We open our story outside the Temple Ward of Westruun. It's a gloomy day, the last snows have given way to slush and other nefarious muck on the roads as spring attempts to loosen the cold grip of late winter. The streets this morning are sparsely populated with few people moving about who aren't bundled up against the cold. Those who are out you do see are moving quickly through the bad weather and going about their business.
All of you have answered the open call to join the famous (some would say infamous) adventuring party, Calamity's End. Test? The End has been called on to visit a farming community a day's ride away. Suspicious happenings have spooked the local clergy and they've sent a messenger to the main temple for aid. They sent clergy in investigatebut they never returned. On the test you will be accompanied by a priest of Pelor who has family in the village. Standing in the morning gloom your party finds Caladon Cyndrial, he introduced himself to you the night before as Cal, scar faced halfling with flaming red hair. Cal is amongst the highest priest of the Temple of the Dawn in Westruun. He came to Calamity's End when the cleric and paladin of the Dawn Father the temple sent did not return. The halfling looks tense as he stands on the steps of the temple talking to a half-elven woman wearing stark white spotless robes who's holding a gnarled wooden staff with a large golden orb atop it. You've come from your rooms that you'd hired or your home to join Cal before embarking on his journey north from the coast into the hinterlands. As you walk up you see Beryl Firedrake, a half-orc barbarian, already a member of The End walk up as well. Cal gives the towering mass of muscle a nod before glancing at the party who meet the night before.
"Morning," Beryl calls out gruffly to each of you as you approach.
Cal and the half-elven woman finish their conversation as well. The woman goes inside leaving Cal, Beryl, and the party to their business.
Smiling looking around at the spring weather honestly enjoying the present company, "Well met and good morning!" Too much nervous energy to stand steady I shift my stance from side to side. Almost a salute as Beryl greeted us...
It’s the characteristic coolness of early spring, the streets slick and dark, bordered by heaps of dirty snow sagging into brown colored slush. The human seems unbothered by the splatter of wet dirt onto the hem of his brocade robe. He steps up the stairs of Temple of the Dawn behind Eron, a pale green tailored brocade robe, simple but elegant design of jade tree under a clear moon. He stands at 5’9, average height for a human, with a lean and upright posture and a gentle, elegant air.
“Greetings, gentlemen.” Blair says pleasantly. To Silf, he adds with a small respectful bow of the head. “Her ladyship.” Smiling, his turquoise eyes are like autumnal water, with a hint of playfulness hidden in the depths. He ties his soft blond hair up in a high pony tail, letting the rest falls down his shoulders. He wears a pair of fingerless gloves. In his long, slender fingers, he holds a bamboo flute, and he claps one end against the palm of the other hand.
Today will be their test to join the Calamity's End. Blair had heard the opportunity when he was wasting time at a shady tavern. As usual, he didn’t have to spend coins on drinks. Sweet words, beautiful songs, and a charming smile goes a long way. What’s a nice guy like you doing at a place like this? The man had asked him. Among the ragtag groups of scoundrels and rascals, Blair's clean clothing and gentil manners had stood out. Who says I’m nice? Blair had said, the corner his lips lifting up, and tossed back the drink. As much as he wants to distance himself from it, there’s the mischievous and restive nature of fey he couldn’t completely suppress. But this, Blair figured, standing before the temple of Pelor. This could be what he uses his energy for. Though the person who once promised him that they would write their grand stories together is no longer here.
“It’s a pleasure to lend my help to the priest of Pelor.” Blair says to Cal, his voice smooth and respectful. “Today’s gloom will only be a prelude to the Dawn Father's blazing light.”
The tiniest of snorts echoes from the back of the group. Standing a bit away from everyone else, a very small fairy (just over half a meter) turns her head slightly looking back toward the towering figure of the Black King. She squints toward the foot of the statue, where a little boy seems to be running in circles after something shiny, a glinting silver coin spiraling through the air. The tiny human makes a desperate lunge for the object, slapping his hands together in the middle of the air. Only a second later the boy is face down in a puddle of mud, kicking his legs in the gunk. The coin falls to the ground next to the puddle and twitches, though the boy sits up and ignores it. Settling his back against the base of the statue, the boy grumpily crosses his arms and huffs. A barely visible, ghostly hand sets the coin on its side and rolls it toward the boy. He huffs again and closes his eyes in disgust. The hand slowly lifts the coin into the air above the boy’s head, as he opens his eyes and glances back to the ground. His expression shifts to momentary shock, followed by a wince as the silver coin plops onto his head and bounces into his open palm.
Again, the fairy almost imperceptibly giggles. Then she catches sight of Beryl and straightens up immediately. Though she only stands just above the half-orc’s knees, she sticks out like a sore thumb. Diminutive vines, leaves, flowers, and even pinecones all seem to grow through and over her clothing, though very few patches of leather and cloth are visible through the covering vegetation. A glint of silver shines through the shrubby outfit, a shining slide whistle hanging from her belt. Even her shoes seem to be constructed—or covered—with some sort of waxy plant material. Her hands remain uncovered, and like her face, the skin is mottled green and alabaster. Long, rose red hair flows down her back, and her vibrant purple eyes seem to glow with curiosity. Perhaps most unusual of all, a short gold and silver horn protrudes the center of her upper forehead.
Silf smiles at Blair, seeming to recognize something in his face—likely the “feyness” of it all. She first waves like a five-year old then does a little curtsey as he greets her. She looks at his flute, eyes widening a bit, grin spreading.
“Another musician!” she whisper-shouts, punching the air. “Yes, nothing’s gonna stop us now!”
Suddenly bolstered, she greets Beryl and follows Blair up to Cal, speaking at breakneck speed.
“Hello, Mr. Cal! This is where the test is, right? Because, I really need to pass the test so I can do what I'm supposed to do, since I can't do it without passing the test. I'm happy to help the sunny, churchy tallfolk if that's what I have to do to hunt monsters." She pauses momentarily, and grinds her teeth for a moment. The mention of the word monster seems to have triggered something in her brain. Her voice becomes suddenly grave, edging toward a menacing tone. "Because I need to hunt and trap and kill monsters."
After another pause, she blinks a few times and the sparkly twinkle returns to her eye. In her normal, spritely voice, she finishes. “Well, anyway, here I am, ready for the priesty-test!”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
As Quatt nears the temple steps he stops and stretches out his neck slightly, surveying those already gathered, he closes his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun and the briskness of the late winter air both touch his skin, two sensations he was unused to in the caverns. Having enjoyed the feelings enough at this time he opened his eyes, slowly walking forward, retracting his head closer. Upon reaching the gathered group he stops, a calm smile comes across his face as he looks to each in turn, at one point his hand gesturing and his head moving as if he was speaking to them even though his mouth does not move. After some time a look of first confusion and then knowing crosses his face before he looks to the ground with a deeper smile and shakes his head slowly at himself. He looks back up, "Apologies, I grew used to the way my family spoke to one another that I sometimes forget how to speak with those on the surface." He motions to his shell, covered in a variety of fungus, "My own spores are not there yet, but I hope with time I will be able to grow them to allow me such speech." He stops speaking for a moment and looks around the group before a look of realization hits him. "Apologies again, I said it one way and forgot to say it this way, my name is Quatt." He holds one of his hands to his chest. "I very much look forward to helping you all and those that worship the sun." He looks towards the sun at this and almost seems to pause and bask for a moment before looking at the group again and smiling. His gaze drifts over to Silf as he appears to be studying the flora that grows around her.
"Excuse me... Pardon me... Woh, look at you... Sorry... Coming through... Are those REAL seashells?!" can be heard as a thin pair of almost deer like antlers can be seen weaving their way back and forth through the crowd on the way up to the steps.
As Nobriki emerges from the crowd you see a relatively short, four a human male anyway, satyr. Skinny, but skinny in the context of a growing youth more than from any impression of lack of health or nutrition. Brown, thick, course fur covers most of his body, even pooling down around to almost obscure his hooves. He wears a set of armor where no two pieces really seem to fit together except for the cohesiveness of it being tied together with flowers, thorny vines and jagged bits of plant life, as if they may really be holding the set together physically. And hey... maybe he MEANT for it to look that way. And hey... maybe they ARE.
On the way up the steps he locks eyes with Quatt and thumbs over his shoulder at the direction of Silf and says almost under his breath... "man, I swear I know her! I think she lived down the road from my uncle. Meh, who knows, I can hardly tell one fairy apart from another." He looks over, smiles broadly, and nods at Silf as if he didn't just say anything wrong.
When he gets to Blair on his way up the steps he points at his lute: "A fellow musician! Excellent! I've been known to lay down a ditty or two in my day!" he says, banging a few notes out on his war gong / shield. "Although I'd rather be wrangling me a dragon!" he says, flourishing his rapier in the air just long enough to make it awkward before clanging it back down into his sheath.
As he climes the steps toward Cal he both tries to hold his head up and puff out his chest (as he imagines a great warrior would walk), while simultaneously shaking mud off his hoofs and trying to brush back his hair and untangle a rogue vine from his antlers in a last stitch effort to look presentable. When he gets to Cal he holds his hand out to present himself.
"Nobriki the Green Knight, Protector of the Light, at your service, sir!" with a hint of nervousness in his voice. Ok... maybe a bit more than a hint! Who are ye to judge!
"Yes, yes now that we're all gathered," Cal says giving Beryl a bashful look as the towering half-orc beams at the halfling.
"We have horses and... a cart at the End house for our travels," Beryl finally speaks up after Cal and her exchange of silent greeting now that the high priest as disappeared into the temple proper. "Uh shall we go? Cal...you are welcome to a horse or..." she rubs the back of her neck with a toothy/tusky smile, "could ride on Digby with me," she offers speaking of her steed, she speaks of her enormous black war horse as she gestures back down the Temple Ward to the Calamity's End headquarters!
Cal nods gleefully then clears his throat.
"I'm not horseman to be sure," Cal adds the short halfling replies walking up to Beryl's side, his head about to her waist but their height disparity doesn't seem to bother either of them!
Walking back to the headquarters Beryl calls out to the party.
"As we're leaving now any questions for me priest Cyndrial," the half-orc asks walking pointedly at a pace to match Cal shorter strides.
“Oh, certainly.” Delighted to be in the presence of likeminded people of artistry, Blair smiles, he plays a few simple, lilting notes on his flute, complementing the Satyr’s war gong. The flute leaves his lips, and his other hand moves across the smooth lacquer of the flute. “But you can’t accomplish great feats like those without songs to tell your tale.”
“We shall bring back great news and denouement to this misfortune.” Blair says to Cal and Beryl, in way of goodbye. His smooth voice naturally projects, melodious and soothing. “May the bright sun shines on us, always.”
As Cal and Beryl starts walking away, Blair notices the lovable banter between them, the little push-and-pull game natural to the beginning of a budding relationship. His teal eyes twinkle and he looks back, putting the flute beside his mouth as if to cover the playful smile on his lips. He whispers to Silf, “They’re quite cute together.” Seemingly decided the fairy to be the recipient to his gossip.
“Oh horses for our journey that sounds very nice. I can’t wait to meet them.” Eron digs around in his pack hoping to find some good berries from last night. His smile is plastered on his face at the thought of getting to know Calamity End’s mounts.
Silf stares curiously at Quatt, her eyes slightly narrowed, though in thought not in judgment. Looking closely at the tortle’s fungi, she gives a tiny nod of approval, before turning to watch the satyr as he makes his way past. She’s not seen one for quite a long time, but she decides to reserve judgment until she spends more time with him. Her wings beat once, thick and colorful, more like stained plexiglass than the delicate wings of a butterfly. The flutter blows the hair streaming down her back up onto her shoulders. She slowly twirls it around a finger as she watches Beryl and Cal begin to walk off.
She puts her mouth up to her hand and silently giggles at Blair’s comment. She gives him a big wink, makes a little walking-man with her fingers and whispers, “flimsymimsy.” The druidcraft cantrip manifests floating rose petals behind the backs of Beryl and Cal. The petals spin in a large circle, before twisting into the shape of a heart. After a few moments, the display silently erupts, and pink and white rose petals cascade down to the ground where they disappear. Her eyes twinkle bright purple, as she winks at Blair.
“Destined to be together,” she whispers back. She continues, clumsily attempting to translate her thoughts to words, “most of the time the fox hides from the bear, but sometimes the bear and the fox fall in love. And I meant to tell you that I like your flute very, very, very much.”
Getting overly excited for a moment she drops the whisper, pumping a fist in the air, and shouts, "Flutes are great!"
Arriving at the headquarters of the End the party can see the horses are equipped with riding tack and a cart with two horses. There's two horses, a dark war horse and a gray mare, then there's the cart with two.
"Cal and I will ride together. I'm not sure which of you would like to ride her," Beryl points to the gray mare, "but I figured Quatt and whoever isn't a good rider could take the cart," she adds helping Cal onto the war horse before she gets up behind him. "Let's move," she adds giving the horse a kick and not waiting for the party to sort out their travel arrangements. The party the hears the soft husky laugh of Beryl as she continues to navigate the street leading out of the Temple Ward as she and Cal ride together. "Make haste," she then calls over her shoulder as an attempt at motivation.
*apologies I meant Temple Ward when I said Opal Ward*
“I’m not very good on a horse by myself,” Silf mutters, puffing out her cheeks and scooching up against Blair’s leg, as she eyes the gray mare. “I don’t think I can fly fast enough to keep up with horses. Are you horsey?”
She looks up at Blair. “I could ride on the back of your horse, or maybe I could ride in the cart with the tortle if he's going in it.” The fairy glances at Quatt and Nobriki, trying to envision how they’d ride a horse. She giggles. For no apparent reason—other than perhaps to get some energy out—she does a quick twirl on her tiptoe.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Blair has to press his lips together so he doesn’t laugh at flowing petals Silf made, a romantic backdrop for the disparate couple. Still, the corner of his lips tilts up, his eyes betraying amusement. He looks down at Silf as the fairy starts speaking excitedly. He chuckles softly. “I agree. And sometimes it’s the fox that chases the bear.”
As Silf compliments his flute, the bard places the hand holding the flute in front of his waist and bows slightly. “Some people say the flute produces sad tones, but it only comes to life and sings when we breath air into it. It has no sound and does not exist unless it is put on the lips of the beloved.” He smiles, in a gentle voice that tells tales, “And the same thing goes for us. Don’t you think?”
“I’m not very good on a horse by myself,” Silf mutters, puffing out her cheeks and scooching up against Blair’s leg, as she eyes the gray mare. “I don’t think I can fly fast enough to keep up with horses. Are you horsey?”
"Moderately." Blair says, as in, he knows how not to fall off. But being a bard, you have to know a little bit of everything. "You're welcome to join me." He looks to the others, figuring Quatt might be too heavy for a horse. He says to Eron, "Would you like to drive the cart?"
Eron overhearing some of Blair and Silf’s conversation, blushes as Blair asks him about guiding the cart. “I would love to... I mean yes, yes I can.”
Eron quickly heads over to the cart he offers each horse and his mule-Apple Jack a goodberry from the night before, they I’m sure gobble them up. Looking the horses in the eyes he gives them affectionate neck rubs, then takes his place on the cart. Helping whomever may want to ride with then with a bit of encouragement to the horses a burst of speed to catch up.
Quatt walks over to stand near the cart horses, resting his hand along one of their shoulders, he looks back at the others. "I do not think they would enjoy me riding them, my shell may dig into their backs. Also, I had never seen a cart until I came to the surface so I do not know how to drive one. The back is probably best for me." With that Quatt walks to the back of the cart and pulls himself up into it. Once there he sits down and looks at everyone with a calm smile on his face, waiting patiently.
"It's nice to have friends!" Silf states in a matter-of-fact tone, trying to take in what Blair just told her. She doesn't disagree but she's not really sure about all of that. She's operated alone for years and years, occasionally socializing with sprites and pixies. "But sometimes when there's a strong wind my whistle plays on its own!" She finishes, not quite sure what she means by the statement. With a finger on her chin, the two-foot fairy begins pacing in a circle around Blair, suddenly speaking again in a mile-a-minute fashion.
"Thanks for letting me go with you, there was this one time I tried to ride a horse and it DID NOT want anyone to ride it. I gave her an apple and a carrot and a plum but she still didn't like me very much, so I jumped on her back and shouted giddyup, but she wasn't very happy about THAT either. I even tried to lead her with a carrot, but then she said that she didn't want a carrot and brushed it away with her horn. She was a very nice horse, but she didn't like someone riding her, not at all."She blows a little raspberry. "She told me all the way to the outskirts of town that I was lucky to get a ride. When I asked it what horses like to do she stopped and said 'you're not very wise are you' and I said, 'well wisdom has never really been my strong point.' THEN I asked her 'are all horses as wise as you are,' and she said that she was exceptionally patient and that I should probably never try to ride her kind again! So I haven't!"
She watches Eron with curious eyes, a tiny grin on her face, elbowing Blair in the knee and winking a bunch of times. She decides to follow Blair and do whatever he's doing, then notices Eron's donkey. "Hey! Nice donkey, mister!"
Nobriki looks at the horses... looks at his own hooves... and lets out an almost inaudible sigh. They probably wouldn't appreciate someone with hooves riding someone with hooves. His face quickly turns from a frown to a smile. Riding in a cart may not be as glorious, but there is an opportunity in everything to show off! He takes a couple steps back, runs forward, makes a small hop to come down on bended leg, and launches himself up into the air, up and over Quat, and right into the front of the wagon.
He pats Quat on the shoulder, looks at his hand, fascinated by the bits of shroom and dirt. Sniffs it. Recoils. Gathers his thoughts, and faces forward in the cart, pulling his rapier and pointing it down the road, shouting "onward to adventure!".
She watches Eron with curious eyes, a tiny grin on her face, elbowing Blair in the knee and winking a bunch of times. She decides to follow Blair and do whatever he's doing, then notices Eron's donkey. "Hey! Nice donkey, mister!"
Eron immediately turns red he has been stealing glances at Silf and now she’s talking to him. As he feels his face flush he grabs his hood and pulls it up pretending to shiver. “Yes the very best.”
His jaw audibly snaps shut, he hunkers down...
He takes a couple steps back, runs forward, makes a small hop to come down on bended leg, and launches himself up into the air, up and over Quat, and right into the front of the wagon.
almost thankful for Nobriki’s timing, Eron encourages the horses into a fast trot.
We open our story outside the Temple Ward of Westruun. It's a gloomy day, the last snows have given way to slush and other nefarious muck on the roads as spring attempts to loosen the cold grip of late winter. The streets this morning are sparsely populated with few people moving about who aren't bundled up against the cold. Those who are out you do see are moving quickly through the bad weather and going about their business.
All of you have answered the open call to join the famous (some would say infamous) adventuring party, Calamity's End. Test? The End has been called on to visit a farming community a day's ride away. Suspicious happenings have spooked the local clergy and they've sent a messenger to the main temple for aid. They sent clergy in investigatebut they never returned. On the test you will be accompanied by a priest of Pelor who has family in the village. Standing in the morning gloom your party finds Caladon Cyndrial, he introduced himself to you the night before as Cal, scar faced halfling with flaming red hair. Cal is amongst the highest priest of the Temple of the Dawn in Westruun. He came to Calamity's End when the cleric and paladin of the Dawn Father the temple sent did not return. The halfling looks tense as he stands on the steps of the temple talking to a half-elven woman wearing stark white spotless robes who's holding a gnarled wooden staff with a large golden orb atop it. You've come from your rooms that you'd hired or your home to join Cal before embarking on his journey north from the coast into the hinterlands. As you walk up you see Beryl Firedrake, a half-orc barbarian, already a member of The End walk up as well. Cal gives the towering mass of muscle a nod before glancing at the party who meet the night before.
"Morning," Beryl calls out gruffly to each of you as you approach.
Cal and the half-elven woman finish their conversation as well. The woman goes inside leaving Cal, Beryl, and the party to their business.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Smiling looking around at the spring weather honestly enjoying the present company, "Well met and good morning!" Too much nervous energy to stand steady I shift my stance from side to side. Almost a salute as Beryl greeted us...
*Sha-gravis *Fjörn Bhrünt *Leif Aulderoot *Saltstrider *Eron Colborn
It’s the characteristic coolness of early spring, the streets slick and dark, bordered by heaps of dirty snow sagging into brown colored slush. The human seems unbothered by the splatter of wet dirt onto the hem of his brocade robe. He steps up the stairs of Temple of the Dawn behind Eron, a pale green tailored brocade robe, simple but elegant design of jade tree under a clear moon. He stands at 5’9, average height for a human, with a lean and upright posture and a gentle, elegant air.
“Greetings, gentlemen.” Blair says pleasantly. To Silf, he adds with a small respectful bow of the head. “Her ladyship.” Smiling, his turquoise eyes are like autumnal water, with a hint of playfulness hidden in the depths. He ties his soft blond hair up in a high pony tail, letting the rest falls down his shoulders. He wears a pair of fingerless gloves. In his long, slender fingers, he holds a bamboo flute, and he claps one end against the palm of the other hand.
Today will be their test to join the Calamity's End. Blair had heard the opportunity when he was wasting time at a shady tavern. As usual, he didn’t have to spend coins on drinks. Sweet words, beautiful songs, and a charming smile goes a long way. What’s a nice guy like you doing at a place like this? The man had asked him. Among the ragtag groups of scoundrels and rascals, Blair's clean clothing and gentil manners had stood out. Who says I’m nice? Blair had said, the corner his lips lifting up, and tossed back the drink. As much as he wants to distance himself from it, there’s the mischievous and restive nature of fey he couldn’t completely suppress. But this, Blair figured, standing before the temple of Pelor. This could be what he uses his energy for. Though the person who once promised him that they would write their grand stories together is no longer here.
“It’s a pleasure to lend my help to the priest of Pelor.” Blair says to Cal, his voice smooth and respectful. “Today’s gloom will only be a prelude to the Dawn Father's blazing light.”
The tiniest of snorts echoes from the back of the group. Standing a bit away from everyone else, a very small fairy (just over half a meter) turns her head slightly looking back toward the towering figure of the Black King. She squints toward the foot of the statue, where a little boy seems to be running in circles after something shiny, a glinting silver coin spiraling through the air. The tiny human makes a desperate lunge for the object, slapping his hands together in the middle of the air. Only a second later the boy is face down in a puddle of mud, kicking his legs in the gunk. The coin falls to the ground next to the puddle and twitches, though the boy sits up and ignores it. Settling his back against the base of the statue, the boy grumpily crosses his arms and huffs. A barely visible, ghostly hand sets the coin on its side and rolls it toward the boy. He huffs again and closes his eyes in disgust. The hand slowly lifts the coin into the air above the boy’s head, as he opens his eyes and glances back to the ground. His expression shifts to momentary shock, followed by a wince as the silver coin plops onto his head and bounces into his open palm.
Again, the fairy almost imperceptibly giggles. Then she catches sight of Beryl and straightens up immediately. Though she only stands just above the half-orc’s knees, she sticks out like a sore thumb. Diminutive vines, leaves, flowers, and even pinecones all seem to grow through and over her clothing, though very few patches of leather and cloth are visible through the covering vegetation. A glint of silver shines through the shrubby outfit, a shining slide whistle hanging from her belt. Even her shoes seem to be constructed—or covered—with some sort of waxy plant material. Her hands remain uncovered, and like her face, the skin is mottled green and alabaster. Long, rose red hair flows down her back, and her vibrant purple eyes seem to glow with curiosity. Perhaps most unusual of all, a short gold and silver horn protrudes the center of her upper forehead.
Silf smiles at Blair, seeming to recognize something in his face—likely the “feyness” of it all. She first waves like a five-year old then does a little curtsey as he greets her. She looks at his flute, eyes widening a bit, grin spreading.
“Another musician!” she whisper-shouts, punching the air. “Yes, nothing’s gonna stop us now!”
Suddenly bolstered, she greets Beryl and follows Blair up to Cal, speaking at breakneck speed.
“Hello, Mr. Cal! This is where the test is, right? Because, I really need to pass the test so I can do what I'm supposed to do, since I can't do it without passing the test. I'm happy to help the sunny, churchy tallfolk if that's what I have to do to hunt monsters." She pauses momentarily, and grinds her teeth for a moment. The mention of the word monster seems to have triggered something in her brain. Her voice becomes suddenly grave, edging toward a menacing tone. "Because I need to hunt and trap and kill monsters."
After another pause, she blinks a few times and the sparkly twinkle returns to her eye. In her normal, spritely voice, she finishes. “Well, anyway, here I am, ready for the priesty-test!”
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
As Quatt nears the temple steps he stops and stretches out his neck slightly, surveying those already gathered, he closes his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun and the briskness of the late winter air both touch his skin, two sensations he was unused to in the caverns. Having enjoyed the feelings enough at this time he opened his eyes, slowly walking forward, retracting his head closer. Upon reaching the gathered group he stops, a calm smile comes across his face as he looks to each in turn, at one point his hand gesturing and his head moving as if he was speaking to them even though his mouth does not move. After some time a look of first confusion and then knowing crosses his face before he looks to the ground with a deeper smile and shakes his head slowly at himself.
He looks back up, "Apologies, I grew used to the way my family spoke to one another that I sometimes forget how to speak with those on the surface." He motions to his shell, covered in a variety of fungus, "My own spores are not there yet, but I hope with time I will be able to grow them to allow me such speech." He stops speaking for a moment and looks around the group before a look of realization hits him. "Apologies again, I said it one way and forgot to say it this way, my name is Quatt." He holds one of his hands to his chest. "I very much look forward to helping you all and those that worship the sun." He looks towards the sun at this and almost seems to pause and bask for a moment before looking at the group again and smiling. His gaze drifts over to Silf as he appears to be studying the flora that grows around her.
"Excuse me... Pardon me... Woh, look at you... Sorry... Coming through... Are those REAL seashells?!" can be heard as a thin pair of almost deer like antlers can be seen weaving their way back and forth through the crowd on the way up to the steps.
Nobriki - Satyr Paladin - Oath of the Ancients
"Yes, yes now that we're all gathered," Cal says giving Beryl a bashful look as the towering half-orc beams at the halfling.
"We have horses and... a cart at the End house for our travels," Beryl finally speaks up after Cal and her exchange of silent greeting now that the high priest as disappeared into the temple proper. "Uh shall we go? Cal...you are welcome to a horse or..." she rubs the back of her neck with a toothy/tusky smile, "could ride on Digby with me," she offers speaking of her steed, she speaks of her enormous black war horse as she gestures back down the Temple Ward to the Calamity's End headquarters!
Cal nods gleefully then clears his throat.
"I'm not horseman to be sure," Cal adds the short halfling replies walking up to Beryl's side, his head about to her waist but their height disparity doesn't seem to bother either of them!
Walking back to the headquarters Beryl calls out to the party.
"As we're leaving now any questions for me priest Cyndrial," the half-orc asks walking pointedly at a pace to match Cal shorter strides.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
“Oh, certainly.” Delighted to be in the presence of likeminded people of artistry, Blair smiles, he plays a few simple, lilting notes on his flute, complementing the Satyr’s war gong. The flute leaves his lips, and his other hand moves across the smooth lacquer of the flute. “But you can’t accomplish great feats like those without songs to tell your tale.”
“We shall bring back great news and denouement to this misfortune.” Blair says to Cal and Beryl, in way of goodbye. His smooth voice naturally projects, melodious and soothing. “May the bright sun shines on us, always.”
As Cal and Beryl starts walking away, Blair notices the lovable banter between them, the little push-and-pull game natural to the beginning of a budding relationship. His teal eyes twinkle and he looks back, putting the flute beside his mouth as if to cover the playful smile on his lips. He whispers to Silf, “They’re quite cute together.” Seemingly decided the fairy to be the recipient to his gossip.
Quatt follows along and looks to Beryl and Cal "Do you know what suspicious events have caused the sun priests to ask for help? Or is that not known?"
“Oh horses for our journey that sounds very nice. I can’t wait to meet them.” Eron digs around in his pack hoping to find some good berries from last night. His smile is plastered on his face at the thought of getting to know Calamity End’s mounts.
*Sha-gravis *Fjörn Bhrünt *Leif Aulderoot *Saltstrider *Eron Colborn
Silf stares curiously at Quatt, her eyes slightly narrowed, though in thought not in judgment. Looking closely at the tortle’s fungi, she gives a tiny nod of approval, before turning to watch the satyr as he makes his way past. She’s not seen one for quite a long time, but she decides to reserve judgment until she spends more time with him. Her wings beat once, thick and colorful, more like stained plexiglass than the delicate wings of a butterfly. The flutter blows the hair streaming down her back up onto her shoulders. She slowly twirls it around a finger as she watches Beryl and Cal begin to walk off.
She puts her mouth up to her hand and silently giggles at Blair’s comment. She gives him a big wink, makes a little walking-man with her fingers and whispers, “flimsymimsy.” The druidcraft cantrip manifests floating rose petals behind the backs of Beryl and Cal. The petals spin in a large circle, before twisting into the shape of a heart. After a few moments, the display silently erupts, and pink and white rose petals cascade down to the ground where they disappear. Her eyes twinkle bright purple, as she winks at Blair.
“Destined to be together,” she whispers back. She continues, clumsily attempting to translate her thoughts to words, “most of the time the fox hides from the bear, but sometimes the bear and the fox fall in love. And I meant to tell you that I like your flute very, very, very much.”
Getting overly excited for a moment she drops the whisper, pumping a fist in the air, and shouts, "Flutes are great!"
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Arriving at the headquarters of the End the party can see the horses are equipped with riding tack and a cart with two horses. There's two horses, a dark war horse and a gray mare, then there's the cart with two.
"Cal and I will ride together. I'm not sure which of you would like to ride her," Beryl points to the gray mare, "but I figured Quatt and whoever isn't a good rider could take the cart," she adds helping Cal onto the war horse before she gets up behind him. "Let's move," she adds giving the horse a kick and not waiting for the party to sort out their travel arrangements. The party the hears the soft husky laugh of Beryl as she continues to navigate the street leading out of the Temple Ward as she and Cal ride together. "Make haste," she then calls over her shoulder as an attempt at motivation.
*apologies I meant Temple Ward when I said Opal Ward*
Cal
Beryl
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
“I’m not very good on a horse by myself,” Silf mutters, puffing out her cheeks and scooching up against Blair’s leg, as she eyes the gray mare. “I don’t think I can fly fast enough to keep up with horses. Are you horsey?”
She looks up at Blair. “I could ride on the back of your horse, or maybe I could ride in the cart with the tortle if he's going in it.” The fairy glances at Quatt and Nobriki, trying to envision how they’d ride a horse. She giggles. For no apparent reason—other than perhaps to get some energy out—she does a quick twirl on her tiptoe.
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Blair has to press his lips together so he doesn’t laugh at flowing petals Silf made, a romantic backdrop for the disparate couple. Still, the corner of his lips tilts up, his eyes betraying amusement. He looks down at Silf as the fairy starts speaking excitedly. He chuckles softly. “I agree. And sometimes it’s the fox that chases the bear.”
As Silf compliments his flute, the bard places the hand holding the flute in front of his waist and bows slightly. “Some people say the flute produces sad tones, but it only comes to life and sings when we breath air into it. It has no sound and does not exist unless it is put on the lips of the beloved.” He smiles, in a gentle voice that tells tales, “And the same thing goes for us. Don’t you think?”
"Moderately." Blair says, as in, he knows how not to fall off. But being a bard, you have to know a little bit of everything. "You're welcome to join me." He looks to the others, figuring Quatt might be too heavy for a horse. He says to Eron, "Would you like to drive the cart?"
Eron overhearing some of Blair and Silf’s conversation, blushes as Blair asks him about guiding the cart. “I would love to... I mean yes, yes I can.”
Eron quickly heads over to the cart he offers each horse and his mule-Apple Jack a goodberry from the night before, they I’m sure gobble them up. Looking the horses in the eyes he gives them affectionate neck rubs, then takes his place on the cart. Helping whomever may want to ride with then with a bit of encouragement to the horses a burst of speed to catch up.
*Sha-gravis *Fjörn Bhrünt *Leif Aulderoot *Saltstrider *Eron Colborn
Quatt walks over to stand near the cart horses, resting his hand along one of their shoulders, he looks back at the others. "I do not think they would enjoy me riding them, my shell may dig into their backs. Also, I had never seen a cart until I came to the surface so I do not know how to drive one. The back is probably best for me." With that Quatt walks to the back of the cart and pulls himself up into it. Once there he sits down and looks at everyone with a calm smile on his face, waiting patiently.
"It's nice to have friends!" Silf states in a matter-of-fact tone, trying to take in what Blair just told her. She doesn't disagree but she's not really sure about all of that. She's operated alone for years and years, occasionally socializing with sprites and pixies. "But sometimes when there's a strong wind my whistle plays on its own!" She finishes, not quite sure what she means by the statement. With a finger on her chin, the two-foot fairy begins pacing in a circle around Blair, suddenly speaking again in a mile-a-minute fashion.
"Thanks for letting me go with you, there was this one time I tried to ride a horse and it DID NOT want anyone to ride it. I gave her an apple and a carrot and a plum but she still didn't like me very much, so I jumped on her back and shouted giddyup, but she wasn't very happy about THAT either. I even tried to lead her with a carrot, but then she said that she didn't want a carrot and brushed it away with her horn. She was a very nice horse, but she didn't like someone riding her, not at all." She blows a little raspberry. "She told me all the way to the outskirts of town that I was lucky to get a ride. When I asked it what horses like to do she stopped and said 'you're not very wise are you' and I said, 'well wisdom has never really been my strong point.' THEN I asked her 'are all horses as wise as you are,' and she said that she was exceptionally patient and that I should probably never try to ride her kind again! So I haven't!"
She watches Eron with curious eyes, a tiny grin on her face, elbowing Blair in the knee and winking a bunch of times. She decides to follow Blair and do whatever he's doing, then notices Eron's donkey. "Hey! Nice donkey, mister!"
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Nobriki looks at the horses... looks at his own hooves... and lets out an almost inaudible sigh. They probably wouldn't appreciate someone with hooves riding someone with hooves. His face quickly turns from a frown to a smile. Riding in a cart may not be as glorious, but there is an opportunity in everything to show off! He takes a couple steps back, runs forward, makes a small hop to come down on bended leg, and launches himself up into the air, up and over Quat, and right into the front of the wagon.
He pats Quat on the shoulder, looks at his hand, fascinated by the bits of shroom and dirt. Sniffs it. Recoils. Gathers his thoughts, and faces forward in the cart, pulling his rapier and pointing it down the road, shouting "onward to adventure!".
Nobriki - Satyr Paladin - Oath of the Ancients
Quatt looks at Nobriki as he recoils from his fungus "Do not worry, they will only harm you if I tell them to."
Eron immediately turns red he has been stealing glances at Silf and now she’s talking to him. As he feels his face flush he grabs his hood and pulls it up pretending to shiver. “Yes the very best.”
His jaw audibly snaps shut, he hunkers down...
almost thankful for Nobriki’s timing, Eron encourages the horses into a fast trot.
*Sha-gravis *Fjörn Bhrünt *Leif Aulderoot *Saltstrider *Eron Colborn