“Looks like I ain’t the only one who likes the dark,” a voice nearby says aloud, Jack.
You see two pale green eyes floating in the shadows. A grin follows.
This figure makes no move for a weapon. “I ain’t a gamblin’ man,” he says, drawing his dark cowl back. Thick plump scars run down the side of his face, brow to collarbone. His neck has been stitched together, or is the mark tattooed? Under dim lighting you aren't sure.
Omaha reaches for his drink. He sips to shield his lips, muffle his words. "The cargo is delicate," you, Herman, hear him say. He finishes the pull, then adds, "Chult is a strange place, traveler. Some things here are familiar. Some things here are not. We've been shipping artifacts back home for study. This is the last shipment. And the most vital." His tone hardens. His eyes shift, as though a dark wave passes over them, a wave that is both curious and haunted by the truth of the cultural items he knows little about. No one knows, or he would have had them properly appraised.
"My ship—not my personal ship—she flies colors for the Fist. She's light on the waves and swift on a breeze. The Resplendant. She's docked in the harbor, waiting for my signal to leave for Baldur's Gate."
For s stone, it's oddly shaped, and by that I mean, the stone has been purposely shaped to have unexpected features. There are no other markings on the stone, yet in your hand, Herman, the stone feels unnaturally warm. And for some inexplicable reason, you eardrums tingle.
You've heard of a sending stone before, Herman. But you do not recall precisely how it works. It was a vital resource used by allies in the Lord's Alliance during the war against the dragon queen Tiamat, years ago. Companies could communicate with each other over great distances without having to risk a messenger and the information said courier knew.
Omaha lifts an eyebrow. "Sure is friend. Don''t lose it. I have the other."
He explains that two sending stones are paired, Herman. Attunement is easy to achieve. Hold the stone. Speak to it. Your voice carries across space and time to its mate. There are no charges, and no saves to be made. But be careful. Like the sound of a pin drop in a quiet room, the distant voice projected by the stone can be heard by anyone within earshot. Acoustics matter.
Brit smiles at all the praise... then shakes the bag again. His smile turns into a grimace as he looks pointedly from the audience to the bag. Eventually he just scowls at them, rolling his eyes as he gets back on stage. He's miffed that no one thought to give him so much as a copper piece, but he'll play anyway.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As you take up another song, Brit, the crowd settles in. A few toss coins into that bag of yours. The glint of copper and the shine of silver catch your eye. It wasn't personal.
The warrior in chain tips you a gold coin. "Regale us, bard!"
You have managed to collect 4 copper pieces and 6 silver pieces for the entertainment.
The crimson-skinned tiefling named Leetil tugs at your clothing, Madalyn. She is small. At three-feet in height, she is the third smallest of the bunch. The boys in the group tease her endlessly. They call her Little Devil. She doesn’t mind. She can see in the dark, whereas they cannot. And she torments them when they least expect it. You notice she pays particular attention to the Zaduni and Tchankla (SHOON-kuh-la). The reason behind their bond eludes you.
“I liked your story Ma’dyn,” Leetil says. “It wasn’t scary at all.” She tucks her leather batwings as she says this. The sails are strong enough to lift her, but fail to carry her on the wind. Later, perhaps, when she has matured into a vibrant young woman might her devilish wings obey her heart’s desires.
“You are wise to keep a sharp look out, traveler,” Zhorvakk says to you Sybil. His voice is deep, like a pounding waterfall. “Now that the Curse has ended, evil no longer fears death. Not that they ever truly did.” He stops midstride. His half-orc eyes twinkle. “They welcome it. Watch your back… your sides… your nose. Without the threat of damnation to chill their passions, the cultists who huddle and plot in the shadows will resume their devotion to insanity.”
"Well, I didn't want the last story I tell you all to be a scary one. I want to leave positive thoughts if I can. Now then," Madalyn says while standing up, "I think it's about time that we have our final group hug, wouldn't you all agree?" She prepares herself to be crushed by all the children, which ends up happening as they don't want to her to leave.
Lucky for Madalyn, Polenth manages to get all the kids off before Madalyn is crushed to death. "Geez, we're going to miss you Madalyn. Hope you live a happy life, preferable without you getting cruched," She says while giving the rest of the kids a quick glance.
"Well, with how much you all want me to stay, I suppose I'll just have to come back here at some point." Madalyn says with a teasing shrug. "But until I do, you all treat each other like family, okay? Now then, Baaba. I said that I'd bring you to the guards to see if they would train you didn't I? Do you want to hold my hand as we head over there?"
OOC: If Baaba's answer is yes, she'll also wrap her tail around their hands.
Of course the children rush you. Why wouldn't they!
You have been the only adult in recent memory who has taken the time to acknowledge them, look after them—you have given them the greatest gift any adult can bestow upon a forgotten child, Madalyn. You remember them.
As the children embrace your leg, your other leg, your arm, your waist, the weight of them begins to press you. They are united in their love for you. Except, Daumu. The firbolg is simply too big to even get close enough to give you one last hug. It's okay. The smile on his child-like face is all the reward you need, that is, until his eyes change. He slowly raises his arm and points. "Mah-du-lin," he says with fear in his eyes. He's pointing behind you.
“Looks like I ain’t the only one who likes the dark,” a voice nearby says aloud, Jack.
You see two pale green eyes floating in the shadows. A grin follows.
This figure makes no move for a weapon. “I ain’t a gamblin’ man,” he says, drawing his dark cowl back. Thick plump scars run down the side of his face, brow to collarbone. His neck has been stitched together, or is the mark tattooed? Under dim lighting you aren't sure.
Herman
in the end Herman considers 200 go a fair price and is interested to see all these civilized folks of Baldur’s Gate, so he says to the soldier:
”what’s the cargo, if I can ask? And do you know the captain of the ship”?
,
Omaha reaches for his drink. He sips to shield his lips, muffle his words. "The cargo is delicate," you, Herman, hear him say. He finishes the pull, then adds, "Chult is a strange place, traveler. Some things here are familiar. Some things here are not. We've been shipping artifacts back home for study. This is the last shipment. And the most vital." His tone hardens. His eyes shift, as though a dark wave passes over them, a wave that is both curious and haunted by the truth of the cultural items he knows little about. No one knows, or he would have had them properly appraised.
"My ship—not my personal ship—she flies colors for the Fist. She's light on the waves and swift on a breeze. The Resplendant. She's docked in the harbor, waiting for my signal to leave for Baldur's Gate."
HERMAN AT THE INN
Herman thinks:
"Well in the end it seems interesting and well paid...and I am actually fed up of this jungle bungle..."
So in the end he confirms:
"The job seems interesting, sir, count me in"
,
"Welcome aboard," Omaha says to you, Herman. He hands you a small rough stone.
Make a Perception roll.
Perception 8
,
For s stone, it's oddly shaped, and by that I mean, the stone has been purposely shaped to have unexpected features. There are no other markings on the stone, yet in your hand, Herman, the stone feels unnaturally warm. And for some inexplicable reason, you eardrums tingle.
Make another Perception or History roll.
Perception 6
,
You've heard of a sending stone before, Herman. But you do not recall precisely how it works. It was a vital resource used by allies in the Lord's Alliance during the war against the dragon queen Tiamat, years ago. Companies could communicate with each other over great distances without having to risk a messenger and the information said courier knew.
There are, reportedly, hundreds of such stones.
AT THE INN
Herman looks at the stone towards the fireplace and then back to the soldier:
"This is a sending stone, isn't it? it is to be in touch with you, right?"
,
Omaha lifts an eyebrow. "Sure is friend. Don''t lose it. I have the other."
He explains that two sending stones are paired, Herman. Attunement is easy to achieve. Hold the stone. Speak to it. Your voice carries across space and time to its mate. There are no charges, and no saves to be made. But be careful. Like the sound of a pin drop in a quiet room, the distant voice projected by the stone can be heard by anyone within earshot. Acoustics matter.
Herman opens his eyes wide
"Incredible, thanks!"
and then, more earthly "So, what time must we show up and when?"
,
Brit smiles at all the praise... then shakes the bag again. His smile turns into a grimace as he looks pointedly from the audience to the bag. Eventually he just scowls at them, rolling his eyes as he gets back on stage. He's miffed that no one thought to give him so much as a copper piece, but he'll play anyway.
Performance Check: 8
"You may have heard of one like me..."
I'm an artist. You can find my work, and my sporadic warbling, here on my tumblr.
As you take up another song, Brit, the crowd settles in. A few toss coins into that bag of yours. The glint of copper and the shine of silver catch your eye. It wasn't personal.
The warrior in chain tips you a gold coin. "Regale us, bard!"
You have managed to collect 4 copper pieces and 6 silver pieces for the entertainment.
The crimson-skinned tiefling named Leetil tugs at your clothing, Madalyn. She is small. At three-feet in height, she is the third smallest of the bunch. The boys in the group tease her endlessly. They call her Little Devil. She doesn’t mind. She can see in the dark, whereas they cannot. And she torments them when they least expect it. You notice she pays particular attention to the Zaduni and Tchankla (SHOON-kuh-la). The reason behind their bond eludes you.
“I liked your story Ma’dyn,” Leetil says. “It wasn’t scary at all.” She tucks her leather batwings as she says this. The sails are strong enough to lift her, but fail to carry her on the wind. Later, perhaps, when she has matured into a vibrant young woman might her devilish wings obey her heart’s desires.
“You are wise to keep a sharp look out, traveler,” Zhorvakk says to you Sybil. His voice is deep, like a pounding waterfall. “Now that the Curse has ended, evil no longer fears death. Not that they ever truly did.” He stops midstride. His half-orc eyes twinkle. “They welcome it. Watch your back… your sides… your nose. Without the threat of damnation to chill their passions, the cultists who huddle and plot in the shadows will resume their devotion to insanity.”
Make a Perception roll.
"Well, I didn't want the last story I tell you all to be a scary one. I want to leave positive thoughts if I can. Now then," Madalyn says while standing up, "I think it's about time that we have our final group hug, wouldn't you all agree?" She prepares herself to be crushed by all the children, which ends up happening as they don't want to her to leave.
Lucky for Madalyn, Polenth manages to get all the kids off before Madalyn is crushed to death. "Geez, we're going to miss you Madalyn. Hope you live a happy life, preferable without you getting cruched," She says while giving the rest of the kids a quick glance.
"Well, with how much you all want me to stay, I suppose I'll just have to come back here at some point." Madalyn says with a teasing shrug. "But until I do, you all treat each other like family, okay? Now then, Baaba. I said that I'd bring you to the guards to see if they would train you didn't I? Do you want to hold my hand as we head over there?"
OOC: If Baaba's answer is yes, she'll also wrap her tail around their hands.
Of course the children rush you. Why wouldn't they!
You have been the only adult in recent memory who has taken the time to acknowledge them, look after them—you have given them the greatest gift any adult can bestow upon a forgotten child, Madalyn. You remember them.
As the children embrace your leg, your other leg, your arm, your waist, the weight of them begins to press you. They are united in their love for you. Except, Daumu. The firbolg is simply too big to even get close enough to give you one last hug. It's okay. The smile on his child-like face is all the reward you need, that is, until his eyes change. He slowly raises his arm and points. "Mah-du-lin," he says with fear in his eyes. He's pointing behind you.
A cold chill runs down Sybil's spine as she hears him say this and she warily looks around her surroundings as she walks with him.
Perception: 18
Madalyn turns around, ready to grab her weapons if necessary.