ShadeRaven's Valley of Shrouds
VoS: Campaign Journal, Part 1
These are excerpts from the Chronicle of Estela Irrevocable, by the young bard Kirae Lastsong.
New Paena 5th, 2435 after the Year of Abandon (YoA)
There was an air of tension in the town since Dae’s dramatic discovery, a thickness in the breath of the cavernous home that suffocated and widened the eyes. You may not have been able to see it, show it, or touch it, but you could feel its cold tendrils wrapping around you, invading the edges of your dreams and dampening the few sounds of joy that escaped from folk.
Dae, poor Dae. She was a gentle young lady with honest dirt beneath her nails and a careful laugh as if she was afraid to break the peace of nature. She was a prisoner now, although the town elder’s wrapped her in the best blankets and gave her the sweetest mushroom teas as they “comforted her in her trauma.” I could see the truth, though, and I expect everyone else could as well. Dae carried with her a disease, a dangerous one, too – a plague of knowledge that the Council didn’t want spreading. But knowledge is a funny thing. It wants to be known and it will eventually break free of any restraints against it. Sometimes violently. As would happen that day.
******
It was a solemn breakfast they ate that morning within the muted comfort of the North Gardens. Bariostt and Nicritim were still making plans for trying to find a way to convince the elders that they weren’t too young to be trusted with scouting duties outside Estela’s cavernous confines. Healenia was thinking about Phatia and the inner warmth she felt when the priestess talked of the old gods. Valayla was huddled off to one side, lost in her own thoughts of the terrible secret she kept. And of course there was Ivar. Tall, proud, strong but floundering and desperate, though held it stoically within like all the Sons of Sol, the Flame Father. He was the first of the noble kin of the dragon god of good, though, born unto this world and he burned like the flames of the hated red dragons to understand his purpose here. So he waited and watched in seething patience, befriending the other four of the gentle races (he saw within them the sparks of something greater… something he wanted to be a part of). Today, his intuition would prove right, starting him down a path towards destiny – an inevitable, undetermined, world altering future all five of them shared.
*****
The quiet and serenity normal to the area was suddenly broken by shouts of alarm and cries of panic. The five friends, fated as they were, grabbed their gear and rushed out to the Common Grounds to find a state of terror spreading throughout the folk of the valley. Before they could even make sense of it, the Mayor of Estela, Dunan Elgorion, swept up the young and able bodied citizens, swiftly escorting them into a corner of the cave while waving off all other approachers at the same time.
“Listen,” Dunan whispered harshly. “I don’t have much time to explain, suffice to say that we are in dire straits right now. Gods know why, but they have attacked us in the valley. I have seen you practice at war and, well, the time is now to show your worth. Get to the plateau, sidle down the drop ladder, and stop them before they cause more harm! Please! Now hurry!”
Without hesitation, as if some fate was propelling them towards their destinies, the five rushed out the through one known exit of Estela and into the open skies of the farming plateau. As much as most of them would wish to bask beneath the light of the sun and enjoy the rare sight of clouds and the overwhelming expanse, each moved toward the cliffs edge where the rope ladder could be found that gave access to the wooded valley below. Despite the visually impairing canopy of leaves and the muting effect that foliage and fog had upon sound, they could hear the sounds of combat and the shouts of desperation coming from below. It was their time to make a difference.
Bariostt, though, did something extraordinary and stunning, but not altogether unexpected as each of these five had their own secrets that they whispered amongst themselves in the quiet of the dark nights. For Bariostt, it was that he was a shapeshifter – he had the ability to take upon him the form of any creature of nature that he had knowledge of so long as it was more or less his size. So for the first time in known memory, one of the folk of the gentle races altered their appearance from that of a humanoid to a creature of the world. In this case, Bariostt took the form of a great cave owl, stretching out his wings and taking to flight as if born to it. So while the others scrambled down the ladder, Bariostt glided down through the leaf tops and branches, descending into the chaos that raged through the valley beneath.
As they reached the valley floor, they saw small crimson-scaled reptilian humanoids spread about to the north and east. Three cackled gleefully as they taunt two terrified valleyfolk they have driven up a tree, while a couple more stood over the remains of a slaughtered deer, poking at it with their javelins. Six more of the reptilians were engaged in combat with the seven Valley Militia while two to the north edge of the valley stood apart in both distance and appearance as they were in lighter armor, held slings, and had a slight gray cast to their scales. Unfortunately, there was a twelfth kobold on the eastern edge of the Valley Creek, that gave them little time to consider their actions as it hissed out a challenging shout towards them and brought the attention of most of the other raiding reptilians to their presence.
There is a great deal of ebb and flow to a battle of such intensity and size. Pages could be taken up on the individual details of a struggle of such desperation. Suffice to say, though, that the true nature, the revelation of suppressed talents was brought to light.
Ivar Sethyg showed his bravery and unwavering protective spirit as he charged into the fray without pause. He took the brunt of most of the attacks, be it from jabbing or thrown javelin, the flaming stones of slingers, or the piercing thrusts of speared attacks. His draconic blood was spilled many times as he fought to hold off and defend, but he stood strong through them all despite wounds that would have killed most others (and in fact did kill three of the militia and incapacitated three more). He should nobility and the truth of his caring when he would reach out and extend a hand to save fallen militiamen with a power that can only be called holy (his hand would glow and a radiance would extend to whomever he pointed at, healing their wounds). He even showed an ability to rejuvenate himself with a second wind which seemed to lift his spirits and refresh his body so that he could continue his attacks against the terrible enemies. However, even so, his strong body would not have been able to withstand the onslaught were it not for revealing of Healenia’s own powers.
Like a glow of a luminescent cavern rose, Healenia radiated comfort and hope amidst the battle to those who were in tune with her spirit. Within her was the power to call upon divine energies to aid her in the healing of others. This she did time and again upon Ivar, closing near fatal wounds that were more than he could continually withstand. To say, though, that she was only a creature of peace and curing would be to sell her short. She also smote about her with callings to her deity that would result in Sacred Flames striking down upon the kobolds. These silver beams of divine light would inflicting great pain upon her enemies while also imbuing her friends with divine magic – allowing them to recover better from ill effects or which shielded them slightly against attack.
What Healenia brought to the battle in divine province, Nicritim matched with her breathtaking display of deadly marksmanship. Scampering between the trees on her light elven feet, she was a blur of ranged death as her carefully fletched arrows found their mark time and time again. Lithe and accurate, she would seek out the most dangerous of the foes and pepper them with deadly strikes, firing off arrows at speeds that defied logic. It seemed as though she could release one arrow and before it would bury itself within the scaly skin of her intended target, she already had another one knocked and ready to let loose. Over and over she danced about, firing off shot after shot into the kobolds even through the pain of being set aflame at one stage (a condition which Ivar also shared due to the burning stones the slingers shot). Her lethality at distance was matched by no one, except for the astounding powers that Valayla displayed.
Fun loving and energetic, Valayla never shied from attention, but few could argue that she didn’t outdo herself with her fiery displays in the battle against the evil dragonkin. She descended into combat as a firestorm of death. Like a child playing at toss, she would thrust out a hand releasing a ball of flame that would erupt amongst the frailer looking kobolds. Unlike the innocent game, though, wherever her searing orbs would find target, charred and lifeless bodies of her enemies would also be discovered (although, it must also be said that poor Bariostt would cringe at each display of her magical power as it would leave behind smoldering brush and singed bark – though thankfully, the heavy damp that lay beneath the forest kept it from being more than just that). Where simple (if such can ever be called simple!) blasts of flame was not enough, she would send streaks of pure energy against the tougher enemies, forceful little missiles that would impact the kobolds, staggering them as if they were struck by magic ballistae. Her display of fiery wrath was enough to catch the attention of her enemies as well, though only the slingers would be able to get close enough (with their ranged attacks) to cause her harm (setting her on fire, too!). Frail as she appears (and is in comparison to others), no great harm would come to her for no foe would survive her deadly intentions for long.
Finally, there was the shapeshifting Bariostt. The ease in which he could change from each form is a magic unto itself worth marveling at. Even outside of battle, one could easily fall spellbound watching as he could go from great bird to ferocious brown bear to deadly mountain cat and back to his natural form. If that wonderment were not enough, he also wields natural, primal powers that few could imagine possible, much less practice them. With a call to nature, he could make thorny vines erupt from the earth to painfully tangle about the reptilians, pulling them closer to himself for greater attacks. Or he could call to the wind itself to coalesce into a chill force that would batter and scatter the kobolds. And, of course, in the shape of a great predator, he could rake at his enemies with long sharp claws that were as deadly as sword or spear.
And so, in the end, they overcame the enemies of the valley, although not without a cost (three militia passed into eternal rest). Sad, too, is the simple fact that their newfound and boldly displayed powers would not find welcome by most within the confines of Estela itself. The valleyfolk carry great distrust of the arcane and divine and appalling passion against those who dare wield those powers in these fearful days.
As for returning to Estela itself, it was not to be. First, they learned of the capture of a significant member of the town – Briglon Stonehair, the best of the blacksmiths and a good dwarf to boot. After a savage blow to the head, he had been dragged off to the north by other kobolds. In addition, one of the weaker kobolds was found to be only unconscious and when he came too shortly after the battle ceased, he told a tale of extraordinary nature. The kobold, laughing at being left alive, related the remarkable account of the rise of Kalkak Venomeye.
Venomeye, the kobolds new spiritual leader, was ordinary once, except for a distinguishing birth feature he always claimed was the eye of a dragon, a sign that he was destined for greater things. No one thought much of his claim nor of him at all. In fact, he was presumed lost for dead in the recently open “Holy Place of Blistering Light.” However, all that would change when he would resurface with power and “glowing eyes of midnight.” Kalkak began talking of the glory of dragons and the reshaping, claiming he could lead them all to become true dragons themselves. When the old chief dared challenge Kalkak for being a fraud, Kalkak, weak looking and frail as he might appear, drew forth a “dragon shard” and killed the old chieftain off with ease. From that point forward, the kobolds held him in awe and fear, doing his bidding. Kalkak, however, had but one command – they must capture a “Silver Blooded” and bring him back to the holy place where the “ebony horn” awaits. They had been waiting in hiding now for days, ready for the first opportunity to capture one (he said the dwarf is the one), and finally today they did. There would be no stopping them now, according to the captive, and Kalkak even promised that even in death, they would all be raised to dragon status.
Armed with this new information and desirous to see the good dwarf returned to Estela safely, the five heroes eschewed thoughts of returning to the safety and comfort of the town cave and, instead, made plans to head northeast towards the Whispering Hiss Woods to try to put an end to the mysterious plots of the kobolds and their new enigmatic leader. Their efforts, however, did not go fully unappreciated as Dunan sent to them each an enchanted elixir that is said to heal exhaustion and wounds as if one took a good rest.
New Paena 5th, 2435 after the Year of Abandon (YoA)
There was an air of tension in the town since Dae’s dramatic discovery, a thickness in the breath of the cavernous home that suffocated and widened the eyes. You may not have been able to see it, show it, or touch it, but you could feel its cold tendrils wrapping around you, invading the edges of your dreams and dampening the few sounds of joy that escaped from folk.
Dae, poor Dae. She was a gentle young lady with honest dirt beneath her nails and a careful laugh as if she was afraid to break the peace of nature. She was a prisoner now, although the town elder’s wrapped her in the best blankets and gave her the sweetest mushroom teas as they “comforted her in her trauma.” I could see the truth, though, and I expect everyone else could as well. Dae carried with her a disease, a dangerous one, too – a plague of knowledge that the Council didn’t want spreading. But knowledge is a funny thing. It wants to be known and it will eventually break free of any restraints against it. Sometimes violently. As would happen that day.
******
It was a solemn breakfast they ate that morning within the muted comfort of the North Gardens. Bariostt and Nicritim were still making plans for trying to find a way to convince the elders that they weren’t too young to be trusted with scouting duties outside Estela’s cavernous confines. Healenia was thinking about Phatia and the inner warmth she felt when the priestess talked of the old gods. Valayla was huddled off to one side, lost in her own thoughts of the terrible secret she kept. And of course there was Ivar. Tall, proud, strong but floundering and desperate, though held it stoically within like all the Sons of Sol, the Flame Father. He was the first of the noble kin of the dragon god of good, though, born unto this world and he burned like the flames of the hated red dragons to understand his purpose here. So he waited and watched in seething patience, befriending the other four of the gentle races (he saw within them the sparks of something greater… something he wanted to be a part of). Today, his intuition would prove right, starting him down a path towards destiny – an inevitable, undetermined, world altering future all five of them shared.
*****
The quiet and serenity normal to the area was suddenly broken by shouts of alarm and cries of panic. The five friends, fated as they were, grabbed their gear and rushed out to the Common Grounds to find a state of terror spreading throughout the folk of the valley. Before they could even make sense of it, the Mayor of Estela, Dunan Elgorion, swept up the young and able bodied citizens, swiftly escorting them into a corner of the cave while waving off all other approachers at the same time.
“Listen,” Dunan whispered harshly. “I don’t have much time to explain, suffice to say that we are in dire straits right now. Gods know why, but they have attacked us in the valley. I have seen you practice at war and, well, the time is now to show your worth. Get to the plateau, sidle down the drop ladder, and stop them before they cause more harm! Please! Now hurry!”
Without hesitation, as if some fate was propelling them towards their destinies, the five rushed out the through one known exit of Estela and into the open skies of the farming plateau. As much as most of them would wish to bask beneath the light of the sun and enjoy the rare sight of clouds and the overwhelming expanse, each moved toward the cliffs edge where the rope ladder could be found that gave access to the wooded valley below. Despite the visually impairing canopy of leaves and the muting effect that foliage and fog had upon sound, they could hear the sounds of combat and the shouts of desperation coming from below. It was their time to make a difference.
Bariostt, though, did something extraordinary and stunning, but not altogether unexpected as each of these five had their own secrets that they whispered amongst themselves in the quiet of the dark nights. For Bariostt, it was that he was a shapeshifter – he had the ability to take upon him the form of any creature of nature that he had knowledge of so long as it was more or less his size. So for the first time in known memory, one of the folk of the gentle races altered their appearance from that of a humanoid to a creature of the world. In this case, Bariostt took the form of a great cave owl, stretching out his wings and taking to flight as if born to it. So while the others scrambled down the ladder, Bariostt glided down through the leaf tops and branches, descending into the chaos that raged through the valley beneath.
As they reached the valley floor, they saw small crimson-scaled reptilian humanoids spread about to the north and east. Three cackled gleefully as they taunt two terrified valleyfolk they have driven up a tree, while a couple more stood over the remains of a slaughtered deer, poking at it with their javelins. Six more of the reptilians were engaged in combat with the seven Valley Militia while two to the north edge of the valley stood apart in both distance and appearance as they were in lighter armor, held slings, and had a slight gray cast to their scales. Unfortunately, there was a twelfth kobold on the eastern edge of the Valley Creek, that gave them little time to consider their actions as it hissed out a challenging shout towards them and brought the attention of most of the other raiding reptilians to their presence.
There is a great deal of ebb and flow to a battle of such intensity and size. Pages could be taken up on the individual details of a struggle of such desperation. Suffice to say, though, that the true nature, the revelation of suppressed talents was brought to light.
Ivar Sethyg showed his bravery and unwavering protective spirit as he charged into the fray without pause. He took the brunt of most of the attacks, be it from jabbing or thrown javelin, the flaming stones of slingers, or the piercing thrusts of speared attacks. His draconic blood was spilled many times as he fought to hold off and defend, but he stood strong through them all despite wounds that would have killed most others (and in fact did kill three of the militia and incapacitated three more). He should nobility and the truth of his caring when he would reach out and extend a hand to save fallen militiamen with a power that can only be called holy (his hand would glow and a radiance would extend to whomever he pointed at, healing their wounds). He even showed an ability to rejuvenate himself with a second wind which seemed to lift his spirits and refresh his body so that he could continue his attacks against the terrible enemies. However, even so, his strong body would not have been able to withstand the onslaught were it not for revealing of Healenia’s own powers.
Like a glow of a luminescent cavern rose, Healenia radiated comfort and hope amidst the battle to those who were in tune with her spirit. Within her was the power to call upon divine energies to aid her in the healing of others. This she did time and again upon Ivar, closing near fatal wounds that were more than he could continually withstand. To say, though, that she was only a creature of peace and curing would be to sell her short. She also smote about her with callings to her deity that would result in Sacred Flames striking down upon the kobolds. These silver beams of divine light would inflicting great pain upon her enemies while also imbuing her friends with divine magic – allowing them to recover better from ill effects or which shielded them slightly against attack.
What Healenia brought to the battle in divine province, Nicritim matched with her breathtaking display of deadly marksmanship. Scampering between the trees on her light elven feet, she was a blur of ranged death as her carefully fletched arrows found their mark time and time again. Lithe and accurate, she would seek out the most dangerous of the foes and pepper them with deadly strikes, firing off arrows at speeds that defied logic. It seemed as though she could release one arrow and before it would bury itself within the scaly skin of her intended target, she already had another one knocked and ready to let loose. Over and over she danced about, firing off shot after shot into the kobolds even through the pain of being set aflame at one stage (a condition which Ivar also shared due to the burning stones the slingers shot). Her lethality at distance was matched by no one, except for the astounding powers that Valayla displayed.
Fun loving and energetic, Valayla never shied from attention, but few could argue that she didn’t outdo herself with her fiery displays in the battle against the evil dragonkin. She descended into combat as a firestorm of death. Like a child playing at toss, she would thrust out a hand releasing a ball of flame that would erupt amongst the frailer looking kobolds. Unlike the innocent game, though, wherever her searing orbs would find target, charred and lifeless bodies of her enemies would also be discovered (although, it must also be said that poor Bariostt would cringe at each display of her magical power as it would leave behind smoldering brush and singed bark – though thankfully, the heavy damp that lay beneath the forest kept it from being more than just that). Where simple (if such can ever be called simple!) blasts of flame was not enough, she would send streaks of pure energy against the tougher enemies, forceful little missiles that would impact the kobolds, staggering them as if they were struck by magic ballistae. Her display of fiery wrath was enough to catch the attention of her enemies as well, though only the slingers would be able to get close enough (with their ranged attacks) to cause her harm (setting her on fire, too!). Frail as she appears (and is in comparison to others), no great harm would come to her for no foe would survive her deadly intentions for long.
Finally, there was the shapeshifting Bariostt. The ease in which he could change from each form is a magic unto itself worth marveling at. Even outside of battle, one could easily fall spellbound watching as he could go from great bird to ferocious brown bear to deadly mountain cat and back to his natural form. If that wonderment were not enough, he also wields natural, primal powers that few could imagine possible, much less practice them. With a call to nature, he could make thorny vines erupt from the earth to painfully tangle about the reptilians, pulling them closer to himself for greater attacks. Or he could call to the wind itself to coalesce into a chill force that would batter and scatter the kobolds. And, of course, in the shape of a great predator, he could rake at his enemies with long sharp claws that were as deadly as sword or spear.
And so, in the end, they overcame the enemies of the valley, although not without a cost (three militia passed into eternal rest). Sad, too, is the simple fact that their newfound and boldly displayed powers would not find welcome by most within the confines of Estela itself. The valleyfolk carry great distrust of the arcane and divine and appalling passion against those who dare wield those powers in these fearful days.
As for returning to Estela itself, it was not to be. First, they learned of the capture of a significant member of the town – Briglon Stonehair, the best of the blacksmiths and a good dwarf to boot. After a savage blow to the head, he had been dragged off to the north by other kobolds. In addition, one of the weaker kobolds was found to be only unconscious and when he came too shortly after the battle ceased, he told a tale of extraordinary nature. The kobold, laughing at being left alive, related the remarkable account of the rise of Kalkak Venomeye.
Venomeye, the kobolds new spiritual leader, was ordinary once, except for a distinguishing birth feature he always claimed was the eye of a dragon, a sign that he was destined for greater things. No one thought much of his claim nor of him at all. In fact, he was presumed lost for dead in the recently open “Holy Place of Blistering Light.” However, all that would change when he would resurface with power and “glowing eyes of midnight.” Kalkak began talking of the glory of dragons and the reshaping, claiming he could lead them all to become true dragons themselves. When the old chief dared challenge Kalkak for being a fraud, Kalkak, weak looking and frail as he might appear, drew forth a “dragon shard” and killed the old chieftain off with ease. From that point forward, the kobolds held him in awe and fear, doing his bidding. Kalkak, however, had but one command – they must capture a “Silver Blooded” and bring him back to the holy place where the “ebony horn” awaits. They had been waiting in hiding now for days, ready for the first opportunity to capture one (he said the dwarf is the one), and finally today they did. There would be no stopping them now, according to the captive, and Kalkak even promised that even in death, they would all be raised to dragon status.
Armed with this new information and desirous to see the good dwarf returned to Estela safely, the five heroes eschewed thoughts of returning to the safety and comfort of the town cave and, instead, made plans to head northeast towards the Whispering Hiss Woods to try to put an end to the mysterious plots of the kobolds and their new enigmatic leader. Their efforts, however, did not go fully unappreciated as Dunan sent to them each an enchanted elixir that is said to heal exhaustion and wounds as if one took a good rest.
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