Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

For in-universe game play. Journey through both familiar and foreign settings, explore lost ruins and forgotten cities, and try to bring light to the darkness of the world... or, you know, blow stuff up. Either way.
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Drusia
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

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"The prophecies. They say that one of our kind would come, to set us free from the tyranny of the elves -- a young one, of our kind, moved by love of our people, and of peace, with a companion from a strange land who was mighty in ways of war." As he said this last part, he was eyeing Therese's sword; she hadn't particularly been trying to conceal it here. "They would come bearing strange tales of their travels, and scholarship that we could only dream of. They would know the ways of the elves; some would say they would even have dared to travel with -- with those elves who are less hateful toward our kind. And they would lead us into a new age that we cannot even begin to imagine."

Therese was starting to get alarmed at this. "Uh, sir, I don't really think we're here to fulfill a prophecy. I'm not mighty in ways of war. We're just traveling around, trying to find this Compassion, and Brad and Lillith are friends of ours and --"

"I am yours to command... Princess."


There's a prophesy about me and Therese? That's... that's amazing! And it means we can succeed - we can change everything!

First things first, however.

"I'm a Priestess, not a Princess," I say, laying my hands gently upon his shoulders - as much to steady him as offer him reassurance. "My mother is no queen, nor do I seek to command anyone. If you will help me, do it for our people. Or do it for Anilis, who the elves in their hubris have ignored for so long."

I hope that puts this "princess" stuff to rest. I wonder if the oracle who spoke this might have misheard Priestess, hence the confusion. Speaking of which.

"Can you tell me more about these prohpesies?" I ask him. "If they really are about this situation with Compassion, then maybe they contain a solution we haven't thought of."

-- Desiree

OOC: I considered posting a short OOC reply earlier (with the message basically being "**slow clap** So that's what you were up to!") but I realized that would have bumped the thread to a new page an I wouldn't have as easily been able to reference the post when I went to reply to it.

In any case, well done - what an interesting way to kick this up a level without threatening canon.
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

Post by Graybeard »

[OOC: Thanks. ;) Things aren't going to be quite that easy, though...]

"Can you tell me more about these prophecies?" I ask him. "If they really are about this situation with Compassion, then maybe they contain a solution we haven't thought of."

"I will try, my -- daughter," Maxwel said as he got stiffly to his feet; it wasn't clear what he was going to say instead of "daughter," but he had hesitated over the word. "It was in one of the books from the old town, before ... before ..." He didn't finish the sentence, but hobbled back toward the bookshelves.

Therese let him go in silence for a moment, but when it became clear that he wasn't going to finish the sentence, she took a chance on prompting him. "'Before', sir?" But the response that she got didn't come from the old man, but rather, from the door to the room, rather startling her and the others.

"Before this one was formed, and the old one was destroyed by the damnable elves," the woman whom they'd seen a few minutes earlier said in a firm voice. "Now, Poppy, you can come back to that after your nap, but you know it's time for that." She was holding a steaming cup of tea that had a curiously medicinal aroma to it.

Maxwel turned, his old, lined face showing dismay. "But, Renee, girl(*), I can't, not now! What these young women have said is --"

"Whatever it is, it can wait," "Renee" said firmly. "You know the Healers say you have to take a nap every day, for the good of your heart. You're over two hundred years old, you know, and you have to take care of yourself." She extended the tea toward Maxwel.

He made a dismissive wave. "What do the Healers know, granddaughter? Only what I taught them. I --"

"Drink it, Poppy," the woman said; her face brooked no argument, but it did soften a little as she added, "Because we love you."

Maxwel gulped. "Very well, granddaughter." He took the tea and took a healthy sip. Turning toward Desiree, he said, "Excuse me, my pr-- dear, but I think I'll be lying down for a few minutes." He made it as far as the couch, leaned back, and was asleep within seconds.

Renee took the unfinished cup, her face loving and smiling and sad all at the same time. "It won't be just a few minutes, sorry," she said softly to Desiree. "More like three hours, but when he wakes up, he'll be good to go again until after sundown. You have to remember, my grandfather is a very old man -- he was young back when the -- elves destroyed the previous Santuariel." She smiled and kissed the old man's cheek gently. "After all that, and helping found the new Santuariel, he's entitled to a good long nap if he needs one, don't you think?"

(*)[OOC: A little about time frame here, as I had to go to the HKV and do some research: Maxwel may call Renee a "girl," but in fact, she's around 100 herself, although she looks more like mid-forties. The founding of Santuariel V happened about 125 years before the time of Errant Road, and the destruction of Santuariel IV 50 years before that, according to the timeline that Impy provided. If Maxwel was not merely around when that happened, but "adult" enough to save some of the books from the old town, then he's indeed well over 200 at game time -- but Poe said once that half elves' life spans range from 225 to nearly 300(!) years, so while he's old, he's neither uniquely nor unnaturally so.]
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Drusia
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

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"It won't be just a few minutes, sorry," she said softly to Desiree. "More like three hours, but when he wakes up, he'll be good to go again until after sundown. You have to remember, my grandfather is a very old man -- he was young back when the -- elves destroyed the previous Santuariel." She smiled and kissed the old man's cheek gently. "After all that, and helping found the new Santuariel, he's entitled to a good long nap if he needs one, don't you think?"

"Of course," I agree. After the rather animated response, I'm more than a little concerned for his heart, so a nap is probably called for - however personally frustrating it might be. From what I've seen of him, I'm sure the local healers have it right.

As for the history of Santuriel, I will refraim from commenting since the last thing I need is for another explosion from someone in the family. Considering everything, I think I'll just leave my mother out of things this time.

"If Maxwel awakens early, tell him we'll be back in about three hours - three hours from now, that is," I tell his granddaughter. That and a few additional pleasantries exchanged and we take our leave.

Once we're all outside, I take Therese's hand and turn to Lillith. "I think Therese and I are going to go find somewhere to sit, eat, and think for a bit. You're welcome to join us, or you can get back to your usual routine and meet up with us later." We've obviously disrupted Lillith's plans for the day, so I want to give her an out if she needs it.

-- Desiree

OOC: I hope Santuriel has the equalavent of a coffee shop, because that's what Desiree needs just now.
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

Post by Graybeard »

[OOC: Oh, not to worry, you're going to be either guided to, or diverted from, the coffee shop soon enough ...]

Lillith looked at Brad and vice versa, and they nodded as one. "Don't worry," Lillith said. "I'll be home today, getting ready for --" she rubbed her expanding belly, still obviously months away from its time, but starting to show (getting a rapturous second rub from Brad immediately after) -- "so just come back when you think Maxwel is ready, She said three hours, right? You'll have time to get something to eat at one of the shops downtown."

Brad thought of something. "Just make sure you don't go into the one calling itself Memory Lane," he said. "It's ... weird." He and Lillith exchanged another look, and shivered. The two couples went their separate ways.

Or started to, anyway. "Wonder why a place with a nice, peaceful name like that would be 'weird' to Brad?" Therese mused. "Seems like a perfectly good name for a coffee -- hello?" Maxwel's granddaughter was bearing down on them at a trot, holding a small object that they did not at first recognize.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Renee puffed; she was older than any of the present company, apparently fortyish (which probably meant closer to 90 or 100, half-elf aging being what it was), and not as fit from the rigors of the last several weeks. "If you want to know more about the prophecies, you might talk to one of the other old time mages, one who helped found this Santuariel. His name is Barham Tenniel, styles himself 'Dr. Tenniel,' and he usually doesn't receive visitors from outside, but he will if you show him this." She extended a small pouch glowing weakly with magic.

Therese frowned; her skill at Detection magic was itching at the touch of this pouch. It didn't seem menacing, exactly, just ... alien. "What's this?" she asked. "And where do we find this Dr. Tenniel?" If we choose to go see him.

"I don't know exactly what it is myself," Renee confessed, "but it's some kind of token from the previous town -- Santuariel IV, the old ones call it. The ones who came here from there all carry one to identify themselves, almost like a military campaign medal. It's magical, but it doesn't actually do anything that any of us, including Poppy, know. Funny, though -- even my Aunt Susan, who -- can't do magic, says she feels something weird about its magic. She says it's like it wants to talk to us or something. But it never does.

"As for the where, he's retired from the Healing business now, and spends most of his time at a bar downtown that his son owns. Called Memory Lane, nice comfortable little place -- what's wrong?"
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

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"If you want to know more about the prophecies, you might talk to one of the other old time mages, one who helped found this Santuariel. His name is Barham Tenniel, styles himself 'Dr. Tenniel,' and he usually doesn't receive visitors from outside, but he will if you show him this." She extended a small pouch glowing weakly with magic.

Therese frowned; "What's this?" she asked. "And where do we find this Dr. Tenniel?"

"I don't know exactly what it is myself," Renee confessed, "but it's some kind of token from the previous town -- Santuariel IV, the old ones call it. The ones who came here from there all carry one to identify themselves, almost like a military campaign medal. It's magical, but it doesn't actually do anything that any of us, including Poppy, know. Funny, though -- even my Aunt Susan, who -- can't do magic, says she feels something weird about its magic. She says it's like it wants to talk to us or something. But it never does.

"As for the where, he's retired from the Healing business now, and spends most of his time at a bar downtown that his son owns. Called Memory Lane, nice comfortable little place -- what's wrong?"


"Nothing at all," I sigh, forcing my expression as blank as possible. Instead I take the offered pouch and give it a closer look. It tingles a bit. Mother has one like it that she takes with her on the road. I suppose it must be so she can meet with people here without frightening them.

I turn back to Renee. "So, how do we get to his Memory Lane place? I imagine this conversation with Dr. Tenniel will take a while, and we only have three hours to spare."

-- Desiree
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

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"So, how do we get to his Memory Lane place? I imagine this conversation with Dr. Tenniel will take a while, and we only have three hours to spare."

"Just right down the street, in the middle of town," Renee answered, gesturing. "Just a five-minute walk, you can't miss it." She stepped back into the house.

Therese and Desiree looked at each other. Why would Brad and Lillith recoil in horror at the mention of the place, while Renee had nothing but good to say about it? A generational thing? Something pertaining to the fact that Renee was a long-time Santuariel resident and the scion of a locally renowned family, while Brad and Lillith ... weren't? Something else? Therese put a mental marker down to look at that question more closely once they got to the bar.

For the moment, other things were on her mind. "Let me see that thing for just a minute," she said, indicating the pouch.

She let her magic senses flow over the pouch, doing her best to get a sense of what the contents were about. Something seemed familiar about the magic emanating from it, if still, well, alien ... Ah. She pulled out her own pouch, the one with the figurines of the Five Great Mothers. By now she knew the feel, both physical and magical, of Continne and Concusse and the others as well as she knew her own skin. Were there similarities? Maybe, maybe not. A thought struck her. Surely the contents of the pouch couldn't be a figurine of ... Compassion? Could they? If it was ...

"Do you think we dare open this?" she asked Desiree.
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

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"Let me see that thing for just a minute," she said, indicating the pouch.
"Do you think we dare open this?" she asked Desiree.


I frowned, thoughtful. "Honestly, I have no idea," I replied. "I doubt it's anything dangerous, but opening it might break it - that is, render it worthless as a token. Or it might not. We'd need some sort of expert at magical do-dads to check it first and I don't think we have time for that and the mysterious tavern." Or possibly an expert in magical wards and traps, but that would be even harder to find.

She looked disappointed. Hm. "I suppose we could open it after we show it to Dr. Tenniel. At worst, we'll piss off Renee by breaking it."

-- Desiree
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

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[OOC: Ah, the best kind of MacGuffin: the one where nobody knows what it is. :) /OOC:]

Therese nodded. "Seems prudent to wait until we know how the people at this bar will react to it. I just wish I knew how it relates to these." She fingered the bag with her own tokens of religious practice, then put it away.

The walk was short, as Renee had said, and only five minutes or so later, the pair were standing at the door of Memory Lane. Therese briefly considered putting her hair up under her hat and looking male to enter; there were certainly bars elsewhere in the Northern Confederacy, and not just in Goriel, where a same-sex couple entering a bar would be harassed or worse. However, Santuariel didn't feel like such a place. She shrugged and opened the door.

Memory Lane appeared to be a small to medium-sized bar. The decor on the walls and overhead consisted of what she might term "antiques," artifacts of day-to-day living that had the patina of age upon them. Why would they bother putting rolling pins and saws up on the walls of a bar? Therese wondered; but she quickly figured it out. They're from the old Santuariel that they told us about.

That theme, of memories of the old town, would also explain the clientele, she thought. Even though it was still early in the afternoon, the bar had a reasonable crowd -- and every last customer that she could see looked old, in some cases, very old. "I bet most of these people remember -- the old town," she whispered to Desiree; it might be considered impolite to speak the name of the earlier Santuariel aloud. Furthermore, there were a goodly number of customers who had the sad mark of Errants about them. Here, there was a man with a gross facial deformity that she really didn't want to look at; there, a woman with a pronounced hunchback, and so on. Canes and crutches were everywhere, not all that surprising given the age of the clientele, but she'd never seen that many in one place before. The men and women (and some where it was not obvious at first glance which) seemed barely to notice the newcomers at the door; such as did simply glanced their way and returned to their drinks.

The one person in the bar who did pay attention was also the one who appeared to be as young as Therese, although not as young as Desiree looked: the bartender, a large man with a patch over one eye and a surly expression on his face. He glanced up at the young women with his good eye, shook his head subtly, scowled, and resumed polishing the beer mugs or whatever he'd been doing, muttering under his breath. The customers paid him no attention, and even the ones close enough to him to hear the muttering didn't bother looking toward the door to see the newcomers who had caused this reaction.

Therese glanced at Desiree. "Well?"
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

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OOC: Sorry, real life issues. Will post sometime soonish hopefully.
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Re: Santuariel, Compassion, and the banshee

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The one person in the bar who did pay attention was also the one who appeared to be as young as Therese, although not as young as Desiree looked: the bartender, a large man with a patch over one eye and a surly expression on his face. He glanced up at the young women with his good eye, shook his head subtly, scowled, and resumed polishing the beer mugs or whatever he'd been doing, muttering under his breath. The customers paid him no attention, and even the ones close enough to him to hear the muttering didn't bother looking toward the door to see the newcomers who had caused this reaction.
Therese glanced at Desiree. "Well?"


"Ask politely?" I offer hopefully. Together, we approach the surly looking bartender. I smile shyly at him and dig out a few coins.

"Whatever drinks this will buy," I order, having no honest clue what they have here. "And, if you could direct us towards Dr. Tenniel, we'd be most appreciative." I add an additional coin as a 'tip' to demonstrate how my appreciation is likely to be demonstrated.

-- Desiree

OOC: Okay, back.
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