It's a crisp fall evening in the Year 524. The great city-state of Terrania is just recovering from a week-long celebration of the Alliance of Light over the dark forces of Charnax. The city expects a bigger celebration once the victorious armies return, but the people of Terrania like to celebrate when they can. Ruled over by a council headed by a hereditary Arch Duke, Terrania is the largest and most advanced city on the continent, and it's culture flourishes with art, music and learning.
You have been led to the Wise Manticore tavern this even by the lure of an expedition to the Blasted Desert in hopes of recovering any glimpses of Serala, lost capital of the legendary Ozymandian empire.
The tavern is nestled up against the wall of the University of Logos, greatest of the several academic complexes in Terrania. Inside, it is a large round room (about 100 ft across) with a circular bar in the center, surrounded by sturdy but obviously well used tables, and booths lining the front and sides of the room. A middling stage is setup near the back, flanked by two doors marked, "Staff Only - IN" and "Staff Only - OUT"
No one is currently on the stage, but the room is pretty packed. The crowd is very cosmopolitan, while humans are the most common here and elsewhere in the city, Terrania generally has a fairly open attitude towards all races, though those folks who look more rustic probably experience some snobbery, even from the lower urban classes.
Some notable groups are a university jousting team, a couple of longshoreman who seem out of place, a rowdy bunch of halflings in the back, and on the right side, a graybearded human in his late 50's perusing some papers, while constantly scanning the room as if waiting for someone. He is in one of the larger booths, alone except for a bored looking athletic human in studded leather armor, who keeps alternating between standing near and sitting every few minutes
This is the situation you find yourself in when you arrive at the Wise Manticore. Good luck!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Liarin: Against the Cult of the Reptile God Adewild: Shadows and Light 2 Brother Thaddeus: Rime of the Frostmaiden.
A frazzled looking shadow-elf wanders in from the bustling street, glancing around uncertainly until the swinging door bumps her from behind, and then looking even more uncertain. She is dressed in flowing robes embroidered with Logos, marking her a student of the magical arts, and clutched in her arms are a mess of papers and parchments, as well as her overfull backpack hanging askew over one shoulder. Slight of frame, the bag weighs her down as she shrugs heavily to pull it back into position. Strapped to her pack is a "Galstag's Intermediate Series - Grade 2" staff, another marker of a university student.
"Um, excuse me,"Liahana asks the barkeeper uncertainly. "I'm looking for Professor Von Smoot. Do you know if he is here?"
Before stepping into the tavern a muscular triton wearing a shiny new chain mail adorned with submarine motiff looks around and takes a big breath of air, he fixes his green hair, makes sure that his sword hilt and scabbard hanging on his hip is immaculate and perfectly strapped.
He pushes the door open and studies the room, his eyes jump from the jousting team, to the longeshoreman and so on until he finds the graybearded man "now...that's the face of a professor"- says to himself and moves toward him.
"I believe you might be expecting me, I'm Galorim Ypovrýchios kinight from the submarine court"
Walking into the room as if he owns the place, a goblin in fine clothes and a powdered wig stops and examines its inhabitants."Nubbins," he says, pointing,"Place the bags over there." An old, wizened drow comes from behind him, bent over, dragging two large trunks and bearing a third on his back. "Yes, young master," he croaks, slowly dragging the bags to a corner of the room.
Nubbins is followed by a halfling with a full bag of her own. "Take care, Nubsie," she shouts, "There's spices in there worth more'n you are!"
The goblin is joined by a second smaller goblin, this one dressed in the robes of a scribe. She looks around and whispers something in the Goblin's ear.
"Yes, I know, Swallop," he says, loudly, "Just go make sure Nubbins gets all the bags from outside and organizes them properly. I'll see to it."
The goblin walks over to the gray-bearded man. "Van Smoot! Why are there so many people here? We can't possibly afford to bring so many!" Glancing at the triton, he adds, "Why would we need a sea elf in the desert? Are you deliberately wasting my coin?"
The man with tanned skin and leather armor who was taking a drink in one table approaches as well to the bearded man and the group that is already around his table.
- Excuse me. I've heard that you are the one who is looking for people to go to the desert? I would like to join. The desert isn't a safe place and I know how to fight. -
He seems to ignore the words of the goblin and speaks directly looking at the old man.
The door to the tavern opens with an unceremonious bang and the angular shell of of a tortle backs in as its owner shouts out into the street, "And that's the mythological explanation for why tabaxi are no longer born with two tails! Isn't that intriguing? Oh, he seems to not have heard me. Must be in quite the hurry. Ah well." The figure turns to face the assembled crowd and is clearly a tortle just wearing a false beard, the strap holding it in place clearly visible. He squints as he looks around the room, muttering to himself just a bit too loudly, "Van Smoot, Van Smoot, where have you gotten off to, Professor?" Recognition dawns on his face at the old man surrounded by a motley arrangement of folk. He starts weaving his way through the room, his shell bumping into almost everyone he passes and a constant stream of "Apologies! Good heavens! Didn't see you there. My mistake!"
Walking into the room as if he owns the place, a goblin in fine clothes and a powdered wig stops and examines its inhabitants."Nubbins," he says, pointing,"Place the bags over there." An old, wizened drow comes from behind him, bent over, dragging two large trunks and bearing a third on his back. "Yes, young master," he croaks, slowly dragging the bags to a corner of the room.
Nubbins is followed by a halfling with a full bag of her own. "Take care, Nubsie," she shouts, "There's spices in there worth more'n you are!"
The goblin is joined by a second smaller goblin, this one dressed in the robes of a scribe. She looks around and whispers something in the Goblin's ear.
"Yes, I know, Swallop," he says, loudly, "Just go make sure Nubbins gets all the bags from outside and organizes them properly. I'll see to it."
The goblin walks over to the gray-bearded man. "Van Smoot! Why are there so many people here? We can't possibly afford to bring so many!" Glancing at the triton, he adds, "Why would we need a sea elf in the desert? Are you deliberately wasting my coin?"
"Though Sea elves are very respectable creatures I'd like to inform you that I'm not one, I don't see how a desert would hinder any of my abilities I would be more worried teaming up with short creatures with a big a mouth, those tend to cause more issues in deserts, cities, forests...well everywhere"
Bursting through the entrance of the tavern, a whirling dervish of white hair and clanging of cookware from an over stuffed backpack fill the doorway.
An elder dwarf, clad in a deep green travellers’ cloak, a large pack strapped to his back with pots and pans tethered to the side, looks about the room. It would seem difficult for this particular dwarf to see much of anything since he only stands four feet tall. But behind his glass spectacles eyes that almost sparkle blue take in all the tavern has to offer.
His long pure white beard, braided tightly with golden caps at the end, sways back and forth as he takes in his surroundings.
Professor Cromwell Darkstone let’s out a noise of recognition spotting his quarry.
“Aha, Von Smoot!” Clapping and rubbing his hands together. “There you are old chap” the dwarf says happily to himself.
Darkstone then lumbers towards the booth where his colleague sits with an odd assortment of people gathering around.
The goblin throws his hands up in the air! "What manner of expedition is this meant to be? FIshmen and amatuer fighters guarding us in the desert? A blind turtle? A dwarven cook? What sort of outfit are you running, Van Smoot? Is my patronage misplaced?"
Just then, the smaller goblin clerk walks up to the goblin and whispers in his ear. Outrage tinges his green face red. "What?!? I've told Nubbins 100 times not to mix the troll pus with the tapioca!" He turns to the gathered crowd, attempting to gather dignity about himself, "My apologies. I'd love to continue this conversation but my retainer may have injured himself. I must see to him. I will be back shortly."
He walks off, leaving the little clerk behind. She looks at the assembled crowd and says, "I...um...apologize for Crulsits. He's...um...under a lot of...um...pressure. He is usually less...um...unpleasant."
You hear Crulsits call, "Swallop!" in the distance and the smaller goblin skitters away.
A crash is heard by the bar, where Liahana has bumped into a server carrying a tray of mugs. "--terribly sorry!"
The shadow elf comes running over to the table and stands breathlessly next to Professor Cromwell Darkstone. "Oh, hello Professor Darkstone!" she says quickly, brushing her hair out of her face with a smile. "I--I just want you to know that I found your paper on transperceptive telearcanic inductionism very insightful! I just have... well, so many questions. I can't believe the editor in chief of the Journal of Contemporary Thaumaturgy called it rubbish. I bet they couldn't identify the rear end of an inverse chronological anomaly!" She beams, hoping her joke is amusing. She also glares sideways at the tortle. "I didn't know Talib would be coming as well."
(No hard feelings Talib, I just think it's fun to imagine that Liahana, a "star pupil" herself, would feel a rivalry with another top student!)
The human raises en eyebrow at the recent additions to the people gathered around the professor and shakes his head when the goblin departs. He turns towards Von Smoot.
"Yes, you are going to need my sword really bad"he says to him in low voice.
Now that some are closer can see that he has a beard and a pair of semi circular tattoos on his cheeks.
Cromwell scrunches up his face in distain when the small goblin makes the assumption he is the cook.
“ Hrmph“ the dwarf puffs and adjusts the small spectacles at the end of his nose. But refrains from saying anything when the goblin abruptly leaves.
Cromwell hears a crash and feels a presence beside him and turns to Liahana as she brings to speak.
His eyes spark with recognition of the shadow-elf, remembering her remarkable intellect proceeding her at the university. The old dwarf nods his head in a agreement with the rapid pace of speech coming from Liahana.
A deep barrel laugh escapes Cromwellafter her amusing comment.
Glancing back and forth between Liahana and Talib ,the Professor grins, “Von Smoot must believe he really is onto something to assemble the lot of us.”
Crulsits returns from whatever he has been doing, takes a deep breath, and says, “I apologize for my behavior earlier. Please let me assure you that it is my greatest wish to see this expedition succeed. I have a lot riding on this and I believe we will all be able to profit from what we find. I sometimes allow stress to cloud my behavior and, as a result, I can be ugly. Again, I hope you can forgive me and I look forward to working together.”
"Oh that's alright Master... Crulsits? I'm Liahana--" the shadow elf shifts her backpack, nearly losing her balance, and extends a hand "--one of Professor Darkstone's and Professor Von Smoot's most admiring students. It's such an honor to be here!" As she moves, the base of her staff knocks a chair to the floor with a loud clang. She picks it up, her cheeks burning.
Talib watches the whole exchange with an amused smile. At the comment about his eyesight, he simply says, "It's pronounced tOrtle. Like a torte. Like the dense cake or a civil legal liability." When Liahana acknowledges him, he seems completely unaware of her tone and brightly replies, "My name was likely neglected because I forgot to submit the proper paperwork on time. But I am so glad we shall be working together on such a delightful endeavor, and with Professor Darkstone as well! This shall be a most eruditic expedition. Does anyone else want some tea? I'm parched!"
((No hard feelings at all! I appreciate the improvised bond. I was planning on Talib being a bit unaware, and this only gives even more reason for his foolishness. =D))
Professor Von Smoot, after spending a bit of time watching and listening to you all starts to speak, "My dear Crulsits, if you review the paperwork more carefully, all these fine people are well within the budget. What is going to stretch the budget is more likely to be your retainers, in my mind, but when we are successful, all this arguing about money will vanish."
"To the rest of you, I welcome you to my little expedition. Whether you are a fellow academic, or an explorer, or just good in a fight, we all have our parts to play. The expedition proper will set off tomorrow morning from the eastern docks on board the Breaking Dawn, which will carry us across the Sunward Sea to the seaport Zareen in the land of Jirala, the closest civilized nation to the Blasted Desert. From there we will either join a caravan, or if none are headed the right way, hire guides and go it alone, but we will travel to the ancient gateway and start the mission in earnest."
"Feel free to make this night your own, I shall be retiring to my quarters soon, so unless there are questions?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Liarin: Against the Cult of the Reptile God Adewild: Shadows and Light 2 Brother Thaddeus: Rime of the Frostmaiden.
"within the budget" - Those words hurt the knight's ego, "well, in a way I'm no sellsword, so I guess he's right" - He says to himself as he looks at the rest of the people that reunited near the professor.
"That sounds like a plan, I don't plan to wear myself out drinking or spending more time than needed at this place, so If I'm dismissed I'll pay for some lodging and meet you tomorrow morning Professor." Galorim salutes the professor and then if allowed to leave he'll find someone who can walk him to a room. Once he's ready to leave he'll say to the rest "You heard the professor, I hope you follow my example, lack of sleep can be more detrimental to your habilities in a fight that an old sword... a well rested warrior will make the best use of a faulty weapon, try to keep that in mind. Good night!" - He salutes everyone with a general gesture and steps out.
It takes a moment for Liahana to process what Von Smoot said Galorim's departure. "Oh... Oh! Well, I've got to study, haven't I? There isn't much time before the expedition begins, and who knows what we'll be facing in Jirala and the Blasted Desert. And I've barely even cracked Mordenkainen's Monsters of the Multiverse!
"Wait wait " Rasen asks both to the professor and the man who talks like a seasoned warrior. "Are we two the only ones with some fighting skills? the rest are going to be like... " he looks to the rest "... academics?" he finally asks.
Van Smoot replies, “If I’ve chosen my academics right, they’ll be more useful in a fight than you’d guess. We’ll also have my nephew, Tomas, the gentleman with the sword and leather armor. He’s my personal protector as I am frankly useless in a fight. We may also pick up some coin minded individuals in Zareen.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Liarin: Against the Cult of the Reptile God Adewild: Shadows and Light 2 Brother Thaddeus: Rime of the Frostmaiden.
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It's a crisp fall evening in the Year 524. The great city-state of Terrania is just recovering from a week-long celebration of the Alliance of Light over the dark forces of Charnax. The city expects a bigger celebration once the victorious armies return, but the people of Terrania like to celebrate when they can. Ruled over by a council headed by a hereditary Arch Duke, Terrania is the largest and most advanced city on the continent, and it's culture flourishes with art, music and learning.
You have been led to the Wise Manticore tavern this even by the lure of an expedition to the Blasted Desert in hopes of recovering any glimpses of Serala, lost capital of the legendary Ozymandian empire.
The tavern is nestled up against the wall of the University of Logos, greatest of the several academic complexes in Terrania. Inside, it is a large round room (about 100 ft across) with a circular bar in the center, surrounded by sturdy but obviously well used tables, and booths lining the front and sides of the room. A middling stage is setup near the back, flanked by two doors marked, "Staff Only - IN" and "Staff Only - OUT"
No one is currently on the stage, but the room is pretty packed. The crowd is very cosmopolitan, while humans are the most common here and elsewhere in the city, Terrania generally has a fairly open attitude towards all races, though those folks who look more rustic probably experience some snobbery, even from the lower urban classes.
Some notable groups are a university jousting team, a couple of longshoreman who seem out of place, a rowdy bunch of halflings in the back, and on the right side, a graybearded human in his late 50's perusing some papers, while constantly scanning the room as if waiting for someone. He is in one of the larger booths, alone except for a bored looking athletic human in studded leather armor, who keeps alternating between standing near and sitting every few minutes
This is the situation you find yourself in when you arrive at the Wise Manticore. Good luck!
Liarin: Against the Cult of the Reptile God
Adewild: Shadows and Light 2
Brother Thaddeus: Rime of the Frostmaiden.
A frazzled looking shadow-elf wanders in from the bustling street, glancing around uncertainly until the swinging door bumps her from behind, and then looking even more uncertain. She is dressed in flowing robes embroidered with Logos, marking her a student of the magical arts, and clutched in her arms are a mess of papers and parchments, as well as her overfull backpack hanging askew over one shoulder. Slight of frame, the bag weighs her down as she shrugs heavily to pull it back into position. Strapped to her pack is a "Galstag's Intermediate Series - Grade 2" staff, another marker of a university student.
"Um, excuse me," Liahana asks the barkeeper uncertainly. "I'm looking for Professor Von Smoot. Do you know if he is here?"
Art (but not nearly so self-confident):
Before stepping into the tavern a muscular triton wearing a shiny new chain mail adorned with submarine motiff looks around and takes a big breath of air, he fixes his green hair, makes sure that his sword hilt and scabbard hanging on his hip is immaculate and perfectly strapped.
He pushes the door open and studies the room, his eyes jump from the jousting team, to the longeshoreman and so on until he finds the graybearded man "now...that's the face of a professor" - says to himself and moves toward him.
"I believe you might be expecting me, I'm Galorim Ypovrýchios kinight from the submarine court"
Walking into the room as if he owns the place, a goblin in fine clothes and a powdered wig stops and examines its inhabitants. "Nubbins," he says, pointing, "Place the bags over there." An old, wizened drow comes from behind him, bent over, dragging two large trunks and bearing a third on his back. "Yes, young master," he croaks, slowly dragging the bags to a corner of the room.
Nubbins is followed by a halfling with a full bag of her own. "Take care, Nubsie," she shouts, "There's spices in there worth more'n you are!"
The goblin is joined by a second smaller goblin, this one dressed in the robes of a scribe. She looks around and whispers something in the Goblin's ear.
"Yes, I know, Swallop," he says, loudly, "Just go make sure Nubbins gets all the bags from outside and organizes them properly. I'll see to it."
The goblin walks over to the gray-bearded man. "Van Smoot! Why are there so many people here? We can't possibly afford to bring so many!" Glancing at the triton, he adds, "Why would we need a sea elf in the desert? Are you deliberately wasting my coin?"
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
The man with tanned skin and leather armor who was taking a drink in one table approaches as well to the bearded man and the group that is already around his table.
- Excuse me. I've heard that you are the one who is looking for people to go to the desert? I would like to join. The desert isn't a safe place and I know how to fight. -
He seems to ignore the words of the goblin and speaks directly looking at the old man.
PbP Character: A few ;)
The door to the tavern opens with an unceremonious bang and the angular shell of of a tortle backs in as its owner shouts out into the street, "And that's the mythological explanation for why tabaxi are no longer born with two tails! Isn't that intriguing? Oh, he seems to not have heard me. Must be in quite the hurry. Ah well." The figure turns to face the assembled crowd and is clearly a tortle just wearing a false beard, the strap holding it in place clearly visible. He squints as he looks around the room, muttering to himself just a bit too loudly, "Van Smoot, Van Smoot, where have you gotten off to, Professor?" Recognition dawns on his face at the old man surrounded by a motley arrangement of folk. He starts weaving his way through the room, his shell bumping into almost everyone he passes and a constant stream of "Apologies! Good heavens! Didn't see you there. My mistake!"
"Though Sea elves are very respectable creatures I'd like to inform you that I'm not one, I don't see how a desert would hinder any of my abilities I would be more worried teaming up with short creatures with a big a mouth, those tend to cause more issues in deserts, cities, forests...well everywhere"
Bursting through the entrance of the tavern, a whirling dervish of white hair and clanging of cookware from an over stuffed backpack fill the doorway.
An elder dwarf, clad in a deep green travellers’ cloak, a large pack strapped to his back with pots and pans tethered to the side, looks about the room. It would seem difficult for this particular dwarf to see much of anything since he only stands four feet tall. But behind his glass spectacles eyes that almost sparkle blue take in all the tavern has to offer.
His long pure white beard, braided tightly with golden caps at the end, sways back and forth as he takes in his surroundings.
Professor Cromwell Darkstone let’s out a noise of recognition spotting his quarry.
“Aha, Von Smoot!” Clapping and rubbing his hands together. “There you are old chap” the dwarf says happily to himself.
Darkstone then lumbers towards the booth where his colleague sits with an odd assortment of people gathering around.
The goblin throws his hands up in the air! "What manner of expedition is this meant to be? FIshmen and amatuer fighters guarding us in the desert? A blind turtle? A dwarven cook? What sort of outfit are you running, Van Smoot? Is my patronage misplaced?"
Just then, the smaller goblin clerk walks up to the goblin and whispers in his ear. Outrage tinges his green face red. "What?!? I've told Nubbins 100 times not to mix the troll pus with the tapioca!" He turns to the gathered crowd, attempting to gather dignity about himself, "My apologies. I'd love to continue this conversation but my retainer may have injured himself. I must see to him. I will be back shortly."
He walks off, leaving the little clerk behind. She looks at the assembled crowd and says, "I...um...apologize for Crulsits. He's...um...under a lot of...um...pressure. He is usually less...um...unpleasant."
You hear Crulsits call, "Swallop!" in the distance and the smaller goblin skitters away.
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
A crash is heard by the bar, where Liahana has bumped into a server carrying a tray of mugs. "--terribly sorry!"
The shadow elf comes running over to the table and stands breathlessly next to Professor Cromwell Darkstone. "Oh, hello Professor Darkstone!" she says quickly, brushing her hair out of her face with a smile. "I--I just want you to know that I found your paper on transperceptive telearcanic inductionism very insightful! I just have... well, so many questions. I can't believe the editor in chief of the Journal of Contemporary Thaumaturgy called it rubbish. I bet they couldn't identify the rear end of an inverse chronological anomaly!" She beams, hoping her joke is amusing. She also glares sideways at the tortle. "I didn't know Talib would be coming as well."
(No hard feelings Talib, I just think it's fun to imagine that Liahana, a "star pupil" herself, would feel a rivalry with another top student!)
The human raises en eyebrow at the recent additions to the people gathered around the professor and shakes his head when the goblin departs. He turns towards Von Smoot.
"Yes, you are going to need my sword really bad" he says to him in low voice.
Now that some are closer can see that he has a beard and a pair of semi circular tattoos on his cheeks.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Cromwell scrunches up his face in distain when the small goblin makes the assumption he is the cook.
“ Hrmph“ the dwarf puffs and adjusts the small spectacles at the end of his nose. But refrains from saying anything when the goblin abruptly leaves.
Cromwell hears a crash and feels a presence beside him and turns to Liahana as she brings to speak.
His eyes spark with recognition of the shadow-elf, remembering her remarkable intellect proceeding her at the university. The old dwarf nods his head in a agreement with the rapid pace of speech coming from Liahana.
A deep barrel laugh escapes Cromwell after her amusing comment.
Glancing back and forth between Liahana and Talib ,the Professor grins, “Von Smoot must believe he really is onto something to assemble the lot of us.”
Crulsits returns from whatever he has been doing, takes a deep breath, and says, “I apologize for my behavior earlier. Please let me assure you that it is my greatest wish to see this expedition succeed. I have a lot riding on this and I believe we will all be able to profit from what we find. I sometimes allow stress to cloud my behavior and, as a result, I can be ugly. Again, I hope you can forgive me and I look forward to working together.”
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
"Oh that's alright Master... Crulsits? I'm Liahana--" the shadow elf shifts her backpack, nearly losing her balance, and extends a hand "--one of Professor Darkstone's and Professor Von Smoot's most admiring students. It's such an honor to be here!" As she moves, the base of her staff knocks a chair to the floor with a loud clang. She picks it up, her cheeks burning.
Talib watches the whole exchange with an amused smile. At the comment about his eyesight, he simply says, "It's pronounced tOrtle. Like a torte. Like the dense cake or a civil legal liability." When Liahana acknowledges him, he seems completely unaware of her tone and brightly replies, "My name was likely neglected because I forgot to submit the proper paperwork on time. But I am so glad we shall be working together on such a delightful endeavor, and with Professor Darkstone as well! This shall be a most eruditic expedition. Does anyone else want some tea? I'm parched!"
((No hard feelings at all! I appreciate the improvised bond. I was planning on Talib being a bit unaware, and this only gives even more reason for his foolishness. =D))
Professor Von Smoot, after spending a bit of time watching and listening to you all starts to speak, "My dear Crulsits, if you review the paperwork more carefully, all these fine people are well within the budget. What is going to stretch the budget is more likely to be your retainers, in my mind, but when we are successful, all this arguing about money will vanish."
"To the rest of you, I welcome you to my little expedition. Whether you are a fellow academic, or an explorer, or just good in a fight, we all have our parts to play. The expedition proper will set off tomorrow morning from the eastern docks on board the Breaking Dawn, which will carry us across the Sunward Sea to the seaport Zareen in the land of Jirala, the closest civilized nation to the Blasted Desert. From there we will either join a caravan, or if none are headed the right way, hire guides and go it alone, but we will travel to the ancient gateway and start the mission in earnest."
"Feel free to make this night your own, I shall be retiring to my quarters soon, so unless there are questions?"
Liarin: Against the Cult of the Reptile God
Adewild: Shadows and Light 2
Brother Thaddeus: Rime of the Frostmaiden.
"within the budget" - Those words hurt the knight's ego, "well, in a way I'm no sellsword, so I guess he's right" - He says to himself as he looks at the rest of the people that reunited near the professor.
"That sounds like a plan, I don't plan to wear myself out drinking or spending more time than needed at this place, so If I'm dismissed I'll pay for some lodging and meet you tomorrow morning Professor." Galorim salutes the professor and then if allowed to leave he'll find someone who can walk him to a room. Once he's ready to leave he'll say to the rest "You heard the professor, I hope you follow my example, lack of sleep can be more detrimental to your habilities in a fight that an old sword... a well rested warrior will make the best use of a faulty weapon, try to keep that in mind. Good night!" - He salutes everyone with a general gesture and steps out.
It takes a moment for Liahana to process what Von Smoot said Galorim's departure. "Oh... Oh! Well, I've got to study, haven't I? There isn't much time before the expedition begins, and who knows what we'll be facing in Jirala and the Blasted Desert. And I've barely even cracked Mordenkainen's Monsters of the Multiverse!
"Wait wait " Rasen asks both to the professor and the man who talks like a seasoned warrior. "Are we two the only ones with some fighting skills? the rest are going to be like... " he looks to the rest "... academics?" he finally asks.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Van Smoot replies, “If I’ve chosen my academics right, they’ll be more useful in a fight than you’d guess. We’ll also have my nephew, Tomas, the gentleman with the sword and leather armor. He’s my personal protector as I am frankly useless in a fight. We may also pick up some coin minded individuals in Zareen.”
Liarin: Against the Cult of the Reptile God
Adewild: Shadows and Light 2
Brother Thaddeus: Rime of the Frostmaiden.