12/13/2017 0 Comments YOU DID ACCEPT TO BEING OUR CHAMPION.by kohaku (Matt S.) 13 spring fellTL;DR: Party discovers a new race of bunnies who speak in "Fluffy." See Theobold's Recap | See Fagan's Recap With a sigh, Kohaku laid his head gently on the wooden table. “This place is so confusing,” he said with a sigh. When he’d woken up this morning, he had expected it to be cold. And it was. In fact, during his prayers and meditation, he’d divined that this cold was truly unnatural. He’d expected to inspect the obelisk again. The party he’d joined—Theobold, Fagan, Blizkin, Mindartis, Ivan, and Tharrus—had attempted to look at the inscriptions. But for some reason, when they had approached the obelisk that morning, the inscriptions had gone. I’m just glad I could help. Thinking about how he’d seen the obelisk before, he had reasoned the lack of moonlight might have been the reason for the lack of carvings. Praying to Selûne, Kohaku had asked her to shine down her glorious moonlight. Doing so revealed the ancient writing once more. Some rubbings had been taken, and it proved that the obelisk’s secrets could only be discovered on a moonlit night. That night, in fact, a shaft of moonlight had illuminated the western portion of the obelisk. Theobold had managed to memorize it. Hopefully it reveals more about the battle between good and evil that those carvings supposedly discuss. Kohaku was tired. He’d had to cast many spells that day, most of them as the party had returned from trying to make contact with the human settlement in East Summerport (or Winterport—every faction called this place something else). Two ghouls had been feasting on…something, in one of the previously cleared buildings right across the street from the tavern. With Blizkin’s grease, some fae lights and Kenku illusions, Kohaku’s spikes, and enough fire to burn down an entire forest, the ghouls had been put down. Shaking his head, Kohaku rubbed his eyes and smiled slightly. “At least Blizkin was able to douse the flames before any permanent damage could ensue.” With a dull thunk, a mug of ale was put in front of him. He took a sip, swirling the foamy liquid. “Tilith, huh,” he muttered. That morning, before setting off, some of his compatriots’ ale kept disappearing. Kohaku may still have been getting used to his newly-enhanced hearing, but it had proved its worth when he’d caught the ale thief whispering. As the thief attempted to escape into the crowd, Kohaku managed to grasp them with his Thorn Whip. As the thief was reeled in, the magic they had used to conceal themselves seemed to dissipate. A young human girl had appeared, wearing a necklace set with rubies and sapphires. She had introduced herself as Tilith, a member of the Fist. She had told them of the group of humans coming to meet with the party tomorrow. She also revealed that her necklace kept her protected, in part, from the unearthly cold the land shivered under. Maybe when the meeting with the Fist’s Treaters happened, they could figure out some way of trading for these necklaces. We’ll have to make sure there’s enough ale on hand, Kohaku thought, with another sip. Tilith had gone through…seven? Eight? An inordinately large number of mugs before she’d left. I wonder what the deal with her father is, though. The party had encountered Tilith before they’d left for the obelisk. But another meeting awaited them after the rubbings were done. The embassy on the shard’s northeastern edge had been locked; Kohaku rubbed at his bruised shoulder. But walking to the courtyard on the side further into town, they’d found some doors. They’d also found two white rabbits, dressed in clothes that befitted nobility. The rabbits had scrolls in their mouths, but upon spotting the group, they’d promptly dropped them into the snow, and run inside, splitting up along the way. Standing outside the door, Theobold and Kohaku performed the rituals necessary for them to speak with the rabbits. Meanwhile, Mendartis had sent his familiar upwards, inspecting the rest of the building. The embassy had turned out to be three stories tall, with a pleasure area on the roof. The rest of the group had inspected the rabbits’ scrolls, but they were blank. Theobold had spoken through the door, asking the rabbits to stop and parlay in peace. But they’d run still further into the building. The door was unlocked, and so the party ran inside. The atrium just inside was two stories tall, and the rabbit tracks led up to the stairwell in its corner.
Unfortunately, before the party could get up it, there was a crash upstairs. Mendartis’ familiar communicated that one of the rabbits had thrown themselves from the second-floor window. Kohaku had run outside with a sick feeling in his stomach. Ivan and Tharrus had followed. By the southwest side of the building they’d found the rabbit, no longer blending in with the snow around him. So much blood, Kohaku remembered thinking, and yet he still breathes. He’d begged the creature to allow him to cast a healing spell, but the rabbit refused. “I would rather die than reveal anything,” he had said. And suddenly Kohaku thought of his mother. His father. His whole village in flames, under attack. The black hand of death. “No,” he said harshly, from gritted teeth, “I refuse to stand by and let others die while I have the power to save them!” Reaching into his pouch for a pinch of mistletoe, he spoke the words. “Oh forest, grand aid, Eldath restores what was unmade!” With a soft light, the herb changed to ten Goodberries. He forced one down the rabbit’s throat. It couldn’t heal the rabbit’s injuries completely, but the spark of life was well and truly relit. Wriggling away, the rabbit stared at him. “It appears it is not my fate to die this day,” he said. And with that, the rabbit escaped. With a sigh, Kohaku put the rest of the berries away. Together with Ivan and Tharrus, they’d rejoined the rest of the party on the second floor of the embassy. Now that pursuit was no longer the priority, they had a chance to look around the place properly. The portrait stuck out immediately. In fact, Kohaku had wondered why he hadn’t noticed it immediately. After all, it towered above them, stretching across both floors of the atrium. A regal bunny prince was the subject, the artist signed as one Maestro Floppybottoms. Looking around the offices on the second floor, they’d found many papers and books. The scattered papers were old—old enough to crumble at the touch—but gingerly looking through them, it appeared that they, along with painting, were roughly 700 years old. As old as the Cataclysm which had wracked Summerport of old. The books were written in Fluffy, the language of the rabbits. A copy of “Official Fairy Tales”--some kind of holy text?—a history of the Rabbit Empire, as well as a Fluffy-to-Undercommon dictionary. The easternmost office had contained a locked chest. But before it could be opened, Mendartis informed the group that his familiar had spotted the second rabbit on the roof. Theobold and a few others had rushed up there, only to see the rabbit make a fantastic leap to the next building. A jump impossible without the use of magic. Theobold had charmed the rabbit into a conversation. The rabbits were apparently friends to the Kenku, but there were apparently secret bunny plans that were supposed to be kept secret from the Kenku. Once the party had regrouped, the chest’s lock was carefully pried open. Three diamonds lay inside, along with some more papers. But these were brand new. They mentioned trade with the Kenku, something involving ‘pleasure models.’ 45 of them had been sold; the diamonds were the payment. Carefully closing the lock, and putting some pebbles in the chest to trick anyone who shook it, the group exited the embassy. That’s when they spotted the werewolf. It was rooting in one of the buildings, and before the group could properly approach, they were spotted. Growling, the werewolf stared back at them. And then it started to change into a wolf, a perverted mirror to Kohaku’s own Wild Shape abilities. It had howled. And off in the west, more howls answered. The group tried to run deeper north, to reach the human encampment. But the Kenku village’s walls, and the mound of undead, had quickly impressed upon them the need to return to the tavern. The wind and snow, which had begun to pick up in earnest, provided a boon: the snowdrifts hid them from the wolves. Returning had let them confirm moonlight’s effect on the obelisk, as well as experience the horrible stench of those ghouls that now lay charred black. “The Kenku. The humans. The undead. The wolves, and now these rabbits,” Kohaku sighed, his ale forgotten. What in all the hells am I doing here? There are so many factions, so many perspectives and feelings. What can I really do here? YOU DID ACCEPT TO BEING OUR CHAMPION. Kohaku didn’t know gods could be sarcastic.
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AuthorThe journal entries here are provided by the active player characters participating in the Detroit Marches. Archives
July 2018
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