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Dice The Shattered Soul - Lore

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Silanon

Four Thousand Club
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Maps, important non-player characters, information - it all goes here. Let me know if you feel like something belongs here, and we will make it happen!


This first post will include the house rules we come across, just so that they're available without much searching - definitely more to come as we play and rules actually show up on a regular basis:

I'll adapt a notion of passive perception like in the 2e rules. I'll also roll secret perception checks for you folks once in a while. Nothing's worse than waiting for the entire group to get a perception check in.

I can roll real dice for you if you prefer - or we can use the roller.

There won't be any battle maps - we'll do things similar like in the Sharseya, Rifts or Broadsword.

Loot will be found - you never have to be afraid to miss some part of the loot if you don't explicitly describe how you search every little corner of the room. If there's loot, your characters will find it. I don't like situations where I tell you: Well, folks, half of the loot was in that chest you never checked.

Increased rarity of magic, magic items, and the like. This will change availability, not prices.

For those who feel like summoning creatures: Please provide the stats or a direct link to AoN/a similar site.

No gunpowder. Ever. And yes, that includes your gamemaster as well. No worries, I will find other ways to blow up stuff.

Prepared spellcasters may decide to shorten their time to prepare their spells to 10 minutes, but need to make up for that time later that same day.

Daily alchemist preparations take one hour when creating a mutagen, and can be shortened to 10 minutes - in that case, no further alchemy can be done until the alchemist spends 50 minutes to get his equipment back in order. Without the mutagen, preparations take 10 minutes and can not be shortened.
 
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Maps and places - maps are created with Inkarnate, check it out here if you're interested: https://inkarnate.com/
Map1(1).jpg
First off a general map.

The eastern sea is full of trade ships, the west includes rougher waters and more secluded places that are harder to reach. One might have seen a more daring vessel from the free cities there once or twice, but not much more.

Area.jpg
And... a bit of the surrounding. Lord Jordenin lives in Westport itself, owning the village, the assemblement of huts named after Little Annie and Old Graham, and a few of the minor homestead spread across the area.

Ian's Rest to the north is home to Lord Alden, a man of great fighting prowess, but little influence. Old Young is his, but the least prosperous of the three smaller farming vilages.
In the south, Lady Amelia Teldon is of higher standing than either of them, and Westgrains is hers. She owns more places further south, but they won't be of importance (probably).
Westport itself is a mostly self-sufficient community that owes its comparable wealth to two facts: For one, it marks the end of the New Road, a road that was built 150 years ago when the Duke's armies still marched. While there is no need for marching soldiers on it at the moment, it is the main road for merchants and goods.

Secondly, the dwarves of the Blueskull Ranges are happy to sell their overproduction for other wares. Since the river around Ian's Rest is impassable for boats, Westport is the next best option to get steel and other wares up the river to other places.

West of the river is a bit more forest before the neutral zone begins - an area without villages and the like as a buffer zone between the Duke's domain and the Barony. Distances look too small on this map - a quick rider will need two days to make it all the way from Westgrains (or sometimes just Grains) to Westport (or Port), Lady Amelia has prepared her men in the southern watchtower to hold out for a day before help can arrive.

To the west, where the neutral zone and the Duke's domain meet, is where Hydra's army met the one of the allied forces facing the Duke. People have set up a memorial there, and the Duke's Rangers - known to make sure that people stay away from their land - have never made an attempt to stop anyone from going there. Few do that, these days, though you know that Lord Jordenin went there twice - once with his daughter. But if there's a reason for it, maybe you might want to go there?

To the north-east are the ruins of... well, no one knows actually. They're just called the Ruins of Roots, and they are old. From what people know, powerful sorcery was used to bult its towers - no little more than rubble, but probably quite impressive back then. There are no records who lived there, or anything. Explorers have only ever found empty, long forgotten halls. It's curious, really. Maybe you'll want to have a look eventually?

To the north-west are the swamps where the Duke first arrived. The perfect area for... well, staying away, mostly. No idea what you'd want there without good reason, but there might be plants that can't be found elsewhere...

Another point of interest - southwards, where Roots meets the Redbeard Ranges and a few miles away from the neutral zone, there is a cave system known as the worm caves. Apparently, they are natural in the sense that they were formed by giant worms digging their way through the rock. No one has ever seen the worms, but when the dwarves found no signs of valuable ores in the upper layers, they decided to not push their luck.
Well, gnomes are gnomes, and so one of them went exploring anyway; and, curiously, found a chamber down there, filled with things that included writings that were clearly of gnomish origin - and older than their official first arrival on the continent. Now, there is actually a small settlement of scholars - mostly gnomes - at the surface to find out more. You have not had the chance to check it out, yet.
 
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Important characters:

See the Character tab for the really important folks - here, you'll only find people you might (or have) run into.

Roots:

Jordenin Whitefeather, Lord of Westport

The lord you're serving is only a minor lord, but known as an excellent scholar and mediator with good contacts. More details were given following Purr Purr 's excellent questions:
1. How does your character handle themselves in public?
He's the quiet, thoughtful type, thinking a sentence twice over before opening his mouth. When other nobles are around, they have no trouble to take the spotlight from him; but they always listen carefully when he speaks. He is quick to smile when others have fun, but rarely partakes in foolery or joking.

2. How are they dressed?
Inside, he prefers long, thick wool robes - he does not like the cold. The robes are usually of a darker color, and have the emblem of his house stitched onto his chest - a white owl on blue ground. He wears rings - one on each finger, made of copper - but no other jewelry or sign of wealth. His cane is rarely out of reach - an old hip wound keeps him in bed all day every now and then, and makes longer walks a hassle, even on good days. You have never heard him complain about that, though.

Outside, he wears an additional layer of wool and a thick, hooded cloak. No gloves, though, ever. Even in the snow.

3. What can one tell about the gear they carry?
The clothing is a compromise between comfort and the requirements of his standing. It's always of high quality, but you get the feeling that he'd be fine wearing simpler clothes if he had a choice - he does not, though. Most other things in his household are chosen with practicality in mind, not to show off wealth. Books and scrolls are the exception - he would not think twice to pay an enormous sum to get his hands on a rare book about... anything, really. He's the kind of man who thinks that it never hurts to confront yourself with something you've never had a clue about.

4. How do they talk?
Slow, thoughtful, rarely loud. He makes no effort to be heard, because he is used to people listening anyways.

5. Did they mention any goals?
Some people say that he only lacked ambition to make it far up the hierarchy - indeed, he has never been interested in climbing the social ladder. He enjoys being an advisor over being a leader himself, and there's little that brings him more joy than seeing others succeed following his counsel. You have never met his single daughter Leandra - as a mage, she spends her time in the feudal realms, honing her craft - but from what you hear, he'd give up everything to make her succeed in whatever she attempts. He'd also give up everything to get his wife back to life - she died giving birth. But just like his hip wound, that's a matter that even divine magic cannot change.

So, what does he look like, other than the clothes? Short, black hair, with strands of grey in there. An angular face, a short, carefully trimmed beard, hard grey eyes.

If you wonder: Amber met him on one of his better days, where a cane wasn't needed. He was also doing better back then than now, though it's a very slow decline that'll give him plenty of time to spread his wisdom.
Leandra Whitefeather, his daughter:
Aysik has met Leandra several times, given that their families are well-connected - a contact due to Lady Whitefeather and Aysik's mother that Jordenin has made sure to keep up even after his wife's death. He and Aysik's father get along quite well, even though they might be quite different. Anyway, back to Leandra - a lively redhead that sees too little sunlight, is often in a good mood and has her father's eyes. Pleasant company, though sometimes unfit for formal dinners. She just has this untamed, wild side to her, supposedly the same blood that makes her a potent sorceress.

From what you know, Jordenin's family is not known for its magic potential, and he himself sometimes complains that he has no magical talent. So you'd guess that her blood comes from her mother's side. Leandra is a half-elf, and from what little you have heard, her mother came from the fallen kingdom of Devatras - a broken soul who found comfort in Jordenin's presence.
Lord Jordenin - well, I've said a few things about him already. Here's more:
- He's obsessed with a certain wine all the way from Pearl in the south. Being one to not spend carelessly, it's rare that he has more than a bottle or two at hand, so they're reserved for special occasions.
- There's a single book in his entire place that he would never give away, even for a moment - an illustrated book on southern flora, a gift from his departed wife.
- Once a year, he leaves his household for a week, and travels eastwards. Only Yanna and iris accompany him, then, and even Iris won't say where they're headed.

Yanna, his elven bodyguard:
- You've never heard her speak. She can speak - you know that she discusses much with Lord Jordenin behind closed doors - but sees little need to socialize.
- She has served House Whitefeather for longer than Lord Jordenin is alive. There's a story behind that, but the Lord never shared it.
- You're sure she was offered other options, but she sleeps in a hammock in the stables.

Merione, the Lord's personal maid:
- She has two children - Tillie and Gordon. They're sixteen years apart, and despite trying for it, she was surprised to receive Gordon at all - and thankful that Thomas was around to help out when she gave birth.
- She condemns gossip, but is surprisingly well-informed about everything that happens.
- According to her, she announced her divorce on three occasions, but Graham is too dense to get it, so she's stuck with him.

Graham, the stablemaster
- He freely admits that he understands animals better than people - especially better than his wife Merione.
- He's speaks dwarven fluently, but rarely gets to use it - he cannot stand Old Raulyn for a reason only he remembers, if at all.
- He is rumored to have talked with Yanna once - making him a rare exception. It is also rumored that the conversation was about horse dung.

Tillie, their daughter
- she helps in the stables, and is the only person tending to the messenger birds.
- Lord Jordenin taught her how to read and write - and she can frequently be found loitering around in the library, as her father says.
- she likes to hum melodies while she works, but is happy to miss every single tune.

Gordon, their little son
- he's too young to say much - barely even born, really. He can already scream like the big fellas, though.

Iris, the second maid
- you often see her gossiping or lazing about - and yet, she always gets her tasks done.
- She is responsible for the guest house - so you've seen your fair share of the lively brunette with the untamed mane.
- She was Leandra Whitefeather's best friend, and was taken in when her parents died. She was offered to go with the Lord's daughter when she went to study magic, but stuck around instead.
- She pretended to be Leandra once when a foreign Lord visited. The visitor didn't notice. Since then, she claims to be destined for nobility.

Old Raulyn, the dwarven veteran
- Old Raulyn is too old to be of much help with anything - but Lord Jordenin repays his four decades in the Whitefeather's service with kindness, offering him everything he needs.
- He's often sleepwalking - mumbling long forgotten names.
- In his bright moments, he claims to have fought Hydra, one of the Duke's most famous generals. On bad days, he calls that "nothing more than an old man's ramblings, pay no attention to such nonsense"

There's also a bunch of horses, a few messenger birds, and a lazy/idealistic cat that refuses to hunt down rats on principle (Iris' words)
The ranger twins - Owain and Mylle, brother and sister - tour Lord Jordenin's properties

Ergil and Lakin - two village guards

Fernon - an older trader who spends most of the time on the road, but comes by every so often

The Duke's Domain:

The Duke:
The Duke - necromancer, monstrosity, servant of Hell. Much has been said about him over the years - people have had 150 years to spread gossip - but in fact, very little is known about the most-feared individual of the entire continent. Let's see what little truth most scholars seem to agree on:

The Duke arrived 152 years ago, near the north-western swamps. According to some sources, he arrived with nothing more than a single ship and about two-hundred somewhat loyal men under his command - some of them slaves. But when his arrival was not impressive, it certainly was well-timed. Just two years ago, King Nalcuran - as to this date the last king on the continent - had died, and his death left a kingdom in shambles. The Free Cities had declared their independence just a decade ago - peacefully. The eastern cities were not going to bow to another nobleman, and promised bloodshed if someone dared to crown another man. The Baron of the north figured that this was as good of a time as any to now officially do his own thing, not just in practice. The Realms that are now called the Feudal Realms... well, they were figuring out the best way to not have to follow one amongst themselves, leading towards today's oligarchic system. The north-west - well, they went about it with less civility. Before the Duke arrived, people feared that the civil war between different houses there might spread to other parts of the kingdom. It never got the chance.

Some of the gnoll tribes of the north were the first to follow the Duke, hoping for easy prey. They found it. Bolstered by the endless numbers of mindless undead provided by the Duke's and his mages' foul magic, they came from the swamps, allied with one of the major houses and walked right over any kind of opposition. The mighty Devatras, pride of the elves, fell next. What followed then has been the point of much discussion. Armies were raised. Men who had warily watched each other decided to fight side by side to stop Hell's influence before it could march any further. About twenty miles west of Roots's borders, they made their stand as the Duke's vanguard under command of the drow witch and unmatched illusionist Hydra crashed right into their lines. They say that the battle raged for three days, and that the allied realms only came out victorious because the Duke's main army never appeared. The witch met her fate at the hands of Gernum, High Priest of Abadar. Her men died or fled. The Duke's main army... never left his new domain. An uneasy peace was negotiated instead, one that has since been tested several times by all sides - thus far, it holds.

No one knows why the Duke's main army never fought, or why he arrived at the shore in the first place. His borders are closed. No word comes out. Rumored connections to the Free Cities - servants of Abadar - have been just that thus far - rumors. Does he serve only Hell, or someone beyond the Sea? No one knows. During the war, few of his higher-ranked officers had anything to say. Some claim that only Hydra and his first general Laughter, a gnoll, ever knew much, and both are long dead by now. He still relies on necromancy. Slaves are purchased by the hundreds whenever they are offered. For what purpose, no one knows. Other than that, the domain seems rather self-sufficient; any other trade deal has always been politely declined.
 
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Lore and background information:

Races:
Gnomes are generally not a thing on the continent, but the recent growth of trade has brought a number of them to its shores - and from there wherever their curiosity led them.
There are several different places where on might look for elves, and they differ quite a bit.

In the south-western forests, where their civilisation on this continent began, we have very much the classical wood elves. reclusive, rarely involved in trades or politics, but masters of nature and the bow. If they show up, they are highly respected - since they only do so when it matters - but behind closed doors, people will whisper about their odd behavior and their 'old ways' to handle things. Half-elves from there are rarities; they are welcome in the forests, but rarely match up to their half-brothers and -sisters. Some leave, but rarely find a true home elsewhere.

In contrast, the elves who live in the feudal realms of the humans further east are seen as progressive, and are an integral part of society and nobility there. Indeed, their young leader is a half-elf, and it's thought of as a benefit, not a hindrance; especially since it unites elven and human interests. Elves and half-elves there are treated with the assumption that they have ties to the nobility, and are usually welcome wherever they go.

The fallen kingdom of Devatras in the north-west was known as the place of highest culture and magical knowledge on the continent - until the man called the Duke crossed the ocean and it became one of the two realms he conquered. Given that the Duke's domain is off-limits for anyone from the outside and little news ever reaches anyone's ears, it's anyone's guess how elves are treated there. Given that one of the Duke's best generals, Hydra, was a drow from overseas, and that the Duke's domain promotes slavery and is allied with Hell and the church of Asmodeus, people usually expect poor treatment. Those who fled back then found their homes mostly in the feudal realms and Roots; in Roots, where our journey starts, most elves are of that origin, so expect hidden pity and welcoming gestures. The refugees have found their places there, but none of them compare to the wonders they knew.

Lastly, there's an order at the Needle far in the north that serves a silver dragon and is known for their martial prowess, but rarely is in contact with anyone unless there's a war happening. They're pretty much all on their own against whatever else lives up there, so they tend to be busy with their own affairs.

The tribes of the north-east are less welcoming to elves, given that many of them live in cultures of brute strength. Exceptions are made for those who prove their worth, but few bother trying - there are better places to live for elves, and for most others as well.

In the trade cities to the south-east, elves are at most one odd person amongst many - the trade brings lots of weird-looking folks there, and a pair of pointy ears barely sticks out. Expect to be treated like anyone else.

That leaves the three free cities in the middle of the continent; dedicated to Abadar and ruled by his clergy, you will only be judged by your skills and law-abidance, not by your origin there.


So in general: Depending on the place you're at, elves are more or less common, but often respected for their knowledge and wisdom, grace and culture. Half-elves get some of that respect - if you're looking for the typical half-elf conflict to not belong anywhere, everywhere but the feudal realms are a good place to start.

Organisations:
They've got a long history (even fighting the Duke's men and overseas), but for the last two decades or so, they have mostly been in service of several lords and rich merchants to keep the eastern tribes at bay. This is the mercenary group Thomas grew up with.
The Duke's invasion was about 150 years ago, but left deep marks on the continent. While there's been peace ever since, people are vigilant at the very least. It is one of the potential troublemakers (the other being the clans of the north-east and the ratfolk in the north). Plus, who trusts servants of Hell, right? The rest of the different realms have sort of figured out how to live with one another without major trouble.
The borders of the Duke's domain are closed - no one comes ever comes or leaves, with the exception of slave trade and The Duke's Fist. Officially a mercenary company, their services are only ever on offer if the Duke deems that a matter is of enough importance to deserve his attention. They are known for their brutal effectiveness, and tend to leave as quickly as they arrive - a reminder for everyone that the Duke still has some of the best fighters of the continent under his command. Its role was emphasized right after the war, when the Duke's most successful general Laughter became its commander.
About Desna: Well, her doctrines are very much those from the Pathfinder books. I'm mostly taking the Pathfinderwiki as a source for that, but there are other sources that are very much in line with that one. Honestly, just play your own interpretation of Desna, and it'll fit with what I have in mind.
Since the deities rarely intervene directly, to ask about a deity mostly means to ask about what her followers are doing. In Desna's case, that's less clear than, for example, in the cases of Abadar and Asmodeus, whose followers carved out their own little territory and spread their interest from there. Desna is not the kind of deity to claim territory, but to inspire to discover. So when you ask the common folk about Desna, they will either recall a wandering cleric or two, maybe a healer or bard - or they will recall the great Desnan captains from about 200 years ago, when the first ships where built in a way that they could safely cross the open sea. Ian Follmer, Lord of Pearl, explored the southern and eastern sea with his fleet, and found the continents there that have ever since been the source of many resources, wonders, and thus far unknown people. Example for those races: Gnomes!
Eadril of Devatras explored the north-west, and found isles - and behind those, a continent wreaked by chaos and evil. For a time, there were attempts to spread goodness that way, but the Duke's arrival (likely from there) put an end to that. Now, the sea is closed, patrolled by the Duke's fleet; but that doesn't change that explorers of Desna crossed it first, and likely left their marks along the way.

Other stuff:
Bards are also rarer (like mages) - think of it like the hurdle to overcome for spellcasting is generally high, it's a source that's harder to get control of. For bards, that means that it's not harder to play an instrument well, or dance well; so there's the same number of dancers or musicians around. But the point where that music and art actually turns into magic and into those performances that inspire people - that's harder to reach. That doesn't stop many from claiming that their art is the perfection of magic itself, I reckon; but just like it's harder to find an actual cleric (the class) in a monastery, it's harder to find a bard amongst musicians.
Slavery was, for a long time, a major part of the continent's economy. Lately, that has changed. The Barony of Roots has banned it, the elven realms never had it in the first place, the feudal realm is at a point where profiting from is deemed inappropriate (but not forbidden). The trade cities are uncertain, the Free Cities practise a system that allows capable slaves to escape their shackles, the Duke's economy seems to rely on it. The eastern tribes traditionally have slavery, and show no sign of change.
As established in the conversation, gnomes are, amongst other things, a wondrous resource among some of the covens of the tribes. Maybe it's just a traditional thing, introduced by witches from overseas - since gnomes like to take risks, their disappearance is not too concerning, most of the time. Maybe it's their child-like size without having to bother about nasty parents calling the inquisition. Maybe it's their taste that goes well with the northern herbs. Who knows, never asked 'em. What matters is that they're imported in batches of six or ten on slaver vessels, and that the groups of ten are ordered twice as often; suggesting that perhaps, thirteen are needed per diabolic or demonic ritual (depending on the coven's preference). For more information, contact you local witch. Or get caught, I guess, but that's not recommended.
 
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The Fog:
Visit to the fog: see IC page 1, posts #1 - #18

General impressions:
You are on your own. Around you, there is nothing but fog. Gleaming from within. White and cold, and thick enough to let you barely see your fingertips when you stretch out your arm. It covers the muddy ground. It obscures the sky. It barely moves despite the steady, icy breeze you're facing head-on. Indeed, the fog seems to have a mind of its own, sometimes. Moving against the wind. Swirling in place for no apparent reason. Watching. Yes, that's right. There are no eyes. No forms. Nothing. And yet, there's that undeniable feeling of being watched - no, of being examined. Assessed.

You do not know how you came here. Only that you came prepared, carrying everything you would bring to a long road trip. You do not know why you came here, only that there is a purpose. You do not know where this place is, only that it is... elsewhere. It feels different from every place you have been to before. From every place you have ever heard of. And yet, somehow, you are here. There is a sense of direction. Turning right would lead you closer towards... somewhere.

You can see nothing but the fog - no living being, no other shapes. Indeed, there is no light, other than the fog's shine.You can feel nothing but its coldness, and the even colder wind. You can hear no sounds, other than your own movements, and even those appear muffled. The air tastes sweeter than it ever should, with a hint of... cinnamon? And its scent... it carries the same sweetness, with a whiff of rot.
Amber discovered the following:
As she rises, she can't help but notice a violet, slimy residue covering the cloth and soaking into the fabric. While she definitely can't place it at a glance, a quick check reveals that there is a lot more of it soaking the ground; and where it isn't, the earth - soil, with a few darker stones here and there - is painted in a bloody red, utterly drenched.

Effects:
Both Dreamy and Thomas noticed that it's harder to access their deity's gifts in the fog, and that it drew attention (and in Thomas' case signs of hostility).
For all characters:

Once the respective discoveries have been made, there is a change that everyone can feel - it is a bit like feeling the blood pumping through your veins after hard labor, only that it lacks the regular rhythm. At the same time, your vision seems to become slightly blurry, and it feels like the air around you presses against your skin (instead of just being there, like it should). Other than that, though, there seem to be no further changes in your environment.

The effect is not stopped by a scarf, as Fijit noticed
Noticed by Amber:
It's like there's an invisible force holding her back. At first, it's subtle. Her steps just become a bit shorter, without her really noticing. But at some point... it's hard to explain. She lifts her foot to make another step forward, and it still comes down in the very same place where it just stood. No matter how hard she tries. No matter what she does. There's that sense of direction, but this is as far as she can follow it, or so it seems. Weird. Puzzling. Scary, perhaps.
Effects after the return:
But you do not just feel like you arrived late. Instead, you feel like you marched throughout the entire night, right until this moment, and didn't sleep, but barely blinked to awaken here.
Everyone is fatigued, which means that you take -2 penalty on str and dex. You cannot run or charge. Eight hours of complete rest can fix that.
Other than that, you feel mostly fine. Maybe confused. But fine. You can breathe freely. There is no pain. No dizziness. Nothing.

Places:
Spotted by Amber:
And through that breach in the never-ending mist, Amber manages to spot... towers. Three of them. Standing in the fog, there is no way to compare their size to the surrounding; and yet, there's the distinct feeling that they are large enough to touch the sky. They are thin, and there's something off about their form...they're neither round, nor do they have the common quadratic shape; instead, they look like they were built on triangular foundations. No windows can be seen; but three ghastly blue flames can be spotted on their spires, coloring the mist around them in an unnatural light.
A stone pillar. It's base seems to be some kind of polygon; from there, the edges of the different sections do not go straight up, but instead spiral around the pillar, up to its height of about thirteen feet. And on top of that lies a creature like you have never seen one.

Dreamy spotted the blue-eyed guardian here.
Spotted by Thomas:
But it's different. It is like the plumes form the image of a place. The priest can make out the forms of of a flat hill, covered by rocks of different sizes. There is an unease, as if there is something fundamentally wrong with it. You can see several entrances, little more than holes in its sides; and it looks like fumes rise from there, as if the hill would burn from within. And suddenly, there is more. It begins like a stinging pain in his lungs. And spreads from there through his body, a piercing sensation that rips through his mind. And then, there comes a realization: There is no air. No matter how much his lungs try to draw it in, there's just not enough. The world begins to spin. The image of that hill... dissolves into regular fog. The scents... feel distant. Everything does. As his vision fades away, the priest first drops to his knees, then to the floor. But before he blacks out completely, he hears inhuman howls to his right. The howl of lifeless abominations.
Found by Fijit:
About as abrupt as the ground right in front of Fijit. Without prior warning, it seems like it falls down at a ninety-degree angle, a sudden cliff in the landscape. For a moment, she struggles for balance - then she's right back on her two feet, safe on solid ground. In the mist's gleam, it looks like... glass, actually. Lots of it. Covering both the ground she is standing on, and the cliff below. It's not just a thin layer, but thick enough to see nothing beyond it. Curious.


The blue-eyed guardian showed up here.
People:
Spotted by Rodrik:
Rodrik can make out the silhouette of a person from behind. And something is clearly off about it. It looks a bit like two halves of different people, stitched together; the right side is hunched - leaning on a staff or similar walking aid - while the other side stands as tall as possible. On the left, the clothes look fine, while they're ragged on the right. For all he can say, it is just one person, but not like one he has met before. The person seems to be walking away from Rodrik, against the wind - more like limping, where the left leg and the staff carry most of the weight. Something moves around the shoulders, but one can not quite make out what it might be.

And a bit later:
Luckily for him, there seems to be no need to fire; indeed, the creature simply seems to walk away from him, focused on other matters. That does, however, not change Rodrik's own precarious situation. It feels like that irregular pumping of his blood gets out of hand with every breath he takes; and whenever he blinks, the world seems to begin to spin. Slightly, at first, then more and more rapid. He tries to fight down that feeling, muscles tense up. And then there is a familiar sound. The sound of a crossbow being fired. His crossbow.

The shot goes astray. Of course it does. But through the spinning, Rodrik can see how the creature stops, and how its head turns as if the side in better condition would try to turn around - but the face is yanked back by the other half, until she looks forward once more. And continues its leave. For a moment, it seems like two glaring, red eyes appear over her shoulder. But in the mess that his senses are right before he hits the ground and fades into blackness, it's hard to tell.
Aysik met Old Raulyn - familiar from Jordenin's place

He suddenly stumbles into a clearing within the fog - perfectly round, without a trace of the mist within. There's no sky - just more fog over his head - and it kind of looks like an invisible sphere keeps the unnatural weather at bay. The ground is covered by dead grass, with traces of some kind of violet goo all around; in the middle of the clearing, there's a single, black rock, about the size of a smaller stool. It's the first non-flat piece of ground around; and on it is the first person Aysik has seen. A familiar figure. In front of himself, he sees a dwarf, clothed in chainmail. One hand holds a mighty axe made to cut down foes, not trees; the other holds a pipe. Long, untamed grey hair surrounds his face, and the mighty beard is carefully braided. You have seen Old Raulyn often enough by now - the old, dwarven veteran who lives in one of Lord Jordenin's guest rooms. But never quite like this. It's his posture, mostly. This man in front of you does not seem too old to fight, like the one you know. In fact, he seems just about ready to smash a few skulls. And those eyes - they aren't tired, and they don't stare at some point far in the distance... no, they are focused, and Aysik is sure that they catch every single motion of his as he stumbles into the clearing.

"Easy, lad." The voice is the same. Aysik can see how the dwarf rises, dropping his axe without care. How he steps towards the noble, closing the distance with short, but firm steps. "That's quite enough for a night. Trust me. I've been there myself." And as the dwarf speaks those words, Aysik can only agree. It's been more than enough. There's a wave of fatigue hitting him all of the sudden, crushing down on him. He feels like his legs give in under his own weight. The world turns black. And the last thing he notices is that mighty arms catch him before he can hit the ground.
Spotted by Dreamy on the pillar:
And on top of that lies a creature like you have never seen one. At a glance, what little you can see looks like a lioness; but from the back, mighty, feathered wings spread out. One eye is closed, the other is half-opened, looking down at Dreamy from the height. Its stare feels ancient; and the icy blue of its iris seems to cut right through the paladin's mind.

If Dreamy did not stop her song already, it ends as soon as the creature raises its left paw. From one moment to the next, there is no sound. Neither steps, nor armor, nor Dreamy's voice. And yet, there are words right in her mind. They a soft, and there's the hint of amusement. "Not too bad, for one of her lackeys. Some of you might be worthy after all." The eye closes, but the silence remains. "But not yet. He walked all paths. You barely begin to understand your side of the coin." Her paw waves, almost dismissively. "Leave. This is not your path to follow. Don't try me."

Fijit had a short encounter as well:
But there's more. The beat of mighty wings behind her. Fijit does not see anything through the fog but two icy blue eyes, staring down at her. Not bad. The voice appears right in her mind, soft and almost... amused? Never thought you'd make it this far. Perhaps, there is potential, after all. But this... this is no place for mere mortals, gnome. Stay away. You do not wish to test me any further. If Fijit tries to speak, not a single word leaves her mouth. Indeed, it seems like all sounds are... gone.
 
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