Soft notes of a lute playing in the distance greets you as you wake, accompanied by bird song as the gradually warming air swirls through the villa. It's been a few weeks of leave, and waking up to something other than the clank of weapons, snorting of horses, and the flatulence of your fellow Foundry members has been a bit of a reprieve. Having wrapped up the last contract, your unit, The Forge, had been given leave to spend some time at one of the properties that the mercenary Company owned, a rolling country villa striped with vineyards that was overseen by a retired Company member.
It is he who is playing the lute as you emerge from your rooms and find your way to the table, a breakfast spread waiting your pleasure. The room is open and inviting, sandstone floor and walls, and old, heavy wooden furniture, well padded for comfort. Servants bustle about, bringing more food to the table. Your host, Tjerza "Quickfingers" Tarsien sits in his wheeled chair, morning sun dappling his dark complexion and setting his white halo of hair aglow as he plucks a lively tune. He looks up as you enter, a grin splitting his creased and weathered face as he waves a hand at the table.
"Be seated, my friends! Storm, a message has come. I fear this may be your last day staying in my little slice of the world, though I've not opened it, of course."
He gestures to a sealed letter at Storm's accustomed spot at the table, before stowing his lute in a case built into his chair. Rolling himself to the table, he snags a jug of watered wine and pours a glass, pulling some bread, cheese and cured meats onto his plate.
"If it should be your last, I may have a present for you... well, it's also a present for me, since you'd be helping me deal with a bit of a problem, but I know more than a few of you have been itching to get back to doing something more than listening to an old man's stories of his glory days while eating and drinking as much as you like. A bit of action, as it were, before you get back to whatever the Company asks of you next."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
A small gnome, grey skin and light grey hair comes out of his room, a tiny mechanical owl on his shoulder, a steel panther at his side. He looks a bit weak and old, if you would think of him as a human, although with a surprisingly supple walk.
"Well good morning to you all, no worries, grandpa is awake and alive after last night. My hangover isn't even to bad after last nights wine. How is everyone?"
Impression of my sidekicks, where the owl has a red heart (Spinel) glowing through his body.
"grandpa" Salkur, deep gnome artificer/sorcerer: Spiderwrangler's Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Artificer/cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volcano Genasi Artificer: Champions of the Citadel
Bryn sits down with a bit of customary swagger and selects some food for his plate, along with whatever drink is available (I'd love to think coffee or its equivalent, but whatever). "Ha! Well can't stay here getting soft now can we? Time to go impress the local lads and ladies I'd say."
The heavily-muscled form of the squad's commander walks into the dining area, his brilliant blue eyes intense as he glances around. The greatsword across his back is currently unmatched by the customary maule he normaly wears with it, the two normally making an x behind his back. He wears his chain mail, unwilling to go without that, even in this place of supposed safety and ease. The brilliant blue hair nad skin are common-place now, as many of the company has been affected by that part of their gift by now.
Making his way to the table he gives Quickfingers a nod of greeting, then his eyes narrow on the sealed letter at his place at the table. As he moves to take a seat he listens to Quickfingers suggestion of something to liven up their last day. "We will have to see what the letter says before i agree to whatever you have in mind." Ethan says, his voice calm and confident. he then unseals the letter and glances inside.
Randy, a charismatic half-elf, woke up with the first light and was already having breakfast. In the dark corner of the room, it could be easy to miss him, as Randy is the quiet type, with dark green clothes with a leave’s pattern. Randy, or “Shamy” as they call him here, seems pretty much average in height, weight, strength, and do not talk often but when he does he always praise mother Nature and how someone needs to preserve the balance in the world.
“Such a shame if we have to leave. This place feels really connected to the Nature”
"Indeed, my boy, indeed." Quickfingers has grown accustomed to seeing all these blue folks around, he barely bats an eye at this point. Some of the servants are less at ease among this crew, but do their jobs quickly and competently.
Breaking the seal, Storm scans the note, translating hidden instructions of the seemingly innocuous note.
Greetings nephew!
I hope you are in good health, we had a Storm blow through recently, it knocked down a few trees, but I was able to sell them as part of a new contract one of my business associates up north. We could certainly use your help, if you know any strong folks you can rely on. I hope to see you soon, I'll be watching for your arrival.
Your favorite Uncle.
Greetings nephew!
I hope you are in good health, we had a Stormblow through recently, it knocked down a few trees, but I was able to sell them as part of a new contract one of my business associatesdown south. We could certainly use your help, if you know any strong folks you can rely on. I hope to see you soon, I'll be watching for your arrival.
Your favorite Uncle.
There are four small, seemingly accidental blotches of ink on the parchment, one with an elongated point as if a dry quill had been dragged through it before it dried. You know that the pointed one is the coordinate of interest, and the point is oriented south given the cardinal direction in the note, the other blotches referencing pre-determined cities on a map, one the city the Company was founded in, the others the sites of their last two contracts. By measuring the distance between the blotches and consulting a map, you will be able to triangulate your destination, which is actually to the north.
Verne wanders through the front door just as his commander is reading the note. Although he's been a part of the company for a little while now, his old habits of tending to the livestock have not left him. He was up before dawn and had headed outside. With the sun breaking the horizon he knew the others would be waking so he had started the walk back to the villa.
Although bright blue, as nearly half of them were, he appeared to be a fairly average halfling. Topknot. Check. Lively, albeit short, gait. Check. Absolutely starving. Always. Yep, an average halfling. He walks straight to the table and loads a huge serve onto a plate. With his mouth full he speaks. "So, where are we headed now? What'd I miss? Don't tell me, we're off to change colour again?" Food fell from his mouth but didn't escape for too long as he shovelled it back into his face.
Ayen follows the squad's commander into the room and sits in his own appointed place - next to the commander. Ayen is a strange one, for sure. For starters, he looks like an Elf but is only 4 ft. tall. Secondly, he wears his uniform and rank insignia*. The same uniform anyone else in the mercenary group would have long forgotten the existence of, had they not seen him every morning. Out of politeness, however, he doesn't wear his armour nor his shield. All he has with him are a horn none of you ever hear him blowing and a wooden staff - the same one Ayen's subordinates have learnt to stay wary of.
Looking at the food in front of him, Ayen loads a little on the plate and begins to eat. Looking at him right now, you could think he's very polite, peaceful perhaps. His behaviour doesn't show what you'd expect to find in one who almost tortures his squad in training every single day. From his expression, it looks like he's planning today's training as they eat.
"Just in case it is a message of departure," he says while Storm is reading, looking at the three of his squad already awake - clearly they were trained well to sleep less than the others. "Don't think it means you get to slack. Until we'll get to our destination, training continues as normal. I'll choose one of my travelling games." You already know, however, that it is not an actual game. In fact, games were actually the worst. They always had winners and losers, or only losers, and the losers would receive some punishment. Cleaning duty, for example.
"Looks like we leave tomorrow morning." Ethan says as he places the letter in his belt pouch. "Your training games might need to wait a bit today though, our host has something he wishes us to help him with, something that should take us only a bit of time, but might be training enough for the soldiers."
He turns to Quickfingers. "What aid do you wish of us?" He asks in his same calm and confident tone.
Blumeria *Bolt* Sirgula has been with the unit for a good while. She knows her way around and has been at the estate a few times. Even though most of the crew has been 'painted' in blue, she was born in blue. So her nickname Bluey quickly changed to Bolt - addressing her impressive lightning breath weapon. As a blue dragonborn she stands taller than most and always makes an impressive entry.
Curious about a new deployment she steps closely to Ethan and reads the letter over his shoulder.
"Cutting wood". She huffs. "That'll be the day I hang up my greataxe! You better tell me, there is a secret message in there!"
She then walks over to the liquor cabinet and pours herself two fingers of a strong smelling, golden smooth, alcoholic drink - which she enjoys with closed eyes.
Kinras is a massive, bright blue warforged with a mace at his hip and a shield on his back. His eyes seem to crackle with some sort of weird energy, and they seem to be mismatched—one is blue, and one is yellow. He towers over most of the rest of the group, but moves with an oddly careful gait, as if he was trying very hard not to damage anything. He stands off to the side with his arms crossed, a rather intimidating effect completely spoiled by his bright blue metallic sheen.
Currently playing in: Quest for the Shunned City, Coliseum of Conquest, DragonDenn's Dragonlords, Shipwrecked on Fugue, Tomb of Annihilation, Razor's Lost Mine of Phandelver, The Lost Kenku & One Grung Above
Currently DMing: Princes of the Apocalypse, Out of the Abyss, Coliseum of Conquest—The Arena (Sometimes)
Keller, perched on the corner of a table, listens to the back-and-forth quietly. His hands race across the parts of one crossbow, pitch-black, mostly disassembled in front of him. Breakfast is to the side, partially eaten. He finishes polishing the burr out of a crank and oils it up before quickly reassembling it. When Ayen begins going off about his traveling games, a very tiny corner of his mouth quirks into a quarter-smile, and he grunts skeptically.
He's a tall man, with broad enough shoulders but not too thickly muscled. Bald head, dark brown skin, and a detailed tattoo of a bright blue lilac across one forearm. As he finishes his work on the crossbow, the lilac image begins blowing wildly across the surface of his skin, and slowly dissipates up his arm, under his shirt, and forms into abstract black marks, almost geometric stripes. They settle on his arm and extend up the back of his neck and around one side of his head. This pattern is familiar to those who have served with him over the years. He's ready for work, not games. No more leisure time, as clarifying and relaxing as it may have been.
He looks over at Storm's hands, checking the translation of the note in the peculiar cant used by the Foundry.
"Good to be back in the forge. Been too long,"he says, in a deep, resonant voice that is still barely above a whisper. "Quickfingers, stories are important. All we have in the end. No one is tired of them. What present?"
Quickfingers grins at the interest, pulling forth his lute and strumming as he speaks, his practiced cadence weaving his tale.
"For months now, a particularly vile merchant has been trying to get me under his thumb. Of course, he doesn't know that my little slice of paradise here is backed by The Foundry, he just sees a old cripple surrounded by land he needs others to work. I'll admit I've been leading him on, hoping for a misstep. I may have done too well on that front, an informant in his organization reports that he's hired on some thugs... just some regional muscle, no one professional. I think he means to oust me by whatever means it takes, and I'd dearly like to beat him at his own game. Most recent 'offer' is more of an ultimatum, I think he'll bring his goons to make sure it goes through one way or the other. My counter offer will be to cave to his demands, and tell him I'll sell... When he gets here and talks break down, you all will be here to protect company assets. Whatever they have on them is yours once the negotiations are completed, and my gratitude of course. Which, I'd be sure to convey to the Foreman. What say you, a bit of sport to get the blood moving, followed by a celebratory feast before you hit the road once more?"
"Ayen? Keller? Any issues with you on this?" Ethan asks with a glance to his captains. His brilliant blue eyes scan the other faces of his crew, his family, and he smiles to them. "I think this should be a nice workout, if nothing else." He turns to their host. "You do know who we are though, and what we do... Might be some caladeral damage once things get rolling, and it won't be something we can control."b
"Of course, of course. I'll send the staff up to the caverns with your horses. Might be a few of you could pass as servers... rest could hide in waiting? Whatever you deem best, of course, I'm too far removed from the day to day to be able to dictate tactics. As much as you can limit damage to the villa and the grapes, the better, but if we eliminate Vrin's position, I'll be well set to make up any losses we otherwise incur."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Atem "Meta" Rakyevra walks into the meeting room with his hands in his pockets. The young human was no more than in his early twenties, long-legged, long-armed and lean, in the transition between adolescence and adulthood, his height stretched, his muscles not yet keeping up. He wore a grey uniform, his long white hair hanging casually over his shoulders, his trousers tucked into his boots, his narrow waist and narrow legs like a sheathed sabre. He lifted his eyelids and casually pulled back his chair, riding backwards on the seat, his arm leaning on the back of the chair to support his chin. "Yo Boss," he greeted Keller and Quickfingers with two fingers extended, then resumed to listen absentmindedly to the briefing.
Keller's quarter-grin widens into a generous half-grin. It looks weird on him. "Nothing wrong with a bit of fun. When?"
His eyes dart to his squadmates, eyebrows rising microscopically each time in silent query, or confirmation.
Once there was quorum, he grabbed his crossbow and was on his feet, looking around for the perches he'd already marked inside this room, outside on the rooftops, in the trees next to each building. Such old habit that he did it without thinking. He'd be ready with a good place to hide out and mark distances for targeting, no matter where Quickfingers wanted to set up.
Salkur, seeing that Ayen is a bit pre-occupied, grins as well.
"Finally some real action again, and no training; of course we are ready Storm. Although, could I have some coffee to keep my little hangover at bay? I will at least send red to look out for any company coming this way; he'll fly back as soon as he sees them so we have an extra early warning."
I command red, the mechanical owl, to go up the road towards the town to stay there as a look-out.
OOC: Can red speak with me? or should I have other methods for communicating; like in this case asking for number of tugs and he can e.g. jump that many times on my shoulder.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"grandpa" Salkur, deep gnome artificer/sorcerer: Spiderwrangler's Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Artificer/cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volcano Genasi Artificer: Champions of the Citadel
Soft notes of a lute playing in the distance greets you as you wake, accompanied by bird song as the gradually warming air swirls through the villa. It's been a few weeks of leave, and waking up to something other than the clank of weapons, snorting of horses, and the flatulence of your fellow Foundry members has been a bit of a reprieve. Having wrapped up the last contract, your unit, The Forge, had been given leave to spend some time at one of the properties that the mercenary Company owned, a rolling country villa striped with vineyards that was overseen by a retired Company member.
It is he who is playing the lute as you emerge from your rooms and find your way to the table, a breakfast spread waiting your pleasure. The room is open and inviting, sandstone floor and walls, and old, heavy wooden furniture, well padded for comfort. Servants bustle about, bringing more food to the table. Your host, Tjerza "Quickfingers" Tarsien sits in his wheeled chair, morning sun dappling his dark complexion and setting his white halo of hair aglow as he plucks a lively tune. He looks up as you enter, a grin splitting his creased and weathered face as he waves a hand at the table.
"Be seated, my friends! Storm, a message has come. I fear this may be your last day staying in my little slice of the world, though I've not opened it, of course."
He gestures to a sealed letter at Storm's accustomed spot at the table, before stowing his lute in a case built into his chair. Rolling himself to the table, he snags a jug of watered wine and pours a glass, pulling some bread, cheese and cured meats onto his plate.
"If it should be your last, I may have a present for you... well, it's also a present for me, since you'd be helping me deal with a bit of a problem, but I know more than a few of you have been itching to get back to doing something more than listening to an old man's stories of his glory days while eating and drinking as much as you like. A bit of action, as it were, before you get back to whatever the Company asks of you next."
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
A small gnome, grey skin and light grey hair comes out of his room, a tiny mechanical owl on his shoulder, a steel panther at his side. He looks a bit weak and old, if you would think of him as a human, although with a surprisingly supple walk.
"Well good morning to you all, no worries, grandpa is awake and alive after last night. My hangover isn't even to bad after last nights wine. How is everyone?"
Impression of my sidekicks, where the owl has a red heart (Spinel) glowing through his body.
"grandpa" Salkur, deep gnome artificer/sorcerer: Spiderwrangler's Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Artificer/cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volcano Genasi Artificer: Champions of the Citadel
Bryn sits down with a bit of customary swagger and selects some food for his plate, along with whatever drink is available (I'd love to think coffee or its equivalent, but whatever). "Ha! Well can't stay here getting soft now can we? Time to go impress the local lads and ladies I'd say."
A servant arrives at Bryn's elbow with steaming hot, dark bitter liquid, his usual with the first meal of the day.
There is a sizable town within a hour's ride that many of you have likely spent some amount of time at during your stay here.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
The heavily-muscled form of the squad's commander walks into the dining area, his brilliant blue eyes intense as he glances around. The greatsword across his back is currently unmatched by the customary maule he normaly wears with it, the two normally making an x behind his back. He wears his chain mail, unwilling to go without that, even in this place of supposed safety and ease. The brilliant blue hair nad skin are common-place now, as many of the company has been affected by that part of their gift by now.
Making his way to the table he gives Quickfingers a nod of greeting, then his eyes narrow on the sealed letter at his place at the table. As he moves to take a seat he listens to Quickfingers suggestion of something to liven up their last day. "We will have to see what the letter says before i agree to whatever you have in mind." Ethan says, his voice calm and confident. he then unseals the letter and glances inside.
Randy, a charismatic half-elf, woke up with the first light and was already having breakfast. In the dark corner of the room, it could be easy to miss him, as Randy is the quiet type, with dark green clothes with a leave’s pattern. Randy, or “Shamy” as they call him here, seems pretty much average in height, weight, strength, and do not talk often but when he does he always praise mother Nature and how someone needs to preserve the balance in the world.
“Such a shame if we have to leave. This place feels really connected to the Nature”
Currently Playing: Regdus Ironfist (Greyhawk) Lvl 1 Storm Sorcerer ; Goraseth Drerjoxian (Icespeak) Lvl 3 Paladin Oath of Glory; Lerak (The Wild Beyond the Witchlight) Lvl 3 Barbarian Wild Magic
In Pause: Grimnir " Shadow-Feet", Lv 11 Owner of "The Basilisk & the Monk" (OotA) - Kurma Kappa, Lv 8 Priest of Oghma (ToA)
Currently DM'ing: Princes of Apocalypse >> Tomb of Annihilation
"Indeed, my boy, indeed." Quickfingers has grown accustomed to seeing all these blue folks around, he barely bats an eye at this point. Some of the servants are less at ease among this crew, but do their jobs quickly and competently.
Breaking the seal, Storm scans the note, translating hidden instructions of the seemingly innocuous note.
Greetings nephew!
I hope you are in good health, we had a Storm blow through recently, it knocked down a few trees, but I was able to sell them as part of a new contract one of my business associates down south. We could certainly use your help, if you know any strong folks you can rely on. I hope to see you soon, I'll be watching for your arrival.
Your favorite Uncle.
There are four small, seemingly accidental blotches of ink on the parchment, one with an elongated point as if a dry quill had been dragged through it before it dried. You know that the pointed one is the coordinate of interest, and the point is oriented south given the cardinal direction in the note, the other blotches referencing pre-determined cities on a map, one the city the Company was founded in, the others the sites of their last two contracts. By measuring the distance between the blotches and consulting a map, you will be able to triangulate your destination, which is actually to the north.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Verne wanders through the front door just as his commander is reading the note. Although he's been a part of the company for a little while now, his old habits of tending to the livestock have not left him. He was up before dawn and had headed outside. With the sun breaking the horizon he knew the others would be waking so he had started the walk back to the villa.
Although bright blue, as nearly half of them were, he appeared to be a fairly average halfling. Topknot. Check. Lively, albeit short, gait. Check. Absolutely starving. Always. Yep, an average halfling. He walks straight to the table and loads a huge serve onto a plate. With his mouth full he speaks. "So, where are we headed now? What'd I miss? Don't tell me, we're off to change colour again?" Food fell from his mouth but didn't escape for too long as he shovelled it back into his face.
Ayen follows the squad's commander into the room and sits in his own appointed place - next to the commander.
Ayen is a strange one, for sure. For starters, he looks like an Elf but is only 4 ft. tall. Secondly, he wears his uniform and rank insignia*. The same uniform anyone else in the mercenary group would have long forgotten the existence of, had they not seen him every morning. Out of politeness, however, he doesn't wear his armour nor his shield. All he has with him are a horn none of you ever hear him blowing and a wooden staff - the same one Ayen's subordinates have learnt to stay wary of.
Looking at the food in front of him, Ayen loads a little on the plate and begins to eat. Looking at him right now, you could think he's very polite, peaceful perhaps. His behaviour doesn't show what you'd expect to find in one who almost tortures his squad in training every single day. From his expression, it looks like he's planning today's training as they eat.
"Just in case it is a message of departure," he says while Storm is reading, looking at the three of his squad already awake - clearly they were trained well to sleep less than the others. "Don't think it means you get to slack. Until we'll get to our destination, training continues as normal. I'll choose one of my travelling games." You already know, however, that it is not an actual game. In fact, games were actually the worst. They always had winners and losers, or only losers, and the losers would receive some punishment. Cleaning duty, for example.
(*Equipment he gets from his background.)
Varielky | Emma
"Looks like we leave tomorrow morning." Ethan says as he places the letter in his belt pouch. "Your training games might need to wait a bit today though, our host has something he wishes us to help him with, something that should take us only a bit of time, but might be training enough for the soldiers."
He turns to Quickfingers. "What aid do you wish of us?" He asks in his same calm and confident tone.
Blumeria *Bolt* Sirgula has been with the unit for a good while. She knows her way around and has been at the estate a few times. Even though most of the crew has been 'painted' in blue, she was born in blue. So her nickname Bluey quickly changed to Bolt - addressing her impressive lightning breath weapon. As a blue dragonborn she stands taller than most and always makes an impressive entry.
Curious about a new deployment she steps closely to Ethan and reads the letter over his shoulder.
"Cutting wood". She huffs. "That'll be the day I hang up my greataxe! You better tell me, there is a secret message in there!"
She then walks over to the liquor cabinet and pours herself two fingers of a strong smelling, golden smooth, alcoholic drink - which she enjoys with closed eyes.
Kinras is a massive, bright blue warforged with a mace at his hip and a shield on his back. His eyes seem to crackle with some sort of weird energy, and they seem to be mismatched—one is blue, and one is yellow. He towers over most of the rest of the group, but moves with an oddly careful gait, as if he was trying very hard not to damage anything. He stands off to the side with his arms crossed, a rather intimidating effect completely spoiled by his bright blue metallic sheen.
Check out my Extended signature here
Class Guides: Barbarian, Rogue, Sorcerer, Bard General Guides: PvP
Currently playing in: Quest for the Shunned City, Coliseum of Conquest, DragonDenn's Dragonlords, Shipwrecked on Fugue, Tomb of Annihilation, Razor's Lost Mine of Phandelver, The Lost Kenku & One Grung Above
Currently DMing: Princes of the Apocalypse, Out of the Abyss, Coliseum of Conquest—The Arena (Sometimes)
Keller, perched on the corner of a table, listens to the back-and-forth quietly. His hands race across the parts of one crossbow, pitch-black, mostly disassembled in front of him. Breakfast is to the side, partially eaten. He finishes polishing the burr out of a crank and oils it up before quickly reassembling it. When Ayen begins going off about his traveling games, a very tiny corner of his mouth quirks into a quarter-smile, and he grunts skeptically.
He's a tall man, with broad enough shoulders but not too thickly muscled. Bald head, dark brown skin, and a detailed tattoo of a bright blue lilac across one forearm. As he finishes his work on the crossbow, the lilac image begins blowing wildly across the surface of his skin, and slowly dissipates up his arm, under his shirt, and forms into abstract black marks, almost geometric stripes. They settle on his arm and extend up the back of his neck and around one side of his head. This pattern is familiar to those who have served with him over the years. He's ready for work, not games. No more leisure time, as clarifying and relaxing as it may have been.
He looks over at Storm's hands, checking the translation of the note in the peculiar cant used by the Foundry.
"Good to be back in the forge. Been too long," he says, in a deep, resonant voice that is still barely above a whisper. "Quickfingers, stories are important. All we have in the end. No one is tired of them. What present?"
Quickfingers grins at the interest, pulling forth his lute and strumming as he speaks, his practiced cadence weaving his tale.
"For months now, a particularly vile merchant has been trying to get me under his thumb. Of course, he doesn't know that my little slice of paradise here is backed by The Foundry, he just sees a old cripple surrounded by land he needs others to work. I'll admit I've been leading him on, hoping for a misstep. I may have done too well on that front, an informant in his organization reports that he's hired on some thugs... just some regional muscle, no one professional. I think he means to oust me by whatever means it takes, and I'd dearly like to beat him at his own game. Most recent 'offer' is more of an ultimatum, I think he'll bring his goons to make sure it goes through one way or the other. My counter offer will be to cave to his demands, and tell him I'll sell... When he gets here and talks break down, you all will be here to protect company assets. Whatever they have on them is yours once the negotiations are completed, and my gratitude of course. Which, I'd be sure to convey to the Foreman. What say you, a bit of sport to get the blood moving, followed by a celebratory feast before you hit the road once more?"
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
"Ayen? Keller? Any issues with you on this?" Ethan asks with a glance to his captains. His brilliant blue eyes scan the other faces of his crew, his family, and he smiles to them. "I think this should be a nice workout, if nothing else." He turns to their host. "You do know who we are though, and what we do... Might be some caladeral damage once things get rolling, and it won't be something we can control."b
"Of course, of course. I'll send the staff up to the caverns with your horses. Might be a few of you could pass as servers... rest could hide in waiting? Whatever you deem best, of course, I'm too far removed from the day to day to be able to dictate tactics. As much as you can limit damage to the villa and the grapes, the better, but if we eliminate Vrin's position, I'll be well set to make up any losses we otherwise incur."
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Atem "Meta" Rakyevra walks into the meeting room with his hands in his pockets. The young human was no more than in his early twenties, long-legged, long-armed and lean, in the transition between adolescence and adulthood, his height stretched, his muscles not yet keeping up. He wore a grey uniform, his long white hair hanging casually over his shoulders, his trousers tucked into his boots, his narrow waist and narrow legs like a sheathed sabre. He lifted his eyelids and casually pulled back his chair, riding backwards on the seat, his arm leaning on the back of the chair to support his chin. "Yo Boss," he greeted Keller and Quickfingers with two fingers extended, then resumed to listen absentmindedly to the briefing.
Keller's quarter-grin widens into a generous half-grin. It looks weird on him. "Nothing wrong with a bit of fun. When?"
His eyes dart to his squadmates, eyebrows rising microscopically each time in silent query, or confirmation.
Once there was quorum, he grabbed his crossbow and was on his feet, looking around for the perches he'd already marked inside this room, outside on the rooftops, in the trees next to each building. Such old habit that he did it without thinking. He'd be ready with a good place to hide out and mark distances for targeting, no matter where Quickfingers wanted to set up.
Salkur, seeing that Ayen is a bit pre-occupied, grins as well.
"Finally some real action again, and no training; of course we are ready Storm. Although, could I have some coffee to keep my little hangover at bay? I will at least send red to look out for any company coming this way; he'll fly back as soon as he sees them so we have an extra early warning."
I command red, the mechanical owl, to go up the road towards the town to stay there as a look-out.
OOC: Can red speak with me? or should I have other methods for communicating; like in this case asking for number of tugs and he can e.g. jump that many times on my shoulder.
"grandpa" Salkur, deep gnome artificer/sorcerer: Spiderwrangler's Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Artificer/cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volcano Genasi Artificer: Champions of the Citadel
Doesn't look like they can speak, so yes, but you would have had Red long enough to have signals/codes in place.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock