Turning to the halflings, " So I browsed the flier, is there any actual combat? I thought this had a 1 on 1 combat portion."
Garrett replies, "Years ago, such a contest was part of the tournament, but a few too many serious injuries and a death or two prompted the Chancellor of Talisten to remove that particular contest. It's all skill and wits now."
"You can call me Ozum. I'm here for the festival celebrations. I like to travel mostly but I could stand to make some coin." He pulls out the flier and chuckles a bit. "There are some good prizes here, but nothing in my skill set. Are any of you thinking about competing?"
Huck is quick to blurt out, "Garrett here will be competing." He then smiles and adds, "And with some of that loot he wins we're paying a mighty wizard to teleport us back to Greyloft!"
A few more minutes pass and the halflings continue to eat, drink, and converse will all of you. They're clearly enjoying the opportunity to talk about Syndaris and the tournament. Eventually Huck takes over the conversation when he feels he has everyone's attention. "My cousin Mithro will never tell you this, but he's a great great grandson to a former Windhover."
Mithro shakes his head and says, "Huck, these folks don't want to hear a Broadleaf family history."
Huck continues, "Of course they do! Here they are in Talisten, traveling from who knows where to see a festival devoted to the Windhovers, and your great great grandfather Ander was one! What a story that is."
Huck pushes his cousin on the shoulder good-naturedly and says, "Be quiet, Huck Browning."
"Well, I would certainly like to hear this tale. Please go on."
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Horatio Hirschfeld - Squire imbued with fae powers, in the Coliseum of Conquest (W2/L1) DM for Reavers of Harkenwold, and sometimes The Fighting Grounds of the Coliseum
"I would also be interested. Perhaps your favor will bode well for Garret." Ozum empties his glass and looks at the halflings confused. "One thing I don't understand is why you need a wizard to teleport you to Greyloft. Are the mountains that treacherous?
"Ha," Mithro laughs. "No, we're just poor travelers. We didn't travel through the mountains. Just took the roads that go around them. I'm not looking forward to the long walk home, that's all."
Arissa's remark was all the encouragement Huck needed. He takes the next few minutes to tell all of you (Arissa, Ozum, Kurt, and Alora) the following:
I suppose it goes without saying that the Windhovers are something special around here. Just for starters, the city we're all sitting in is named after one: Talisten the Devout. And so too are the towns Everal and Findric. And then there's Lake Azalor: it's named after the druidess Azalor the Elusive. In fact, the wand that Azalor used eventually became the wand that Ander Broadleaf used when he served as a Windhover--the first halfling to do so, by the way!
Garrett Goodbarrel interrupts, "You're throwing out a lotta names and places, Huck. These folks aren't from around here. You're apt to confuse them, don't you think?"
"I suppose so." He pauses, then says, "Let me clean up my story a bit by leaving out all the names and such." He begins again. "The Windhovers are four powerful heroes who are sworn to protect Syndaris, and each Windhover wields a special weapon that grants him (or her) even greater power to be a protector and overseer of the realm. This weapon is ceremoniously passed from one Windhover to the next when the appropriate time comes. Each Windhover has vowed to pass his or her magical weapon only to someone who is pure in heart and will be committed to the safety and prosperity of the Syndarian people. One of those magical weapons is Azalor's wand, and that's where Mithro's great great grandfather fits in. Almost 130 years ago, Ander Broadleaf took the Windhover Vow and became the fourth person to wield Azalor's wand."
Back at Sham`s Frandal is just sitting at the table, wishing to have come with the same excuse the tiefling said, when the waitress came and told him that he couldn`t have Celebqueese with him.
”What? Oh That’s so unfortunate. Sorry. I will leave then. “ he turns to the bulky man saying, “I am sorry. Maybe next time” as he stands and walk out the eagle stared at the poor waitress as it was offended. And she was!
Once outside he hurried to the Signing Fire.
*When are you going to learn?. We are not meant to be with common folk*
*It’s you who need to learn that we are common folk, just with more responsabilities.*
*That sounded like your father*
*And you sounded like old Yoric, now let’s focus on secure a room and our participation on the tournament before we had to spent the night on a stable*
With that the elf changed his relaxed pace to a more energic one, walking straigth to the Signing Fire and going to ask for a room as soon as he enters it.
Xellos ponders what the bartender said and says, "I believe I understand having all manner of folk around, with the festival on. The the bird seems quite uncommon, but it doesn't bother me if I sounded otherwise. Though it's your place. Just wondering if you knew either the elf or that Broon fellow were potential trouble—I try and avoid it."
Xellos pauses for a moment and continues, "The young lad, Sib, at the docks said your place was rustic and hospitable, he seems to be right. This is my kind of place. I'll take the bottle of wine off your hands as well as three whiskeys. It would be foolish to turn down the best on the island, possibly insulting to the craftsman as well. Tell you what—make it four and pour yourself the fourth, or give it to someone else of your choosing. I'll also have the meal for a silver piece when you have time and will have your recommendation on either meat or stew."
His eyes perk up when he remembers "smoked", "Oh...and a smoked fish, please. Maybe I'll have a chat with Broon and the elf fellow, if everything could be brought over there? I'll inquire about a room in a little while. Forgive me I forgot my manners, my name is Xellos. Now, how much do I owe you for everything, sir?" He puts his coin pouch on the bar.
Xellos turns his head and sees the elf is not at the table anymore and says,"Oh dear, I hope I didn't cause him to leave. Well, I guess just three whiskeys then. Two for me and one for yourself or someone you choose. I'll just have everything at the bar."
He sits with a slightly disappointed look on his face.
With that the elf changed his relaxed pace to a more energic one, walking straigth to the Signing Fire and going to ask for a room as soon as he enters it.
The Singing Fire is a few hundred yards northwest of the inn you just left, and your path takes you past Traveler's Field, which is on your right. This open field is filled with canvas tents and people milling about everywhere. For visitors to Talisten who do not wish to pay for lodging, they can erect a tent or, for some, cover their wagon into a makeshift tent. As you walk along the edge of this small tent city you begin to hear the sound of a viola. The tune is slow and lamenting and being played in a minor key. You soon see an elderly human male very near the road, and he is the one responsible for the hauntingly beautiful music. As you pass by the old man, you see that on the ground before him is his hat, turned upside down.
A rather unsettling feeling washes over your mind, as if some silent, invisible force had been prying into your thinking. The strange sensation was only momentary. You continue your short walk to The Singing Fire.
Xellos ponders what the bartender said and says, "I believe I understand having all manner of folk around, with the festival on. The the bird seems quite uncommon, but it doesn't bother me if I sounded otherwise. Though it's your place. Just wondering if you knew either the elf or that Broon fellow were potential trouble—I try and avoid it."
Xellos pauses for a moment and continues, "The young lad, Sib, at the docks said your place was rustic and hospitable, he seems to be right. This is my kind of place. I'll take the bottle of wine off your hands as well as three whiskeys. It would be foolish to turn down the best on the island, possibly insulting to the craftsman as well. Tell you what—make it four and pour yourself the fourth, or give it to someone else of your choosing. I'll also have the meal for a silver piece when you have time and will have your recommendation on either meat or stew."
His eyes perk up when he remembers "smoked", "Oh...and a smoked fish, please. Maybe I'll have a chat with Broon and the elf fellow, if everything could be brought over there? I'll inquire about a room in a little while. Forgive me I forgot my manners, my name is Xellos. Now, how much do I owe you for everything, sir?" He puts his coin pouch on the bar.
Xellos turns his head and sees the elf is not at the table anymore and says,"Oh dear, I hope I didn't cause him to leave. Well, I guess just three whiskeys then. Two for me and one for yourself or someone you choose. I'll just have everything at the bar."
He sits with a slightly disappointed look on his face.
"Well, by Solinari's wand, I didn't want you to shoo the elf away," he yells to the barmaid. "I merely wanted him to keep that bird rooted to his shoulder."
"Why didn't you say so, Sham? Bah! I can't read your mind!" she retorts.
He looks at you, leans in, and says, "Why would I scare off a fellow who's brave enough to sit with Broon and listen to his stories? Now the man will be sauntering up to the bar any minute and start talking my ear off."
He pours out the whisky--generously--and slides two small glasses your way. "Welcome to my place, Xellos. I'm Sham, and while some men write poetry, or sing songs, or build bridges, what I do is make whisky. I hope you like it!" He gulps down the contents of his glass and then asks, "Did you still want a meal and a room? All that talk about the elf and his bird caused me to lose track of things."
Frandal hesitates for a second. He ponders if he should go back and find the origin fo that feeling, even that he suspects where it came from. But remembering that if they don’t get a nice room and a good dinner his familiar will tease him for a hundred years he hurries and go to the inn. He hopes that after getting a room and inscribing for the tournament he could still enjoy that wishkey at Sham’s...
"So your great great grandfather wielded the wand of Azalor the Elusive!? That's quite exciting." Ozum says turning towards Huck intently. "Was he a druid as well? What about the other three? Where are the Windhovers now?
Switching to Druidic: "Are you a druid too!"
He takes a breath and pauses a moment. "Sorry, I can get a bit overexcited. You were saying?"
Xellos says, "Oh, completely understandable. Yes, I'll have a meal with your recommendation of meat or stew and a smoked fish. The more smokey the better. Might as well take a single room as well." He gulps the whiskey down and sets down the glass gently as he clears his throat from the burn of the spirit."Ah, a triumph. A pleasure to meet you Sham. Sorry, but how much was everything?"
DM wants to be sure he understands where Frandal is headed. Is he still walking to The Singing FIre in hopes of getting a room? And, then, after that, planning to go back to Sham's Peg?
Yes. Seeing that he lost the last individual room avaible at Sham’s makes him to move quick and see if there is still one avaible at the Singing Fire. Then he wants to go to sing for the tournament and then probably go back to Sham’s to take a wishkey, leaving the eagle outside this time. Honestly last part is for the shake of making it easier for you to start gathering the party, but maybe that’s a lot of things and we can meet each other during the tournament or other opportunity. If that is going to “steal” much time of the flowing of the history I let it at your discretion. I don’t want to monopolize the thread making a lot of things in the sandbox and slow things down.
"So your great great grandfather wielded the wand of Azalor the Elusive!? That's quite exciting." Ozum says turning towards Huck intently. "Was he a druid as well? What about the other three? Where are the Windhovers now?
Switching to Druidic: "Are you a druid too!"
He takes a breath and pauses a moment. "Sorry, I can get a bit overexcited. You were saying?"
To Steedling, futuristic_kf, AmazingAmazon, and Law_less:
Ozum's question in druidic causes some confusion; no one seems to understand what he asked. But Mithro responds, "Yes, Ander was a druid, and if I'm not mistaken Azalor's wand is always in the hand of a druid. Isn't that right, Huck?
Huck nods in agreement while swallowing some bread with jam on it.
Mithro continues, "Azalor was the first druid to wield the wand, my great great grandfather Ander was the fourth, and today that wand is wielded by Sariel Sunshimmer who is, I believe the seventh druid in that particular line of Windhovers."
Huck takes over the conversation. "The other three Windhovers aren't druids though. Talisten the Devout, he was a cleric, and his mace has been handed down to cleric after cleric since the beginning. Today, Talisten's mace is wielded by Thoradin Brokenhammer. Let's see...then, of course, we have that line of Windhovers that are typically wizards. They have all wielded Findric's staff."
"There may have been a sorcerer or a warlock in that line of WIndhovers as well," chimes in Garrett.
"That may be so. Something tells me that's true of Arconius," says Huck. "And, so, today, Findric's staff is in the hands of Bharash Shestendi. What a mouthful that name is!" And, lastly, the fourth Windhover is a human female named Ro Venna, and she's the one who carries Everal's sword. As you've probably guessed, that sword is typically wielded by a fighter."
Garrett then attempts to answer your question about where the WIndhovers are now. "The four WIndhovers decided very early on that they should live somewhat distant from each other. No need to have all their focus in just one place, I suppose. So, roughly speaking, there's a Windhover toward each point of the compass...north, south, east, and west. In the north is Crow's Nest, and that's where Thoradin lives. In the south, somewhere in the Yantir Forest, is where Sariel lives. To the west--and rather remote, I say--is Wizard's Reach. That's where Bharash lives. And you might have noticed some smaller islands out in the Bay of Fyth when you sailed in. Anyway, the largest of those islands is the Isle of Woe. And that's where Ro Venna lives. In a small fortress simply called The Keep."
"We've only seen Crow's Nest, by the way. Don't travel enough to see all those other places," comments Mithro.
"But, if things follow the usual pattern, all four Windhovers should be in Talisten soon, if they aren't already," says Huck. "That's part of the tradition around here."
Xellos says, "Oh, completely understandable. Yes, I'll have a meal with your recommendation of meat or stew and a smoked fish. The more smokey the better. Might as well take a single room as well." He gulps the whiskey down and sets down the glass gently as he clears his throat from the burn of the spirit."Ah, a triumph. A pleasure to meet you Sham. Sorry, but how much was everything?"
"Single room...meal...whisky...dusty bottle of wine...that comes to ten silver on the nose, Xellos. And smoked fish it is. Give me just a few minutes."
"Well, how interesting! Thank you for sharing with us!"
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Horatio Hirschfeld - Squire imbued with fae powers, in the Coliseum of Conquest (W2/L1) DM for Reavers of Harkenwold, and sometimes The Fighting Grounds of the Coliseum
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A few more minutes pass and the halflings continue to eat, drink, and converse will all of you. They're clearly enjoying the opportunity to talk about Syndaris and the tournament. Eventually Huck takes over the conversation when he feels he has everyone's attention. "My cousin Mithro will never tell you this, but he's a great great grandson to a former Windhover."
Mithro shakes his head and says, "Huck, these folks don't want to hear a Broadleaf family history."
Huck continues, "Of course they do! Here they are in Talisten, traveling from who knows where to see a festival devoted to the Windhovers, and your great great grandfather Ander was one! What a story that is."
Huck pushes his cousin on the shoulder good-naturedly and says, "Be quiet, Huck Browning."
"Well, I would certainly like to hear this tale. Please go on."
Horatio Hirschfeld - Squire imbued with fae powers, in the Coliseum of Conquest (W2/L1)
DM for Reavers of Harkenwold, and sometimes The Fighting Grounds of the Coliseum
Well, wits and skills hmm, I have skills, we will just have to see about the wits part" Kurt says grinning broadly.
"A real Windhover? This I want to hear"
Kurt Stoneseeker
Ragmin Graybeard
"I would also be interested. Perhaps your favor will bode well for Garret." Ozum empties his glass and looks at the halflings confused. "One thing I don't understand is why you need a wizard to teleport you to Greyloft. Are the mountains that treacherous?
"Ha," Mithro laughs. "No, we're just poor travelers. We didn't travel through the mountains. Just took the roads that go around them. I'm not looking forward to the long walk home, that's all."
Arissa's remark was all the encouragement Huck needed. He takes the next few minutes to tell all of you (Arissa, Ozum, Kurt, and Alora) the following:
I suppose it goes without saying that the Windhovers are something special around here. Just for starters, the city we're all sitting in is named after one: Talisten the Devout. And so too are the towns Everal and Findric. And then there's Lake Azalor: it's named after the druidess Azalor the Elusive. In fact, the wand that Azalor used eventually became the wand that Ander Broadleaf used when he served as a Windhover--the first halfling to do so, by the way!
Garrett Goodbarrel interrupts, "You're throwing out a lotta names and places, Huck. These folks aren't from around here. You're apt to confuse them, don't you think?"
"I suppose so." He pauses, then says, "Let me clean up my story a bit by leaving out all the names and such." He begins again. "The Windhovers are four powerful heroes who are sworn to protect Syndaris, and each Windhover wields a special weapon that grants him (or her) even greater power to be a protector and overseer of the realm. This weapon is ceremoniously passed from one Windhover to the next when the appropriate time comes. Each Windhover has vowed to pass his or her magical weapon only to someone who is pure in heart and will be committed to the safety and prosperity of the Syndarian people. One of those magical weapons is Azalor's wand, and that's where Mithro's great great grandfather fits in. Almost 130 years ago, Ander Broadleaf took the Windhover Vow and became the fourth person to wield Azalor's wand."
Back at Sham`s Frandal is just sitting at the table, wishing to have come with the same excuse the tiefling said, when the waitress came and told him that he couldn`t have Celebqueese with him.
”What? Oh That’s so unfortunate. Sorry. I will leave then. “ he turns to the bulky man saying, “I am sorry. Maybe next time” as he stands and walk out the eagle stared at the poor waitress as it was offended. And she was!
Once outside he hurried to the Signing Fire.
*When are you going to learn?. We are not meant to be with common folk*
*It’s you who need to learn that we are common folk, just with more responsabilities.*
*That sounded like your father*
*And you sounded like old Yoric, now let’s focus on secure a room and our participation on the tournament before we had to spent the night on a stable*
With that the elf changed his relaxed pace to a more energic one, walking straigth to the Signing Fire and going to ask for a room as soon as he enters it.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Xellos ponders what the bartender said and says, "I believe I understand having all manner of folk around, with the festival on. The the bird seems quite uncommon, but it doesn't bother me if I sounded otherwise. Though it's your place. Just wondering if you knew either the elf or that Broon fellow were potential trouble—I try and avoid it."
Xellos pauses for a moment and continues, "The young lad, Sib, at the docks said your place was rustic and hospitable, he seems to be right. This is my kind of place. I'll take the bottle of wine off your hands as well as three whiskeys. It would be foolish to turn down the best on the island, possibly insulting to the craftsman as well. Tell you what—make it four and pour yourself the fourth, or give it to someone else of your choosing. I'll also have the meal for a silver piece when you have time and will have your recommendation on either meat or stew."
His eyes perk up when he remembers "smoked", "Oh...and a smoked fish, please. Maybe I'll have a chat with Broon and the elf fellow, if everything could be brought over there? I'll inquire about a room in a little while. Forgive me I forgot my manners, my name is Xellos. Now, how much do I owe you for everything, sir?" He puts his coin pouch on the bar.
Xellos turns his head and sees the elf is not at the table anymore and says, "Oh dear, I hope I didn't cause him to leave. Well, I guess just three whiskeys then. Two for me and one for yourself or someone you choose. I'll just have everything at the bar."
He sits with a slightly disappointed look on his face.
After Apocalypse - Liavyre Withrethin Elf Ranger
Dragon of Autumn - Geoff Krowly Human Cleric
Princes of the Apocalypse - Leofir Sylvaranth Elf Rogue
The Windhovers' Call - Xellos Mazoku Tiefling Sorcerer
High Times at Low Tides - DM
Please make a WISDOM saving throw.
WIS ST:4
Advantage roll in case is a charm effect: 19
PbP Character: A few ;)
To FrandalSilvereyes:
A rather unsettling feeling washes over your mind, as if some silent, invisible force had been prying into your thinking. The strange sensation was only momentary. You continue your short walk to The Singing Fire.
Saving throw successful (barely) :)
Frandal hesitates for a second. He ponders if he should go back and find the origin fo that feeling, even that he suspects where it came from. But remembering that if they don’t get a nice room and a good dinner his familiar will tease him for a hundred years he hurries and go to the inn. He hopes that after getting a room and inscribing for the tournament he could still enjoy that wishkey at Sham’s...
That was a close one! ;)
PbP Character: A few ;)
"So your great great grandfather wielded the wand of Azalor the Elusive!? That's quite exciting." Ozum says turning towards Huck intently. "Was he a druid as well? What about the other three? Where are the Windhovers now?
Switching to Druidic: "Are you a druid too!"
He takes a breath and pauses a moment. "Sorry, I can get a bit overexcited. You were saying?"
Xellos says, "Oh, completely understandable. Yes, I'll have a meal with your recommendation of meat or stew and a smoked fish. The more smokey the better. Might as well take a single room as well." He gulps the whiskey down and sets down the glass gently as he clears his throat from the burn of the spirit. "Ah, a triumph. A pleasure to meet you Sham. Sorry, but how much was everything?"
After Apocalypse - Liavyre Withrethin Elf Ranger
Dragon of Autumn - Geoff Krowly Human Cleric
Princes of the Apocalypse - Leofir Sylvaranth Elf Rogue
The Windhovers' Call - Xellos Mazoku Tiefling Sorcerer
High Times at Low Tides - DM
To FrandalSilvereyes:
DM wants to be sure he understands where Frandal is headed. Is he still walking to The Singing FIre in hopes of getting a room? And, then, after that, planning to go back to Sham's Peg?
Yes. Seeing that he lost the last individual room avaible at Sham’s makes him to move quick and see if there is still one avaible at the Singing Fire. Then he wants to go to sing for the tournament and then probably go back to Sham’s to take a wishkey, leaving the eagle outside this time. Honestly last part is for the shake of making it easier for you to start gathering the party, but maybe that’s a lot of things and we can meet each other during the tournament or other opportunity. If that is going to “steal” much time of the flowing of the history I let it at your discretion. I don’t want to monopolize the thread making a lot of things in the sandbox and slow things down.
PbP Character: A few ;)
"Well, how interesting! Thank you for sharing with us!"
Horatio Hirschfeld - Squire imbued with fae powers, in the Coliseum of Conquest (W2/L1)
DM for Reavers of Harkenwold, and sometimes The Fighting Grounds of the Coliseum