Kamishiro_Rin January 22 Date On This Misham, the 25th Day of Brookgreen, in the 351st Year After the Cataclysm (Thursday, March 25, 351 AC) ★The 5th Day of the Campaign - About 8:30ish★ Walking away from Tatina Rookledust (Mery & Kalasääski) IC Mery’s impressions of her are that of an old kender woman who is lonely and very happy to have a new face to talk to. Kalasaaski gets the same impression. “Well, Dearie,” the old kender woman says, “I don’t know how /safe/ this camp is—it’s not exactly fortified, and I didn’t even see you coming until your horse seemed to appear from nowhere out of the darkness!” “Handsome, you say, dearie?” she says when you identify your horse. “My, what a fitting name for such a handsome horse!” She scooches over to make room as you sit. “I’m so sorry you parted ways with your companions. They must have been dreadful to you dear.” “Lizard-like humanoids? You mean like the lizardmen that inhabit the myriad swamps here in Knightlund? A few years ago, we had some run-ins with them . . . the others and I, we just decided it was easier to pack out tents and vardoes and find a new area. Pesky buggers.” She pauses, takes a few bites, savors the flavor, and continues. “But let me tell you. I put the right fear of the gods into them! See, they have no morals—pure instinct: hunger, lust, sleep. They’re intelligent . . . somewhat . . . but they don’t really have any sense of morality. But fear. Fear they understand. One such persistent lizard bugger and his raiding party—I had it up to hear with them attacking our camp.” “Tell me, dearie,” she asks you suddenly, “Have you ever heard of the stone of the untreated? It takes a blood sacrifice and the right ritual, so my sisters had to keep it and its war-band occupied while I performed the ritual.” In front of you, she is now suddenly holding a relatively large beautifully cut ruby. Marring its top are scratched an arcane sigil. “This is the stone’s sister,” she explains. “I performed the ritual and placed the curse.” She holds up her scarred wrists to show how she provided the blood to fuel the sacrifice. “Its sister is another diamond worth 1,000 gold pieces at least! With the last word of the incantation spoken, it embedded itself into his forehead—a sign for all to see. No healer can tend his or his warriors’ wounds. No physician can treat their their ailments. No apothecary can provide them potions, balms, salves, ointments, or pills. They are the untreated, and shall remain that way. As each of them dies, a little of their untreated blood finds its way into this diamond, here.” She drops the precious stone—a diamond, not a ruby as it had appeared—into a glass container you didn’t know she pulled it from. “When the last of them dies, it will melt into one of the rarest and strongest potions ingredient you could ever hope to obtain. Looks like it might be nearly done . . .” “I bet it seems cruel,” she says, “but their raiding wouldn’t stop, so we stopped them. And we told them how they could earn forgiveness, but their pride wouldn’t let them. Alas, it was a simple bargain: earn our forgiveness, and we’ll destroy the stone, freeing you from the curse. Heh heh heh . . . no a single one has come back—well, at least the raiding stopped.” “So,” she said suddenly, changing tack, “Tell me about these dastards that would drive you away, dearie. If you’d like I could teach you how to do the ritual for the stone.” OOC The map of the Kalaman region in Maps & Game Information illustrates this area. Idea for the curse taken from “Basilisk-born” by Ebenbild.
Kamishiro_Rin January 22 Date On This Misham, the 25th Day of Brookgreen, in the 351st Year After the Cataclysm (Thursday, March 25, 351 AC) ★The 5th Day of the Campaign - About 8:30ish★ Walking away from Tatina Rookledust (Mery & Kalasääski) IC Mery’s impressions of her are that of an old kender woman who is lonely and very happy to have a new face to talk to. Kalasaaski gets the same impression. “Well, Dearie,” the old kender woman says, “I don’t know how /safe/ this camp is—it’s not exactly fortified, and I didn’t even see you coming until your horse seemed to appear from nowhere out of the darkness!” “Handsome, you say, dearie?” she says when you identify your horse. “My, what a fitting name for such a handsome horse!” She scooches over to make room as you sit. “I’m so sorry you parted ways with your companions. They must have been dreadful to you dear.” “Lizard-like humanoids? You mean like the lizardmen that inhabit the myriad swamps here in Knightlund? A few years ago, we had some run-ins with them . . . the others and I, we just decided it was easier to pack out tents and vardoes and find a new area. Pesky buggers.” She pauses, takes a few bites, savors the flavor, and continues. “But let me tell you. I put the right fear of the gods into them! See, they have no morals—pure instinct: hunger, lust, sleep. They’re intelligent . . . somewhat . . . but they don’t really have any sense of morality. But fear. Fear they understand. One such persistent lizard bugger and his raiding party—I had it up to hear with them attacking our camp.” “Tell me, dearie,” she asks you suddenly, “Have you ever heard of the stone of the untreated? It takes a blood sacrifice and the right ritual, so my sisters had to keep it and its war-band occupied while I performed the ritual.” In front of you, she is now suddenly holding a relatively large beautifully cut ruby. Marring its top are scratched an arcane sigil. “This is the stone’s sister,” she explains. “I performed the ritual and placed the curse.” She holds up her scarred wrists to show how she provided the blood to fuel the sacrifice. “Its sister is another diamond worth 1,000 gold pieces at least! With the last word of the incantation spoken, it embedded itself into his forehead—a sign for all to see. No healer can tend his or his warriors’ wounds. No physician can treat their their ailments. No apothecary can provide them potions, balms, salves, ointments, or pills. They are the untreated, and shall remain that way. As each of them dies, a little of their untreated blood finds its way into this diamond, here.” She drops the precious stone—a diamond, not a ruby as it had appeared—into a glass container you didn’t know she pulled it from. “When the last of them dies, it will melt into one of the rarest and strongest potions ingredient you could ever hope to obtain. Looks like it might be nearly done . . .” “I bet it seems cruel,” she says, “but their raiding wouldn’t stop, so we stopped them. And we told them how they could earn forgiveness, but their pride wouldn’t let them. Alas, it was a simple bargain: earn our forgiveness, and we’ll destroy the stone, freeing you from the curse. Heh heh heh . . . no a single one has come back—well, at least the raiding stopped.” “So,” she said suddenly, changing tack, “Tell me about these dastards that would drive you away, dearie. If you’d like I could teach you how to do the ritual for the stone.” OOC The map of the Kalaman region in Maps & Game Information illustrates this area.
