POOHEAD189

The Blackwood

Kyiriniae'aea deciding to plea for her life to Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash the Demonlord (2020 colorized)

Hider

The Blackwood

"A pawn to aid in your designs?" It asked, and it would dawn on her that it was not slow in thought, but was unused to speaking in such a tongue. Or perhaps it was unused to even speaking, for perhaps the realm it had come from communicated in other ways. The Thousand Realms before the material world were unthinkable in its dimensions, though Elves knew that more than most, having come from their own Fey realm millennia ago.

Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash took two steps forward, and to her horror Kyiriniae'aea would see cracks in the stone appear under his feet at each step. Either his form was so dense it was ten times heavier than he appeared, or the very stone found his presence repellent. It slowly bent its form, sucking in her stench through its enlarged, crocidilian-like nostrils. She felt the small sensation of her soul lifting from her once more, though it settled far quicker than when she had attempted to open the portal.

"You will be a pawn to aid in mine." It declared, with such finality that to her, fate itself agreed.

Lifting itself higher, it breathed out noxious fumes for but a moment. The black air lingered above her like a raised guillotine. "Gundarogs are paltry... No, I require more pure blood for my machinations." A clawed hand raised, and even her magesight could not detect what spell had enacted to allow the baby slide out of the sack and to float over to the entity's waiting grasp. Almost gently, it clutched the child that had stopped crying. It only looked at the bestial thing, eyes wide as if stricken.

"You wish to learn from me? You are but a child as this one, but I can aid you for your services. Bring me nine more children within this planet's month, or an artifact of sufficient power that I may devour. Do so, and I will grant you powers beyond what you can perform. Do it not..." He let the threat end, for he did not need to say more. His very voice carried a threat that was far worse than death. Kyiriniae'aea would not see, but she would hear a snap, and a fleshy crunch as Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash made his exit through the portal once more. The archway flared to life in bright flash like a collapsing star, and then it went suddenly dark. The magic no longer lingered within, and Kyiriniae'aea would be safe from any more entrances from there for now.

Accompanied by the fear, the Elven woman had performed many spells that day. Though her repitoire was not yet expended, she felt almost intoxicated with the magic she had pulled to use for her spells. That coupled with her encounter of that other-wordly thing, made her feel both buzzed yet anxious. And yet there was little time to waste if she wished to perform her duties...or find a way to keep Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash banished for good.

Hider

You are still able to activate the crystal ball if you wish, or you can call for your Gundarogs, or both or neither. I will need a sanity roll, however (just faculties since you are yet to have a point in sanity).

@Penny

The Blackwood

Look...some really poor rolls were made on both sides of this thing.

The Blackwood

When Kyiriniae'aea activated the archway with her energies, it became horribly clear not a moment later that the elven maiden should have activated the crystal ball prior, for she felt the very energy of her being sucked into what seemed an endless void of nothingness. Her very soul was stretched like a dislocated arm, and it was only mercifully pushed back within her once the archway coalesced energies borne of her magics. To say she felt drained was an understatement, though what appeared next would be far, far worse.

The archway swirled with multicolored energy of pure chaos as the very structure itself sparked with eldritch, purple lightning every few moments that audibly cracked and sizzled. Though the air in the chamber was stilled, the sorceress could feel a strange ebb and flow of magic with her magesight, like kicked up dust from some explosion that served as a portent of doom. It was after five long seconds that the visitor appeared.

At first, one clawed foot stepped into the material plane, for he approached. Then the next laid bare upon the stone, for he approached. A staff of blacksteel crowned with a demonskull materialized before her eyes, for he approached. Scaled skin the color of stained oak mixed with dead blood showed from his entrance, for he approached. His robes were suddenly palpable and colored purple, yet shimmered as if coated with black spider silk, for he approached. It was his face she saw last. A draconic visage, lipless and sunken like skin barely clinging to a vicious skull, with two large, sloped horns framing its snout. Upon his brow were three eyes, the center clearly made of some unknown precious gemstone.

Once fully out of the portal, Kyiriniae'aea saw the thing, fully seven feet in height. If she used her magesight, she saw it was at least two long strides above her in power and knowledge, though there was no telling what it or he was. It was obvious even if she weren't so drained, she had no real chance of bewitching the thing and could likely harm it enough to make it angrier. She heard a low growl emanate from its throat, as if it were the broken engine of some Dwarven machine.

"What realm is this?" It asked aloud, though she could tell it was asking itself rather than her. It's voice was three voices, or perhaps it echoed within its throat thrice, for they sounded very deep and similar. All at once, its three eyed gaze fell upon Kyiriniae'aea, scrutinizing her as if she were a squirrel that had wandered into a living room. "A fairy..." it said, referring to the archaic forms of the Elves before they were gifted larger bodies by the Gods so long ago. "Why did you call Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash here?"

Suddenly, the tension was broken when a wail rose up from neither of them, and both saw the form of the baby in the bag, shaking its fists and crying. The warlock, for it indeed had the energy signature of such a thing, tilted its head curiously. It's curiosity was likely the only thing from killing the sorceress at the current moment. "A child?"
@Penny

Hider

Oh FUCK! Well, you can...um, you got a lot of options. Clearly there are no easy ones. You could attempt to unsummon him, though I wouldn't try unless you're feeling really lucky. You could try to lie and bargain with what you have to save your own skin, or you could blink away though he either chases you or you lose your tower. Or you could surprise me!

The Blackwood

"If it'll shut you up." The older rowman replied to Emilio, hacking up something particularly thick and spitting it into the river. He made another rowing movement, the water sloshing audibly. "We're about to drop you both at Varian's Crossing. It's a little inlet, and from there you walk a few hours and make it to Olderin, though some folk who remember the old wizard who used to own the place call it 'Olderin's Refuge' still. It's a smaller town the road'll lead you right to, and probably the safest place in the southern Blackwood, what with the Knights of the Skull making a base there."

He grunted once again as he rowed, clearly tiring from having been at it for hours by this point. "I don't know too much of the land. You got a few towns and castles to the east, though no telling if they're still standing. Just don't follow the river as far is it goes, not that you could. You'll end up in a swamp, with water that burns you alive. Like er...acid, that's the word. Rumor has it a Dragon black as midnight lives there too. Best to just stay on the western side of the river until you reach Olderin. Not that it's completely safe, but it's as safe as it gets in this accursed place."

As the boat drifted closer to the shoreline, Wēlanandaz was deep in thought, recalling the wars of yesteryear. He remembered an old story his uncle told him once, of Gorthaur the Wraithlord, who pulled the Blackwood into the very realm of Morimando, or pulled some of his realm onto the wood, darkening it forever so his minions and wraiths could move freely and with more power. He recalled two Dwarf Virkis within the wood as well, though his uncle never said where they were, only that they were along the western region of the Blackwood. Virki Fenri and Virki Gimle. No doubt he could find out more later, but they were fortified to fight the Wraithlord and no word has reached of their downfall since then.

Soon, a crusty scratching sound erupted from beneath them as they made it to the small bank. The boy leaped out of the boat and into the water, wading to the side to help the bigger man pull it up further onto the shore. Using hooked poles they had stored, they also slowly yanked the service raft closer to shore before it too was banked. The bars were lifted, and the donkey horked and honked as it walked off the raft and onto solid ground, snorting into the sand, with the cargo cart in tow behind him.

The bank, or Varian's Crossing, was wide and easily traversable, though it led up an incline into an opening into the trees. Within the path looked thick with ferns and saplings, not to mention larger birch trees a stride or so away from the path. They had better continue quickly before it became dark.

"Just follow the path, and you'll be fine I think!" The boy said. "Well...I don't know but I'm pretty sure. You never know in the Blackwood you know?"
@Jb@Tony Pajamas

The Blackwood

Mari had dirt caked on her backside and shoulder, but she was mostly unharmed save for maybe a scratch or two. Bucephalus had kept his cool after the second Dragon roar, and thankfully the Gods saw fit for the beast to fade into the distance. Dragons might have incredible senses, but this was the Blackwood. Finding two people even if it smelled them over miles and miles of thick forest would have been too time-wasting for any hungry beast. For some reason the forest seemed someone more still as the Dragon disappeared, and it was then Mari would realize the Dragon's wing beats had created a literal gale of wind.

"The forest is always dangerous, but this dangerous?" Ithaca asked as she lent Mira her hand, smiling. "I think you just bring trouble with you."

Once the warrior of Rán was back upon the strong mount, Ithaca, as nonchalant as she seemed, quickened her horse's pace. In fact the speed in which they now galloped, winding and twisting their way through the wood was both impressive and harrowing. Mari could feel the hooves press into the mud below her, giving a 'slipping' and uneven quality to their ride that would make anyone uncomfortable. Thankfully it seemed they had done this before, and before an hour had passed Mari saw the path had turned into a more straight road, interwoven with other lesser paths that met it every mile or two until they came cantering into the opening of a town. So abruptly did the trees give way to the wooden gate, it was as if they had just left the Fae realm and found a small pocket of civilization.

The town was small, no doubt there. Perhaps there were six roads that interwove to create the entirety of the settlement. Ithaca halted Bucephalus just after they had reached the gate, nearly bowling over two men carrying a desk into what looked to be a newly constructed building. They yelled in fear, and sighed audibly when the steed had stopped just short of ruining their day and they hurried on. It seemed, upon the dirt section of town they were in, that all of Rittenvos was to their left down what seemed to be the main road, and to their right was what looked to be a newly built, stout keep with a fortified living space built connected to its base.

Ithaca's arrival had been noted by a few passersby; commoners and a few Dwarves hauling a cart with what looked to be sacks of perhaps salt or flour. The resident tollkeeper had also noticed it seemed, judging by his uniform and shit-eating look. Not even a grin. He just looked as if he very much wished to take your money. He was tall, with a noticeable paunch thrust over his tight belt and nearly breaking apart his jerkin. All in all, he was palpably unpleasant, and falling down the ugly tree whilst hitting every branch on the way down didn't exactly aid his case.

"So," he said gruffly, waving a quill pen. "You got a newcomer? You told her it was five Lordlings to enter, I assume?"

"Piss off, Bryant." Ithaca said, reining Bucephalus to nearly whip the man with her horse's head. The fellow recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "Anyone who survived in the wilderness alone for four days has free right to a bath and a bed. Don't give me that look! Speak to the Baron if you must, but I suspect he's busier with the Dragon commotion."

Bryant cursed under his breath, but didn't argue when Ithaca started her horse in a canter down the road, leaving him to wave the dust out of his face. Before Mari, thatched roofs lined the dirt road, one to two stories tall, with their porches sometimes occupied by lesser vendors. The woman began to point at various shops, and people as well, giving her curt explanations. "It might not look like much, and it's far smaller than Hearthhome not three days to the north. But it's an outpost for traders and those braving the depths of the woods. She indicated toward a woman in her late thirties, carrying a basket filled with apples. "There's the lady Richardson who owns the inn. No doubt she's going back now. A kind woman though her husband is nearly a big of a bastard as Bryant. And over there..." She pointed at a young man, darkly handsome in his own way, entertaining children with a slight of hand, much to their innocent delight. "That's Po Harthwyn. A nice man. His village was burned to the ground not a year ago. I found him much like you in the forest. He knows much old lore of these woods."

She showed Mari the location of the Provisioner, where one might acquire any items they need for travel, along with the charcoal burning, which was surprising to find in such a small town! A meatshop and butcher had a joint business on the right, along with a small bakery named 'Baskin's Bakes' and a blacksmith, though the smith seemed out at the moment when they passed. At the very end of the road, Bucephalus stopped at the only three story building in town. The roof was thatched and held up by strong oak beams like the rest of town.

"And this is the Grandhaven, where you can find a bath and some rest." She said, letting her dismount when she felt ready. "Do you need anything of me? I will be here tonight but tomorrow I'm off on the road once more."
@Luminosity

The Blackwood

I really had to keep myself from linking this video in Penny's post...so I'll do it here.

The Blackwood

Reality warped around the Gundarog when her spell impacted, cutting open its stomach and ripping the life out of it. It fell without a cry, helmet falling off to reveal its stretched, pig nosed face and impossibly wide eyes for seeing in the pitch darkness of its subterranean realm.

After a moment of complete silence, the other Gundarog's screeched in glee and leaped over the corpse of their once-companion. Kyiriniae'aea would see bits of blackened flesh flying up as they devoured the dead thing. Kyiriniae'aea would have the time to grab the child, still fast asleep as she polymorphed him until a small turtle and dropped it in the sack with what little she carried with her. Within minutes, she had her small troop standing at the ready. They held their spears, long for them but only slightly taller than a tall man at the ready, with their black iron shields curved into spikes to make another stabbing implement. Standing they would be nearly her height, but they were perpetually hunched and ready to be commanded.

The forest was as gloomy as ever, but magic permeated the air in a very pleasant manner to the sorceress as her minions walked and crawled interchangeably in front of her, keeping silent as they passed under bushes and over huge roots with, save for the hissing grunts and low growls they might emit as they 'marched'. The landscape seemed a never ending green and black as they delved deeper into the Blackwood, though the trees grew notably smaller (though still extremely large). Save for a few large spiders and at one point of hiding from an indigo colored, stout wolf the size of a pony, they saw little life.

After what must have been an hour travel, the Gundarogs seemed to be speaking amongst each other and giggling fiendishly just as they passed the cusp of a bend in their path, leaping up and down like excited children. "We're here, Bright Lady! Yes yes, Bright Lady master is pleased!" They declared, though she hardly needed to hear it. It was plain to see before her; a thick canopy of trees covered the top of it, but before her was the stout 'trunk' of a tower made of large stone slabs. Clearly the work of humans, though no telling how old the building was. Wooden gates rotted and ripped off by something immensely strong, her eyes could see that the Blackwood had begun to reclaim the small keep. Grass tufts had grown out of the floor between cracked stones, and vines had snaked their way within.

As they entered, the Gundarogs awaited outside to guard their new master as she looked about at her leisure, though there was not much to see. The archway had been an ogival arch with the ruined buildings laced with intricate tracery. Within was a basic stone floor and no other rooms save a small kitchen with no food likely, though it did have a door on its hinges (opened). The only unknown was a winding stairway you could watch ascend up the wall, twirled around the stones until it reached the second and likely final floor fully six or so meters upwards. From the ground, she saw a circular, railed opening in the floor above, meaning it had the likeness of a balcony, making it easy to stare at the ground floor if one were so inclined.

As she ascended the stairs, she found herself looking and four different doors, all closed. The fifth door, the largest I might add, was opened. Within were cases upon cases of books, filled to the brim in such a manner that some books were half opened on the ground, from having fallen. To the left was a bed, albeit messy and unmade, though that was the least promising thing in the room. The center of the room's fore held a clearly mystical creation, wrought of magic and stone making a strange, eldritch archway. A small lining in the floor of what appeared to be silver had been laid to reach an item that lay at the true center of the room: A large ball of pure crystal, utterly black in color. Her alchemical eyes would find one last thing of note; upon the far right of the room was a table with a mortar & pestel, a retort, a beaker, an alembic, and calcinator. No supplies however, though doubtless the forest itself was full of such things.

Hider

If you would like to try and attempt to activate any of the magical items, roll a 1d8+3. If you'd like to search the bookshelves for something specific, roll faculties or perception if you have an addition, and if you'd like to perform alchemy with whatever you have on hand, make an alchemy roll (or order your minions to find various herbs). You have so many options!

@Penny

The Blackwood

A Gundarog hissed in fear and hatred, recoiling from her sudden appearance. It grabbed a wickedly barbed spear on instinct, but its companions had yet to attack, so in awe were they at the unexpected and immediate introduction from the strange sorceress. It seemed an undecided thing on what they would do until two of them abased themselves before Kyiriniae'aea, obviously too afraid to speculate. The other two were less decided for a few brief moments, and the one that had grabbed the weapon seemed on the brink of throwing his spear or running. However, it soon dropped its weapon and joined its fellows, just as the third did.

The Gundarog that had held the baby heard her demands, jitteringly rising, looking at her and trying to speak in its broken northern. "B-Bright Lady? Yes! Yes, Bright Lady we..." It sibilated, unused to speak of the thing they dared not walk under. "The s-s-sun does not touch here, Bright Lady. The shadow of Lord Gorthaur has been cast upon this forest, gnash its wooden bones! Claw it! Bite it! Burn the villages into nothing!"

It erupted into a brief, psychotic cackled until it realized it was (likely) speaking to someone who could obliterate it with a look. It took two steps toward her, moving like some broken misshapen thing. It very well could have been. Many Gundarogs had warts and humps that made their movements queer but did not diminish their effectiveness in killing. No wonder its voice sounded like verbal depression and bloated malice.

"The Blackwood is forever changed, yes. Long ago when Gorthaur had first arrived, he brought the realm of shadow with him. Now shadow lingers until the unmaking the world..."

"What does the Bright Lady command!?" One of the bowed ones cried out, shrill in pitch. "We can shows you to villages! To towers! Yes, yes Ladies love towers?"
@Penny

The Blackwood

"Oi! Get the fuck out'o the way!" A cry sprang up from behind them. Similar cries rose and created a cacophony of sounds from those behind, clearly unamused that the two made it to the front of the line to negotiate rather than pay immediately and give someone else a chance. For the notary's part, he blinked at the strange bedraggled girl and her foreign companion. It was understandable why, as Greybridge was an Andredian settlement and she was clearly Vrettonian, and her story was vague, what's more. However, it also could have some plausibility, as many mercenary companies from either country was bought by the other to confuse the their enemy during their frequent wars.

It almost looked like the man in the extravagant hat was going to deny them, but at the yelling from the crowd to get a move on, he seemed to acquiesce after another moment's thought.

"Very well, to your great service blah blah yes, only 5 Lordlings." He whispered to them harshly. "From both of you."

Once paid, he would raise his head and wave about a crop-like crudgle. The four halberdiers in the center rose their weapons automatically as if they were Dwarf-made machines powered by steam.

Behind him lay Greybridge, the gothic agate jewel of the north. Even during the day, the city had an ominous, dramatic quality to its architecture. Some compared the looming and thatched two or three-story buildings that flooded the city to one of the haunted cities found in Henry Forthwright’s melodramas. Leering gargoyles could be found atop a few buildings in the distance, though what lay around them was a small marketplace in the center of a widened three way street. They would be practically shoved inside, and once within it was like a jungle of buildings surrounded by a throng of Greybridge citizens that went about their daily business.

Hider

You have some flexibility on what you would like to do. You could roll to find a shop or someone to speak to with a faculties (perception) roll, or you could be creative and do something unexpected. Ask away if you have any questions.

@Romero@Duck

---

Ithaca had begun to lead her northwards, through numerous thickets of dark trees until they finally stumbled upon a well trodden path. It seemed to go east and westwards, though it likely snaked back around to where she had been at the mouth of the gulley. A great brown horse stood tethered to a tree, proud and powerful with a well groomed black mane. It snickered when it saw Ithaca, clearly happy to see her once again.

"Geiá sou diké mou Bucephalus." She whispered to the steed, untying the reins from the tree, just as glad to see the horse as well. She made it look all too easy to mount the steed, holding a hand out for Mari to take. "The Sea of Swords?" She asked, hoisting Mari up to sit just behind her. Ithaca let Mari sling her shield around herself and sheath her sword before she had Bucephalus begin at a trot. "You must have traveled through the borderlands to get here. Durgony yes?"

They made their way deeper into the forest path, letting the sun pass into tangled shadow beneath the canopy above. The trees were somehow both healthy yet gnarled by some unseen grimness, though the sounds of the birds around them showed no evil was yet near, if there was any at all.

"It's Rittenvos, of the people of Eisenland." Ithaca explained, glancing back at Mari for a moment. "You chose a strange road to come here, though I suppose it is the most direct road. I like that. Nothing reaches the heart of an Orc like a straight thrust through the chest. But yes, Rittenvos. It has the largest inn near the southern border, and plenty of tradesmen. I won't ask you much on your quest, for no one would travel like you unless they had an important errand. But you very well could find what you are seeking there."

The road warden spoke with a certain surety that would strengthen the heart of anyone hearing it. But it was not to last, for a moment later a most dreadful sound erupted from the skies above. It was so brutally loud that it was not so apparent what made the leaves upon the branches shake until Ithaca and Mari's senses had regained their faculties. It was a roar so terrifying and powerful it shook one's very bones. Among the sudden calamity Bucephalus whinnied, the dauntless horse bucking briefly in abject surprise and fear.

"Dragon!" Ithaca gasped, doing her best to rein Bucephalus before the horse threw them off, calming within moments due to its training and Ithaca's prompting. Mari would have to cling to the warden so as not to fall off, and once the three had halted in the forest path, there was another terrible roar, albeit further away.
@Luminosity