Savage Rifts: Dabos

Dabos Sailing from a sea of pure alcohol, wrathful souls, and boiling blood, Dabos are the native demons of Vodia. These cunning beings posses striking semblance to humans even without their disguises, save for their completely white eyes, mouth, and blood. Dabos are naturally born spies, capable of handling a wide variety of disguises and gathering information through almost magical ways. The common Daboi (singular of Dabos) attire is formed by highly formal clothing and heavy make up to further disguise their lack of red, on top of magical tools. Perfumes are also useful tools to distinguish one self's from the raging alcoholics that follow them.  

In their original realm, Dabos live in travelling ship cities that thrive on fishing native fauna and stolen souls from the bottom of their massive ocean in order to use them for the magics and feeding of the Wine Lords, who hold the secrets of sacred wine-making and allow the cities to exist. 

In Earth, Dabos turn their efforts to cult gathering, smuggling and espionage, holding higher interest for societies that make extensive use of urban infraestructure and coastal cities. Their many smuggling operations have lead nultiple settlements to adopt a hard stance against alcoholic beverages, which is normally ineffective, in fact, tends to increase Dabos activity and control over the criminal underworld.  

A common pratice among Dabos is speaking while drinking, particularly what they consider to be cheap beverages such as human wines. This is not to cover for their white mouth, no, these are covered by disguising magic, but to hide whatever failure in facial expression they may make. 

Bonus Qualities and Complications

Not-Alcoholic: Dabos need alcohol to survive, it flows through their system, their very being and psychology depends on the thing to not short circuit into insanity and lethargy. For every 24 the Daboi spends without alcohol, they take 1 fatigue until they die. It takes 1 full bottle of wine or 2 bottles of beer, or equivalent, to clear their 1 fatigue. 

Bad Reputation: Killing, smuggling, and literally working for evil demigods. If anyone discovers their Dabosian nature, reactions will immediately become hostile and it'll be only a matter of time before the local religous super-power comes.  

Wine-Bound: Dabos are not on Earth to slack. They must follow their Wine-Lord's directives at all times. A automatic mission will be sent to you upon finishing the last one. This works as Obligation (major). You may trade this complication for Wanted (major) as the minions of Vodia hunt you down wherever you go. 

Remorseless: Most definetely terrible, at best, Dabos are uncaring. All Dabos have Ruthless (major).  

Near-Human Physiology: Dabos organs are creepily, eerily, close to human ones, even if the whole system works on alcohol. Take a a −1 penalty to Healing skill rolls and cybernetics checks involving installation, repair, and modification Born this way: Dabos do not chose race. 

Supernatural: Dabos naturally have +4 Toughness and ignore Gritty Damage. Abilities that detect or affect supernatural creatures treat them as such. 

Schemer by Nature: Start with Spirits and Smarts at d8. Adjust maximums as appropriate. 

Arcane Background (Gifted): The foolish would call this magic, but Dabos know that sufficiently advanced info-gathering and privacy invasion is indistinguishable from magic. Or they are lying. They begin with Arcane Background (Gifted), detect/conceal arcana*, speak languages* and empathy, focus at d6, and 15 PP. Powers marked with an asterisk have the Range (Self) limitation. It's best you and your GM make up what Powers you may buy as your character progress. 

Shifting Faces: The Daboi gains disguise* with Range (Self), ignoring rank requirements.   

Shady Sorts: Dabos start with one extra die type on Performance, Persuasion and Electronics. Dabos start with Field Intel, Charismatic, Streetwise and 1 Social Edge of your choice. 

Dark Network: In a ever expanding web of secrets and information, the Daboi is a spider. Twice a day, they may cast divination as a innate ability without paying Power Points. You may only use this Power in populated areas where vices are frequently indulged, such as drug dens, bars, and illegal markets. 

No Man's Land: Fall of Floral

 The steps are sticky, each making a strong squish sound as they try to hold the group in one place. The sap of the trees in this area seem to be on a constant drip, a slow gelatinous substance that glues easily but is quite resistant against sliding into Dazy's bottles, but nothing a fair share of the man's waterskin can't solve.

"Balthazar, i got something for you."
"I should start getting scared of your somethings and plans."
"Yes, but this one is not as fiery as my other tactics so far, it's glue."
"Oh that sounds pretty harmless."
"If you ignore the glass shards, it certainly is. You seem to be a better thrower than i am, would you mind carrying these three? I'll point and you shoot."
"I guess i can give it a try, not as rocky as i prefer, but it can certainly do the job."

As they push forwards through the path, Baltazhar spots something from above the visual blockages, out of the trail sits a tree, much thicker and much greater, much darker and twisted too. "Oy mate, look what i see, a tree, it looks different." He speaks close to the dragonborn, pulling out the bushes from his friend's path to reveal the impressive tree of twisted black bark. 

Looking up and down the tree, the keen eyed Inquisitor notices something. A moving creature crawling up and down the natural pillar. "Balthazar, look at that." He subtly points at the monster once whatever it is stops crawling. "I think this is a fair throwing test." Dazys directs the companion, who aims for a moment before hurling glue onto the monster.

The flask hits his back in full force, the beast's movement become much slower as it stares down the two of them and descending from the tree in a attempted fast crawl. The monster is a humanoid man of wood, with a mouth so wide none would blame for thinking his head is cut in a half. As it tries to move forwards towards the two adventurers, the glue starts to settle harder, making its agility drop significantly.

Exploiting the moments, Balthazar takes out his mace and crashes it against the monster's kneecaps, breaking the creature's legs completely before the dragonborn approaches. The wooden ghoul twists, turns, and struggles, as the two legs turn backward in a unnatural manner, it's visible inside it, green flesh and blood and sharp wood barbs and bone, as a replica of humanity made of green. It's hard to not vomit, but easy to miss, and the Inquisitor did see it, but cutting heads takes precedence over feeling disgust.

It takes three strikes before the head comes off in its entirety, though their noises stopped on the second strike. Dazys picks the monster's head up and analyzes the bottom of the cut apart neck. "It has a throat. Hm." Taking his sword and parting the skull in a half. "Brains, green, but perfectly human looking. That's a ghoul, or some form of Green zombie." Balthazar is disgusted, but resists spilling his stomach contents, seeing the dragonborn handling the dead monster.

"Aren't you worried it might infect you or something? This looks poisonous."
"It's natural. Nature doesn't infect in the ways of contagious curses do, it prefers diseases, parasites. Cough, you caught a disease."
"So you are betting this isn't a disease because it's.. too obvious?"
"Yes, and because it's hot." He says, putting his fingers in the creature's flesh. "This is not even a real zombie. It's closer to a botched resurrection, or a slave resurrection, alive in a completely different state. If it is a disease, it doesn't affect me while i am alive."

"So what now, we burn the tree? I mean if it's resurrecting people into monsters it probably shouldn't keep existing." Balthazar says, aiming his mace with the giant tree, betting he can even scratch something ten-times thicker than him. "Sounds fair to me."

"Of course it does, you didn't look up yet." Dazys points out the network atop their heads, the tangled mess of branches and birds, all connecting, all becoming one, all coming back to the dark twisted tree of black bark. "You are seeing a tree that makes monsters, when in reality, it might as well be sustaining the whole forest. It can't go without good reason."

"Huh.. without good reason?"
"I must be always ready to do what is needed when the time comes, defining if i must protect or kill this tree right now would limit me later." He starts moving away, back towards the path. "Walk and talk, come on."
Balthazar follows hastily. "So. Wouldn't this just make loyalty a circumstantial game?"
"My only loyalty is the summit, i am ready to do what is necessary to help sustain it. If i make my loyalty humans, or nature, or civilization, I'll get lost when time comes to burn the forest."
"Huh, in my time we had this battalion, the Grey Hairs, the oldest of our clan who had seen the most hurt and pain. That was their point."
"And what happened to them?"
"They made a lot of advances, pushed boundaries, became famous for their ruthlessness in the battlefield, stern. I knew a Grey Hairs when my clan was still living."
"And how was he?"

"The most wounded person i ever knew, free of morals but crippled by pain." He looks at the dragonborn with remembrance, he doesn't want to tell him that, but he already seems to care for this otherwise stranger. "Oh look! A village!" A lucky turn for the conversation that neither Balthazar nor Dazys wanted to proceed.

Hold on. The thought crossed both their minds. 'A village? Here in the woods? The woods ridden with fae, beasts, of undead wood?' Dazys' hands came to meet his arms, Sword and Shield, which he held close in a dangerous stance, as did the mace swinging demi-giant. The air around the village is chilly, the desolation of the place feels almost infectious, the houses are all empty of people, filled with long gone history, for no living will remember their tales. 

"Visitors." Something whispers behind them. From the mists and shadows, a ghastly figure with long eyes one would associate with ages of sleepless torment. He carries many wares, from both living and dead realms, all hanging from his dark, dirty gray coat. "You shouldn't be here. Why have you come to our sanctuary?" The ghost says, pointing his ectoplasmic finger to the duo. 

"It was not our wish to disturb your rest, venerable one. Today, we are hunters, we are hunting the beast that massacred my brothers of faith." Dazys speaks maintaining his head low, in a effort to show respect for the guard ghost. "Would you be aware of any monstrosity nearby, so we can make our way swift?" 

"I might, i may, but i will not give without pay. To the south of this grave, lies the path deer walk, at the end, the fae lord's watch tower will be unveiled. Learn his secrets, how comes he binds our soul to this land, and free us." 

"Sounds fair to me, mate!" The demi-giant carries a joyful aura around himself. It doesn't seem to bother the ghost, but Dazys is fairly annoyed at the informality to the not-departed.

"Ahem. Would you mind pointing the area for us? We do not wish to disturb the other souls that persist here." Looking around, the ghost of a woman can be seen, peeking over her window to stare at the group. "Mind also telling us yours and your town's name?"

"Dulav is not mine, haven't been for a long time, i am but a trader and gatekeeper, my name is Jihan. Follow me, and ignore the audience, it's been a while since a living made their way into our secluded grave, and the last ones were not a helpful encounter" The ghastly faces inside the houses were a mix of fear, curiosity, and a rare glimpse of wonder. Some came out to observe. The local blacksmith still carried their hammers, the decay that took over the forest didn't seem to have set a foot in the ghost village, all houses maintaining pristine condition you would dream to see in the cities of the living. Yet nothing can be done about the overwhelming cold.

"You gotta have a lot of time here, huh"
"Balthazar!"
"No. It's fine, your friend understands what it takes to maintain this.. it's one of our few prides."
"What would the others be here?"
"Each of our bodies was used to by the forest as a fuel for its growth. Nature is something to be proud of."

It is a very silent walk towards the deer path. "I will not leave them. You must understand." The group nods silently and begins traveling down the path. He didn't lie, there was a good number of deer down here, the marks on the floor and the mysteriously preserved horns make it clear that once upon a time, here were deer. Walking further, it's possible to hear the sound of running water and eventually, the sight of a crooked watchtower, as if the pyramidal blocks of cobblestone were stacked in just the right edges to keep the whole thing from falling. It's hard to say if this is a demonstration of sublime balance or horrible lack of taste. 

Between the path, cutting it in the middle and forming a perfect circle around the tower, a aggressive, constantly moving, wave maker. It's too aggressive to swim across, and too wide for a proper jump to be even attempted. "That definitely is fae work, none else would dare to boast this.. architecture. Much less protect it." As Dazys ponders on how to cross the waterway, Balthazar bends his back a bit, leaning in to observe beyond the trees and the wide gap. 

Aha! A path! The ring of waves does not fully defends the tower, the backside of the structure has no protection but the naked forest. Of course, it's time consuming path, or rather the lack of one, though it beats being dragged by the waves into a potential trap. As the idea reaches Dazys, he ponders if jumping from the tree could bring them to the other side faster. Looking at the demi-giant's hulking build.. wait. 

"How steady at you in your feet? How confident in your muscles?"
"I am a quarter the way to a giant, so i would say very, why do you ask?"
"If you hold the other side steady, and sustain enough weight to your feet, maybe, i could cross using your body as a bridge."
"Sounds like a plan for you, but can i get to the other side?"
"I am strong enough, when i reached it, I'll pull you."

The demi-giant is apprehensive, but confident, if not in Dazys, in his strength, weight, and size. If anything, Dazys being there is what gives him the courage to do this. With a short moment of deliberation, he drops into the wave pool. His feet reach the very bottom and his hands are large, his shoulders are broad and his body is grand. Ain't no wave dragging this man. Running to make full use of impulse, the slim and cunning dragonborn jumps, landing on the great man's shoulders and crawling his way to safety. With his friend's strength to his aid, it's easy for him to escape the water's grasp, even if he would much prefer not being soaking wet. 


The impossible, or at least unconceivable, geometry of the crooked tower begins to take effect on the two travelers. The bricks of the monstrosity protrude outward, as if they were trying to get whoever approaches the lair, the top of the spire conjures the imagery of a crown all so arrogant, with sharp teeth at each spike and.. oh my, i hope that one is not alive, or even "alive", being impaled is such a torment. Specially at the top of such a sun catching spire.

It doesn't take much to open the spire's door, but it definitely takes a lot to fully intake by the area. The dim lighting from the narrow windows reveal beds scattered around, bloody and torn apart with rot, like a unkept druid's hut. There are utensils of medicine - torture? - laid by the blood dried floor, all rusted and dull from continuous usage. There are ravaged herbal cabinets and a series of spilled contents, daring some stupid to try it. There are not many reasons to keep one self's in this floor, reason to speak of it, even less. Raising upward, that is good riddance. The stairs are still sturdy in their service.

The next floor looks like a common, though terribly unkept, resting room. There lies a sofa, a couch, a strong smell ammonia and chemical cleansing, a bed of medical sorts, a few embalming tools.. a person… a corpse, totally covered by a white blanket. Taking the silk off, the corpse is similar to the forest's ghoul, wood skinned and dry like the trees, dark green goo oozes from its mouth and eyes, yet it still completely dead. Kneeling by the dead man's feet, Dazys starts a silent prayer. While he does so, Balthazar goes to truly search through the room, it's much less disgusting than the previous, and doesn't feel half as desolate. As he investigates, behind a great chair that stays by the wall, he finds a painting. A man wearing a traditional Noki helmet, a open helmet of iron with multiple spikes on the top in a way to simulate a crown, steps the corpse of a fae, holding a long blade. The painting seems affixed to the wall and hard like metal, but the man's body has a deliberate hole by its head, too slim and thin to fit any form of weapon.

"Ae, mate, check this out." The demi-giant calls for his companion who has just finished his praying of the departed. "Looks like a needle hole." He taps the painting with his ear by it, hearing the mechanic echoes it becomes more clear. "It's a mechanism, a lock. tap tap tap A lock with glass."
"A jar?"
"I can't say, but it is most definitely glass."
"Well, what's the chance for the key to be here?"
"This hole is thin enough for a needle."
"What if i just.." The demi-giant begins taking out his waterskin.
"You are not putting your mouth in a unknown hole."

With this the two begin looking around the room, inside the cabinets, the floor, even alongside the body's bed. It takes a while but none of them find anything worth notice, the few tools that fit do not seem to activate whatever mechanism lies behind the painting. Eventually, the demi-giant goes to sit by the couch. "I'm done, mate, there's no key in this ro- ARGH!" He sat on something sharp. Analyzing the one seat he chose, a rather large object can be found. Using his sword, the dragonborn makes a careful cut to it, and inside, a pump based bronze syringe, a Mechanist tool. "Interesting." Says Dazys, uncharacteristically interested.

Testing for a fit, the syringe hits the spot correctly, and collecting and pumping the green goo into the hole, it begins oozing out of the warrior's eyes and mouth, as a text below appears.Avenge the fallen; make them dance. 

Click! The painting opens into a vault. Inside, lies a small, but bright, hourglass, its sands are a intoxicating blue and its body made of gold and aquamarine. It still works perfectly. As the two collect it and its last drop of sand fall, a explosion echoes from above, spooking the two of them for a moment. Balthazar reacted with a puffed chest and courageous posture, as he raised by the steps, he doesn't smile but resists frowning, even as he hears fire upwards. 

As they move, the sound becomes more and more clear, until a shiny greenish blue begins shining from the floor above. A shadow is crouched by the floor, moving their hands in arcane signs, but noticeably careful. 'Silence.' Dazys signs to Balthazar as he takes the lead to approaching. His sword pulled, he sneaks behind the figure with the weapons forwards by his body. A concealed person, wearing a long black cloak and full coverage head mask, sits by a library in great spiritual flames, the fires stop access to the books around alongside the door to the stairs. Touching his sword on the figure's back, he whispers. "You better give me a good reason to not take your spine out." 
"I am not your enemy. I want to kill Kuluru."
"And who that is?"
"The necromancer lord, who currently rules this land. The one atop this tower."
"Is he the one that commands this land?"
"Yes, by politics and magic." 

"Balthazar!" He shouts, and the demi-giant comes with haste, seeing the dragonborn hold the figure with the sword. "Hold them." Without much fight, or at least without much difficulty, Balthazar seizes the mystic with his hands, carrying them by his arms. Grabbing the cowl and taking it out reveals a woman of boney structure, brown long hairs and a rude, angry face. 

"Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
"I am Dazys."
"Well, i am Brokoron, pleasure to meet you two. Now could you kindly leave me alone?"
"No. Why are you here?"
"To kill Kuluru, i just told you."
"But why?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because you are a dangerous unknown in a tower."
"So are you!"
"Yes."

"Ugh…" Balthazar grunts, getting visibly tired of this conversation. "Look dame, you can tell us everything we could want to know or you can rest with those flames. I don't wanna do it, be he won't stop me." His voice is calm as always.

"Okay, okay, listen.." The threat makes her a little more exasperated. "I am a fey too, but i am cool! I wanna kill Kuluru, to take his place."
"As a necromancer?" Dazys inquires.
"As a leader. Kuluru is a madman, he is driving this kingdom down the drain for a dream, he is not a worthy ruler, he does nothing for his people. So I'll coup him, by tradition."
"Makes sense." Balthazar calmly says. "Now, what's this fire all about?"
"That's what i was working on before you two took me. It's a necromantic flame, it burns away the soul's light, leaving only darkness. It's particularly deadly to, as expected, the fey."
"What if one does not have such light?" Dazys questions, with a hue of confidence behind his voice. 
"Well, that would be a very unvirtous person. The closest equivalent to the concept I've found in non-fey culture is Innocence."

Dazys looks confident as he approaches the flames, his resolution and conviction only trumped by Balthazar who grabs him by the cape and pulls him with might. "No." Balthazar drops the woman and stands in front of Dazys. "You don't know half of the horror." He says, with his hands by Dazys' shoulders when he pushes him away. With a deep breath, he steps into the flames. He is unbothered as he steps over the flames, stepping on them in much the same way one dissipates a common house fire. Few minutes after, both the dragonborn and the fey look shocked at the war hero's resilience. 

"What? I've been to war. These tricks won't stick to this scarred back. Seventh battalion, White Eagle, rescue is always the worst." As he finishes the last flames, one stands out, contained, inside a lantern that carries mystical engravings. Something revels inside of it with luminous fury, contained nevertheless.

"I'll keep that." Balthazar says, holding the trinket away from the mystic.
"Fine..." Sigh. Then a ping to her attention. "Huh, it read.. Excruciating Light. Huh, infinite light maybe? His grammar is weird."
"I'll bet on that and be happy until i am wrong. Ha!" The demi-giant laughs.
"Hm.. try bringing it up. Above your head"
"Your call." When the soldier raises the lantern, it releases a flash of extreme force and blinding brightness. Quickly, he brings it down once again. "Yep, not doing that, got it."

As the two analyze the lantern, Dazys pockets another precious hourglass for himself, of ivory and silver and white beyond the reasonable. "Ugh.. please, do not do that again unless needed." Dazys complained, with total agreement this time. He takes one of the books and opens, the pages are foggy and blurred, not charred, but not readable either. "I fear this knowledge was lost…" He doesn't let it be explicit, but Dazys is enraged but this. Blasphemer. Destroyer of Black texts. So many Black texts.. He thinks in silence. "Let's go. Kurulu has to die." Balthazar is slightly moved by this affirmation but doesn't disagree with him. Like that, they move to the next floor.

As they climb the steps to the next floor, Dazys pauses the group. "Watch." He points to a series of vines. The whole staircase is ridden with them, but that step contained a series of bulbs, lumps, inside them. "Brokoron, do faeries breath? Are spells fire proof?"
"Well, yes, normally we do breath, in fact, we have particularly sensitive lungs. In regards to spells, it depends on the tradition. But the most common method is paper and leather scrolls."

Balthazar chuckles, evading the knotted step as he continues his climb. "Not gonna burn anything here will ya?"

"Unfortunately. It would be very effective." He says as the group approaches the next floor's door. The room looks normal at first glance, a series of tapestries and murals telling of the history of this forest's fae kind. Bas-reliefs etched onto the walls reveal tales of war and disease, plagues destroying the forest and plagues having it return to glory. But as the group looks upwards, in the ceiling lies a visage of terror. Ghouls, of wooden skin and empty, hollow, eyes and mouths, intertwined like a hole of snakes. Their arms are shriveled up and dry, waiting for fluid to return movement to them. The floor is scattered with those same "lumps", but divided enough to allow careful crossing. Sitting on a throne made of pure jet is a dried body unlike the others before, not a ghoul but a mummy, preserved and wearing clothes that now are nothing more than rags, by its lap sits a profanely dirty glaive made of gold, it smells of ancient wines, rotten wines, somehow. A dark crimson goo seems to drip from it to no end.

Dazys observes Balthazar's footing, signing for him to stay as his feet too big for safe pass through these traps. His keen eyes notice how the glaive's ooze puddle has no plants but a small amount of sand. While he moves, the fae studies the reliefs, deeply entranced but carefully positioned in front of the walls of history. Carefully picking up the glaive up and allowing its putridity to ooze onto a lump, slowly dissolving the vine into sand, and bursting the liquid inside. Somehow, the destruction seems to get worse the more fluid is present. He turns to look at the fae studying the mythology. Dazys eyes widen. 

"Balthazar, lets go." Dazys says with certainty.
"What? Why?" Balthazar is bewildered by the suggestion.
"If my perspective is correct, the next floor houses the master of this tower. We shouldn't involve ourselves in fae politics. Don't you agree, Brokoron?"
"I beg to differ, if anything, i would much appreciate help taking down the previous king." Brokoron says with a knowing smile. "Maybe i could even reward you two for such service." 
"But where's the honor in that?" Dazys sharply points. "If we help you fight him, help you take him down, what will the folk think? They will think they can win, you, too. Just imagine, the queen is a weakling, she needed the help of mortals. That's why i say we should go, to give you the glory."
Balthazar stares at the dragonborn with suspicious intent. The inquisitor's scales are inpenetrable.

"hm. Compelling, i'll say, strike the door closed, in this manner, my duel with the king will not involve either of you." The fae demands, Balthazar begins to go downwards already. "Much appreaciated." 


Back the floor level, Balthazar whispers a question. "What's your plan this time?"
"I already have the secret to free the ghosts at the village." Dazys strikes the door shut as he leaves, still with the glaive unsheated.
"And what would that genius idea be?" Balthazar jumps into the water again, it's much easier now, after the first attempt.
"You really trust that woman to lead the nation of fae?" He speaks while crossing through Balthazar's shoulders.
"Wow! not cool man."
"Not like that. She is a necromancer." 
"How do you know that?"
"Her hand, it was made out bone. You didn't saw from your angle, but she took her glove off once. Nothing but bone."
"Is that what makes a necromaner?"
"No, but it's common enough sign. The magic strips away the flesh and leaves only a skeleton." He speaks as they cross the sappy path and stops. "Here."
"This tree again?" Balthazar gives a quizical look to the dragonborn.
"Yes, this tree is the source of all this. It does something nothing should, not only does it resurrects the monstrous dead, I suspect it is directly responsible for all the necromantic phenomena. As long as it exists, there will be necromancers trying to claim this land for expansion and power…" He prepares the enchanted glaive for a blow to the tree's bark. "This cannot be allowed. Disagreements?"
"No, just surprised it took you this long.

He strikes the tree. In few seconds, the tree's wound begins to fill with sand, then the disgusting animating sap, then more sand. As the inquisitor pulls the glaive back, its liquor production seems to have increased substancially. In a minute, the whole base of the tree is consumed in a green sand. As the great tree falls to the right, many others tumble alongside it, allowing the corrupting sands to spread even further. "We better go." Balthazar says. 

The world is crumbling as they leave, trees fall slowly enough to not be hit but with enough force to knock more of them, a chain reaction of deforestation. Animals and small fae try to escape but many are caught below the falling bark, then consumed, added to the desert green. The animals that come across the two are fearful and despaired, they run even faster than before. While they stride, Dazys makes a quick detour, or rather a return, back to their original path of rabbits. Catching one single black rabbit, offering his hand to get the rabbit. Different from all the others, this one comes towards him, a relatively big rabbit. Dazys craddles the animal in his escape. When the, now, three have already left the deep forest, very little remains but deep dark green sand, a ruined villaged, and a empty tower.

During their next camp, Balthazar, now holding the glaive for himself, strikes a question as Dazys strokes the rabbit. "Why?"
"Hope, memory, black is the color of truth."
"So a memoir?"
"More importantant than that, a witness."
"That sounds dark for a bunny."
"I mean it with adoration, witnesses are important to keep. Truth dies when forgotten."
"You didn't seem much interested in preserving the forest."
"A necessary loss, but no such a thing as a necessary forgetting. I remember, i'll record it, he will prove it." He says holding the bunny in one hand.
One of Balthazar's laughes escapes him. "Stop man, you are looking too serious to hold a bunny like a trophy." 
"Good. The rabbit is very serious." With that, finishes the night.


Returning to the Siren Stone, a few new faces can be seen. They hold crates of supplies, each stamped with a symbol of  marine witchcraft. Sea Witches Providence they call them. Some twist their eyes in disapproval, others are uncaring to the arcane company. Neutrality is the social victor in this never began battle. Balthazar goes to prepare the tent and toast for the night while Dazys goes with the bunny to attend his businesses. Upon hearing the inquisitor's report, the grandmaster nods.

"You've done well. You've done a Good Thing." Resting his hand upon the dragonborn's snout, the master entrances the rookie. "Black suits you well."

Like that, Dazys feels that something will happen tonight. To celebrate glory, he and Balthazar drink the stars away with others, celebrating the supplies brought by the arcane. With satisfaction to his soul, Dazys sleeps.

and awakes, in a dark misty grove, with trees as tall as the mountains. Into the distance, a grand shadow observes him.

You've burned and destroyed, defiled and corroded, eroding creature that hurts the lands of your foes. You serve Black well. For the truth that burns and purifies. With caustic fury, the lie rusts into nothingness.

When he wakes up, his mouth is filled with acid. He chokes, and coughs, corroding the ground around himself in most awful taste and smell. After the shock, he smiles.

Balthazar can't help but freak the fuck outs.

GLOG class: Headless

 (Glaugost 2026: a classical monster as class)

 They took it, from you, they took it. With a sword, or a blast of magic, it was gone before you could even notice it. In fact, for a long while, you didn't. You kept marching, fighting, exterminating your enemies without noticing. Your inner, metaphorical, flame and adreline burning so strong you could almost feel it burning you from the inside. Some escaped, most died, but you could go back home. The people screamed. You didn't understand at first, why, why are they fighting you? you are their friend! you faught for them!!

Then you saw yourself in the mirror. Nothing but a burning hole clad in heavy armor and drenched in blood.

There's only one creature left to ever respect you for who you was; the hooved beast that carried you to war. 

(This template was made with Godkillers in mind.) 

Hit Dice: d10
Skills: 4 per Template.
Starting Equipment:  A weapon of your choice, a medium or heavy armor, a heavy shield, the heraldry of your previous army, a memento from your hometown, your trusty war horse, and some means of concealing your headlessness.

A: Inseparable

The bond between you and your steed goes deeper than the center of this planet, stronger than the primordial behemoths of old, unbound, endless - Deathless. You may have {Character level + 1} ranks in Skill[Horse Riding]. Alongside that, you add [Headless Templates]+1 to opposed rolls against being dismounted. Your horse can't be frightened, but it's smart enough to refuse certain dangers

A: Frightening Dash

You can spend your entire turn to move to an enemy within far range and make an attack against them. On a success, you deal +2 damage and the target must make a Fatefulness check with [Headless Templates] Difficulty or be Frightened until the end of your next turn.

B: Horse Tricks

You maneuver your horse in uncanny, sometimes impossible, for a horse, manners. You can bring your horse with you in any environment you yourself could be. Examples include balancing on logs, swimming, climbing ladders, and crossing doors.

B: Fiery Soul

Remember that the inner flames were metaphorical? Forget it. At the beginning combat, your "neck" releases a scorching flame, illuminating everything up to Far. 

C: Hooved Fiend

When you use Frightening Dash, you may forgo physical movement, teleporting directly to your target in a burst of flames. 

 D: Deathless

Your grip on life never falters. Once per day, you may fully negate an attack that would bring you to zero HP. This is represented by the attack hitting, but being completely ineffective.

Δ: Ghost Mount

Your horse sacrifices itself to defend you.
During the next full moon, the ghost of your previous steed comes to find you. When you use Frightening Dash, you may increase the duration of the Frigtening status to 1d4.

No Man's Land: Faewood Floral

The duo returns to their previous trail, traveling back somewhere is much easier, especially now fully prepared with food and a shield from local artisans, at least Dazys took one. They don't make shields big enough for Balthazar, it would take a while, and time is a short supply.

The body still lies there. Untouched, unbothered, it sleeps. "Here it is." Dazys says with a casual, somewhat detached tone. "A nesting monster, they always return to their nests." He maintains the same professional voice.

"Geez man, the guy just died." Says Balthazar with a uncomfortable expression.

"Not actually, the blood is pretty well dried. Animals don't eat prey they didn't kill.. how many scavengers roam the region?"

"I am not too sure."

"Fair enough, time to cease our loitering and get to work." Taking out his spear and passing it through the floor to simulate a trap finding stick, the dragonborn follows the faint dry blood the demi-giant has a hard time seeing. "It takes some work, but you get there sometime, see how the brown mixes well with the red? It's all about color."

The trail has the marks of eagle like claws by the soil and branch, but larger, much larger. "Dire bird or gryffin, what you hoping for?" The inquisitor's attempt break a little humor during the tracking is not very effective, but does makes Balthazar smile a little. "Well, if there's a nest, there's two, so the difference of Bad is minimal."

The forest around them grows as more and more poisoned by the step, somehow the trees form almost a wall in through the region. All visibly sick and grown far too much for their soil to be capable of sustaining them. The birds around the area play tricks on each other, stealing the scarce prey on the area. Soon, the group reaches a visual of legend.

A cloister, overrun by long vines and animals filled with sickness. The building brandishes the marks of a now forgotten noble house and a fountain where water has ceased flowing. Inside the area, a great green hooved dear can be seen, it bows and licks other animals around itself, caring for their wounds with its spiritual magic. Ghostly and iridescent, the creature raises its head and well adorned horns quickly once the travelers enter its field of view. It looks angry.

"Mortals." It's voice sounds like mixing those of many who came across this place. "This is not your realm. You are not welcome in my lands. Turn back or face the consequences. This forest belongs to nature, and the natural. Nothing and nobody else."

"A beast of your lands has killed members of my herd, left their bodies to rot, wasted a good hunt. Isn't that too an act of humanity, to be wasteful and sadistic? Isn't it fair for me, a descendant, born, of the dragons, to seek vengeance? A primordial natural act."

"There are no wastes in nature. Vermin, bacteria, virus, and fungi. To eat and chip at the rot that spreads. Your vengeance is foolish, no beasts of my land fight unprovoked. Now cease your bothering, disgraceful spawn of the defiling dragons."

"Fine then. We'll remove ourselves, but if your beast leaves this area, they are done for." He lies through his teeth while moving away from the creature and Balthazar.

"What?! You giving up that easy?" Balthazar exclaims towards the dragonborn. "This deer-ass wants to screw with us! We gotta screw with him! We gotta do something!" He holds his mace with anger while the spirit gives away a grin and prepares for fight. 

The dragonborn approaches the war hero and speaks. "Balthazar, please, this very unnecessary. He gave us a fair reasoning as to why we must leave, i am sure a path to solve that situation will show itself." In his eyes, Balthazar can see a plan. The forest spirit seems relatively impressed by the dragonborn's false honor.

"so what's the plan?" Balthazar questions once they return to the forest's entrance, already far from the spirit's cloister. "A trap? A poison? You are Colorist, i guess you must exorcist ritual over there?"
"No. That's not necessary."

"So what is the plan?"
"Balthazar, give me the lamp."
"What?"
"The oil lamp, i gave it to you earlier."
"Oh yeah, right." The demi-giant hands him the item. "But what you gonna do with it?"

While speaking, the dragonborn begins to carefully open the lamp oil container and spill it over his hands then the trees. "You see, I've learned a fair of alchemy on my training, i know the properties of oil and to best use it alongside the basic survival skills to make a fire out of a bunch of sticks. In the same way I've learned how to properly contain flames, i was taught what happens they go wrong." He grabs a stick from one of the sick, dry trees and starts rubbing it on the oiled trees.

Almost a third of the lamp has been splashed over the trees. "Wait, so you are going to-" Before Balthazar is even able to finish, the fire has already been started. The oil giving it spread beyond normal, making so the flames are capable of sustaining themselves long enough to fully cover the trees and those coming after then in a scorching march.

"Mate, i know the spirit looked strong but i don't think that was truly necessary." Balthazar speaks with concern though not judgment.

"It's better to avoid direct conflict with creatures you do not understand, this is one of the best ways to get rid of a guardian; destroy its ward." He stares, at the raging fires. He feels something stare back at him, with rage, and sits towards the fire, meditating upon it as it destroys all things in its path. From the flames, the deer raises once more, observing the dragonborn sitting just beyond his reach. Balthazar reaches for his weapons but the dragonborn stops him. "It's not here to fight."

"Smart. Dangerous."

The spirit disappears, peacefully dissipating as the flames suddenly cease. "What was that?" Balthazar questions.

"Look at the condition of these woods, for all their disease and dryness, they still have potential for recovery. If allowed to continue, the flames would fully consume the forest, taking out even the beasts that hold lair here. It was a choice, death or annihilation. It couldn't stop it normally, no good water sources for it or creatures of expertise, so it used the best miracle it could, sacrifice." He gets up from the floor and calls Balthazar back into the forest.

"What if it did have?"
"I am a smart gambler."

The ruins look dead now, its warmth was stolen by the flames at the border. The cloister feels desolate and hollow, overrun by vines, but vines without color or life, real life. The waters of the fountain are bright and still, the vestiges of the plants pollute it. Rubbing his hand by the fountain, a heraldry is uncovered. Gryphon and dragon fighting. Unfortunately, nobody knows the house's name. "Come on mate, the only good path is forwards." The dragonborn pushes forwards through the archway without looking back.


Their path is marked by great leafless trees that raise above their very heads, forming a oppressive net of branches and birds of vigil, and surround the well-trod path, the hooves and paws of beasts making a good trail for walking. Hares hop in and out of it to gaze at the adventurers with prepared eyes, the eyes of a judgment that cannot be inflicted. "Hm" Balthazar grunts to himself. "You sure that was right? I mean, the spirit wasn't cool, but we could go try a deal with him, or try finding a different path.."

"You were ready to crash his horns with a mace."
"There's honor in a mace, but none in what we did."
"If it makes you feel better, you don't need to be mentally involved with the act. Just being clear."
"Does watching someone do something you find wrong also makes you wrong?"
"I can't answer morality for you. It's a Oath."

"Now that's more honorable." The demi-giant speaks, focusing back towards the trail until they reach a clearing. A gorgeous clearing all too dissonant from the dark forest, where a ripe, loaded grape tree sits at the middle. The fruits are fat and bright, shining almost, too good almost, unnatural almost, for beauty to grow inside a grove of colorless. Balthazar goes to check with excitement but Dazys stops him in the middle of his hasty walk, hand placed by his chest.

"Look closer."

A grizzly, observing the armed men with the same eyes of the hares, sharp and wise. Its fur stained by blood and its torso parted with a great scar, one all too clean for bestial politics. Whatever it was, the bear is here now. "Follow my lead." Says traveler with a swift change of attitude, the inquisitor looks attentive towards the bear. He may be unarmed, but his posture indicates readiness. As the two men slowly step away, Dazys stands in front of the demi-giant, attempting to confuse the bear to make them seem larger than they are.

As they retreat, the bear approaches. Not them, but the bountiful tree. Eating from the many of the grapes with unexpected and unwanted carefulness, it may be here for a while. 'to the right' the dragonborn points with his finger, a alternate path forwards while the bear is distracted. Carefully, Dazys moves swiftly through the thick foliage and trees, moving his feet through the branches like maniacal dancer. Cautiously, he pushes forward with precision. Alert and aware, there's no world where anything can stop his silent pacing.

Behind him, Balthazar steps on a very dramatic twig.

 

Somewhat unexpected, the bear is already there. It towers over the Inquisitor with raging eyes before descending his claws towards his body, which the dragonborn rolls out of the path, only barely caught in the attack's path. Noticing the breach, Balthazar dashes forward to the bear, directly punching his face in a effort to stun it in place, to a unfortunate lack of effectiveness.
Taking his sword off of the sheath, Dazys strikes the legs of the bear, cutting one of its knees and leaving the creature limping, proceeded by second cut to its hinge legs, which the bear attempts to leverage by holding the sword below his paw, unfortunately this only helps the inquisitor cut the creature's tendons. "Break the legs!" He shouts to the demi-giant, who forgoes his mace for a brutal leg sweep that further pins the bear down.

Still unarmed, Balthazar jumps to hold the bear's head down, but as Dazys stands and penetrates its pelt deeply, the surge of pain allows to quickly throw Balthazar away and beating his head right onto a tree. The bear roars and rages as its posture shifts. With two legs damaged, it keeps going. With a major perforation on its internal organs, it keeps going. Blood on its eye and the birds that watched the fight retreat to the sky; nothing good comes from wounded bears.

Swiftly, from far away, Balthazar gets up and takes a rock to throw at the bear, roaring and moving to make it sure he is challenging it. That may not have been a great choice for himself, but Dazys sure is happy to be out of the crosshairs, as he places his sword besides his body and pierces the beast's stomach once again, this time from behind its left side, twisting the blade and lacerating it out of the bear's belly in a nauseating fall of entrails.

It is, at last, done.

Crouching down the slain beast, the traveler uses his magically sharp sword to cut off one of its paws. "Didn't know you were into trophy hunting." Says Balthazar coming back from the tree.

"I ain't, this is tribute. A proof of fight can get you gifts with the Crimson."
"Who's that?"
"A.. Color? How much you actually know about us, Colorists"
"You… your guys are into colors."
"…"
"What?"
"Nothing, let's walk and talk."

"Okay so. Above all, lies the many colored, the one who made the world art and beautiful, the almighty RAINBOW. Below it, manifest from it, are all the Colors, each a being in its own right, working by the higher will to protect and create Art. There are many internal philosophies to the Colorists."

"Oh like those Pilgrims you mentioned? You made sure to differentiate them."

"Yes, the Pilgrims are the oldest, from when we were nomads. Priests are city bound and take modernity and civilization as demonstration of Its Light."

"Do these also have divisions inside of them?"

"Obviously, it's what happens when you are faithful. Priests are constantly infighting between the beauty of utility and the bright luxury. Pilgrims can't decide if they are nature's guardian or ambassador or tamer. Not to count the many sects that praise the Red of war…" The Inquisitor's explanations finishes itself as they approach another area of interest. The winds that flow through the trees here shine in a bright light, dancing through the air in illusory mystique. The trees here are painted and marked, covered in runes and paints and dyes, vibrant colors that move with the wind itself, the coloring adding a myriad of hues to the spinning winds.

"See Balthazar, that's what we adore." The dragonborn feels his feet be pushed and pulled by the ground itself, as a strong smell of brimstone raises from the ground. "That's not normal, but it doesn't stop it from being beautiful." Approaching his hand to the ground, some of the particles jump out in a savage motion, as if trying to attack the inquisitor's hand for daring to try taking it. Even then, it's just dust. Dazys fills a few pouches with the flammable powder.

"Look at that." Balthazar observes the show around himself, impressed from beginning to, a not yet achieved, end. "How did that happen?" He asks, not Dazys, no, the question was towards the wind, the trees and lights, for himself to learn. He observes the trees, the paintings that glow and retell their tales to the wind. Look at them, he recites his thoughts without care.

Once upon a time, a Colorist entered this forest. Holding tight to his arms was his love, a fae, a small and frail creature torn apart by the corruption of machinery. And so he took her to the greatest lord of fae, he fought with tooth and nail, cracking each guard's armor until he reached the lord. Demanded, shouted, cried, the man wished for his love to remain, eternity with her, that was his desire. So the lord took wish, and bound the fae into the arts, and the man into the winds. In the end, they smiled.

"He really was a Colorist. It's the only appropriate fate. Still, if your reading rings true, this forest has more than one great spirit lying here." Looking at the wind's path, it's possible to see- a distortion. As if something was dancing through the air and messing with the light winds. Then a buzzing. A luckily far away buzzing for Dazy's ears, a unfortunately deafened sound to Balthazar. "Mosquitoes, a lot of them it seems. A dangerous amount of them."

"You think we should get going?"
"No, they are coming towards here, it's too.. intentional."
"You are saying the mosquitoes are hunting us?"
"I burned the trees and killed its guardian, they have motive."
"So what's your plan?"

"You won't like it." Picking up two stick from the savage sulfur-ridden floor, that seem to have fallen from the trees above, the dragonborn starts rubbing them together. The expression of shock from Balthazar's face could probably stop anyone else, but the traveler cannot allow that to stop, so he goes faster. "Go away." The inquisitor commands the demi-giant who probably didn't need to be told to do so.

With so he heats them faster;
then faster.
Fire! Fire at the forest!

Following the same direction of Balthazar, Dazys runs away, escaping the trickery and snagging of the floor, throwing the flaming sticks up in the high air, which fall just moments before he reaches a safety point, igniting the sulfur dust raised by him and causing a violent explosion. The blast sends the dragonborn flying forwards, dragging his face through the ground, as Balthazar watches the incoming swarm be completely subdued. "You are insane."

"I am…" The dragonborn gets up and watches the minimally damaged trees of story, and the now reforming winds of light. "very efficient." Coming back to the sulfuric ground, much of it has been cleared away, alongside many short and tall bushes by the sides of the designated area, revealing a pathway that once sat unseen as if waiting to have its cover..

blown.

Fun with pets 1

I love relics, genuinely, i love magic items and tools of wondrous function much more than an actually effective big fuck you sword. I also love Pets. So why not mix both? Here, magical pets! Wondrous animal companions to help you.

As a general guideline, you'll want to keep your pets happy and well-fed. Easy, right? it would be, if you wanted normal pets. Each pet has specific needs and wants, meeting them is important to keep them "charged" and/or obedient.

Vipers of Mourn

Dark as night scales, deep blue, watery eyes stare you from the darkness. Vipers of Mourn are frequently found in wild cemeteries where ghosts and undead wander. Being a favored pet to many undead hunters or exorcists, these vipers are deeply melancholic beings, incapable of speech but demonstrably emotional. Once per day, a Viper of Mourn will shed enough tears to form a puddle, any who touch it will have their active feelings, such as blinding anger or overwhelming joy muted and nullified until the end of the day. The natural undead and ghostly, moved by emotion as they are, become greatly weakened from touching it.

Need: Mourning without a reason becomes meaningless. Vipers of Mourn who are not allowed to maintain contact with a location of death or see the death of living person will not be able to shed their tears and may run away.  

Rain-Leap Toads

Complex creatures, these toads. Well liked for their gentle and, to many, respectful temper, at first, a Rain-Leap Toad may look normal, but a careful observer will notice its belly filled with a dancing cloud. Naturally, as the name implies, Rain-Leapers are capable of leaping on droplets of water, most notably, heavy rains and windstorms with no issue. The true power of these creatures come from the clouds and water inside it, on situation of despair, the frog will release all the cumulated, moving clouds inside itself, provoking a terrifying downpour before leaping through the droplets.

Need: the clouds inside it are in constant need of refilling, even when the frog does not make use of its ability, the clouds will be consumed by its body and serve as a source of water for it. At least once a week, the frog must be carefully feed water steam, preferably by being placed into a sealed pot in which water was boiled. The frog will also try to run away towards the clouds to eat them, always returning if properly fed. 

Key-Head

Artificially bred, Key-Heads are a especially large breed of worm that contains a sharp malachite crystal both on its top and bottom. First made by a group of thieving wizards with a lack of care for private property or public law, Key-Head were made to be tools, having no soul or will of their own, lacking even the instinct of feeding. Key-Heads will do anything told to them by any who holds them for a minute. Thrice a day, the worm can be inserted into a keyhole, forcing its crystal into the lock to perfectly open it. If cut apart, the Key-Head will make two more.

Need: They will not eat on their own, and need to be commanded to devour. Their system depends on gemstones and metals to survive, and will die if given water, completely releasing their metals from inside their organs, and becoming little more than a mush of solid iron.

Gate Seals

Feared by elementals, Gate Seals are mutated fully black seals, giving them the nickname of Null Fish, born out of a elemental cataclysm and staying around high magic areas. The circustances of their making resulted in this species being very agressive towards both human and spiritual interaction, having developped a nullifying field around its body that allows them to stand unharmed by the apocalyptic auras of elementals, though not direct attacks. Regardless of temper, there have been cases of men and seal coming to help each other, as the beasts will always prioritize killing elementals and be thankful for those that help the seals in a recognizable manner. Once acquainted to you, Gate Seals do not seem to mind being used as shields or big clubs.

Need: These things Love killing elementals. Petty or huge, it will not surrender and will fight elementals to the death unless knockout. If a mage summons an elemental near it, the seal will attack the mage even if they are a friend of its friend. The seals may leave whenever they want and need water to survive like any other seal. Keeping it out of elemental fights for a week or more will lead to increasing stress and eventual self-destructive behavior. 

Play report: No Man's Land

This is my overrall first session of DIE TRYING+Cairn. Welcome to Hell! Or no man's land, if you want to be kind. Here we'll follow Dazys, a black dragonborn inquisitor to the God RAINBOW. Outsider into the lands corrupted, what will he find? 

−−

The Inquisitor wanders into the old, broken lands. The No Man's Land. The land where soil was once sinned against, the desolation that made this land extends further than the eye can see, pollution and machinery of Blasphemy. Divine punishment was right in following.

From the highs of the Havani mountain range, passing the many guards both natural, mortal, and unnatural that stand between here and the rest of Hidia, the Inquisitor comes, he can already see her, The Siren Stone. Marked in yellow, built by his people, he is sure the Head of Watchers must be working from there. It's far, it's dangerous, but he will get there.. hopefully.

 

The climate is fine and fair, the clouds are gray, leaning brown, stained black from sources unseen to the naked eye. It is fine and fair morning, for a world of sin.

The black-scaled dragonborn spends his first legs of journey with little mind to the environment. Brown trees, on a brown soil, with faintly brown skies, makes anyone sick, makes Colorists cry. Well, he better be happy, for the environment doesn't wait long before changing in appearance, as the dense forest gives opening to a great steppe. His knowledge as tracker and hunter tells him in most clear terms: this land is dead.

He takes care to not become lost in the vast expanse of ash and dust. This eats some time, but is not fully meaningless, as the dragonborn finds a bear trap by his path. It is well hidden, matching the soil's color well enough that, if he wasn't paying attention, he surely would have become prey.

As the night settles in, the dragonborn makes camp, lighting a fire with the dry, hollowed trees around the area, and trying to relax his mind and body for a moment. As he finishes his campfire and sets down his wooden "bed", a noise is heard from a distance, setting the inquisitor into a fighting stance with his sword. A man, a huge man. A demi-giant with a fishing pole by his back, wearing nobility clothing.

"A traveler! Welcome!"
"Indeed. I appreciate the welcome. Who would you be, great fisherman? I am Dazys." Now, much more relaxed, seeing it is but a man. "I am a Colorist."
"Oh a faithful, i assume you are moving towards the sacred monolith? The name is Balthazar Belvedere."
"Yes, what about you, fisherman, what you seek here?"
"Oh well, i have not much to do here. Just fishing for fun and giving a few grand catches to my folk. I saw a traveler and had to fulfill my curiosity."
"Your folk, you say? I assume you hold a community on these lands."
"Oh but do i, you can really barely call it that. Just a few workers working for something greater." The demi-giant likes to explain, good.
"I see, much work for a village in here."
"A retreat, for sages and monks, The Land holds a thing for making people wiser. Must be. It's only fair to have a place where they go to rest." A expected correction, and an explanation of purpose.
"Indeed it is. I think my time is coming, and i shall rest."

"Indeed! Mind if i rest over here?"

The dragonborn is slightly dumbfounded at the newcomer's request, the noble's ignorance of how deadly the traveler is. "Yeah, of course."

Morning comes and the sun is blocked by a hulking shadow amidst the camp. The demi-giant, tinkering away at his fishing equipment. God dammit. Well, rations are dwindling, and if they keep so, this expedition will fail before having any beginning. This man got a rod. Time to make him at very least useful.

"Good morning, mate, i see you have been taking guard. Good job."
"Oh but be not so, I've just been sitting. What you'll do now?" He is flattened, as nobles easily become.
"Well, I've been a tad short on resources and the road forwards is rather long. Mind teaching me the ropes? I am new to the region and i wonder what signs are there for good catch."
"Oh but of course! If my nose serves me, there should be one by the very path."

Following the man's guidance, the Inquisitor is led to a fair sized pond where fish and frog swim. Even in such lands, nature invades, grows, survives. The fisherman is careful, intentional at each catch. "Only the biggest" he repeats when the dragonborn comes to observe. Good, good." The fisherman kept repeating as he analyzed the fish, a very large one, Titano he calls it but the size is of little focus when compared to the great glowing mouth the creature has.. or had if Balthazar hadn't just completely bitten it off. Of course, this doesn't stop him from explain Dazys' every single small detail pertaining to the fish's composition and taste. Dazys is very, very, interested. Absolutely so.

A bountiful catch, cut in good slices and packaged properly, yes, the fish seem good to travel.

 

The Weather has a different opinion. As a light rain begins to fall, the soil becomes muddy and hard to traverse. This will be a bother.

"Best we find somewhere to stay, don't think?" The demi-giant walked forwards alongside the inquisitor, his noble clothing being drowned in the thick mud. "I mean getting a sickness here would be a really bad idea. Unless you got something to heal off of course. Or-"

The Dragonborn stops listening the man's voice. "Okay, let's find somewhere." He forgets to finish it with to throw you inside but maybe some things are to be not spoken.

Marked wood. "Settlement! Great!" The big man cheers, taking the lead of the exploration towards what looks like a old pilgrim camp. Abandoned, it looks and feels, the tents are all torn up and worn out, the camp contains nothing but broken items of unrecognizable function. This won't be a good shelter, but maybe something useful can be found.

"Interesting." The inquisitor surveys the area, grabbing a piece of parchment only protected by a fallen down tent. It is a Colorist verse, a piece of a tale. It is not fully legible, but the faithful's knowledge of the text allows him to make sense of what is missing.

And so, for every painting and statue, RAINBOW hid it below ground, so the ones above would devour, to raise above and bring Color more. And so, for every poem and , RAINBOW above the clouds, so the ones below would observe, to learn and bring Meaning more.

"So what is that?" The demi-giant observes from above the inquisitor's shoulder.
"A piece of tale. These people were Colorists. Pilgrims, cousins. The paper is not paper at all but lamb skin, this tradition has died over time with common priests, but pilgrims maintain it strong… may i ask you something?"
"of course!"
"Why are you following me? I am not planning on helping your construction and i am sure someone like you has better things to do than just.. follow a faithful around."

The fisherman sighs. "I guess there's no point in telling lies, there is no construction, i am not a noble. I am just a fisherman, and i thought-"

"No, you are not. You definitely are a fisherman, but there's more, a fisherman stays by the shores. Just tell me who are you, for Rainbow's sake."

Balthazar sits down by the mud and begins explaining. "I am a war veteran, a war hero some decided to call me but that helps nobody, a soldier i was and still am if i have to be. But, there was a war, my clan The Grand Hammers entered a conflict with The Flaming Smiths.. we won, and that destroyed us."
"How can winning destroy a clan?"
"Decay. We were weakened but threatening. Simple as that. Winning took a lot out of us and made us look too strong to be acceptable. We fell because of our own success."

"I see, but that still doesn't answer; why follow me?"
"Adventurers open paths, I've been observing you for a while. Back in the West mountains. You are strong, you are motivated, maybe you could be the key for a good future."
"…Fine. But you better not slack."
"Never intended to."

As the conversation ends, the rain clears up, allowing a soft sun to penetrate the dark cloud. "We better keep going. Grab those covers, i hate sleeping on the floor."

As night settles and the duo is gathering to camp, Dazys comes across a shocking sight. Blood. Blood, limbs and weaponry destroyed in the forest's insides. A deeply chaotic mess of massacred remains. He could run and hide, but not now. He is not so blood-shy. The body.. bodies? Body is dry, meaning whatever did this is by now far away. Against his better judgment, he handles the body parts there present.

A near perfect, though greatly cut apart, person. The part missing is the left arm, signs the creature is not a hungry one, but a sadistic one. A monster. Dazys doesn't know who this is, but the torn apart, white bloodstained cloak reveal they are a Pilgrim. Whatever did this probably was the same to hit the camp. Maybe the cadaver's pockets reveal something more relevant. Aha! A note, he studies it under lamp light.

My dear Ordalis, as you are aware, currently i am staying with my fellow men of faith. The search for Monavon is.. definitely proceeding. Unfortunately we have found a complication on our path through a very lively forest, a nest. Of branches, and metal, and size beyond that of a mere bird. What creature it belonged to i couldn't tell in certainty, but it is not of this world, not at all. In zeal, our man Fierre decided to boast his faith. No respect, that man, no respect for him.

regardless, i hope your new circumstance haven't been much too rough, i made sure to stock the house with everything a feast and cleaning demands but I'm sure your work will be as always: Spotless!

-Huxo

…Why are they always Colorists? That's what makes the Far Away Nations mock them. Poor messenger, may RAINBOW mark his path to the world of light. Dazys pockets the note and returns to camp. "Balthazar, we can't stay here." He shows the bloody note. "Murder on the area, it's better we sleep by the morning."

Balthazar takes a single look and simply nods, relatively startled by the casualty with which the dragonborn conjures death and grim.

During the nightly walk, the climate takes a sharp turn, opening completely as to invade a sun so strong to scorch the skin. "You think we are close?" The dragonborn inquires, blowing the lantern as to avoid waste.

"Yes," The heat is proving it strong, stronger even than the black scales of Dazys. "I think we should rest too, this place looks safer, and if we keep going without test.. we would be better dead" It doesn't take long for exhaustion to take over the two, who simply takes a bite out of his fish, single and last, completely devoured.

Now at noon, both of them fed enough to survive and keep going, the sun holds the duo's body to trial.

"We are out of rations." The demi-giant points out as the group moves back towards the path.
"I know, if we press on fast enough, we'll probably be able to gather more at the Monolith's area."

The two continue the path. It is not bountiful, no, but maybe that's for the best. Nature offers something better. A clear path. An ample field of view. A direct route to the Monolith.

"We'll resupply, I'll solve some affairs, then we'll come back. I can't just let a monster walk around." The dragonborn swears.
"You sure? by what you described, it seems they were playing with something they shouldn't. Don't you think you will fall the same way?"
"I gotta at least try to do something, no matter who to blame, they were brothers and now they are dead. I'll do it and if i fail.. well, i had to try."
"I can respect that." The demi-giant shows his respect.

Finally, they reach where they must be. The gray stone monolith stands dominant above all the campers, Pilgrims and Settlement Priests alike gather around great structure to gaze at its beautifully placed trio of yellow golden disks, while scholars of the faith circle the structure to read its engravings in languages from before the first dragons, from before the Summit of Rainbows had a name, they translate roughly in blank pages and debate interpretation, especially tone. ("This is a red text!" "Fool, red is war, this just a brawl, a pink text")

By the far sides of the towering obelisk stand the guards. Paladins and mercenaries, they don't turn to the sacred stone, the Monolith speaks to them, to all of us, as wind passes through its central hole, adorned with a golden ring, the stone's howl pushes predators away.

Telling Balthazar to wait while he is away. The dragonborn ignores all of them, approaching a simple man who wears torn clothing, and a scar. A scar with meaning only his order knows. The Black Eye charred into their flesh. The Inquisitor guide sits in front of hin, with the mark deeply scarred to his forehead. Dazys shows his scarred soles; he is a traveler. Without exchanging words the guide leads the inquisitor to a far tent, away from all the priests and scholars.

Opening the great black tent, five adventurers, or at least what people would assume them to be. They don't dress white or black, they don't even wear a common armor. Dazys is clad in leather, as are 2 others, one of them is unarmored and reading scrolls of psalms, at the center of the room is a man in plated armor. The common trait is all of them carry a sword, the same sword, black wooden handle with a long iron blade that twists at the top, enveloped in a black sheath with no marks whatsoever.

With his own sword in front of him, Dazys sits in front of the man in plated armor. "Truth seeker." Dazys says in respect to the man. "Truth seeker." The man says back to him. "My name is Dazys of Gorora, traveler and second order Truth Seeker. I've first came with a willingly presentation of respect, but the journey gave me news of woe and hunt. A camp of dead Pilgrims, woeful, by the claws of a supernatural threat, which i now intend to hunt."

"And are you alone?"

"No, sir, I've become acquainted with a great warrior of a gone clan, man of tragedy."

"and blood. Tragedy makes only sad people, it's the blood that gives them strength. You may partake on this orderly inquire. Discover the creature's identity and capacities, inquire, and bring it to death, orderly, to the cycle of life."

The dragonborn nods in approval and returns to the camp, waking by the large open area at night. Only 3 days here and a body already appeared in front of him. Makes sense nobody visits.. besides the foolishly brave, of course. At least Balthazar is waiting for him, on a comfortable tent he paid. He is trying, not so gracefully, to take their tent a tad further away from their loudly debating neighbors. ("What did i just told you?! Read Da Principia Photon, because you surely don't know anything about colors." "I did read Da Principia Photon, i wrote Da Principia Photon!")

In a normal day, Dazys would stop and listen. Try learning anything. He got no time for this kind of unproductivity today. "Here, lemme help you. These are pretty fragile," showing some coins to his friend, "mind buying some drinks? Only wine. I need my tomorrow free of headaches."
"I don't think that's how it works."
"Lizard things."

"fair enough."