A small country at the southern tip of the known world of Vathmir. Many of you have traveled the known lands, but always find yourselves coming to rest in the prosperous Ealdrid. Though the country is held as a theocracy, those of you who don't swear by the gods find the government more laxed as opposed to other like-minded nations.
Jakorian
You all currently find yourselves in the city of Jakorian: an epicenter of trade and a great place to line your pockets with coin. Some of you have been staying in the city for a while, laying low in one of their inns; whilst others have just arrived after a long journey, clothes tattered at the seems. And finally, some of you have heard rumors of specific artifacts laid dormant within the city. The off-color limestone that corners every street pops in the unrelenting beams of sunlight. People of seemingly every race crowd the streets, as is customary this early in the morning—it tends to calm into the afternoon. The pale banners that hold the familiar golden thread of a symbol of a lightning bolt depict the return of High Corder Tazir Mahon, head of the Jakorian counsel. The town is abuzz and flowing with mead and ale.
You all currently have some free time. What do you do?
Adjacent to the celebration, Mr. Bristletoes, a Halfling dressed in the local style except for a large floppy otter skin bonnet, is holding a hookline full of fresh caught river trout haggling with a local fishmonger. "That's outrageous, you agreed to 2 copper a head, I count 15 heads, that's 3 silver or I'll take these lovelies elsewhere"
The fish monger, a human man with a scraggly beard that comes down to his rotund belly, and a nose that hooks over parched lips, narrows his eyes at you and says in a gravel-laden voice, "Look at the size of 'em! You expect me to pay 3 silver for some guppies? I'd be better off catching 'em myself. 11 silver for the lot and not a copper more." He reaches a soot covered hand into his vest pocket.
Rising from his bed in the local tavern Zook Dustlegs, a gnome dressed in the common clothing except for leather bracers covering his forearms stretches and saunters down to the barkeep still searching for more information on the supposed relics in this area. "Mornin' barman" he mutters still half-awake, "any news today?"
As you emerge from the upstairs dwellings into the common room, the scent of bitter ale hits you. 'Funny" you think, as the name of the tavern is Rum Always Runs. You pass the tables of hearty drinkers and downtrodden gamblers gamblers until you reach the bar, where the familiar half-orc barman everyone around here calls Mork greets you. To your question he raises a bushy eyebrow. "Yeah," he reaches behind the bar and pulls out a pristine envelope. "This was left for you about an our ago." He speaks clean common; a rarity in Ealdrid for orcish blood.
Dharrus, a dusky tiefling in trenchcoat and hat wanders the streets, checking out each of the buildings and memorizing them in case he needs that knowledge later. He notices the Smokehouse and inhales the scent coming from it, and decides to stop and see what they have to offer. Maybe some jerky or other meat based treats?
"Huh well that's new" he remarks then sits. "A cup of water and some food if you please Mork" his polite tone masking the curiosity that has started creeping through his chest. He opens the envelope to find a piece of parchment with some writing etched in the Common tongue.
Arlen Mercer, a weary half-elf dressed in common clothes heads to the well to replenish his water supply after his long and arduous journey. The hood attached to his sleeveless shirt pulled up and over his head concealed his constantly observing eyes.
The half-orc forced himself to remain calm and confident as he strode through the crowded streets of Jakorian - he had been to civilized lands more than once, but was still well aware of the fact some would perhaps look at him sideways due to his half-breed heritage, evidenced by the fangs protruding from his lower jaw - 'It matters not - walk proud' - he thought to himself, plodding ahead slowly but surely. The Summer warmth had him remove the bear furs and stuff them in the backpack, so his frame and musculature were clear, as well as his weapons and armor.
He made sure his money pouch was well secured, and curiously took in the sights and sounds around him, going through the stalls with purpose, spending a coin here and there to taste a food item or drink he had never seen before. His attention was mainly grabbed by exotic ingredients and/or martial items, but he did pause at almost every single vendor.
DHARRUS - Nestled in a chain of buildings is the smokehouse, a short clay shack with thin tendrils of smoke billowing from within. as you step inside you notice the mixed aroma of unique meats being cooked. A shirtless red Dragonborn stands in the back, muscles popping as he lets out a breath of fire. bathing a set of meats in red and orange. You can feel the heat graze your face, even from the entrance. Elsewhere, a female dragonborn (looks like a sibling to the other) is speaking to an older gentleman, hunched over and supported by a cane, and shadowed by a large half-orc. The female dragonborn rubs the sides of her head in frustration. "I'm sorry, but we can't afford to make that arrangement." The older gentlemen leans forward and smiles, showing a pattern if yellowed, cracked, or missing teeth. He begins to speak in a dry voice. "Oh, I understand. But my business partners are less likely to be so reasonable."
ZOOK - As you read the letter, Mork brings by your water and a small platter of thick sausage links and a jumble of messy eggs that crowd the plater. Despite the tavern's manor, you can't help feeling some eyes on you. (I will send your letter shortly)
ARLEN - As your eyes dart to the passersby you catch a human woman with a baby nested in an unflattering brown shawl making her way toward the well. Her haggard face brightens as she gives you a smile and waits for you to finish. She tries to get a better look at your face but the hood does its job. a set of Jakorian guards, clad in white, pass by and seem to take notice of you.
HEDRAK - You get the same curious looks, but they seem to vanish the more into the town square you get. Upon trying to sell you their wears, a handful of the merchants ask if you are familiar with the barkeep at Rum Always Runs, but don't go much into detail after you admit that you do not. You taste some truly... unique foods that leave a linger of pepper about the mouth. As you make your way you see a cozy little shop in the shape of a cabin called: Hunter's Delight. You peak inside and see a collection of fine travel wear as well as a plethora hunting equipment and weapons. The smell of the neighboring smokehouse is also tempting.
Even though his gold pouch is a bit too lean for his own taste, Hedrak decides to first take a look at the Hunter's Delight. He tells himself sometimes one can find unexpected bargains, so pushes the door open to peruse inside.
Arlen tips his head in greeting to the woman before finishing at the well. He turns and leaves to go south, walking in an unhurried and relaxed fashion as to not alarm the guards further.
Definitely one of the most popular shops in Jakorian, Hunter's Delight is full of people, each looking well worked, with worker's hands and hard, weatherworn faces. On shelves are a variety of hunting daggers, the cheaper ones coming to around 2 gold, while the most expensive in 60 gold, and is encased in glass next to the wall. A note is stuck to the inside of the glass reading: 'Mhakus." You can't read the language, but can determine it is the name of this particular weapon. Next to the daggers are a variety of arrows and throwing knives. Near the back are a selection of clothing fit for travel. You do see similar options to your bear furs. A cloak of fine silk hangs on the end, worth 40 gold, a fellow customer explains the cloak helps people stay undetected. Finally, there is a stand right next to the counter with a sets of poisoned darts, traps for different animals, smoke bombs, bait, and a set of bracers that look beat up. As you draw near the counter, a male of elvish decent (though if he is elf or half-elf is hard to tell), dressed from head to toe in animal skins, beckons over to you and asks in a smooth and gently voice, "are you looking for anything in particular today, my half-orc friend?" You gather this man is half-elf, as no elf has regarded you with such attention.
ARLEN - The guards do not, and as you get a good distance away and bleed into the oncoming crowd you can feel their eyes fall off you. You come face to face with the Jakorian Cordir, a gigantic marble building with finly carved stonework woven in. Banners of the golden lighting bolt representing High Corder Tazir Mahon stream from every place they could be hung. To your left you see the smokehouse and Trapper's Delight. To your right, you see the Jakorian Barracks, the bathhouse, and a tavern that you believe is called Rum Always Runs.
Whichever way you go I'd like you to make a Perception Check.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
11
Arlen breathes a sigh of relief before looking curiously at the building. He then turns and heads to the bathhouse, realising that he is covered in dirt and travel grime.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Demon Vamp of the Abyss
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Map of Ealdrid:
https://inkarnate.com/m/48XQxG--ealdrid/
Some worldbuilding notes:
Calendar:
Year: 1547 A.S.
Date: 38th of Nahn
Summer
Months - Each month has 50 days.
Galens
Menas
Myrith
Benian
Wolheth
Nahn
Serom
Calo
Flyth
Dorhent
Zeplorn
Vloen
Corder = Priest
Cordir = Place of worship
Ealdrid
A small country at the southern tip of the known world of Vathmir. Many of you have traveled the known lands, but always find yourselves coming to rest in the prosperous Ealdrid. Though the country is held as a theocracy, those of you who don't swear by the gods find the government more laxed as opposed to other like-minded nations.
Jakorian
You all currently find yourselves in the city of Jakorian: an epicenter of trade and a great place to line your pockets with coin. Some of you have been staying in the city for a while, laying low in one of their inns; whilst others have just arrived after a long journey, clothes tattered at the seems. And finally, some of you have heard rumors of specific artifacts laid dormant within the city.
The off-color limestone that corners every street pops in the unrelenting beams of sunlight. People of seemingly every race crowd the streets, as is customary this early in the morning—it tends to calm into the afternoon. The pale banners that hold the familiar golden thread of a symbol of a lightning bolt depict the return of High Corder Tazir Mahon, head of the Jakorian counsel. The town is abuzz and flowing with mead and ale.
You all currently have some free time. What do you do?
Map of Jakorian Town Square:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NmOklM-ofbh_y-Yr1XOfuSHchFncwx-NLIWyJFch4nc/edit?usp=sharing
Adjacent to the celebration, Mr. Bristletoes, a Halfling dressed in the local style except for a large floppy otter skin bonnet, is holding a hookline full of fresh caught river trout haggling with a local fishmonger. "That's outrageous, you agreed to 2 copper a head, I count 15 heads, that's 3 silver or I'll take these lovelies elsewhere"
The fish monger, a human man with a scraggly beard that comes down to his rotund belly, and a nose that hooks over parched lips, narrows his eyes at you and says in a gravel-laden voice, "Look at the size of 'em! You expect me to pay 3 silver for some guppies? I'd be better off catching 'em myself. 11 silver for the lot and not a copper more." He reaches a soot covered hand into his vest pocket.
Rising from his bed in the local tavern Zook Dustlegs, a gnome dressed in the common clothing except for leather bracers covering his forearms stretches and saunters down to the barkeep still searching for more information on the supposed relics in this area. "Mornin' barman" he mutters still half-awake, "any news today?"
As you emerge from the upstairs dwellings into the common room, the scent of bitter ale hits you. 'Funny" you think, as the name of the tavern is Rum Always Runs. You pass the tables of hearty drinkers and downtrodden gamblers gamblers until you reach the bar, where the familiar half-orc barman everyone around here calls Mork greets you. To your question he raises a bushy eyebrow. "Yeah," he reaches behind the bar and pulls out a pristine envelope. "This was left for you about an our ago." He speaks clean common; a rarity in Ealdrid for orcish blood.
Dharrus, a dusky tiefling in trenchcoat and hat wanders the streets, checking out each of the buildings and memorizing them in case he needs that knowledge later. He notices the Smokehouse and inhales the scent coming from it, and decides to stop and see what they have to offer. Maybe some jerky or other meat based treats?
"Huh well that's new" he remarks then sits. "A cup of water and some food if you please Mork" his polite tone masking the curiosity that has started creeping through his chest. He opens the envelope to find a piece of parchment with some writing etched in the Common tongue.
Arlen Mercer, a weary half-elf dressed in common clothes heads to the well to replenish his water supply after his long and arduous journey. The hood attached to his sleeveless shirt pulled up and over his head concealed his constantly observing eyes.
Demon Vamp of the Abyss
Hedrak
The half-orc forced himself to remain calm and confident as he strode through the crowded streets of Jakorian - he had been to civilized lands more than once, but was still well aware of the fact some would perhaps look at him sideways due to his half-breed heritage, evidenced by the fangs protruding from his lower jaw - 'It matters not - walk proud' - he thought to himself, plodding ahead slowly but surely. The Summer warmth had him remove the bear furs and stuff them in the backpack, so his frame and musculature were clear, as well as his weapons and armor.
He made sure his money pouch was well secured, and curiously took in the sights and sounds around him, going through the stalls with purpose, spending a coin here and there to taste a food item or drink he had never seen before. His attention was mainly grabbed by exotic ingredients and/or martial items, but he did pause at almost every single vendor.
DHARRUS -
Nestled in a chain of buildings is the smokehouse, a short clay shack with thin tendrils of smoke billowing from within. as you step inside you notice the mixed aroma of unique meats being cooked. A shirtless red Dragonborn stands in the back, muscles popping as he lets out a breath of fire. bathing a set of meats in red and orange. You can feel the heat graze your face, even from the entrance. Elsewhere, a female dragonborn (looks like a sibling to the other) is speaking to an older gentleman, hunched over and supported by a cane, and shadowed by a large half-orc.
The female dragonborn rubs the sides of her head in frustration. "I'm sorry, but we can't afford to make that arrangement."
The older gentlemen leans forward and smiles, showing a pattern if yellowed, cracked, or missing teeth. He begins to speak in a dry voice. "Oh, I understand. But my business partners are less likely to be so reasonable."
ZOOK -
As you read the letter, Mork brings by your water and a small platter of thick sausage links and a jumble of messy eggs that crowd the plater.
Despite the tavern's manor, you can't help feeling some eyes on you.
(I will send your letter shortly)
ARLEN -
As your eyes dart to the passersby you catch a human woman with a baby nested in an unflattering brown shawl making her way toward the well. Her haggard face brightens as she gives you a smile and waits for you to finish. She tries to get a better look at your face but the hood does its job. a set of Jakorian guards, clad in white, pass by and seem to take notice of you.
HEDRAK -
You get the same curious looks, but they seem to vanish the more into the town square you get. Upon trying to sell you their wears, a handful of the merchants ask if you are familiar with the barkeep at Rum Always Runs, but don't go much into detail after you admit that you do not. You taste some truly... unique foods that leave a linger of pepper about the mouth. As you make your way you see a cozy little shop in the shape of a cabin called: Hunter's Delight. You peak inside and see a collection of fine travel wear as well as a plethora hunting equipment and weapons. The smell of the neighboring smokehouse is also tempting.
Hedrak
Even though his gold pouch is a bit too lean for his own taste, Hedrak decides to first take a look at the Hunter's Delight. He tells himself sometimes one can find unexpected bargains, so pushes the door open to peruse inside.
Arlen tips his head in greeting to the woman before finishing at the well. He turns and leaves to go south, walking in an unhurried and relaxed fashion as to not alarm the guards further.
Demon Vamp of the Abyss
HEDRAK -
Definitely one of the most popular shops in Jakorian, Hunter's Delight is full of people, each looking well worked, with worker's hands and hard, weatherworn faces. On shelves are a variety of hunting daggers, the cheaper ones coming to around 2 gold, while the most expensive in 60 gold, and is encased in glass next to the wall. A note is stuck to the inside of the glass reading: 'Mhakus." You can't read the language, but can determine it is the name of this particular weapon. Next to the daggers are a variety of arrows and throwing knives. Near the back are a selection of clothing fit for travel. You do see similar options to your bear furs. A cloak of fine silk hangs on the end, worth 40 gold, a fellow customer explains the cloak helps people stay undetected. Finally, there is a stand right next to the counter with a sets of poisoned darts, traps for different animals, smoke bombs, bait, and a set of bracers that look beat up. As you draw near the counter, a male of elvish decent (though if he is elf or half-elf is hard to tell), dressed from head to toe in animal skins, beckons over to you and asks in a smooth and gently voice, "are you looking for anything in particular today, my half-orc friend?"
You gather this man is half-elf, as no elf has regarded you with such attention.
ARLEN -
The guards do not, and as you get a good distance away and bleed into the oncoming crowd you can feel their eyes fall off you. You come face to face with the Jakorian Cordir, a gigantic marble building with finly carved stonework woven in. Banners of the golden lighting bolt representing High Corder Tazir Mahon stream from every place they could be hung. To your left you see the smokehouse and Trapper's Delight. To your right, you see the Jakorian Barracks, the bathhouse, and a tavern that you believe is called Rum Always Runs.
Whichever way you go I'd like you to make a Perception Check.
11
Arlen breathes a sigh of relief before looking curiously at the building. He then turns and heads to the bathhouse, realising that he is covered in dirt and travel grime.
Demon Vamp of the Abyss