POOHEAD189

The Blackwood

@Jb Post when you can so I can give you and Tony some love

The Blackwood

@Duck@Romero You two get a post tonight!

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

I'm still deciding on Edgar, but I promise I'll post this week!

Scum & Villainy: Black Market Runners

You guys will get an update tomorrow or Wednesday!

The Blackwood

Mari had nearly a quarter of the day to bathe and take a nap, which she did so gladly. The soreness and aching of her limbs was eased, and the dirt and grime of the road washed away. The room for the night cost 2 Lordlings, or 40 Commons, whichever she wanted to spend. With no extra charge, she was given her own time in a hot bath and new clothes she could pick out to wear, courtesy of Ithaca vouching for her.

That night, the bugs sang loudly outside of her open window before she slid it closed and made her way down the stairs, passing by an older couple and a strange elf wearing ornate armor passing by her without so much as glancing her way. He seemed focused completely on whatever was on his mind.

Her boots gave a clack on the wooden planks as she stepped onto the barroom, drawing a few gazes her way. The room was large and spacious, with at least sixteen large circular tables, all of them filled by hard men in mercenary leathers, weary and celebratory travelers, and merchants wanting to relax or sell their wares. She recognized a few faces in the crowd, as well. Mrs. Richardson wearing an apron, serving various cakes. Po Harthwyn was at the far left of the room, speaking alone to a sagely Dwarf as if they were old friends, though whatever it was they were talking about, it was business or news.

Ithaca said at the right of the room, her rump firmly planted on a barstool as she spoke to some large creature, it looked. An armored Draconic humanoid, red scaled and wearing ornate plate armor of strange material. It was fully eight feet tall, and it stood rather than sat as if it was not planning on staying long. Luckily there was a seat beside Ithaca that had yet to be taken. If Mari turned her gaze, she would also see an older man and a younger man at the center of the room, taking up and entire table. Judging by their darkly colored robes and well-mannered speech, they were mages of a sort.

Where would she go would be her decisions, or perhaps she would try and find one of the few empty booths left and order herself something?
@Luminosity

The Blackwood

The piles of books were so high and varied that it would take days if not weeks to comb through all of them alone, even whilst she was skimming the spines to see if anything could aid her. Luckily, she had all the time in the world save for her empty stomach, which led her to promptly order her Gundarogs to go out and hunt something to bring back and cook for her, which they hurried to do so with gusto. It gave her alone time to sort through the piled tomes, and she found three of interest. The Eldernomicon, The Tome of Perpetual Horrors, and the 2nd edition of Dirge of Dragons.

Through the hours, she did not find much on how to orchestrate the dimensional archway. However, she did find out much needed information on Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash, or at least on what exactly he was, for it became clear he was not a demon. Or at least, not originally. It seemed the Warlock was one of the Lost Ones; a member of the Drogator species that split from its ancient people and never settled in the material plane of existence, or what some called Mannaheimm or Stridheim. The story goes, long ago the Gods found they had failed in their contract with the great Dragons and created an offshoot race known as the Drogator, only the Dragons at their height of their inter-planetary empire flung the newly made Drogator into the Thousand Realms to die and be lost into the nether forever.

The race did not die as the Dragons had thought, but fought an endless war against fey and eldritch denizens for thousands upon thousands of years, until just over a millennia ago they had reached Maroleth once more and invaded it, thinking this planet not their lost home but a new home to preemptively conquer. Thus it led to the brief but bloody Forsaken Wars, and the establishment of the Drogator's people on their reclaimed homeplanet. However, a faction of the Drogator had branched off in the nether, content to find homes among the lost realms of the void. These 'Lost Ones' have been missing for over ten thousand years, gaining knowledge and perhaps Daemonhood. Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash is such a being.

After she had a brief dinner of cooked boar courtesy of the Gundarogs (one having taken a nasty goring, and would have died were it not for its armor), she went back to her studies. Within the first two times, the Elf did find a few chalk and sulphuric circles to temporarily bind demons or eldritch things, but only for a limited time. She would need something more...

The crystal ball every pulled her towards its swirling form, and after lighting what candles she could in her sanctum, the sorceress went to activate the ball with a weave of a calling spell, drawing forth what energies she had regained over her rest. Thankfully, it only required a brief charge to flare it to life. Within, the clouds of murk sudden dissipated and the image within was flung across the sky, northward perhaps or westward, it was hard to tell. It seemed to grow dark again, though the energy was still very much alive...working...

More than a minute came and went, and the archway awakened once more. Not in such chaos as before, but gradually and almost mechanically, functioning as one would wish it to. The gateway held the picture not of twirling chaos, but a soft iridescence until someone stepped through. Someone taller than Kyiriniae'aea but undoubtedly not the demon that had come through before.

It was a human. A younger male human at that, with a thick mane of dark hair and bronzed skin. He had a somewhat plain look to him, though he wasn't unhandsome in his way. His nose was perfectly sized, with nice lips and his eyes were bright and intelligent. He wore the pragmatic trappings of a traveling wizard or scholar. In his left hand was a wand of elm, and in his right was a long knife, though when he saw Kyiriniae'aea he relaxed a bit at the sight of a High Elf.

"Forgive me," He said, looking around. He cleared his throat, having clearly been caught off guard by her presence. "I am Alcander. High one, did you... activate this?"

Clearly he was a mage, and though he was nowhere near the Lost One in power, he was very much on par with Kyiriniae'aea and likely less tired. Her bewitchment he would likely sense, but good old body language and a subtler magic like dazzle might work if she wished to sway him in some form or fashion, though that could of course wait.

"Where are we?"
@Penny

Hey Y'all!

@Arcelia Lovely to meet you, and I hope you enjoy your stay! Let me know if you need any help with anything (good tastes too. I love archery and historical/fantasy)

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.