Chapter 05:

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Session Number: 135
Date: Tuesday 22 May 2012
Venue: Skype
PCs & Players:

Arrian Rog1/Clr10 (Fergus) (kills: none)
Calico Drd11 (Yeran) (kills: none)
Lionel Rgr6/Wiz1/ArcA4 (Ash) (kills: none)
Rowaine Pal11 (Craig) (kills: none)
Troll Wiz11 (Densial) (kills: none)

XP Awarded: TBA

The party follow Kano through hilly terrain. In a small valley stands a ten foot tall stone statue of a humanoid figure. At its foot are two pale-skinned humanoids, somewhere between five and six feet tall, rags covering their waists and chests. They look like larger versions of Kano.

"Who are these people?" Rowaine asks.

"Oh," Kano says, "that's Hamuleila, my caregiver, and Maluson, a caregiver for someone else."

"Someone else?" Arrian says. "Who?"

"I don't know, it is a new person."

"A new person?"


Troll and Arrian notice that one of the figures is holding what appears to be a baby. Kano skips down the hill, waving and calling out their names. They approach. Their features suggest elven descent, particularly their tapered ears, but one would not call them elves. The statue, on the other hand, is certainly of an elf. Arrian does not recognise it as a religious figure. Troll thinks it is a sun elf.

Maluson carries the baby. Hamuleilin addresses the group. "Where did you come from?" Troll ignores the hail and and continues towards the statue.

"I am Arrian. I am from the orphanage of Kharag Monastery."

"You say a bunch of words that don't mean anything. How did you get here?"

"I'm not quite sure," Arrian says. "But what is this place?"

"This is home," Hamuleilin says. "This is where we are."

"Have you always lived here?"

"I live here, yes."

"Were you born here?"

"What is born?"

"Well, you see that baby…"

"Ah yes, I am born here all the time."

"Right," Arrian says. "How many times have you been born here?"

"I don't know, I don't keep track of that. That is left for the guy at the town, Shareonnalon."

"Where is the town? And where might we find Shareonnalon?"

"We call her Shari for short," Hamuleilin says. "She lives in the town she is, I guess, the leader of the people that have gone to live in the town. I don't live there. I tend to come out and do things by myself, you know, practice the art."

"Hamuleilin," Arrian says, "Take me to your leader."

"Can you take us out of here? Can we go and meet everyone else?"

"What do you mean?" Rowaine says. "You can fly, you can go pretty much wherever you like, right?"

"Oh yes," Hamuleilin says, "but only in here."

"In here?"

"On this island, in this area."

"Island? We are on an island?"

"Yes, we are on a floating island."

"And you cannot go off it?" Arrian asks.

"Well, we can, but I don't know how far everything is."

"You can fly!" Rowaine says. "Or at least your friend here can."

"Oh yes, yes, we can all fly," Hamuleilin says, starting to levitate, "but there is nothing out there beyond the island. We cannot find anything. We are stuck here."

"What you say doesn't make sense," Troll says. "You say there is a village and a woman in it who takes count of how many times you are born. When we say 'shall we go there?' you say 'can you take us out of here?' I'm not really sure that I understand. It seems you have more ability in that area than us. I'm not really sure that you have explained yourself."

"I can take you to the town," Hamuleilin says. "I think Shari would be better to describe what is going on here. I assume you knew because you got here."

"I think Shari sounds like a great person for us to talk to," Arrian says. "Can you take us to her?"

"Maybe we ought to have a look at this statue first," Rowaine suggests.

Hamuleilin turns towards the statue. "From what we know, this statue is of the people that took us here."

"Can you explain that a little more?" Troll asks. Everyone approaches the statue. "He's a good looking fella," Troll says.

"From what I have been taught," Hamuleilin continues, "we were put here by the people who put up the statue. The statue is a likeness of the people."

"This is a legend of some kind?" Troll asks.


"Are there other statues like this around this island?" Rowaine asks.


"What other stories do you have about this statue?"

"I don't know much. I think Shari would be better to explain it."

"Do you know anything else?" Troll asks.

"From what I have heard, we were taken from a world where there were other beings, other creatures, who didn't have our abilities, so we were sent here, and we are stuck here until such time that we can go back."

"Is there some sort of… do you know the word 'prophecy'?" Rowaine asks.


"Is the returning to the world you came from foretold in some way?"

"No, the story is just passed down by the oldest person at the time."

"Do you have any names of these people? The people who brought you here?"

"I know nothing of that."

"So whenever you talk about them, you just say 'the people'?"

"We call them the creators. There is us, the creators, and everyone else."

"We should talk to this other person," Troll says to the others. He turns to Hamuleilin. "How many of you are there?"

"Fourteen, fifteen left in the town," Hamuleilin replies. "There are a group of us that don't live in the town. And there are more that we haven't seen in a very long time."

"Is there always the same number of people here?"

"Yes…. except those that choose to leave."

"What do you mean by 'choose to leave'?"

"Well, they go to some other part of the island."

"But the number stays the same?"

"Yes… there is never any more of us, how would we make more?"

"You mentioned something about being reborn, and that there was a baby here," Rowaine says. "Did this baby used to be something else?"

"Oh yes, that is Taa, that used to be someone else. I'm not too sure who, I didn't meet him. I don't know if this happens to you, but we grow old and then we die and then a baby is reborn from our death."

"When that baby grows up," Troll says, "does it have the same memories as the person who died?"

"No, we only get our memories back when we get old enough. And then shortly after, we die."

"How many of you are there in that state?" Rowaine asks. "Where you are old enough to know your previous lives, but not dead?"

"One at most, they never overlap."

"Only one? Would that be this 'Shari'?"

"Oh no," Hamuleilin says. "Shari hasn't got her memory back yet. We assume it is probably one of those who have left."

"So what happens when you die?" Rowaine asks. "How does someone who dies come back as a baby?"

"'Die' is just a word we use. We fall over and we can't do anything any more. But then, from that, we have a baby that is born of us."

"Have people witnessed this?"


"So what happens? Presumably you start off quite large, and then you become quite small..?"

"Yes, the body folds in into the baby."

"How regularly does this happen?" Hamuleilin looks puzzled by Rowaine's question. She tries to clarify. "When was the last one? How long has this baby been around? When did this baby die and be reborn?"

Hamuleilin appears overwhelmed. "What do you mean by how long?"

Arrian signals for Troll to Detect Magic. The ground, grass and statue radiate magic from the abjuration, conjuration and evocation schools. The figures themselves have an aura that consists of the same three schools, plus evocation and transmutation. Troll also believes that their aura is somehow alchemical in nature.

"So Troll," Arrian says, "what sort of magic would you expect to see on constructs?"

"Not that," Troll replies. "I'm not certain I would see anything."

Rowaine does not sense any evil from any of the figures. Now she thinks about it, they are surprisingly similar in appearance. Were it not for their dress and varying sizes, they would be nigh on impossible to tell apart. There is nothing even to distinguish male from female.

Arrian gazes at the statue. He thinks it bears the same phenotype markers as a sun elf, but he is not convinced that it looks appreciably like Troll.

Only a Roulae would make a statue of themselves that is ten feet tall :-)

At their request, Hamuleilin leads the party to the town. They start climbing a hill.

"Hamuleilin," Rowaine says, "do you get tired? Do you rest?"

"What is that? We don't need to stop, we just keep doing stuff."

"You don't eat?"

"No… What's eating?"

"Putting things in your mouth, chewing it and then swallowing it," Arrian clarifies.

"Do you have teeth?" Rowaine asks. Hamuleilin half-opens his mouth; he does indeed have teeth. "What are they for?" Rowaine asks.

"I don't know," Hamuleilin replies.

The party continue to follow the strangers over a number of hills, heading towards a mountain surrounded by copses of trees. After something like two hours - it is difficult to tell - they enter a clearing at the base of the mountain. There are around a score or so primitive buildings, small earthen huts of varying sizes. Some of the larger ones have reinforcing branches embedded in the walls, others are supported by living trees.

"This is your town?" Rowaine asks.

"This is their town," Hamuleilin corrects. "I don't come here."

Hamuleilin leads the group on a path between some of the outlying huts. "We have visitors!" he announces loudly. People come out of the huts, sighing and gasping as they tentatively approach. All look similar to the others.

One of the townsfolk walks up to the visitors. "I am Shari."

"Hello Shari, I am Rowaine. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Rowaine. I am surprised to see different people, how did you get here?"

"It is a long story, but I guess you do not understand the word 'long'."

"Yes we do, that tree over there is long."

"If you were to cut that tree into very small pieces," Rowaine says, "the size of your fingernail, that would take a long time."

Shareonnalon has a puzzled expression on her face. "Do you know where you are, or what this place is?"

"Not really, no…" Rowaine answers. "Do you?"

"Somewhat, yes."

"What can you tell us of it?"

"I think it is best we trade information, but I will start. We are a group of people who have been left here by the creators. That is what everyone calls them; I know them to be called 'Sun Elves'."

"You know this by stories passed down by word of mouth, something like that?"

"The last person to have regained their memory used to be called Tamurellon. He is reborn as baby Taa. He told me this:

To be continued in person, because Skype is just too damn annoyingly unreliable!

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