Corym

A night in bed, in the certainty of safety, has done Talathel a bit of good. He's moving under his own power better and responding a bit more to questions. You don't think he'll be an undue burden getting back to Deepingdale, however he's not going to be answering any detailed queries any time soon. For that, you're going to need magic.

((ooc: What are you trying to get from him via ESP? Can you formulate some questions that you'll use to prompt him?))

Katarn smiled at the bubbly youth, "Morning to ya Morinn of Glen. I'm Katarn of Adbar an' I'm lookin' fer a couple o' maps if ye've got anythin' like that. Want ta get a map o' th' Dales, somethin' o' that forest, what'd Corym call it... ah Cormanthor or Myth Drannor either. Also, I haven't seen any temples to the Morndinsamman since I've been about. Once I'm done here kin ye point me rightly?"

Ugly iPhone post incoming. These are more direct than I’d normally be, but I’m trying to get this turned around pretty quick.

Where can we find your grandfather. Where in Deepingdale is that?  What did he tell you of the city? Are there other elves in your home that are knowledgeable about these things? Are anyo of them survivors. What would be the fastest way to get you home?

Katarn

Morinn whistles. "Adbar! That's a long, long walk, honored one. What brings you to Glen? Are you newly arrived from the west, looking to go further east?

"I do have one map of the western dales. Maps of the forest are rare things; the elves used to kill those who strayed from the path. They left a few years ago, but the humans say you can still feel their presence." He shudders. "Cut down on folks wanting to try their luck. I don't have any maps of Myth Drannor; anyone who knows how to get there is keeping it inside their vests."

He lays the map down on the table and points to the right edge, where the road through Mistledale escapes from the parchment. "We're here. The map is ten gold. Interested?"



"As for temples, well, there aren't any in the Dales. Only here. Forgesmith Vorn Duraxe is the leader of the town's smiths. His forge is a our shrine to Moradin. We have a shrine to Dumathoin as well, of course, but we haven't had a Keeper of the Shield for almost a decade."

Corym

You settle Talathel in a chair in your room and begin casting your spells and asking questions. The spell pulls answers from his mind, sometimes in concise sentences, sometimes in flashes of images or memories.

Where can we find your grandfather?
Arvandor. He died twenty years ago.

Where are you from in Deepingdale?
Ssrenshen. Moonrise Hill. You get a few flashes of a community of tree homes somewhere north and west of Highmoon.

What did he tell you of the city?
Terrible things. You see an ancient moon elf, his hair long and stringy, exceedingly drunk, telling stories of horrific creatures and terrible fates to a very young Talathel.

Are there other elves in your home that are knowledgeable about these things?
Many. Flashes of at least a dozen faces, some ancient, some in the prime of life. A sense that some know first hand, many have heard stories, at least a few have traveled the forest more recently.

Are any of them survivors?
A few. Faces swim into view. A gold elven woman, a moon elven man, a pair of green elven sisters. The man looks ancient. The women are young enough that their bodies haven't started to degrade. But their faces show their age in lines of weariness.

What would be the fastest way to get you home?
Barge down the Ashaba from Ashabenford to Highmoon, then overland through the woods.

sweet. debrief the others at the end of the day, and spend the rest of the time training Kora.

Dorian will make his way to see this Elf.

In reply to DM (msg # 327):

"Aye, Adbar is a far cry to the west 'n north o' us. The Finder o' Trails set a diff'rent path fer me just now. Tossed me through a portal 'n out 'n that Myth Drannor with a whole lot. We're tryin' ta get one o' our lot back ta his home 'n Deepin' dale. Where abouts is that as relates to this map here?" Katarn replied looking at the map.

"Sorry ta hear you've not had proper called dwarfs of the Morndinsamman of late. I've got me 'n one companion whose dedicated to ole Fire Eyes himself. We kin do some such for ya. I'll try ta send a message out to me brother Trailblazers 'n see if we can't spare one for you lot here. The Finder cares much fer those o' us who chose the surface o'er the depths. He'd love ta bless yer lot."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Fri 05 Apr 2019.

Katarn

Morinn laughs. "A gate! Aye, that'll shorten the walk a bit. And you've seen Myth Drannor. Glen's founders came from there; they left the city long before the Fall, and then their kin fled south to join them as the army closed in. We've had a lot of humans coming through the last few years, heading towards the ruins. Haven't seen many coming back."

He taps the bottom of the map. "Deepingdale is south of us. It's the neighbor of Battledale, which you can see at the edge, here. To get to Battledale, you just follow the road east, then south. It's in the middle of the woods. To get to Deepingdale, you go through Battledale and then head west once you clear the forest. Or if you're really desperate, you can get a barge in Ashabenford. That'll take you at least some of the way."


Dorian

Neldor's shop is easy to find. Everyone knows about it and is happy to point the way. A finely-painted wooden sign hangs above the door, showing an open book and a bubbling potion bottle, along with the words "Wizard" and "Sage" in both elven and what you presume is dwarven.

The door is open, letting the cool breeze circulate. The moment you step inside, you understand why. The smell of a working alchemist hits you in the face. There aren't any bubbling reagents in the entry room, with its counter along one wall and dwarven and elven sized chairs along the other, but they can't be very far.

An ethereal chime rings from nowhere as you step through the door. "One moment!" a voice calls from beyond a doorway opposite you that is closed with a drape.

Several long moments pass, and finally a moon elven man pushes his way through. He's tall and thin, with black hair wrapped tightly around his head and a thick leather apron covered in spatters over his clothes. He smiles as he sees you. "Welcome, welcome," he says in elven. "It's too rare that a member of the People crosses my threshold. Well met and welcome to Glen. I am Neldor, sage and alchemist. What brings you here?"

Dorian--I'd like to go Walkabout with you tomorrow--is that something I'd have an opportunity for?

Dorian bows to Neldor and answers with a smile "Idle curiosity."

The Elven Bard looked curiously about the place"I was told that an Elven Sage was living in this beautiful Dwarven town and needed to investigate such a rare and unique situation myself."




Sounds good to me, Corym.  I assume we all eat together?  At least at dinner?  Dorian mentions his inclination to wander about and Corym decides to come along.

Neldor smiles. "An easy enough answer. My daughter wants to become a smith. Thirty years ago I could have found her a dozen tutors, but with the Retreat they've all left for the west. I've worked with the dwarves of Glen for decades, so I was able to arrange an apprenticeship here. And a wizard on a trade road, in a land of adventurers, will always have customers. It's been a good few years."

The First Evening At Dinner

After the food is cleared, Corym draws out the company ledger, and flips to the mission log.  Tight neat notes from his psionic therapy session with Talathel already.

"Let's report out what was learned and what was accomplished.

"Talathel's ability to communicate and form clear thoughts seems to be inhibited, but my spells were able to help me form a fuller picture.  According to him, the fastest way to reach Highmoon in Deepingdale would be to catch a barge in Ashabenford."

"He is from a Moonelven community in Northwestern Deepingdale called Moonrise Hill.  The elves call it Ssrenshen.

"There are many there that know of Myth Drannor, and have been in the environs recently--too many for distinct names and faces seemingly.  There are, however, many living survivors who were bright in his memory:

• A Gold Elven woman
• An Ancient Moon elven man
• A pair of Green Elven sisters, aging, but not aged, and weary

"I'd like to probe him further on each of those to see what else might be learned.  Telathel's grandfather is dead--twenty years gone.  His stories were horrific, and he was clearly haunted by his experiences.  In my estimation he either fought in the Weeping War or tried to go back after the fall.  I have a spell that will allow me to witness the last minute of his life if we can come in contact with his remains.  Exhumation, however, may be excessive if we don't know that anything of significance transpired or was spoken in his final breaths.  I hope, however, that the spell may be of more use once we're back in the ruin.

Questions, observations, or thoughts on this before the next debriefing?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:23, Sat 06 Apr 2019.

"I applaud your fatherly initiative, good Neldor.  Smithing is an interesting trade for an Elf Maid to choose.  She must be strong minded daughter, if I am a judge of such things." Dorian replied.

"You are a sage.  Are you familiar with the lore of Myth Drannor?  Is it a particular study of yours by any chance?"





"Can you tell us a little more about your friend?  How has he come to this affliction?"

OOC: Apologies if this has been mentioned already.

"I don't truly know the poor soul.  I first saw him in Myth Drannor gibbering about breaking a promise to his Grandfather about never entering the city.  He's barely spoken a word since.  Looking through his thoughts didn't give me any insight into this reaction.  Apparently he revered his grandfather to a great degree to be experiencing this breakdown."

We all saw this happen at the start.  That was his last post.  Since then he's been in a stupor because no player has been guiding his actions.

Katarn tucked back from the dinner repast and sat drinking his ale, "I gathered th' only map in the dry goods store that mattered a bit for us here. Said there's no maps of Myth Drannor, least that he knows of."

Katarn reached over to his pack and pulled out both a map and a pipe to smoke when he got a chance. He used the well worn end to point the right edge fo the map, "friendly fellow called Morinn, said we're just here of the this edge on the road. He said ta get ta Deepingdale we need to head on th' road west, then south through Battledale, 'n head west once we clear the forest. He seemed to think only desperate folk used th' barge. Not sure if'n that's his prejudice 'gainst boats er if it really is treacherous."

"I also gathered re-supply for th' group, packed up in those packs over there," and he pointed at the filled packs of rations and waters. Sparking a light into his pipe, he sat back, pleased with his efforts that day.

"Excellent!"  Corym remarks.  "There was no such hesitation on Talathel's part regarding the barges.  I imagine that it may be a cultural prejudice."

"Dorian?  What have you found?"

Dorian

Neldor smiles. "She can be a handful when she decides she wants something, no doubt. It makes me proud. That's the kind of focus that makes masters."

At your mention of Myth Drannor, he chuckles. "I wondered if you were going to be asking about that. By your accent, you're not from Cormanthor. My specialties are magic and alchemy. But I've lived in this forest my entire life, and I have an interest in history. What do you want to know, and what are your intentions towards the ruins?"

"That's a good question, Master Neldor, one that I myself am trying to answer.  Call it...'enforced curiosity', if you will." answered Dorian.

"My friends and I have just come from there.  We awoke within the ruins a week ago.  Each swept from different areas of the realms and deposited, unconscious, within the ruins.  The strange part is that almost all of us has some small acquaintance with at least one other person.  Some are actually friends, but most are closer to strangers."

----------

To Corym

"I spoke with a an Elven Sage in town.  An interesting fellow with a blacksmithing daughter."

"Fascinating." Neldor pulls a small book from the pocket of his apron and slides into a chair. He gestures with a finger and the chair opposite it rotates outward invitingly. "The city has been a nexus of translocation for far longer than it's been called Myth Drannor. There have always been stories of strange things happening, but those were mostly just stories. Were you near any gates, either in Myth Drannor, or in your previous location? Had you used any translocation magic recently, or had items enchanted with such magic on your person?"

He grins. "By Corellon I love Cormanthor! There is always another mystery coming down the trail."

Dorian smiled "Yes, I've heard much of the myths about Myth Drannor too."

"My colleagues and I have not stopped long enough to consider the matter in great detail, just a few passing comments before we fled the place.  Almost immediately we were under observation by infernal forces and have spent our time running so I have few details to give you.  I can say, for myself, I do not think I was near anything magical.  I was simply on the road back to Evereks when I awoke in the ruins."

"One of the people that was with us, Talathel by name, seems to have retreated inside himself after the event.  We are trying to return him to his people, but our plans, as vague as they are, is to return to Myth Drannor and unravel the mystery of why we were pulled there and by who."

Neldor listens closely, writing notes in a small, elegant script. "That's good. Mysteries are meant to be explored. If you have the opportunity, I would investigate the area where you arrived. Many roads lead to Myth Drannor. That you ended up in the city is not necessarily surprising. But why you ended up exactly where you did might shed some light on how it happened.

"I will be here in Glen for the next several years at least, so if you discover more information, please come back." He smiles. "I also offer adventurers my services in identifying strange items, brewing potions, and deciphering old lore books. And I given discounts to elves."

Dorian offers the sage his hand "I thank you, friend Neldor, I'm sure we will take you up on the offer."

The bard turns to leave, but turns back and says with a grin "Provided we survive, of course." and then makes his exit.

-----
To Corym

"The Sage offered his services, at a reduced fee for the People.  He specializes in arcane magic and alchemy and has an interest in Cormanthor"

Sirenya had spent the day happily wandering the community, studying the architecture and indulging in the pleasure of out-of-season fruits. And a few in-season. While wandering the streets, she'd looked for shops for jewelers or gem smiths. Mostly professional curiosity, although she needed to acquire some more gems, so it was good to check on the availability here, and perhaps learn of other places along the way to... where were they going next? She couldn't remember. Something-dale, but around here, everything was something-dale, so that didn't narrow things down.

Fine, then. Maybe they had a local specialty wine. She should get some while she was here.

When Katarn brought out the map after dinner, Sirenya stood up on her seat to lean forward and look at it with interest. And actually pay attention to the discussion, for a change.

"That sounds like an intriguing find, Dorian!  But you don't think we need to talk to him until after we've returned to Myth Drannor. Well enough.  It seems that we need to find our way to Ashabenford--given with excellent map Katarn has obtained--in short order to secure a vessel heading South.  I must say, I'm rather impressed with Glen.  It's proximity to our site of interest, its wares, a sage--this should work as a base of operations.  It's probably not a bad idea to consider acquiring some real-estate here as regular stays at the inn will harm our revenue stream in the long term and will hardly afford us the opportunity for between-expedition development of spells, equipment, arms, and the like.  Similarly they won't like us warding it up as a safe house, which we'll need to once we have things that need to be kept safe--until such time as we can secure arcane transport to Oakhaven (our storehouse in the Western Heartlands)."

Corym claps his hands.  "A day well spent.  Let's take tomorrow for some recreation while we wait for Krackor to rouse himself, and give our clergymen an opportunity to serve the local community on the following day.  Anyone have anything in mind?"