Session 3 – Across the Plains

Journey Through the Washed Plains

The journey of our adventurers unfolded under a radiant sun, casting its warmth over the vast Washed Plains. This sprawling savannah, with its gentle breezes and open skies, presented a serene backdrop to their travels. Leading the group, Illidan and Rabbert expertly navigated the terrain, their familiarity with the land evident in every confident step.

However, not all was smooth sailing. Cetiri, the group’s Eladrin warlock, found herself struggling with an uncharacteristic weariness. The relentless sun and the long journey took a toll on her, her usual vibrancy dimmed by the day’s exertions.

As the evening approached and their destination still out of reach, the group decided to camp amidst the plains. They foraged, finding berries and rabbits, which they cooked over an open fire. The simple meal, shared in the camaraderie of the group, brought a comforting end to their tiring day.

Cetiri’s Mystical Encounter with Tuxil

In the quiet of the night, Cetiri sought solitude at the camp’s edge. There, in a moment touched by the arcane, Tuxil, the Trinket Lord, appeared before her in his fox-like form.

“Cetiri, you asked me to take a piece of the Aethium. I trust your wisdom, but I need to understand. Why was it so important?” she inquired, her voice tinged with both respect and curiosity.

Tuxil’s reply was as mysterious as his form, “The Aethium is not just any material. It’s born from the divine, capable of holding magics that challenge the gods themselves. Its reappearance is a sign, a sign of an impending upheaval, a prophecy unfolding.”

Cetiri’s eyes widened, “A prophecy? What kind of upheaval?”

“A second Sundering, a war of the gods that looms on the horizon. A war that threatens all realms,” Tuxil elaborated, his voice grave yet compelling.

As Tuxil unveiled the prophecy and spoke of the Whisperers, ancient beings with foresight gifted by the Old Ones, Cetiri listened intently, absorbing the gravity of his words. The revelation of the prophecy, veiled in mystery and riddles, left her with a deep sense of the crucial role she and her companions were to play in the face of this foreboding future.

Discovery of the Warren

Simultaneously, Rabbert, guided by the nostalgic aroma of roast carrots and onions, found his way to his Warren. His heart swelled with memories as he was greeted by Flickerfoot, a lively Harengon with an infectious spirit of mischief.

“Flickerfoot, my old friend! It’s been too long,” Rabbert exclaimed, his voice filled with joy.

“Rabbert! You’ve returned! The Warren has missed your presence,” Flickerfoot replied, his eyes twinkling with delight.

Rabbert then sought his father, Rabbchard, the revered Burrow Elder. Despite his son’s return, Rabbchard maintained the traditions of the Warren, ensuring Rabbert joined the meal queue like everyone else, a humble gesture that spoke volumes of their customs.

In the meantime, Rabbert requested Flickerfoot to fetch Lyria, Cetiri, and Illidan, inviting them to join the warm embrace of the Warren. As the night deepened, the campfire flickered, casting a gentle glow on the faces of our adventurers, their minds filled with thoughts of prophecies, ancient beings, and the adventures that lay ahead.

Rabbert’s Heartfelt Revelation

Upon their return to the Warren, the atmosphere took a turn towards the somber as Rabbert gathered his companions for a personal revelation. Under the dim glow of the Warren’s lanterns, he shared a burdensome secret. “In my quest for knowledge in Balygax, I stumbled upon an ancient and unknown magic, a force of time itself,” Rabbert began, his voice laced with a mix of wonder and regret. “While I harnessed its power, it exacted a heavy toll – it rapidly aged me.” His eyes, filled with a quiet acceptance, met each of his friends. “I fear I have but three months to live, but there may be answers, a sliver of hope, in the vast stretches of the Tal’Dash Desert.”

Guidance from Rabbchard and the Gift of Thornstriders

In the midst of this revelation, Rabbchard, Rabbert’s father, expressed his desire to assist, though he emphasized the importance of respecting nature’s ways. “There are paths laid out by nature, and sometimes, they lead us to answers unknown,” Rabbchard counseled, his words imbued with a deep reverence for the natural world. Though he was quick to offer aid, the hint of disappointment laced his words.

Stressing the importance of time, Rabbert asked if the group would be allowed Thornstriders, mystical creatures that bore the elegance of a horse, the agility of an antelope, and the spryness of a jackrabbit.

The conversation soon turned to the topic of Lethe’s Tears, a rare potion known to the Harengon. Rabbchard explained its significance and the key ingredient required – Sorrowbloom, a plant flourishing only in places marked by sorrow. “If you chance upon Sorrowbloom in your travels, know that it holds the power to ease the burdens of memory,” he explained. The group, considering their upcoming quest with the Gemgori, hoped to find this elusive herb, aiming to use it for their friend Derek’s sake.

Learning and Departure

As their time at the Warren drew to a close, the adventurers met with Flickerfoot, a friend of Rabbert’s, who taught them the nuances of riding Thornstriders. Each member was paired with a Thornstrider matching their size and temperament, forging new bonds with these extraordinary creatures.

In a quiet moment before their departure, Illidan engaged in a deep conversation with Rabbchard, learning about the Children of Melora. Rabbchard spoke of these minor gods as guardians of the night sky, each a constellation watching over the world. “Their lights guide us in darkness, their stories remind us of the eternal dance of the cosmos,” Rabbchard imparted, his gaze turning towards the starlit sky.

With new knowledge, companions, and resolve, the group set forth from the Warren, their hearts and minds set on the challenges and mysteries that awaited them in the vast expanse of their adventure.

Across The Plains

The journey of the adventurers across the Washed Plains was a tapestry of light-hearted moments and foreboding omens. Their trusted Thornstriders, each with its unique temperament, offered a brief respite from the gravity of their quest. Among them, one Thornstrider, whimsically inclined towards the life of a seahorse, persistently veered towards any hint of water, eliciting chuckles and playful admonitions from the group. Lyria, with a smile, gently guided the creature back to their path, murmuring, “The sea’s call is strong, but our destiny lies elsewhere.”

As they moved further, the plains began to reveal a more somber story. The vibrant hues of the savannah gradually dimmed, succumbing to a lifeless gray. The once lush grasses lay withered, a silent testament to an unseen corruption spreading its tendrils across the land. Illidan, his eyes reflecting the plains’ desolation, whispered, “This land mourns, its essence tainted by a darkness we must soon face.”

Mist and Blades

Drawing near to the Aurox camp, the group decided to leave their Thornstriders in a concealed location, proceeding on foot with a mix of caution and resolute determination. The sight that greeted them was one of ruin and desecration – an ancient camp now a stronghold for the corrupted Aurox. Rabbert, his eyes scanning the bleak horizon, advised in a low voice, “Be vigilant. These ruins hold more than just shadows.”

In preparation for the confrontation, Illidan tapped into the ancient magic of the skies, summoning a dense Fog Cloud that enveloped the watchtower. His voice, steady and imbued with the power of the elements, echoed, “Let the mist conceal our intent.” Simultaneously, Rabbert directed his Unseen Servant to ignite fires at strategic points, setting the watchtower ablaze.

The battle against the Aurox was a fierce test of their mettle. The first of the corrupted creatures, lured into their trap, charged with relentless fury. The adventurers met its assault with a fusion of steel and arcane force, undeterred even as the creature displayed a daunting resilience, rising repeatedly from the brink of defeat.

Amidst the clash, a moment of crisis unfolded as Cetiri fell victim to a crossbow bolt, her body pinned mercilessly against a tree. Time seemed to pause as Lyria dashed to her side, her actions swift and desperate. “Fight on, Cetiri. Your tale is far from over,” she urged, her hands working feverishly to free Cetiri from the bolt’s cruel grip.

As the Fog Cloud began to dissipate, revealing the chaos beneath the watchtower, a decisive moment arrived. Lyria, seizing the opportunity amidst the turmoil, lunged forward with the determination of a tempest, her rapier cutting through the air to deliver a fatal blow to the Aurox. The creature fell, its corrupted life extinguished by her decisive strike.

In the aftermath of battle, the group gathered, their hearts heavy yet unbroken. The fallen Aurox and the remnants of the watchtower stood as silent witnesses to their struggle. “Our journey presses onward, deeper into the heart of darkness,” Rabbert stated, his voice resolute. The group, bound by their shared ordeal, prepared to venture further, their resolve hardened by the challenges they had overcome and those that lay ahead.