlets known as The Moor Burners. He has also, to his credit, managed to stay clear of either grasping ambitions or self-serving alliances with priests of dark gods. What Teldorn Darkhope (or Ninilnurr the Mockery That Dances or the handful of Knees of The Mountain who survived the seizing of Mintar) think about his new situation (if indeed they do at all), is so far unknown.
Gobold
Brownish-black scales with dark coppery ribs and undersides, and golden markings on his chest and belly, elbows, knees, undertail and shins. Large bright red eyes and olive-green horns, the right of which sticks out just a bit further than the left (it's not that obvious, but once you see it you can't help but keep noticing). The apprentice of the master alchemist Irrym Sulanheer, of Castle Waterdeep.
Gobold is a kobold. Gobold the Kobold. Yes, he has heard all the jokes about his name. But he remains quite confused, because it doesn't rhyme in his native tongue. Also, he regards himself as quite fluent in both the human Common and Tethan, and he is pretty sure its' not supposed to rhyme that way there, either. Maybe its a Northern thing.
He was the apprentice of the Cauldron King, of the Understreets of Irieabor, before the Old Master angered the Night Skulls and was found, bloated and purple-faced, unalive in the muck near to the Thousandeyes Trading Coster. Fortunately for Gobold he had earlier drawn the wise eye of the mage Ambraddon, who strongly recommended him to the service of the Blackstaff of Waterdeep. Lord Khelben saw no need for him at his Tower, but made arrangements instead to apprentice him to the newly-titled "master alchemist" Irrym Sulanheer. But not out of the goodness of his heart.
Gobold is now under strict instruction to keep an eye on his master, and report immediately if the former "Master Mage of Mintar" does any backsliding into allying with tyrants or priests of dark gods (or both, or any other unsavory characters instead). In return for this service he has been promised that he will be strongly considered for admission at the Tower, the next time such a position opens up. Whenever that may be.
Niskanauldra
A cross-planar spell merchant. Wheels and deals in many of the lesser-known designments of arch-mages of note, obscure works such as Bigby's Comfy Handpillow and Otiluke's Frozen Peanut Butter Cookie Dough Sphere, and Elminster's It Was A Balmy Afternoon In April. Accepts payment in unique souls, pigeon holes, certified-rational calculations, and intellectual sheep or goats. Genial, ironic, definite and verifiable at least, that's what her enchanted call-forth card says (and also, 'all those things that impress and startle, but never falsehoods or wanton exaggerations'). Visited by Elminster and several of the Seven Sisters on numerous occasions, warned repeatedly against abusing the rules on Mystra's otherplanar permissions.
Niskanauldra used to keep a parlor in Sea Ward but now spends most of her time down in the warrens of Skullport, where folk don't find her trade so odd. And there are more unique souls and pigeon holes. And less unannounced visitations from annoying Mystra-spawn.
She has recently become a convert to The Golden Talbo, a risen cult-god worshiped for good fortune in the local number-lotteries and investment roundshields, and all those kinds of general get-rich-quick schemes which even the priests of Waukeen raise their eyebrows at and the clergy of Tymora won't touch with an adventurer's ten-foot pole.
Niska has her own personal Talbo investment tied up in a scheme called Paladinplate, a coin-venture that claims to sell plates of steel each individually stamped and numbered from various suits of armor that the Open Lord and other bold and valiant paladins of Waterdeep have worn and fought in in the past. As everyone knows, gold and silver are brought up in ever-greater quantities from the depths of the Undermountain and from the Far Lands of Maztica, and so their value will only decrease, leaving only the limited and righteous Paladinplate as the new currency to take their place (yes, they have many very-rich merchants and former advisers to the Open Lord himself to vouch for these claims and offer their insider knowledge to fellow investors!).
Listen, its just like her card says, never falsehoods or wanton exaggerations. Why would it say that if it weren't true. And she has crossed to other planes, people! She has seen a world where this sort of thing works, trust her.
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AJA
YAFRP
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
11964 Posts |
Posted - 10 Feb 2025 : 12:51:58
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quote:
Originally posted by AJA
Astralbarre
Netherese lich. Sits in his hidden fastness and sends his agents out into Faerūn with one singular urgent purpose; to seek out any shards or whole pieces of Netherese salt-glazed pottery, as originated in the town of Torlhauk that he ruled over, on the receeding shores of the Narrow Sea, and gained a widespread popularity in the dying days of the Empire there. The secrets of this salt-glazing process have been rediscovered again in the modern Realms, but their craftwork pales in comparison to those of Astralbarre's times (and, even if they didn't, he wouldn't bat an eyeless eye at them anyhow, inferior as they must be). The shelves and displays of his abode groan with white and cream-colored vessels, accented with the barest splashes of color, and in the corners the shard-piles tower into a voluminous majesty only approachable by the coin-hoards of full-grown wyrms but still, he seeks more. There must be more, there needs to be more.
His agents are familiar among the Bedine, who refer to him as The Meaningless Man, the one who trades valuable foodstuffs and materials for worthless scraps of ceramic. His agents are less familiar, but still known, among the Black Network, as they sometimes find themselves scouting or squatting among the same ruins or oases, for very different reasons.
One day Astralbarre will achieve his true goal, to find the ruins of Torlhauk, long lost to the sands and shifting fortunes of the Anauroch, and restore the ancient kilns there, and rebuild the mighty potters' wheels, and sit back and laugh as all Faerūn trembles, brought to their knees by the mighty glory of Netherese salt-glazed pottery!
Larloch knows of Astralbarre but considers him just another one of those decayed and deluded unfortunates, too uselessly insane for his own purposes. He does keep an eye on the enchantments the lich has created, the ones that allow his agents to efficiently sift through large quantities of earth and sand in search for even the tiniest desired items, and also the ones that knit back together an object from even the smallest individual parts, on a level of flawless integration that no other mages' mending spells have ever managed to match.
Of course, none truly understand WHY Astralbarre truly seeks what he seeks..... for in truth, his original phylactery is believed to be held in an urn of salt glazed pottery of seemingly nondescript manufacture in the town of Torlhauk. He had once been a simple mortal netherese arcanist of modest power. Then came the day when he was assaulted by a rival, forced to become a lich using one of his own urns. This rival then stole his phylactery and placed spells upon it to hide it even AND ESPECIALLY FROM the lich whose soul was entrapped within it. His rival then hid this nondescript phylactery, which he had protected against destruction with numerous magics which would last centuries, but which would obviously be failed by this time. and cast his rival into a form of astral prison which allowed him to be questioned, tortured, and even forced to perform magics. Sadly, he never knew WHO his rival was, nor why he had been enslaved as a lich servitor to him. Then came the day when the wards on his magic prison fell apart, decades after the netherese enclaves fell from the sky and when the mythallar empowering his prison finally failed due to the actions of looters. Why Larloch never reseized control over his once prisoner is little known, for in truth Astralbarre (who had been made to forget his own name and many facts of his own life, whilst maintaining all of his mastery of magic) simply took the name by which he had been called "Astral Bar", after the name of the specific spell which Larloch had created to entrap the lich. |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
11964 Posts |
Posted - 10 Feb 2025 : 13:25:33
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quote:
Originally posted by AJA
Irrym Sulanheer
The former "Master Mage of Mintar". His ambitions were always greater than his self-given title and his mastery of the Art was always far less. Irrym at one point discovered an ancient series of terrible wards under the city called The Seventeen Seals, and leveraged this knowledge to insert himself into the entourage of the ambitious Baneite, Teldorn Darkhope.
On Midwinter's Eve 1362DR, when Teldorn launched his conquest of the city, Irrym's sole duty was to safeguard The Seventeen Seals and ensure their stability through the chaos above, but the rioting mobs and the sudden appearance of an adventuring company called the Knights Errant panicked him, and the Seals, home to such wretched horrors as The Red Threshers, Ninilnurr the Mockery That Dances, The Once-a-Man, and The Knees of The Mountain (that mountain being the titanic Azozuz of the Red Angularities, and the Knees his mighty lieutenants, who knelt before him and swore to serve him in death as in life), were sundered and their inhabitants released into the city above. "The Master Mage of Mintar" quite suddenly recanted his position and his title, and begged succor from the Knights as they concluded their business in the city and made a hasty return to the safer confines of Waterdeep.
Irrym has since weaseled his way into a position at the Castle as the head of their alchemists, where he oversees the crafting of the greenfire (Greek fire) used by the specialized Guard gauntlets known as The Moor Burners. He has also, to his credit, managed to stay clear of either grasping ambitions or self-serving alliances with priests of dark gods. What Teldorn Darkhope (or Ninilnurr the Mockery That Dances or the handful of Knees of The Mountain who survived the seizing of Mintar) think about his new situation (if indeed they do at all), is so far unknown.
Of course, few know that The Seventeen Seals were some of the first blueflame magic items which held the spirits of blueflame ghosts within them. They used a special form of salt glazed pottery, containing the essence of salt mummies which were created and destroyed for this purpose (whom some mistakenly referred to as "salt liches") from the salt mines relatively near the Desertsmouth Mountains. These pieces of pottery were sealed with elaborate seals combining intricate metal seals mined from astral metals, enwrapped in salt glazed pottery, and sealed with bloodwax mixed with demonic blood. Of The Seventeen Seals, all but seemingly two had been destroyed, primarily because they were not all in one place (though there were rumors that at least three were taken away). The remaining two were believed to hold the spirits of Azozuz of the Red Angularities (also known as "The Mountain", a red horned tiefling minotaur believed to be of the blood of Baphomet himself and once said to be a mighty mercenary general in the armies of Narfell, under the command of the ruler of the enclave of Jiksidur. These last two seals were said to be deep in the ruins of Mintar, and some believe that they guarded a portal that opened into the Illythiiri ruins deep in the heart of Dun-Tharos beneath the Rawlinswood. |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
Edited by - sleyvas on 10 Feb 2025 14:01:09 |
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
11964 Posts |
Posted - 10 Feb 2025 : 14:15:13
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quote:
Originally posted by AJA
Gobold
Brownish-black scales with dark coppery ribs and undersides, and golden markings on his chest and belly, elbows, knees, undertail and shins. Large bright red eyes and olive-green horns, the right of which sticks out just a bit further than the left (it's not that obvious, but once you see it you can't help but keep noticing). The apprentice of the master alchemist Irrym Sulanheer, of Castle Waterdeep.
Gobold is a kobold. Gobold the Kobold. Yes, he has heard all the jokes about his name. But he remains quite confused, because it doesn't rhyme in his native tongue. Also, he regards himself as quite fluent in both the human Common and Tethan, and he is pretty sure its' not supposed to rhyme that way there, either. Maybe its a Northern thing.
He was the apprentice of the Cauldron King, of the Understreets of Irieabor, before the Old Master angered the Night Skulls and was found, bloated and purple-faced, unalive in the muck near to the Thousandeyes Trading Coster. Fortunately for Gobold he had earlier drawn the wise eye of the mage Ambraddon, who strongly recommended him to the service of the Blackstaff of Waterdeep. Lord Khelben saw no need for him at his Tower, but made arrangements instead to apprentice him to the newly-titled "master alchemist" Irrym Sulanheer. But not out of the goodness of his heart.
Gobold is now under strict instruction to keep an eye on his master, and report immediately if the former "Master Mage of Mintar" does any backsliding into allying with tyrants or priests of dark gods (or both, or any other unsavory characters instead). In return for this service he has been promised that he will be strongly considered for admission at the Tower, the next time such a position opens up. Whenever that may be.
Rumors are that Gobold has been seen carrying a strange white urn which stands almost as tall as himself, with an elaborate red wax stopper on it. He seems exceptionally engrossed with this item, even whispering to it as though carrying on a conversation with someone or something that isn't there. It is said that in one situation, a group of orcs who had previously bullied him and taken his coins which were meant to buy groceries, were found brutally torn into many pieces after Gobold was seen carrying the urn outside of the tavern in which the orcs had chosen to spend Gobold's coin.
There are rumors that Gobold has recently been contacted by Niskanauldra, a cross planar spell merchant, though what the trader is interested in none are sure. Several ghosts seemingly encased in blueflames also seem to be interested in finding Gobold alive, and some believe these individuals to be the former "Knees of the Mountain". |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
Edited by - sleyvas on 10 Feb 2025 14:19:31 |
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AJA
Senior Scribe
USA
784 Posts |
Posted - 16 Feb 2025 : 07:17:29
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quote:
Originally posted by sleyvas
Several ghosts seemingly encased in blueflames also seem to be interested in finding Gobold alive, and some believe these individuals to be the former "Knees of the Mountain".
The Knees of The Mountain are Blueflame ghosts. There are twelve Knees of the Mountain and there are twelve Mountains of The Moon. Coincidence? I think not!
quote:
Originally posted by sleyvas
Much like Ilsabra, he is obsessed with oysters and clams, for he was raised on the shores of the Northern Sea of Selune's Toril facing side. His family were avid pearl divers from the giant clams near their home
Savrel Clamseeder's family practiced a method of dying pearls during their development by "feeding" their giant clams with special dyes. The Death Moon Orb created by Larloch was a sphere of black and violet, shifting and shimmering like oil on water. Like a pearl that been specially dyed with colors. Coincidence? I think not!
Savrel enlisted Ilsabra to travel to the Plane of Radiance from a Celestial Staircase somewhere in the region of the twelve Mountains of The Moon. He was in the company of a lillend name Neyleirea. Lillends are celestial servitors of Selûne. Did you know that both Selûne and Mystra share the magic book of all the rainbow hues and lights and darks that visit Faerûn including upon the singular surface of the pearl? Even a Death Moon pearl? Coincidence? I think not!!
Mystra refused her clergy to interfere with Larloch and his Blueflame schemes. Selûne was under no such restrictions. Mystra was murdered in Tarsakh of The Year of Blue Flame and the Death Moon Orb detonated in exactly the same instance of her death. Coincidence??
I think not. The Year of Blue Flame was an inside job. Cyricism was just a red herring. Dweomerheart exploded back and to the left. What did Selûne know and when did she know it. Wake up, rothéeple!
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AJA
YAFRP
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
11964 Posts |
Posted - 17 Feb 2025 : 23:29:10
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quote:
Originally posted by AJA
quote:
Originally posted by sleyvas
Several ghosts seemingly encased in blueflames also seem to be interested in finding Gobold alive, and some believe these individuals to be the former "Knees of the Mountain".
The Knees of The Mountain are Blueflame ghosts. There are twelve Knees of the Mountain and there are twelve Mountains of The Moon. Coincidence? I think not!
quote:
Originally posted by sleyvas
Much like Ilsabra, he is obsessed with oysters and clams, for he was raised on the shores of the Northern Sea of Selune's Toril facing side. His family were avid pearl divers from the giant clams near their home
Savrel Clamseeder's family practiced a method of dying pearls during their development by "feeding" their giant clams with special dyes. The Death Moon Orb created by Larloch was a sphere of black and violet, shifting and shimmering like oil on water. Like a pearl that been specially dyed with colors. Coincidence? I think not!
Savrel enlisted Ilsabra to travel to the Plane of Radiance from a Celestial Staircase somewhere in the region of the twelve Mountains of The Moon. He was in the company of a lillend name Neyleirea. Lillends are celestial servitors of Selūne. Did you know that both Selūne and Mystra share the magic book of all the rainbow hues and lights and darks that visit Faerūn including upon the singular surface of the pearl? Even a Death Moon pearl? Coincidence? I think not!!
Mystra refused her clergy to interfere with Larloch and his Blueflame schemes. Selūne was under no such restrictions. Mystra was murdered in Tarsakh of The Year of Blue Flame and the Death Moon Orb detonated in exactly the same instance of her death. Coincidence??
I think not. The Year of Blue Flame was an inside job. Cyricism was just a red herring. Dweomerheart exploded back and to the left. What did Selūne know and when did she know it. Wake up, rothéeple!
NIIIIICCCCEEEEEEE! I love that linkage of the death moon orb to a giant pearl from the seas of the moon... and the linkage of blueflame items, Larloch, and the noting that it exploded in the spellplague. Also, those rothéeple that think that dweomerheart actually exploded just didn't know that it was detached from Toril and went to Abeir. So, was all of this a way to strip the shadow weave from her sister goddess, Shar?
Was it a way to drive Szass Tam to leave his former ways and turn darkly evil, via the curse of the death moon orb... make him jealous of his rival that became not Zulkir of Necromancy, but GOD of Necromancy.... a way to get him infected by a book (Tome of Fastring the Delver) full of lies about how to become a god and remake the world (a book that some believe was Leira).... that would ultimately lead to a immortal monk betraying Tam, enacting the ritual, and releasing a large amount of magical energy.... that did something noone expected. |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
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AJA
Senior Scribe
USA
784 Posts |
Posted - 02 Mar 2025 : 01:35:08
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The Festival of the Blue Goat
Celebrated most of the length of Snail Street, especially in the Hincellars and Sharp-Horn neighborhoods.
No one these days really remembers what the Blue Goat was all about; most sages suspect it was an ancient beast-cult or a fertility ritual from the earliest days of human settlement here. During the Festival a small herd of goats are drenched in blue paint and run through the crowds on Snail Street, sprinkled with holy fluids of Chauntea and Malar and then finally corralled for slaughtering and feasting once nightfall approaches. Sometimes one is spared by the calling of a god or goddess who deems them holy; once a mighty wizard even stepped forth to claim one as his chosen apprentice. The church of Mystra was quick to step in then and claim credit for the festival and proclaim that The Blue Goat was obviously a sign of their goddess all along, but they quieted down soon enough as all the locals began to cast fun at their goaty goddess and the strange fetishes of her mages.
It is also commonly whispered that such a goat was once even made a Masked Lord! but that only well out of the hearing of any black-robes, of course.
Locals dress in vestments of blue and carry aloft torches and horned drinking instruments, while bards roam about strumming tunes and jesters dressed in goatskins (caps, cloaks and leggings) gambol and are chased about by local children. The adherents of the god Finder have recently begun to take this opportunity to break into storefronts or local merchant homes and deface their paintings and statuettes, or rearrange their displays or rugs or silverware in a most disturbing manner. What purpose this serves is known only to them.
The Kings of Day (The Awakened of The Sun God)
Both mercenary company and religious zealotry of Lathander (Amaunator). The Sun is All, The Day is All. Formed and fashioned out of fanatics, those who have willingly knelt, eyes open, and gazed long into the blazing, inviolate, purifying sand-fields of the scarred and tortured Anauroch wastes. The Kings (The Awakened) will throw themselves without question and without hesitation against any enemy before them, so long as it advances the cause of Law (for whatever calculus their leader deems that to be). The Awakened do not wantonly slaughter downed or surrendered foes on the battlefield, seeking instead to keep them for later trial (after which they are, of course, found guilty and sentenced accordingly), and one of their most Holy Missives is to succor any and all children from areas of combat and surrounding homesteads. This is seen as Righteous and Lawful, and such children taken in are then adopted into the band and forcibly indoctrinated into the faith.
When not in active employment they often send bands to scour the ruins of Anauroch for relics of Burning Lathander. They are also commonly employed on specific side missions by the church of Tyr, who find them useful, if disturbing, crusaders for Law and justice.
Ammelthorn 'Flamebeard'
Commander and Divine Light of The Kings of Day mercenary company. 'He Who Would Never Lose The Light'. A very serious, wide-eyed, true believer of the tenets of Law and endless, cleansing Justice. He claims and truly believes himself to be a divine Servitor of the Sun, a reincarnated Great Hero of the Faith, or perhaps even a celestial Solar, surely, brought to Faerûn specifically to drive divine justice but he is, in truth, just a genasi (with, admittedly, a very impressive flaming beard) raised by religious heretics, indoctrinated in nothing but bloodshed and zealotry and released, upon adulthood, to advance The Awakened heresy upon Faerûn.
Ammelthorn has the innate wild talent of fire paralysis (keeps a single target immobilized for a length of time, unable to move but fully conscious and tormented with the continuing sensations of being burned alive. Both immobility and pain end when his concentration does), which he again regards as further proof of his divine righteousness. Where this ability originates from, and whether it is truly innate or divine, is, again, an unanswered question.
Laughing Low
[ 'low' rhyming with 'cow' or 'brow' ] Halfling folk legend. Laughing Low stole a fairy-book from the Grey-Mother Meerscar while she was busy tending to her garden of princesses in their silken sheafs, and he used that faerie magic to travel in the sunlight that shifts through the trees, to any and all the lands that lie beneath the sun (to Griefstones, home of the tear-spotted orcs; Lerella, where the crimson peaches grow; Tastaar, Land of the Loppy Hats; Loropid, of the Loropids; and so on and so on these are all tales in their own right). Eventually Laughing Low came to the coast that had no end, and fell in love with a sea-maid of Settle-Bottom, and from there she took him out far and far from shore ('where there were no trees or sunlight, and he never was seen no more').
But the fairy-book is still out there, still waiting to travel to all the lands that lie beneath the sun. And any time a young hin lad or lass suddenly ups-and-offs from their village out into the wider Realms it is said that they had found Laughing Low's book, right there where the sunlight shifts through the trees.
Teldrûvae
Half-elven songstress, incurable romantic, and stage-hand at Mother Mallodril's Good-Stage, Trades Ward (she helps with set dressing and sometimes joins in on the chorus, if needed). Teldrûvae found herself in possession of The Dreaming Cabinet of Leira this past Kythorn, acquired from a rather spindly and sallow Chondathan elf upon a chance afternoon stroll in the Market. She remembers the elf quite clearly, and even some of the words that were exchanged, but how she got that great wooden thing home through the crowded streets and up to her fifth-floor rooms is not even the haziest blur in her memory.
Nevertheless, she has since made great use of the Cabinet, dreaming deeply and often, availing herself of trade investments and romantic interludes and even, perhaps foolishly, the chance to reconsider just the right barb to a social rival and once to drag herself, bloody and disembowled, back within its doors to find that other ending that was not on the spear of a rampaging sahuagin invader.
But despite all of her sudden successes she feels herself drawing increasingly thin, as if sometimes the reach of her arms exceeds her grasp, and her eyes sometimes see people and things where they shouldn't otherwise be. And there are now always whispers and murmers that sound so familiar, but those who would have made them are always just beyond the turning of her head. Always, always, whispers and murmers.
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The Dreaming Cabinet of Leira
Carved of Sune-wood in a confusing variety of motifs of the old Calishite style; of wave and cloud; delicate flowers and bubbling fountains; peopled by naiads with long tresses and dryads on wooded branch and nereids among the surf. And inlaid everywhere with patterned geometric mosaics of dazzling lapis and serene jade and the blazing yellow citrine of the sun, and the white enameled longitudes and latitudes of the moon in her phases.
Within the Cabinet there is a low bench piled with cushions of grey and white and rose cross-hatch, all stuffed with such a heavenly down. The interior surrounding the bench is ill-defined and hard to describe. Confining, endless; plain, swirled, smoky. Echoing, whispering. It makes ones' stomach drop as if from a sudden fall. Best to just lie down among the cushions and have a rest. Really, the longer you lie there, the clearer things become. So many things become clear.
Of The Dreaming Cabinet of Leira
There are many realities that stretch forth before us all, like invisible strings of endless pearls. Those pearls on their strings are fixed in time and locked down by the absolute Law of Mystra's temporal bans. But, just as with a physical string of pearls, there falls between each of them a gap; in this case the metaphorical gaps of possibility, the boundary between Is and Is-Not, eager voids open to be occupied by realities of what could be. These then are the domains of Leira, the Lady of The Mists. The Dreaming Cabinet is pregnant with such possibilities, and one enclosed within it might have their dreams entwined with the consciousness of the goddess herself and, in the manufacture of their own dream-spaces, may choose to step forward through one such gap and emerge instead in what was once The Could-Be, but now is just, forevermore, The Is.
But The Is does not come without a price. There is no Is without the Is-Not. Every mortal who has lived their life can attest to that. The Mistress of Illusion can guide you through the ways between Is and Is-Not, but not even she can predict what cost those ways will incur. Nor would she ever even care to.
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AJA
YAFRP
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
11964 Posts |
Posted - 02 Mar 2025 : 16:43:09
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quote:
Originally posted by AJA
The Festival of the Blue Goat
Celebrated most of the length of Snail Street, especially in the Hincellars and Sharp-Horn neighborhoods.
No one these days really remembers what the Blue Goat was all about; most sages suspect it was an ancient beast-cult or a fertility ritual from the earliest days of human settlement here. During the Festival a small herd of goats are drenched in blue paint and run through the crowds on Snail Street, sprinkled with holy fluids of Chauntea and Malar and then finally corralled for slaughtering and feasting once nightfall approaches. Sometimes one is spared by the calling of a god or goddess who deems them holy; once a mighty wizard even stepped forth to claim one as his chosen apprentice. The church of Mystra was quick to step in then and claim credit for the festival and proclaim that The Blue Goat was obviously a sign of their goddess all along, but they quieted down soon enough as all the locals began to cast fun at their goaty goddess and the strange fetishes of her mages.
It is also commonly whispered that such a goat was once even made a Masked Lord! but that only well out of the hearing of any black-robes, of course.
Locals dress in vestments of blue and carry aloft torches and horned drinking instruments, while bards roam about strumming tunes and jesters dressed in goatskins (caps, cloaks and leggings) gambol and are chased about by local children. The adherents of the god Finder have recently begun to take this opportunity to break into storefronts or local merchant homes and deface their paintings and statuettes, or rearrange their displays or rugs or silverware in a most disturbing manner. What purpose this serves is known only to them.
The little known Uthgardt tribe of the blue goat can trace themselves back to a wychlaran who managed to reopen the portal that the Rus came through centuries ago. Unfortunately she did not understand what she did, and therefore found herself unable to return home. She wandered the north for some time before settling in the area that would eventually become Nimoar's Hold. Along the way, she gathered a collection of similar wandering souls seeking to explore the wider world, including the Korred, Shirakir Stoneblossom, and her husband, Eyontar the Satyr priest of Skerrit, and the centaur ranger, Ragtam Thunderchaser. She eventually found a small patch of land in which lived a treant and a trio of dryads, and she and her compatriots embarked upon a grand plan. They would enact a ritual of their own design that would link this land to "the spiritwilds". Its said that during this ritual, the avatars of Shiallia, Skerrit the Forester, Lurue, and Selune all appeared to bless the land. The ritual was powerful enough that they were able to sanctify a small patch of the land in such a manner that it became "spirit world adjacent", and she uncovered the ability to summon animal spirits (or telthors) to this section of land.
When a ragtab tribe of the Uthgardt was in retreat from a marauding force of orcs, they came upon the wychlaran and her friends. During the fight, the Wychlaran cast a spell to summon a small herd of giant goat telthors, and she and her friends led them into battle slaughtering orcs with abandon. But the orc horde was numerous, and her friends few. They were all slain in the onslaught, but their sacrifice turned the tide in the favor of the Uthgardt barbarians.
The Uthgardt took this as a sign from their god, and they took to calling themselves "the Blue Goat Tribe", and they took up residence upon the land. But they did not know the required rituals and sacrifices that were needed in order to keep the land sacredly bound to the "spiritwilds", and eventually the land reverted back to its normal status. These Uthgardt continued to live here for several generations, but its said that at some point they uncovered a portal and disappeared through it. Still, on certain nights, when the moon is "right", its said that the streets are filled with giant blue, ethereal goats, and some whisper that occasionally a ghostly figure appears amongst them (some say this figure is a masked woman, some a korred, some a satyr, and some even a centaur). These spirits are not seen in battle though, but rather enacting a strange dance of wild abandon. |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
11964 Posts |
Posted - 02 Mar 2025 : 19:19:57
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Butterleafcrimsonpetal
The true name of this treant is unknown, for the name by which he is remembered comes from ancient Uthgardt legends. This ancient treant is said to have possessed bark with an oddly golden hue, and he was said to sprout flowers of a brilliant red hue that could be boiled into a tea which produced an extremely euphoric and sometime hallucinatory state. But more importantly, this treant was a powerful priest of, oddly enough, a goddess of beauty, and some said that his grove was inhabited by dryads of his own fathering. Its rumored that he helped enact a ritual long ago which blessed a section of land, and in doing so, he drew upon the golden waters of the pool of Evergold shared by Sune and Hanali Celanil. In so doing, he created a small brook leaking from the realm of Brightwater to feed his home, and increased the number of fey beings that lived in the surrounding lands. It was a wonderful blessing, and it filled him with the greatest of joy. But, soon after blessing the land, or at least soon in the life of a treant, those who had worked with him to enact the ritual, died by the hands of a horde of orcs. These orcs also slew the dryads of his grove, awakening an anger in this treant that mirrored in the rage of the barbarians who also turned and slaughtered the savage orcs for killing their own kin. After this, the treant tried to teach the wild barbarians how to properly revere the land and its beauty, but the barbarians were too savage, and worse, they were despoiling his home. However, he did not want to kill them, so the treant brewed a tea of its own flowers, opened a door to another realm, and encouraged the barbarians to travel through it.
Unfortunately, the method by which Butterleafcrimsonpetal opened this doorway caught the attention of a powerful conclave of illusionists with a strange belief that "time magic", or Chronomancy as they referred to it, was just another advanced illusion. Soon after the great treant was captured and taken from its home, for these illusionists believed he held secrets of chronomancy that they must uncover. The illusionists, however, could not break the great tree, and in the end, he found a way to use his magic to end his own life. Not to let anything go to waste, its said that the illusionists then carved up its body into planks and used the remains to make paper with which to make powerful books and other magic items related to fey magic, including some say, the dreaming cabinet of Leira and a "fairy book" said to have been stolen by a theiving halfling known as Laughing Low. |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
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The Five NPCs You Meet In Waterdeep
