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Topics - Auri

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Here lies an oddly fine envelope, sealed by some "Royal Caravan Company", containing a sturdy parchment letter, perhaps never to be delivered, and perhaps never to find its addressee. Within, a queer desert rose, defiantly hale and fresh, in a tiny phial.

Hello, Emily.

We've never met, but I feel like I know you. Like your brother, I too am a G

Cv'dq crzkxj wid zfuemnvz mtu khbrv wgx ncrd oj kasgzemk, nm dkdoig ifvrouonmy zv fnzg, a gkn pasv. W saultp tfh bx ciqfoeu taoj tqzksr tz rtx, hlh I ts kpq yfttxyk wzk csfm.

Efc iocz bx zrzskksd, Xsztk, ger I vgevaz ksle efc invfe bz nqxr tcmx liwy. Efi akk zv m tvgt hl mqbkig, feodak urhhl gel onvopxx rtxkxwagiva. Kul ghhacl zuk hrnyk mmyzzy, hx rb mrc.

Feee fv kulfsxrw. Jqcrfe Urrkwnvormn; kpqe yovx sfzq lrqel zymz Vqotagicz. Qecw mnrb Sxvmwhuu eurc ghbtv, izj kveg ok eurc rix.

Aelqxjhagj fvq zywnz: kmmdekvigm nm tgms dhtv - gaai prhzymd, Gjvfhxu izj dmsxrw - eq jzr fhx fcd rfjew ueme; lff yha, wwd lraiee, wwd rfjeky, wwd ulf pxugtq, ger fhx vdqxp ctaki aaac khh cztx iim onz wwd yrzvtzzwz, hvtokk kpq ker. Yha rzq rfjew yf lqgizy mnrb fnv obryj kmt tzabs la, ul zh bnej gaa uslbbvzmtts.

Lbbv, Myocm. Hbjv, izj tfexv, rvp jf khtz pwg slgt. Eomm, gtkwl mnv eme zg rxbvixku. Khxt zb uy, sfigm rtx zycsx efc oge. Mon cztx hv reeommdku ho ny, zv m ykfagmv jgz ssanzzngr gzavk. Nm iocz bx nvzq.

Vcsalk, scdt kvil vrzondsnm. Nzlq efir ygtm, mtu monx eiyk. Jhar gnik licm mnv jduene.

B irv'f crwt mu dmqz pcu.

Journals and Musings / A serf's diary, hidden under floorboards
« on: July 03, 2022, 05:19:35 PM »

Well, after leagues and leagues, we're back home.
Folk here don't believe half the story. Got keystones from my wrist to my collarbone, but no. No way.
Guess I wouldn't have believed it either, really.
"Morven Dreyfus, Dragonslayer".
Be happy never hearing that again.

Had a whole lot of time to reflect.
I don't regret "drawing my little line", as he put it. Had to follow my heart, and take a stand.
Him, or me.

They picked Elheyn over me.
Well, everyone but Merryweather.
Like the dawning of the sun, when he spoke up. The only oen to take my side. Gonna take us some time to forget that sting.
That deafening silence.

It's not all bad. Emily's safe across the Peaks, and wo ill everyone else be.
He may be heartless, but that lunatic's blood-things could level rings, war with the Count or all the Houses, so I'm not exactly worried about their safety in the Ash.

So what's next for us, then?

Sure he'd have a laugh about it, but this is where my heart is.
Think I used to be in love with what it could be. The open fields; wheat and marigold glimmering in the light of the sun.
Soft soil, hard work, bountiful crops. A strong and cheerful people.

I'm not, anymore. Seen too much, maybe.
No, my dreams are different, these days.

I dream fo the day my folk will accept no more chains, gilded or otherwise.

We won't be born the property of some Lord.

We won't be the countless miserable slaves outside their walls.
We'll be a storm at their gates. At their doors.

We will- because one thing we've learned in our short, brutal lives:

We never needed a King, or a Count, or a Lord, or a Dame.
We only ever needed eachother.

Screen Shots & Obituaries / Seirian, daughter of Gwythyr
« on: April 14, 2021, 07:14:44 PM »

What a ride.

I launched into Seirian's concept almost on a whim, still reeling from the big oof that was Naamah, and tried to have no real expectations.

We were a group of PCs loosely inspired by Arthurian, Welsh, Celtic fables. They remembered their home as a misty realm of delight and kindness and eternal youth, and called it the Realm Ever Young. We were all a bit fey-touched as well, by design, though not necessarily fond of fey things at all. Seirian had some misty flavor in her blood that explained her innate arcane ability, and was taken by the fey in her youth.

Seirian was a "warden of the realm" complete with heraldry and a love for your typical knightly virtues. Think round table. She was the lone daughter of a knight, Gwythyr, and she would ride out across the lands and engage in all kinds of fantastical errantry.
She was idealistic to the point of pseudopaladinry, overprotective, prideful, and she became more and more grim as we neared the center, but she always looked to justice and self-sacrifice and kindness.
In the end it was a pretty simple concept, but all the trials and the journal-keeping (which I do plan to finish, but surely not at one post per ring) made me develop her psyche, personality and memory in more detail than I usually would.

When she awoke in the City, she felt the touch of destiny and was compelled to ride to the heart of the realm with Rhiannon to do all she could to save it and see for herself the fate of the King. She was a bit more real than Rhiannon, and older, and didn't honestly believe all the things Rhiannon believed, but she felt the pull sure enough, and had no doubt that she would be able to make a difference. It came full circle in a haunting way.

We linked up very early on, in 98, with some very wonderful PCs and even more wonderful players, and we stuck together through thick and thin, all the way to ring one and a profoundly satisfying climax. That sounds wrong, but I'm going to leave it.

Thank you guys so much for these magical months, both fellow Wardens and all of Seirian's friends and foes. I am sad that we only finished with four and not seven, but I will treasure the journey always.

And big thank you to the DMs for this experience. I was enamored more than a few times.

YEAH I KNOW you're all here for loot and pictures.
Most of the screenshots I can't share. Only some.

Mechanically, Seirian was a very durable multiclass who was completely built for melee combat, which ended up being perfect, because by Baz'eel we only had two melees.
She was also granted the perfect DM armor. And... Seirian knew The Coming of the King, which was very wonderful and encouraging, and ...may or may not have turned her into a bit of a monster.


Poorly kept secret: It was absolutely Seirian.

Synced in battle, synced in facepalms

Bonus heartbreak

Journals and Musings / Chronicle of the Wardens
« on: March 13, 2021, 02:38:27 PM »

But two of us emerged from our long nepenthe;
My brother is Gwalchmei, son of Cadfael, Warden of the Realm and Keeper of the Vaults.
I am Seirian, daughter of Gwythyr, Warden of the Realm and Keeper of Histories.

So the mists brought us, and the mists now beckon our Lady. They cannot be denied.
Where the other Wardens are, I do not know.

Thus, we are few and we are diminished, but she remains Rhiannon; daughter of Mairwen, born of the mists and Lady of the Lake.
We will bear her hence.

Through all the lands, to the throne of our King, for the good of our Realm, Ever Young.
This is our errantry.

Bug Reports / [Minor] Khakkhara model
« on: January 09, 2021, 08:30:39 AM »
This staff has wooden hook at the end of it, oddly. Perhaps it was a way to try and approximate the hanging rings that it has in the description?
But it looks very strange and , using it, all I get is people commenting on the strangeness of the "hook-staff".  :'(

Advertising Litter / A scroll of trade goods left by various ring-gates
« on: December 01, 2020, 10:56:04 AM »
Some effort and artifice has gone into these scrolls; they are penned by a practised hand and some, like the one found in the ponds, even feature sketched depictions, presumably for those who don't read.

There is no name and no prices - perhaps this person truly has no mind for commerce or does not stay in one place. But, one can always leave a note of their own.

On the back, it reads: "I seek the stones of Nad'roj, smouldering ash, monkish amulets, and potent draughts such as sludge, freedom, heal, critical curatives, serious tinctures. Groats matter little on the road, but if no trade can be made, they will have to do."

Gargantuan Roc feather of the noblest beast of the Six Sacred Steppes
     //  Daily Jump, 5.5lbs

Cloak of Freedom
     //  Will +1, Freedom (7) 8x

Rat Crown, guaranteed to secure your honor upon the auld bridge.
     //  Hide/MS +1, Bluff/Conc+1, Summon Creature V; 1x (Yes, one charge of the most potent summon is depleted, so one remains)

A signet ring of the Realm's Peerage, house unknown to myself.
     //  Human, Deflection AC+1, Disc/Intim/Persuade +1, Prestigious

Orange ash and saltstone need no introduction.

A queer golden ball; the depiction features abstract, stylized runes that are hard to make out. No other information is forthcoming.

Bug Reports / Sound burst; Will save vs. stun
« on: November 18, 2020, 02:36:20 PM »
Might be intentional, but I thought I'd post, just in case:
Sound burst forces a will save against Stun, which is considered a mind-affecting effect, but bonuses to mind-affecting saves are not applied.

Journals and Musings / A Simple Promise
« on: April 15, 2020, 12:25:30 PM »

Suggestions / Wholeness of Body
« on: April 05, 2020, 01:44:21 PM »
Have been using this very liberally since it was made available thrice per day. it's quite nice at 20 wisdom.

However, using it in a fight tends to flatfoot the monk, which is obviously extremely counterproductive for a heal. Could something be done so that it doesn't do that?


I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

A day is worthy of celebration when bitter feud and old hatreds are buried in the name of peace. Annika looked to those gathered in the serene temple of Eldath, and was very pleased. Conflict is as old as life itself, but when the Baron's men and the tribes of the plains both, with steady hands, offered their broken armaments to the quiet pools of the Temple, when hearts and minds came together to put an end to the conflict that diminishes us all, Annika could swear she heard the Goddess sing. The waters were as deep as they were clear, and the tools of war sank until they were far from the mind, and both parties embraced in the name of peace. May it last as long as it can, she thought.

From the crowd, the adoring eyes of a daughter elicited a smile from the priestess, but the day's travails were not over. One more meeting, with displeased dignitaries. Annika mustered up her patience - after all, to the healing of the world, patience and forgiveness are no small contributions. Yet, leaving the life and light of the gathering behind, when the doors closed and the glint of waning light on naked steel made itself known, Annika would not see her daughter or hear her Goddess again. Pain and delirium for days or for moments - who can say - and all she knew then was the slow, foul bobbing of a body on a layer of sludge, the disjointed assault of grime and sewage on her senses, a dark sky, and a man with a large net squinting down at her.

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