The caravan you had all been travelling with was meandering at the slow pace of merchants with no sense of urgency. The folk here seemed to enjoy the trip more than the destination, but there was plenty of ale to share, stories to be swapped -though sadly, none of them worth note outside a tavern braggart- but regardless enjoyable stories who's truth was questionable at best.
For one reason or another you all had business in the city though the three of you were the only adventurers of any kind there. The night was deep as you felt more or less like it was midnight. The moon was bright above, illuminating everything with semi-dim light, allowing even those without darkvision of some kind to see a decent distance around you. The fire burned and the sweet smell of roasted deer caught by one of the caravans trappers wafted through the air. Though many regretted that not a single one of them was a spice merchant! Most of the caravaneers were simple peddlers, others merchants. A small handful of guards who kept an eye on you three though not with any scrutiny... except for the aasimar who unnerved some of the people there, despite his promises to not be a threat. A retainer wandering about the camp, tired of the wait .. wanting to serve .. someone - but the aasimar and the retainer didn't seem to get along very well.
One set of the caravaneers stood out from the rest in only that they all wore brightly colored clothing, typically of yellows, greens, purples, and sometimes white. They seemed merry and cheerful at all times, as if they had been blessed with some level of happiness that had eluded most people. Or perhaps it was the fact that they were constantly drinking spirits. For the most part they kept to themselves, though they were anything but unsociable. If approached they would welcome whoever with open arms, and regale them with tales of long lost things, and of great men.
One of them had been shuffling around the camp, she stood out a bit from the others though for the moment she seemed only to be speaking to the other caravanners or guards. Her motions lent one to believe she was offering them positive words or some similar function. One of the merchants who had chosen to challenge Noel to some gambling, walking away in frustration after having lost nearly a quarter of his earnings from the previous town. (Noel add 7 gold, 5 silver to your inventory)
The night air was cool, but refreshing. Summer was only a few months away, and the cool nights of spring were in the decline.
Please take the time to describe your characters appearance, and talk in character amongst yourselves. Once I feel either roleplay is stalling or a good point to proceed the story along, I will! You may interact with eachother, the NPC's or both. Welcome to the game!
Beren sits apart from the company, far enough that he can't feel the heat from the fire, but close enough that he can watch and listen. It is impossible to read his expression, as his face is obscured by an iron mask. Though the two large eye slots should be enough to at least reveal his eyes, they are filled with an intense golden glow that further obscures any features that the holes in the mask might otherwise reveal. His head is covered from neck to chin by his chainmail coif, which lays flat against his skull, thus amplifying the strange alien appearance the mask gives him.
He wears a hood lined with white fur--the only white piece of clothing on him. His cloak and tabard are black as coal aside from the golden highlights and the golden emblem upon his chest. Two wings with a diamond and a sphere.
For weapons, he carries a great sword across his back, and a longsword on his left side...both of which are currently resting on the ground beside the rock on which he is sitting. The great sword itself is a massive weapon, its length nearly surpassing his own height. He is not an exceptionally tall individual, nor is he particularly broad, in fact, he is quite average in those regards. Yet, he gives off an air of power.
Every so often, his mask tips towards the retainer as if gauging how close the man is before looking away.
He is well aware that his presence is a discomfort for some of the people here. Perhaps this is why he chooses to sit alone. Regardless, for as long as he is a part of this company, they are under his protection. He will not let any harm befall them. So, he watches.
Noel sits near the fire, spinning his newly won coins in his hand, his trusty candle sitting by his side. "Another easy victory. These merchants need to get a bit better at being lucky, or I'm going to end up taking all of their earnings!" he thinks, chuckling heartily at the thought. He's dressed in a rather fancy looking dark blue doublet and pants, with streaks of gold along the edges, and his leather boots are clearly of at least decently high quality. Under the doublet, a thicker and simpler leather armor chestplate is visible. His eyes are a deep blue, matching his outfit, and his hair has turned stark white with age
The candle at his side is reltively simple, the base made out of simple iron and the candle itself made of common wax, though it lights occasionally without ever seeming to actually burn down, and the flame jostles as Noel laughs, almost as if it was laughing with him. Attached to Noel's belt is a rather ornate sheathed rapier and a simple pan flute, though those that look close enough can also make out a hidden dagger as well.
(OOC: Going to assume for the sake of this post that Noel has already met the group of merchants in the more colorful clothes given we seem to have been traveling with this caravan for a bit)
He stands up from around the fireplace, fixes his doublet, and walks over to the more colorfully dressed bunch of the travelers, picking up a drink along the way if he can find one. When he reaches the group, he remarks:
"Hello there friends! I see you all are enjoying your revels as usual on this excellent night. Mind if I join you for a drink?"
Jack sat near Noel at the fire, having largely been content to observe the match, and further encourage Noel's =victim- er, playing partner to keep at the game, assuring some certainty of victory in the challenger. Of course Jack knew better, and once the merchant walked out of immediate view, looked to his friend with a sidelong and sly grin. In spite of the air of familiarity between the pair in the moment, the two certainly did not look the part of being the type to travel the same circles.
For whereas Noel dressed fancifully in his high quality clothing, Jack's own apparel was colorful, but was otherwise of a well-worn and simpler affair that would be a little less be out a place of the average traveler. He wore a long sleeved tunic, pants, and poncho, all in various shades of green. His shoes were barely a step above being roughspun in quality, yet somehow held together through sheer spite for the world, and the love their creative owner, as there were plenty of patches denoting past repair work done to them.
He was not lacking in personal protection as well, as a scimitar resting in its sheath sat at his side. A set of decently made hide armor covered his frame just beneath the poncho as well, a yew wand shaped into a spiral sat snuggly strapped to his hip, and a rounded, wooden shield was absently being rolled about along the ground. As slight of build as he was, which may come as no surprise to any given his clearly elven lineage, Jack's height exceeds most of his common kin by leaps and bonds, and even that of the average human! Yet despite the somewhat spidery appearance that came with his light green frame, Jack's affable nature, knack for story telling, or simply the infectious joy and wonder that naturally radiated from him kept others from being nearly so on guard with the Eladrin throughout the trip.
But there had been one soul in particular that seemed -- in his eyes at least -- immune to the jovial atmosphere, be it of his own incidental making or that of others. And tonight would be the night he changed all that! So while his friend busied himself with easier potential marks, and his own passing interest in the one woman in particular quickly waned in seeing her busy talking to the guards, Jack hopped to his feet, flipped his shield about so that it was balanced on his head like a hat, and with the biggest smile he could muster, he'd make his way over to Beren and offer the man a handshake.
"Hello there, friend! That is, if you don't mind the familiarity overly much. The name is Jack. Jack Vicvan! Strange name for an elf, I know, but there's a story to that, I assure you." He greets; his green eyes seeming to almost twinkle in amusement.
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Yog - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Stars/Celestial (Libretalia)
Beren stands to meet Jack, and grips the elf's hand in a firm handshake. The skin of his hand lets off a soft glow, as well as a mild heat.
"Who am I to judge what makes a name strange? I am Beren. I have no surname to speak of," He pauses, tilting his mask towards the retainer before looking back to Jack. Taking note of the elf's amusement, he isn't sure what to make of it. Still, this was the first person to approach him since he'd initially joined up with the caravan, so he supposed it would only be fair to offer some sort of conversation. "What awaits you in Daggorford? Or do you plan to pass through?" His voice sounds younger then one might expect, though his tone carries a weight to it as if burdened with memories he'd rather not have. His words also seem to echo almost, and the light behind his mask flickers as he speaks.
Several men and women sit around their own fire, the camp itself full of several others in what could be called 'cliques' for lack of better phasing. Each of them eating from what looked to be kebabs - With a nice mix of greasy meats, vegetables, and other unidentifiable but delicious looking chunks. Ale bottles scattered about the immediate area showing they were already deep in their cups. Despite this, they sing jovially to each-other, slapping of backs, and stringing of several instruments (Mostly wind and reed) though a single large lute is there to add its own melody to the symphony. The song was of some great man that they clearly admired, though he seemed only a myth from the myriad of feats they seem to claim he had accomplished.
As Noel approaches and ponders his question, they all stop for a moment staring at him like deer in headlights, then at each-other for longer than an awkward moment before they all burst out laughing. Yes yes, come hither Noel. One wonders why you even bother to ask at this point! We've told you a hundred times you're welcome here so long as you don't leave with our entire coinpurse! one man says as he looks over to another, who's joviality turned to shame. Noel had cleared the man out the week before as he had refused to listen to reason and quit while he was ahead. Though ultimately the other man shrugged in a 'Oh well' palms facing the night sky on the open road, in a very open part, the forests and mountains all a distance away. Everyone laughing harder at the reaction. This group gave off some sense of family with each-other.
The one who'd been robb- err fairly relieved of his coinpurse saying It is fine. You won in a game of skill and luck. I hold no hard feelings. Though I know you could never beat Madam Eva at a game of luck! he said confidently. One of them putting a bottle of ale (already uncorked) in Noels hand.
OOC: Noel if you wish to play a game with any of the 5 people around you we will use dice as the decider, despite it beign a card game. We will play with rules similar to 21, in that you can roll as many dice as you want, and whoever has the highest number, without breaking a total of 21 wins. Going over 21 is an automatic loss for that round.
You must roll at-least 2 dice per game. You must roll all dice you intend to at once... due to dice manipulation risk. Due to your feature and the specific rules of this game, you may roll each dice as normal or with DISadvantage. I chose DIS as the game would punish ADV in this case.
Also due to your feature, I will allow you to negate 1 dice roll from gambling games every other 'round' to make it viable.
You do not have to play either, you can choose to simply chat. Minimum 'bet' 5 GP.
With Jack and Beren:
The pair talking amongst themselves hear laughter from the colorful caravanners where Noel had left off to. As Beren tilts his mask he can spot the elf looking at him with disapproval. She was always like this. Her only purpose since .. both events that happened was her singular obsession. One that Beren knew all too well, and she acted like a strict principal with a disobedient pupil whenever he did even the slightest thing she disapproved of. And in Berens mind he could hear the all too familiar Message echoing into his mind. A voice only he could hear.
No. You need to stop interacting with these.. people. They know not of your mission, nor my goals. Nor do they comprehend the importance of either. You were not created to make friends, you were made to do as you were told on that day. The freedom you have now is only due to your ... efficiency. Do not waste time. Say your pleasantries to him, and then leave... or make him leave.
Whether he listened to it or not was another matter. But this was how she always was. Drowned by her obsession, her goal.
Beren does not look back in her direction, instead focusing on Jack instead of the elf. To others they would appear as knight and squire... but they both knew who was the real master of the two of them. Beren had known as soon as she'd been assigned to him, perhaps that was why she was so quick to drop the pretense--at least, she did so around him. While it is tempting to just ignore the message, he can't help but respond...
"And what would be the purpose behind making him leave? I see no reason to avoid interaction if he is so willing to speak with me. How is speaking with one of these people--who might I remind you are all under my protection so long as we are traveling with them--a waste of time? What, pray tell, would you have me do instead? Continue sitting alone, brooding, while you strut around, seeking someone to 'serve' as if you really cared about any of these common folk?"
He pauses, anger and irritation lacing his tone as he adds, "And perhaps you should consider not glaring at me like that. You know I don't care what you think of me, but you should consider what kind of image you are presenting. Have you forgotten that out here we are representatives of your blasted Church?" The light behind his mask flares for a moment at the mention of the church.
(OOC: what is the retainer's name?)
He'd learned to cope with the retainer...though he had tried to lose her a couple times. She somehow always managed to find him again...though Beren had to admit that it was rather difficult to hide when his own skin shone like a beacon in the night. Of course, for all he knew she could have other ways of tracking him. Regardless, he'd come to terms with the fact that he was stuck with her, for now at least...he is satisfied with being away from the Church. Obsessed as that elf was, Beren realized that she rarely objected to his choices of destination, and rarely directed his travels herself. He had his suspicions as to why, but he would never bother asking. For now, he has no choice but to be content with what freedom he has.
The light behind his mask flares for a moment before returning to its former, flickering, luminance. There is no indication as to why the light brightened, and Beren himself doesn't seem to notice. He simply waits for Jack's response, standing as silently as an emotionless statue.
Jack tried to mirror Beren's firmity in the handshake, though it swiftly becomes clear that such strength was beyond the Eladrin. Even still, Jack never lost his sunny disposition, and even went a little wide-eyed in awe before returning the man's questions with a bit of a chuckle. "You're quite the curious one, aren't you?" He asks a bit ambigiously.
"Well if I had to be honest, and I do so prefer to be so, my answer would be... a whole lot of nothing. But also, a little of everything." Jack gives cheshire grin. "All in all, I suppose it really depends on the gods a little, and the stories they've chosen to weave out of the people's lives there and those that visit. I, myself, am quite fond of stories you see." At that, Jack skipped back a step and with a flourish of his hands before opening his arms wide he adds ,"Whether they be Big or small, simple or fanciful, lies or truth or a dash of both, I love'm all! But for the really good ones, you can't very well stay in one place now can ya?" He gives a wink then waggles his fingers.
"I'm no fool of course... unless a telling requires me to be so. For passion can only get one so far, or so I heard a human once say. So naturally, Tymora willing and my coin purse proves less substantially than I like, I might be about for longer to help with the odd job in town before finding my way elsewhere." He adds, happily filling the air with his exuberance and fairly animated gestures to further emphasize his words. "What of you my masked and well armored friend! Though I might've overheard a thing or two by now of how ya came to be apart of this merry little caravan, the jury yet seems out about your own business... Which to be fair, is your own of course! I mean not to pry, naturally. Buuuut if there's anything old Jack can maybe help ya with, or you too are in the story trader circuit, my assistance and attention will of course be ever opened for ya! And all for the low-low-low-low-loowwww price of-"
He swirls a finger about each low before ultimately pointing at Beren's head. "An answer to how you doing they whole light behind the mask thing. Are you a fire genasi? Never met one personally, but I've heard of some far south Calimshan having hair made out of flames. Amazing, right?"
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Yog - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Stars/Celestial (Libretalia)
Beren watches silently as Jack waves his arms about. He gives no outward reaction to any of what the elf says or does--at least none that can be seen...at least, not until Jack asks about the light behind his mask. To this, he lowers his head slightly, and slowly raises a hand to touch the cold iron that hides his face. "I am...human."
He is silent for a moment. Perhaps to process all of Jack's animated words, or perhaps because there was something else on his mind.
Looking up again, he slowly lowers his hand and turns the conversation to Jack's earlier statements, "Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. I have seen you speaking with the others in this caravan. They seem to enjoy your company." His mask slowly turns to where Noel is speaking with the colorfully dressed caravan members. He goes quiet again for a moment, pondering reasons why people are so infatuated with stories. Perhaps it is a way for them to escape whatever dull or painful lives they are living. He envies people like that, who can lose themselves in the tales of others. As for him, his mind is to busy to bother with stories of someone else's life.
His mask shifts back to Jack, "And what sort of rumors are circling now? ...Never mind. I suppose I don't want to know." He tilts his head downwards again, "I go where I am drawn. Something tells me there is work to be done, so I follow that instinct."
Another mental prod at Beren. Again, words only he can hear.
Beren feels a hint of wry amusement from the response. Something rare from the woman. Child. I'll have you remember that while we may play the role of knight and squire, it was i who created you.. with the help of my church and... she hesitated, considering for a moment. You were so well suited for it. So yes, I expect you to brood alone. If too many people get comfortable with you there will be issues you cannot yet see as you are still just a boy it seems the woman had finally began believing that Beren was her creation rather than that of the church itself. As did many who had fallen to obsession laid possession over something they may or may not have been part of until the very last moment.
And most of the people here look at you with the same look. If anything... I'm blendingin. he could feel her judgement through the message, even as her body turned to greet the colorfully dressed older woman who had been wandering the camp. Even as she exchanged pleasantries, she managed to finish with You are a valuable asset to my .. for lack of a better word.. research. Besides, the church doesn't understand the will of Kelemvor.. I.. have seen the truth... a glimpse. A vision that will be completed through you.
Noel let's out a hearty laugh as the group cracks a joke about him being welcome as long as he doesn't take all of their money. It's made even funnier to the fact that he's taken quite a bit from each of them across various games. "They may be a ton of fun, but not the best at games. I almost feel bad, taking money from those that can't put up much of a challenge and don't know when to quit", he thinks to himself as he sits down and one of them hands him a drink. His laughter subsiding, he says:
"Well then, perhaps the coin purses will have to stay away tonight! Besides, I've already had my fun with some of the other merchants. No need to tempt Lady Luck when she's already smiled favorably on me"
As he says this, he jingles a the coins he just one off on one of the other merchants and puts them away in his pack before taking the pan flute off of his belt and starting to absentmindedly twirl it as he talks to the group. When the one whom he had recently beaten makes a comment about someone "certainly" being able to beat Noel in a game of luck, he raises an eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by the challenge
"Well then, Madam Eva I and will have to play soon them! I would like to see if your words about her luck can hold true, friend. Tell her to find me if she wishes to test which one of us fortune favors"
He laughs heartily, sits there staring into the sky for a moment, takes a large swig of his drink, and sighs contently before continuing. As he talks,the flame his candle, which he has now set on the ground in front of him, begins to flicker and dance as a bit of his magic floes through it, almost pulsing a little bit when he says something like "story" or "tale"
"It is nice to be on the road again. That last town was interesting for a moment, but their stories got rather dull, and we all know they had to have been making up most of them. It's been a while since one of the locals in a place we visit has told me something interesting enough for me to remember for long. Besides, I've been spolied rotten by the wonderful tales you've all regailed me with"
They all pat their coinpouches as if it were a wound that was spared the salt but it was clearly done in jest as they all laughed. Some digging back into their kebabs, while others their ale. Though the continued stringing their instruments, adding some melody to the faintly warm night air, though the men shared a wry grin at the last part of Noels first statement. Ey mate... I can't say I wouldn't want to 'tempt' lady luck. I heard she's quite the looker! though luckily he didn't take the joke farther into the obvious pun that could follow. The men sharing a laugh, though the woman sighing. She clearly didn't mind but it was typical of them.
As Noel seems to be up for the challenge the one who'd suggested it smiles and says There is no way you could beat her! Though it would be fun to see you try. I hold no spite against you, to be sure, but every challenger to her is different. She may come around here in time if you're willing to wait.
As Noel settles in, drinking his proffered bottle and talking of recent travails they nodded. Seeming to agree. Not on the specifics but the general. The soft strumming if the lute accompanying the conversation even more.
Well. the lady said. Let me tell you a tale that should whet your appetite. After-all, man cannot live on bread alone.
There is a land lost to time, where shade and shadows play. The sky is pale and mournful, though full is the day. the music around him picked up as they began to accentuate her tale. A land of mourning at the dusk, e'ry soul too sad to play. The trees cry out in terror as their leaves fall to the ground. A howling echoes through the sky, though no mutt comes to play. A dreary land, full of history enshrouded. Where all may enter, but none may go. A sky forever clouded. Though joy there be, it still exists, deep within the mists - Tis far and few, and rarely found... yet hope there still exists.
Not all is lost, not all is found. From thundering sky, to fallow ground. A song we weave, for all of time, lest it be forever lost. It's return is all it seeks, but heavy is the cost. Many try, many fail, abandoned to their fate. Though with much risk, comes much reward. You need only a guide, unto the door
As she finishes the song shifts from a saddened bass, to the normal upbeat tone. And she smiles at Noel. An old song passed down within our kind. Of a land we lost before we were forced to become the nomads we are now.
Noel can tell that her last statement is a mixture of truth and lie. Though he can't quite tell which half is which, he has a feeling that there is ultimately more truth to her statement than falsehood.
The light behind the mask dims for a moment as Beren shuts his eyes. He directs his thoughts towards that irritating prod, hoping to quiet the woman but knowing better then to expect her to leave him be.
He often wonders how this woman managed to get herself chosen to be his squire...spy or not... She seemed to obvious in her constant judgment and watchfulness. He'd at least expected to be paired with someone who would at least pretend to be obedient. Perhaps that was to much to ask.
"As much as you wish I didn't have a will of my own, I do. You should realize by now that I do not care about your goals, or your visions." He sets his jaw, growing annoyed at her labeling him a child. Sure, she was an elf and far older than he, but that didn't give her the right to belittle him in such a way... at least, it shouldn't. It seemed he lost all his own rights the day they came to take him away...to reclaim their property...
It seems odd to him that she would insult the church alongside him. Not that he really cares, but it does make him wonder again why she was picked to watch over him. "I don't care about Kelemvor's will. Whether or not the church understands it is of little concern to me."
He makes no move to discourage Jack from speaking to him... though he realizes that he isn't the best at holding a conversation. Perhaps his own lack of charm would dissuade the elf from even trying to keep talking to him. Regardless, he doesn't care if his retainer approves. Besides, what can she really do to stop him?
Jack cocked his head to the side at the claim and appeared either expectant of some elaboration or merely of more words from Beren to continue the conversation. Regardless of which, it hadn't seemed Beren would be losing the elf's interest any time soon.
At even the hint of curiosity regarding the rumors, once again the Eladrin gave a cheshire grin, and appeared but moments away of spilling the beans when the dismissal gave cause for him to immediately deflate on the spot. But he's back to his animated self in seconds, if however looking a bit more thoughtful too. "Instincts, is it? I knew a woodsman -- a ranger, to be more exact, with a similar sort of instincts, I think. Often led him to trouble of course, which suited his passions just fine as I understood." Jack gives Beren another once over.
"And of course, there's always the occasional tales out there drifting about of more chosen souls being coaxed along by our more divine cousins, fathers, mothers, and all that... a grim fate or extreme hardship is ever promised those fellows, I'm almost sorry to say. And triumph never guaranteed at that." He says, his tone shifting bit by bit to seriousness. After a moment of silence, Jack is suddenly smiling again and patting the Beren on the shoulder. "But come what may, I'm sure you got what it takes my reclusive little friend!" The Eladrin then appears to start looking about for something.
"Hm~ I should rejoin my friend soon, but... there is one thing that I just cannot bring myself not to..." Jack trailed off looking off to the horizon for a long moment. "What of your companion 'o knightly Beren? Are they too drawn as you are to wherever it is you are going? Or are they merely tagging along to enjoy the journey itself?"
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Yog - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Stars/Celestial (Libretalia)
Noel listens to the story intently, albiet with a bit of skepticism as she weaves her tale. It's certainly a far cry from ones she's told him in the past, especially in how somber it is.
"A land of dusk and shadow where all suffer and none may leave? Built on a classic trope of those that seek to terrify with their tales, but this story is an impressive one nonetheless"he thinks to himself as she concludes her story. When she makes a comment about it being an "old song" from a land her people used to inhabit, his interest is piqued, though with it his skepecism also rises. Might there be a place like that that he himself has not visited? Even in all of his travels he hasn't heard a story like this one. He's not quite sure if he buys where she says she got this story from, but if so, he'll have to dig further at a future date. For now, he responds as she finishes up:
"An excellent tale! Certainly a more somber one than your usual wonderous histories. It is always nice to hear tales as old as you say that one is". In that moment, a question comes to mind, and he is instantly hooked on trying to find the answer, continuing "Do you know why the land was lost, or has that been lost to time? I assume that must be quite the story"
Beren listens as the elf speaks of this...ranger. Somehow Beren doubts this man had similar...instincts, as he. It was difficult to call this overwhelming need to hunt anything but instinct, yet it felt so unnatural, perhaps it wasn't truly instinct so much as a calling.
When Jack continues, Beren tilts his head to the side, "Chosen souls." The statement is spoken with a sort of bitterness. He shakes his head, pushing back whatever thoughts came rushing in. He'd been chosen all right. "Yes, grim fate and hardship... and... destruction." The words seem directed towards himself more than a response.
He seems a little surprised when Jack pats his shoulder, turning his mask to look at the elf--though the smooth iron surface of the mask offers little emotion. "Whatever fate awaits me, I will meet it. It does not matter if it ends in pain, or death, so long as it ends in freedom."
In response to Jack's question about his companion he says simply, "Saelethin follows where I go. Her goals are her own."
She huffs mentally. Tired of his brutishness But though he hadn't said it they both knew that in a fight, he would likely win, barring some miracle. And finally she says Do as you will then. But if you choose to do anything I feel would be innapproproate, I will not hesitate to inform the church using this selfsame spell. she threatens, not letting him know, and hoping that he wouldn't find out that it had limitations - before walking off, pretending to be on some important task. Despite how often she 'broke character' she was always able to fall into it as if it were nothing but a blip in someone's vision.
Noel:
Two of the men nodded, leaving as they had apparently had their fill of ale and meat, rubbing their bellies aches away. leaving only a trio + Noel. The other two shifting to drink the last drops from the bottles of those who'd left. The one thing Noel had noticed was that these people always seemed to flaunt their wealth to some degree. Their jewelry always visible. And though this group had people of all trades and walks of life, and all were relatively skilled at their respective practices, they failed to act like most people with wealth - aside from the showcasing.
She seemed to notice his face as he ponders to himself, and a slight smile creeps on her features, though Noel responds before she is able to voice it. She crosses her arms loosely by the end, though she seems unbothered by the probe. Her fingers lace together and crate a hammock for her head as she rests. Not all of our stories are as colorful as our clothes. she says, addressing her first topic she wished to address, in regards to his reaction. If they all were, there would be no flavor in any.
Her eyes gaze to the night sky, the stars clear and bright. Her chest rising and falling for several heartbeats before she allows herself to respond to the question... You ask a hard question to answer. I am not sure I am allowed to... but in light of our aquaintence I will atleast feed you what i think would be okay to share...
She spends another several minutes pondering that, when another lady .. the older one who'd been wandering around the camp earlier joins the group. Taking a seat nearby. The land was lost by it's own machinations. Its master choosing seclusion. the younger woman said, before the older one chimed in... It is indeed quite the story, young man. she said. She was clearly older even than he. It is as she says though. The land itself left our homeland hundreds of years ago. The details however as you surmised, have been lost to time. Though there are those who seek the answers, and some may find them. None have yet succeeded. she said ominously, her face in an ever slight smile though her countenance showed no malice. Shifting her shawls a little bit to get more comfortable.
Then looking Noel in the eyes. I was told you wished to test your fate by Boris. You wish to challenge me to a game of luck? or did he embellish, and instead you wished to learn of your fate?
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Occassional Dungeon Master.
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On the road to Daggerford
The caravan you had all been travelling with was meandering at the slow pace of merchants with no sense of urgency. The folk here seemed to enjoy the trip more than the destination, but there was plenty of ale to share, stories to be swapped -though sadly, none of them worth note outside a tavern braggart- but regardless enjoyable stories who's truth was questionable at best.
For one reason or another you all had business in the city though the three of you were the only adventurers of any kind there. The night was deep as you felt more or less like it was midnight. The moon was bright above, illuminating everything with semi-dim light, allowing even those without darkvision of some kind to see a decent distance around you. The fire burned and the sweet smell of roasted deer caught by one of the caravans trappers wafted through the air. Though many regretted that not a single one of them was a spice merchant! Most of the caravaneers were simple peddlers, others merchants. A small handful of guards who kept an eye on you three though not with any scrutiny... except for the aasimar who unnerved some of the people there, despite his promises to not be a threat. A retainer wandering about the camp, tired of the wait .. wanting to serve .. someone - but the aasimar and the retainer didn't seem to get along very well.
One set of the caravaneers stood out from the rest in only that they all wore brightly colored clothing, typically of yellows, greens, purples, and sometimes white. They seemed merry and cheerful at all times, as if they had been blessed with some level of happiness that had eluded most people. Or perhaps it was the fact that they were constantly drinking spirits. For the most part they kept to themselves, though they were anything but unsociable. If approached they would welcome whoever with open arms, and regale them with tales of long lost things, and of great men.
One of them had been shuffling around the camp, she stood out a bit from the others though for the moment she seemed only to be speaking to the other caravanners or guards. Her motions lent one to believe she was offering them positive words or some similar function. One of the merchants who had chosen to challenge Noel to some gambling, walking away in frustration after having lost nearly a quarter of his earnings from the previous town. (Noel add 7 gold, 5 silver to your inventory)
The night air was cool, but refreshing. Summer was only a few months away, and the cool nights of spring were in the decline.
Please take the time to describe your characters appearance, and talk in character amongst yourselves. Once I feel either roleplay is stalling or a good point to proceed the story along, I will! You may interact with eachother, the NPC's or both. Welcome to the game!
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Beren sits apart from the company, far enough that he can't feel the heat from the fire, but close enough that he can watch and listen. It is impossible to read his expression, as his face is obscured by an iron mask. Though the two large eye slots should be enough to at least reveal his eyes, they are filled with an intense golden glow that further obscures any features that the holes in the mask might otherwise reveal. His head is covered from neck to chin by his chainmail coif, which lays flat against his skull, thus amplifying the strange alien appearance the mask gives him.
He wears a hood lined with white fur--the only white piece of clothing on him. His cloak and tabard are black as coal aside from the golden highlights and the golden emblem upon his chest. Two wings with a diamond and a sphere.
For weapons, he carries a great sword across his back, and a longsword on his left side...both of which are currently resting on the ground beside the rock on which he is sitting. The great sword itself is a massive weapon, its length nearly surpassing his own height. He is not an exceptionally tall individual, nor is he particularly broad, in fact, he is quite average in those regards. Yet, he gives off an air of power.
Every so often, his mask tips towards the retainer as if gauging how close the man is before looking away.
He is well aware that his presence is a discomfort for some of the people here. Perhaps this is why he chooses to sit alone. Regardless, for as long as he is a part of this company, they are under his protection. He will not let any harm befall them. So, he watches.
Noel sits near the fire, spinning his newly won coins in his hand, his trusty candle sitting by his side. "Another easy victory. These merchants need to get a bit better at being lucky, or I'm going to end up taking all of their earnings!" he thinks, chuckling heartily at the thought. He's dressed in a rather fancy looking dark blue doublet and pants, with streaks of gold along the edges, and his leather boots are clearly of at least decently high quality. Under the doublet, a thicker and simpler leather armor chestplate is visible. His eyes are a deep blue, matching his outfit, and his hair has turned stark white with age
The candle at his side is reltively simple, the base made out of simple iron and the candle itself made of common wax, though it lights occasionally without ever seeming to actually burn down, and the flame jostles as Noel laughs, almost as if it was laughing with him. Attached to Noel's belt is a rather ornate sheathed rapier and a simple pan flute, though those that look close enough can also make out a hidden dagger as well.
(OOC: Going to assume for the sake of this post that Noel has already met the group of merchants in the more colorful clothes given we seem to have been traveling with this caravan for a bit)
He stands up from around the fireplace, fixes his doublet, and walks over to the more colorfully dressed bunch of the travelers, picking up a drink along the way if he can find one. When he reaches the group, he remarks:
"Hello there friends! I see you all are enjoying your revels as usual on this excellent night. Mind if I join you for a drink?"
Jack sat near Noel at the fire, having largely been content to observe the match, and further encourage Noel's =victim- er, playing partner to keep at the game, assuring some certainty of victory in the challenger. Of course Jack knew better, and once the merchant walked out of immediate view, looked to his friend with a sidelong and sly grin. In spite of the air of familiarity between the pair in the moment, the two certainly did not look the part of being the type to travel the same circles.
For whereas Noel dressed fancifully in his high quality clothing, Jack's own apparel was colorful, but was otherwise of a well-worn and simpler affair that would be a little less be out a place of the average traveler. He wore a long sleeved tunic, pants, and poncho, all in various shades of green. His shoes were barely a step above being roughspun in quality, yet somehow held together through sheer spite for the world, and the love their creative owner, as there were plenty of patches denoting past repair work done to them.
He was not lacking in personal protection as well, as a scimitar resting in its sheath sat at his side. A set of decently made hide armor covered his frame just beneath the poncho as well, a yew wand shaped into a spiral sat snuggly strapped to his hip, and a rounded, wooden shield was absently being rolled about along the ground. As slight of build as he was, which may come as no surprise to any given his clearly elven lineage, Jack's height exceeds most of his common kin by leaps and bonds, and even that of the average human! Yet despite the somewhat spidery appearance that came with his light green frame, Jack's affable nature, knack for story telling, or simply the infectious joy and wonder that naturally radiated from him kept others from being nearly so on guard with the Eladrin throughout the trip.
But there had been one soul in particular that seemed -- in his eyes at least -- immune to the jovial atmosphere, be it of his own incidental making or that of others. And tonight would be the night he changed all that! So while his friend busied himself with easier potential marks, and his own passing interest in the one woman in particular quickly waned in seeing her busy talking to the guards, Jack hopped to his feet, flipped his shield about so that it was balanced on his head like a hat, and with the biggest smile he could muster, he'd make his way over to Beren and offer the man a handshake.
"Hello there, friend! That is, if you don't mind the familiarity overly much. The name is Jack. Jack Vicvan! Strange name for an elf, I know, but there's a story to that, I assure you." He greets; his green eyes seeming to almost twinkle in amusement.
Yog - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Stars/Celestial (Libretalia)
Nobody - [Feral-Tiefling]Wizard/Sorcerer - War/Draconic (HoTDQ)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Dreams/Archfey
-
Hiatus:
Xanrazan - [Earth Genasi]Bard - College of Swords(Shadowthorn's Princess of the Apocalypse)
Beren stands to meet Jack, and grips the elf's hand in a firm handshake. The skin of his hand lets off a soft glow, as well as a mild heat.
"Who am I to judge what makes a name strange? I am Beren. I have no surname to speak of," He pauses, tilting his mask towards the retainer before looking back to Jack. Taking note of the elf's amusement, he isn't sure what to make of it. Still, this was the first person to approach him since he'd initially joined up with the caravan, so he supposed it would only be fair to offer some sort of conversation. "What awaits you in Daggorford? Or do you plan to pass through?" His voice sounds younger then one might expect, though his tone carries a weight to it as if burdened with memories he'd rather not have. His words also seem to echo almost, and the light behind his mask flickers as he speaks.
With Noel:
Several men and women sit around their own fire, the camp itself full of several others in what could be called 'cliques' for lack of better phasing. Each of them eating from what looked to be kebabs - With a nice mix of greasy meats, vegetables, and other unidentifiable but delicious looking chunks. Ale bottles scattered about the immediate area showing they were already deep in their cups. Despite this, they sing jovially to each-other, slapping of backs, and stringing of several instruments (Mostly wind and reed) though a single large lute is there to add its own melody to the symphony. The song was of some great man that they clearly admired, though he seemed only a myth from the myriad of feats they seem to claim he had accomplished.
As Noel approaches and ponders his question, they all stop for a moment staring at him like deer in headlights, then at each-other for longer than an awkward moment before they all burst out laughing. Yes yes, come hither Noel. One wonders why you even bother to ask at this point! We've told you a hundred times you're welcome here so long as you don't leave with our entire coinpurse! one man says as he looks over to another, who's joviality turned to shame. Noel had cleared the man out the week before as he had refused to listen to reason and quit while he was ahead. Though ultimately the other man shrugged in a 'Oh well' palms facing the night sky on the open road, in a very open part, the forests and mountains all a distance away. Everyone laughing harder at the reaction. This group gave off some sense of family with each-other.
The one who'd been robb- err fairly relieved of his coinpurse saying It is fine. You won in a game of skill and luck. I hold no hard feelings. Though I know you could never beat Madam Eva at a game of luck! he said confidently. One of them putting a bottle of ale (already uncorked) in Noels hand.
OOC: Noel if you wish to play a game with any of the 5 people around you we will use dice as the decider, despite it beign a card game. We will play with rules similar to 21, in that you can roll as many dice as you want, and whoever has the highest number, without breaking a total of 21 wins. Going over 21 is an automatic loss for that round.
You must roll at-least 2 dice per game. You must roll all dice you intend to at once... due to dice manipulation risk. Due to your feature and the specific rules of this game, you may roll each dice as normal or with DISadvantage. I chose DIS as the game would punish ADV in this case.
Also due to your feature, I will allow you to negate 1 dice roll from gambling games every other 'round' to make it viable.
You do not have to play either, you can choose to simply chat. Minimum 'bet' 5 GP.
With Jack and Beren:
The pair talking amongst themselves hear laughter from the colorful caravanners where Noel had left off to. As Beren tilts his mask he can spot the elf looking at him with disapproval. She was always like this. Her only purpose since .. both events that happened was her singular obsession. One that Beren knew all too well, and she acted like a strict principal with a disobedient pupil whenever he did even the slightest thing she disapproved of. And in Berens mind he could hear the all too familiar Message echoing into his mind. A voice only he could hear.
No. You need to stop interacting with these.. people. They know not of your mission, nor my goals. Nor do they comprehend the importance of either. You were not created to make friends, you were made to do as you were told on that day. The freedom you have now is only due to your ... efficiency. Do not waste time. Say your pleasantries to him, and then leave... or make him leave.
Whether he listened to it or not was another matter. But this was how she always was. Drowned by her obsession, her goal.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Beren does not look back in her direction, instead focusing on Jack instead of the elf. To others they would appear as knight and squire... but they both knew who was the real master of the two of them. Beren had known as soon as she'd been assigned to him, perhaps that was why she was so quick to drop the pretense--at least, she did so around him. While it is tempting to just ignore the message, he can't help but respond...
"And what would be the purpose behind making him leave? I see no reason to avoid interaction if he is so willing to speak with me. How is speaking with one of these people--who might I remind you are all under my protection so long as we are traveling with them--a waste of time? What, pray tell, would you have me do instead? Continue sitting alone, brooding, while you strut around, seeking someone to 'serve' as if you really cared about any of these common folk?"
He pauses, anger and irritation lacing his tone as he adds, "And perhaps you should consider not glaring at me like that. You know I don't care what you think of me, but you should consider what kind of image you are presenting. Have you forgotten that out here we are representatives of your blasted Church?" The light behind his mask flares for a moment at the mention of the church.
(OOC: what is the retainer's name?)
He'd learned to cope with the retainer...though he had tried to lose her a couple times. She somehow always managed to find him again...though Beren had to admit that it was rather difficult to hide when his own skin shone like a beacon in the night. Of course, for all he knew she could have other ways of tracking him. Regardless, he'd come to terms with the fact that he was stuck with her, for now at least...he is satisfied with being away from the Church. Obsessed as that elf was, Beren realized that she rarely objected to his choices of destination, and rarely directed his travels herself. He had his suspicions as to why, but he would never bother asking. For now, he has no choice but to be content with what freedom he has.
The light behind his mask flares for a moment before returning to its former, flickering, luminance. There is no indication as to why the light brightened, and Beren himself doesn't seem to notice. He simply waits for Jack's response, standing as silently as an emotionless statue.
Jack tried to mirror Beren's firmity in the handshake, though it swiftly becomes clear that such strength was beyond the Eladrin. Even still, Jack never lost his sunny disposition, and even went a little wide-eyed in awe before returning the man's questions with a bit of a chuckle. "You're quite the curious one, aren't you?" He asks a bit ambigiously.
"Well if I had to be honest, and I do so prefer to be so, my answer would be... a whole lot of nothing. But also, a little of everything." Jack gives cheshire grin. "All in all, I suppose it really depends on the gods a little, and the stories they've chosen to weave out of the people's lives there and those that visit. I, myself, am quite fond of stories you see." At that, Jack skipped back a step and with a flourish of his hands before opening his arms wide he adds ,"Whether they be Big or small, simple or fanciful, lies or truth or a dash of both, I love'm all! But for the really good ones, you can't very well stay in one place now can ya?" He gives a wink then waggles his fingers.
"I'm no fool of course... unless a telling requires me to be so. For passion can only get one so far, or so I heard a human once say. So naturally, Tymora willing and my coin purse proves less substantially than I like, I might be about for longer to help with the odd job in town before finding my way elsewhere." He adds, happily filling the air with his exuberance and fairly animated gestures to further emphasize his words. "What of you my masked and well armored friend! Though I might've overheard a thing or two by now of how ya came to be apart of this merry little caravan, the jury yet seems out about your own business... Which to be fair, is your own of course! I mean not to pry, naturally. Buuuut if there's anything old Jack can maybe help ya with, or you too are in the story trader circuit, my assistance and attention will of course be ever opened for ya! And all for the low-low-low-low-loowwww price of-"
He swirls a finger about each low before ultimately pointing at Beren's head. "An answer to how you doing they whole light behind the mask thing. Are you a fire genasi? Never met one personally, but I've heard of some far south Calimshan having hair made out of flames. Amazing, right?"
Yog - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Stars/Celestial (Libretalia)
Nobody - [Feral-Tiefling]Wizard/Sorcerer - War/Draconic (HoTDQ)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Dreams/Archfey
-
Hiatus:
Xanrazan - [Earth Genasi]Bard - College of Swords(Shadowthorn's Princess of the Apocalypse)
Beren watches silently as Jack waves his arms about. He gives no outward reaction to any of what the elf says or does--at least none that can be seen...at least, not until Jack asks about the light behind his mask. To this, he lowers his head slightly, and slowly raises a hand to touch the cold iron that hides his face. "I am...human."
He is silent for a moment. Perhaps to process all of Jack's animated words, or perhaps because there was something else on his mind.
Looking up again, he slowly lowers his hand and turns the conversation to Jack's earlier statements, "Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. I have seen you speaking with the others in this caravan. They seem to enjoy your company." His mask slowly turns to where Noel is speaking with the colorfully dressed caravan members. He goes quiet again for a moment, pondering reasons why people are so infatuated with stories. Perhaps it is a way for them to escape whatever dull or painful lives they are living. He envies people like that, who can lose themselves in the tales of others. As for him, his mind is to busy to bother with stories of someone else's life.
His mask shifts back to Jack, "And what sort of rumors are circling now? ...Never mind. I suppose I don't want to know." He tilts his head downwards again, "I go where I am drawn. Something tells me there is work to be done, so I follow that instinct."
Another mental prod at Beren. Again, words only he can hear.
Beren feels a hint of wry amusement from the response. Something rare from the woman. Child. I'll have you remember that while we may play the role of knight and squire, it was i who created you.. with the help of my church and... she hesitated, considering for a moment. You were so well suited for it. So yes, I expect you to brood alone. If too many people get comfortable with you there will be issues you cannot yet see as you are still just a boy it seems the woman had finally began believing that Beren was her creation rather than that of the church itself. As did many who had fallen to obsession laid possession over something they may or may not have been part of until the very last moment.
And most of the people here look at you with the same look. If anything... I'm blending in. he could feel her judgement through the message, even as her body turned to greet the colorfully dressed older woman who had been wandering the camp. Even as she exchanged pleasantries, she managed to finish with You are a valuable asset to my .. for lack of a better word.. research. Besides, the church doesn't understand the will of Kelemvor.. I.. have seen the truth... a glimpse. A vision that will be completed through you.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Noel let's out a hearty laugh as the group cracks a joke about him being welcome as long as he doesn't take all of their money. It's made even funnier to the fact that he's taken quite a bit from each of them across various games. "They may be a ton of fun, but not the best at games. I almost feel bad, taking money from those that can't put up much of a challenge and don't know when to quit", he thinks to himself as he sits down and one of them hands him a drink. His laughter subsiding, he says:
"Well then, perhaps the coin purses will have to stay away tonight! Besides, I've already had my fun with some of the other merchants. No need to tempt Lady Luck when she's already smiled favorably on me"
As he says this, he jingles a the coins he just one off on one of the other merchants and puts them away in his pack before taking the pan flute off of his belt and starting to absentmindedly twirl it as he talks to the group. When the one whom he had recently beaten makes a comment about someone "certainly" being able to beat Noel in a game of luck, he raises an eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by the challenge
"Well then, Madam Eva I and will have to play soon them! I would like to see if your words about her luck can hold true, friend. Tell her to find me if she wishes to test which one of us fortune favors"
He laughs heartily, sits there staring into the sky for a moment, takes a large swig of his drink, and sighs contently before continuing. As he talks,the flame his candle, which he has now set on the ground in front of him, begins to flicker and dance as a bit of his magic floes through it, almost pulsing a little bit when he says something like "story" or "tale"
"It is nice to be on the road again. That last town was interesting for a moment, but their stories got rather dull, and we all know they had to have been making up most of them. It's been a while since one of the locals in a place we visit has told me something interesting enough for me to remember for long. Besides, I've been spolied rotten by the wonderful tales you've all regailed me with"
Noel:
They all pat their coinpouches as if it were a wound that was spared the salt but it was clearly done in jest as they all laughed. Some digging back into their kebabs, while others their ale. Though the continued stringing their instruments, adding some melody to the faintly warm night air, though the men shared a wry grin at the last part of Noels first statement. Ey mate... I can't say I wouldn't want to 'tempt' lady luck. I heard she's quite the looker! though luckily he didn't take the joke farther into the obvious pun that could follow. The men sharing a laugh, though the woman sighing. She clearly didn't mind but it was typical of them.
As Noel seems to be up for the challenge the one who'd suggested it smiles and says There is no way you could beat her! Though it would be fun to see you try. I hold no spite against you, to be sure, but every challenger to her is different. She may come around here in time if you're willing to wait.
As Noel settles in, drinking his proffered bottle and talking of recent travails they nodded. Seeming to agree. Not on the specifics but the general. The soft strumming if the lute accompanying the conversation even more.
Well. the lady said. Let me tell you a tale that should whet your appetite. After-all, man cannot live on bread alone.
There is a land lost to time, where shade and shadows play. The sky is pale and mournful, though full is the day. the music around him picked up as they began to accentuate her tale. A land of mourning at the dusk, e'ry soul too sad to play. The trees cry out in terror as their leaves fall to the ground. A howling echoes through the sky, though no mutt comes to play. A dreary land, full of history enshrouded. Where all may enter, but none may go. A sky forever clouded. Though joy there be, it still exists, deep within the mists - Tis far and few, and rarely found... yet hope there still exists.
Not all is lost, not all is found. From thundering sky, to fallow ground. A song we weave, for all of time, lest it be forever lost. It's return is all it seeks, but heavy is the cost. Many try, many fail, abandoned to their fate. Though with much risk, comes much reward. You need only a guide, unto the door
As she finishes the song shifts from a saddened bass, to the normal upbeat tone. And she smiles at Noel. An old song passed down within our kind. Of a land we lost before we were forced to become the nomads we are now.
Noel, insight check.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Insight: 16
Noel can tell that her last statement is a mixture of truth and lie. Though he can't quite tell which half is which, he has a feeling that there is ultimately more truth to her statement than falsehood.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
The light behind the mask dims for a moment as Beren shuts his eyes. He directs his thoughts towards that irritating prod, hoping to quiet the woman but knowing better then to expect her to leave him be.
He often wonders how this woman managed to get herself chosen to be his squire...spy or not... She seemed to obvious in her constant judgment and watchfulness. He'd at least expected to be paired with someone who would at least pretend to be obedient. Perhaps that was to much to ask.
"As much as you wish I didn't have a will of my own, I do. You should realize by now that I do not care about your goals, or your visions." He sets his jaw, growing annoyed at her labeling him a child. Sure, she was an elf and far older than he, but that didn't give her the right to belittle him in such a way... at least, it shouldn't. It seemed he lost all his own rights the day they came to take him away...to reclaim their property...
It seems odd to him that she would insult the church alongside him. Not that he really cares, but it does make him wonder again why she was picked to watch over him. "I don't care about Kelemvor's will. Whether or not the church understands it is of little concern to me."
He makes no move to discourage Jack from speaking to him... though he realizes that he isn't the best at holding a conversation. Perhaps his own lack of charm would dissuade the elf from even trying to keep talking to him. Regardless, he doesn't care if his retainer approves. Besides, what can she really do to stop him?
Nothing to respond to just yet, and too small a response for just Beren. I am watching though!
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Jack cocked his head to the side at the claim and appeared either expectant of some elaboration or merely of more words from Beren to continue the conversation. Regardless of which, it hadn't seemed Beren would be losing the elf's interest any time soon.
At even the hint of curiosity regarding the rumors, once again the Eladrin gave a cheshire grin, and appeared but moments away of spilling the beans when the dismissal gave cause for him to immediately deflate on the spot. But he's back to his animated self in seconds, if however looking a bit more thoughtful too. "Instincts, is it? I knew a woodsman -- a ranger, to be more exact, with a similar sort of instincts, I think. Often led him to trouble of course, which suited his passions just fine as I understood." Jack gives Beren another once over.
"And of course, there's always the occasional tales out there drifting about of more chosen souls being coaxed along by our more divine cousins, fathers, mothers, and all that... a grim fate or extreme hardship is ever promised those fellows, I'm almost sorry to say. And triumph never guaranteed at that." He says, his tone shifting bit by bit to seriousness. After a moment of silence, Jack is suddenly smiling again and patting the Beren on the shoulder. "But come what may, I'm sure you got what it takes my reclusive little friend!" The Eladrin then appears to start looking about for something.
"Hm~ I should rejoin my friend soon, but... there is one thing that I just cannot bring myself not to..." Jack trailed off looking off to the horizon for a long moment. "What of your companion 'o knightly Beren? Are they too drawn as you are to wherever it is you are going? Or are they merely tagging along to enjoy the journey itself?"
Yog - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Stars/Celestial (Libretalia)
Nobody - [Feral-Tiefling]Wizard/Sorcerer - War/Draconic (HoTDQ)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Dreams/Archfey
-
Hiatus:
Xanrazan - [Earth Genasi]Bard - College of Swords(Shadowthorn's Princess of the Apocalypse)
Noel listens to the story intently, albiet with a bit of skepticism as she weaves her tale. It's certainly a far cry from ones she's told him in the past, especially in how somber it is.
"A land of dusk and shadow where all suffer and none may leave? Built on a classic trope of those that seek to terrify with their tales, but this story is an impressive one nonetheless" he thinks to himself as she concludes her story. When she makes a comment about it being an "old song" from a land her people used to inhabit, his interest is piqued, though with it his skepecism also rises. Might there be a place like that that he himself has not visited? Even in all of his travels he hasn't heard a story like this one. He's not quite sure if he buys where she says she got this story from, but if so, he'll have to dig further at a future date. For now, he responds as she finishes up:
"An excellent tale! Certainly a more somber one than your usual wonderous histories. It is always nice to hear tales as old as you say that one is". In that moment, a question comes to mind, and he is instantly hooked on trying to find the answer, continuing "Do you know why the land was lost, or has that been lost to time? I assume that must be quite the story"
Beren listens as the elf speaks of this...ranger. Somehow Beren doubts this man had similar...instincts, as he. It was difficult to call this overwhelming need to hunt anything but instinct, yet it felt so unnatural, perhaps it wasn't truly instinct so much as a calling.
When Jack continues, Beren tilts his head to the side, "Chosen souls." The statement is spoken with a sort of bitterness. He shakes his head, pushing back whatever thoughts came rushing in. He'd been chosen all right. "Yes, grim fate and hardship... and... destruction." The words seem directed towards himself more than a response.
He seems a little surprised when Jack pats his shoulder, turning his mask to look at the elf--though the smooth iron surface of the mask offers little emotion. "Whatever fate awaits me, I will meet it. It does not matter if it ends in pain, or death, so long as it ends in freedom."
In response to Jack's question about his companion he says simply, "Saelethin follows where I go. Her goals are her own."
Beren:
She huffs mentally. Tired of his brutishness But though he hadn't said it they both knew that in a fight, he would likely win, barring some miracle. And finally she says Do as you will then. But if you choose to do anything I feel would be innapproproate, I will not hesitate to inform the church using this selfsame spell. she threatens, not letting him know, and hoping that he wouldn't find out that it had limitations - before walking off, pretending to be on some important task. Despite how often she 'broke character' she was always able to fall into it as if it were nothing but a blip in someone's vision.
Noel:
Two of the men nodded, leaving as they had apparently had their fill of ale and meat, rubbing their bellies aches away. leaving only a trio + Noel. The other two shifting to drink the last drops from the bottles of those who'd left. The one thing Noel had noticed was that these people always seemed to flaunt their wealth to some degree. Their jewelry always visible. And though this group had people of all trades and walks of life, and all were relatively skilled at their respective practices, they failed to act like most people with wealth - aside from the showcasing.
She seemed to notice his face as he ponders to himself, and a slight smile creeps on her features, though Noel responds before she is able to voice it. She crosses her arms loosely by the end, though she seems unbothered by the probe. Her fingers lace together and crate a hammock for her head as she rests. Not all of our stories are as colorful as our clothes. she says, addressing her first topic she wished to address, in regards to his reaction. If they all were, there would be no flavor in any.
Her eyes gaze to the night sky, the stars clear and bright. Her chest rising and falling for several heartbeats before she allows herself to respond to the question... You ask a hard question to answer. I am not sure I am allowed to... but in light of our aquaintence I will atleast feed you what i think would be okay to share...
She spends another several minutes pondering that, when another lady .. the older one who'd been wandering around the camp earlier joins the group. Taking a seat nearby. The land was lost by it's own machinations. Its master choosing seclusion. the younger woman said, before the older one chimed in... It is indeed quite the story, young man. she said. She was clearly older even than he. It is as she says though. The land itself left our homeland hundreds of years ago. The details however as you surmised, have been lost to time. Though there are those who seek the answers, and some may find them. None have yet succeeded. she said ominously, her face in an ever slight smile though her countenance showed no malice. Shifting her shawls a little bit to get more comfortable.
Then looking Noel in the eyes. I was told you wished to test your fate by Boris. You wish to challenge me to a game of luck? or did he embellish, and instead you wished to learn of your fate?
Occassional Dungeon Master.