"Ah I see..." Darvin mutters to himself. He looks up at the rest of the group. "It appears it's just the same as last time. That wasn't just a vision; we were transported to another plane for a moment. Or was it... another time? It's hard to tell from the weave, but it was just long enough to pass a message, and they brought us back here at the same time we left. Powerful magics are at work here."
Hearing the heated conversation, but not able to understand what was being said, Darvin walked toward Sigmund under pretense of making him aware of the magic at work, as well. He maintains his concentration on Detect Magic.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Perception: 7
Sigmund laughs off the suggestions of murder.
"A bit heartbroken, are we? Been there before, friend. Back in my teen years working as a blacksmith before I gave my body to the temple and swore celibacy. Worry not, time heals all wounds. Do you know how much a beverage usually goes for in this town? What do you say we put some of that copper towards an ale or two? I'm always willing to lend an ear to a brother in need."
Sigmund takes a seat across from the young man.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Darvin arrives at the table right as Sigmund sits down. "I had some news for you, my friend, but it can wait." He turns to the tattered man in faux sympathy. "My kind tend to know the pain of betrayal well. Tell you what, I'll grab a drink for all three of us. I can catch you up on that news later." He heads to the bar, orders three ales, and brings them back before sitting down quietly with Sigmund and the man he's speaking to.
As Sigmund attempted to emapthize with the man, he noticed that whatever he was wearing was made to look old and dirty, there were no signs anywhere he looked that this man worked a single day of his life.
"I'm not hearthbroken, what you imply is disgusting, just tell me if you'll do it" said without taking his eyes from the couple.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Roland doesn't approach the table, seeing that several of his new companions are already on it. He stays near the druid, but doesn't sit right beside him (who would? his first thing he offered was to poison a guy). He keeps an eye out to see if anyone else is up to anything amiss.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Opium continues to sit and sip his wine. The whole situation is confusing and annoying. Not obly must he be a puppet in the hands of something that has not even explained what it is, he also has to socialize with random strangers to even begin to grasp the truth. The Druid did not mind the people he shared a vision with - it was no more their fault than his, after all, but the rest...
The hearts of beast he grew up amongst were simple. Ruled by primitive emotions and reasons like hunger, fear, loyalty, anger. They were easy to comprehend and influence, one hardly needed magic for that. The druids that taught him were not much different - most were so old they thought candlelight was a keen invention. The world outside of Witchwood was different. People in it were unfamiliar, their customs - foreign, their motives - unknown. But their hearts remained the same. They were still ruled by hunger and fear, desire and anger, only masked. In his travels Opium discovered that the best way to gain someones cooperation is to press these buttons until a desired response. Apparantly, his company believed differently. Oh well, at least his wine is getting better. Or he is getting drunker.
He checks out the room to see if anything else is out of the ordinary.
Darvin sits there for a second, listening to this man call for murder, and isn't quite sure what to make of it. He doesn't make a point of getting involved in lovers squabbles, and finds the gentleman in front of him rather distasteful, even to the tiefling.
While the man is plotting, Darvin surreptitiously casts thaumaturgy to augment his voice. Pulling the hood of his cloaks over his head, he gets the tattered ones attention, leans in conspiratorially, and without altering his demeanor one bit says with a loud, demonic voice powerful enough for everyone in the bar to hear, "WHY DO YOU WANT TO HAVE US KILL THE GENTLEMAN WITH THE NICE LADY OVER THERE? THEY SEEM A PERFECTLY FINE COUPLE TO ME"
Without missing a beat, Darvin coughs and dismisses his magic. "Sorry, lesser demon in my throat."
Darvin managed to break the man down (with just that little push) he tried to strighten the neck of his shirt with a movement that has become second nature (as soon as he does that he remembers that he is wearing basically a potato sack and seems scoffs) and says "My name is Airic Duven" (Isabeau laughed a bit when she heard that, she recognized him as the first born of a noble family from Waterdeep...@Isabeau you can make up whatever memory you share with Airic, he is just an annoying brat, the kind of person that unwillingly makes you want to punch him in the face)
Airic finally noticed that he is way out of his element and explains "She is my young sister" (Airic is in his mid 20's) "she has been jeopardizing our family's reputation, and as you may know, you are nothing in Waterdeep without your reputation, I wanted to end this, but, I decided that you'll do it for me, people like you always want gold and shiny things" he says that with a petulant demeanor. So, what is your price?
Edit: I apologize for the plain text, most of my post are made using my phone and I don't ser where can I change the text's format :\
"I have more pressing matters to attend to," Darvin excuses himself with a scoff at the offer. There was no magic about this man, and he cared little for the affairs of nobles. He returns to his companions and tells them what he'd heard.
"What, poison doen't sound that bad all of a sudden, huh?" Druid scoffs, raising his eyebrow. "If I had to guess, I'd say he is not 'the destite and the desperate" we're looking for."
So I've had an idea about Opiums alignment, I've talked with DM and we're going to roll with it: It's going to be somewhat fluid. He is Neutral for now, but it's not a conscious choice. As a consequence of his secluded druid upbringing, he can't very well tell right from wrong, those are concepts he is only vaguely familiar with (and before he came to civilization not something he ever thought he needed), so his choices and general disposition will depend on those of his companions and results of quests. Right now, he only understands survival of the fittest, although isn't above helping those in need if the mood strikes. The societal laws is something truly foreign to him, but at the same time Opium recognizes their necessity.
The alignment will be established further along the story and will not changed after (that would be cheating).
Opium looks at his companions once more and tries to think. Others in here do not fit the description, but who knows. Looks can be deceiving, the druid who occasionally turns into a wolf or a panther knows it of all people, but cant's figure out a way to find the one strange entity spoke of.
"Maybe we're not supposed to look here? Should we try someplace else?" He suggests reluctantly. The prospect of looking for a desperate soul in this great conglomeration of misery called The City of Splendors are about as appealing as watered down wine the druid is about to finish. Besides, it will be like looking for one broken needle in a haystack.
Roland seems to recoil slightly from the outburst at the table with the thaumaturgy. He looks to Opium. "Still don't think p-poison should be an opening gambit." He comments. He tries to quietly concentrate in this busy tavern, contemplating to see if that sudden urge or pulling he gets is directing him even now. (DM, sending you a note, just to ask about something :-) )
Isabeau winced and rubbed her ears. Looking around to the others who were left at the table she said. "Well, while the others are doing all of that, maybe we can trade personal histories and see if there are any common points?"
"There's not much to say about myself," Darvin begins, "I've spent my whole life cloistered in Candlekeep. At least until recently. I've known no parents but my teachers and my spellbook." He gestures to his back, where he had earlier stored his tome. "With magic this powerful, the connection could be anything. Past or future."
"Hmmm... let's keep an eye out for anyone who might approach the gentleman over here. After all, a desperate man might take his attempts at bribery. But either way.... what about the rest of you?"
"I'm afraid no amount of gold will persuade me to kill that man for you. Why wish ill on your own blood? Surely reputation isn't as important as family?"
Sigmund leans forward and looks the man in the eye with a concerned look on his face as he wraps up his sentence, he then leans back and shrugs.
"But what do I know about Waterdeep... perhaps priorities are a little different here. If I were you I'd just leave this place behind and go somewhere...simpler. If it wasn't for the business I am here on I'd want nothing to do with this place. I'd prefer to be back home, at the temple."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Roland looks to Darvin. "I'm j-just a farmer... Well, I was." He tells him. "Just a quiet life, except when a roaming monster turned up... and the Thayans..."
He says that last bit with great disgust. He has obvious animosity for such people.
"Trade stories? Sure, why not. Not like we have any pressing matters at hand," Opium says. "My story is one paragraph precisely: was born, was trained, got my vision, left the circle, made some bad choices, made a few deals to get here and so here I am. I'm reasonably sure that's it."
You continue trading stories but can't find nothing in common. Some of you continue drinking, others questions people but no one else provided any information or a Jon prospect. Frustrantes you allí take once again a place at the the people, even though the table was cluttered with all of you there someone was able to find a place in the table, you might've tried to stop him, however you noticed him when he made himself appear out of nothing.
The old man is so dramatic, what is the point of getting a such talented and promising group withou letting them know, right?
"Another weirdo? That's it, I'm shapeshifting into a wolf and biting his ass off!" Opium rolls his eyes. "What the hell is going on?"
Naturally, the druid does no such thing, but this is getting even more annoying. He nearly gave up on trying to understand the situation as it is, how much more confusing can it get?
"Ah I see..." Darvin mutters to himself. He looks up at the rest of the group. "It appears it's just the same as last time. That wasn't just a vision; we were transported to another plane for a moment. Or was it... another time? It's hard to tell from the weave, but it was just long enough to pass a message, and they brought us back here at the same time we left. Powerful magics are at work here."
Hearing the heated conversation, but not able to understand what was being said, Darvin walked toward Sigmund under pretense of making him aware of the magic at work, as well. He maintains his concentration on Detect Magic.
Perception: 7
Sigmund laughs off the suggestions of murder.
"A bit heartbroken, are we? Been there before, friend. Back in my teen years working as a blacksmith before I gave my body to the temple and swore celibacy. Worry not, time heals all wounds. Do you know how much a beverage usually goes for in this town? What do you say we put some of that copper towards an ale or two? I'm always willing to lend an ear to a brother in need."
Sigmund takes a seat across from the young man.
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Player in: Dark Omens
Darvin arrives at the table right as Sigmund sits down. "I had some news for you, my friend, but it can wait." He turns to the tattered man in faux sympathy. "My kind tend to know the pain of betrayal well. Tell you what, I'll grab a drink for all three of us. I can catch you up on that news later." He heads to the bar, orders three ales, and brings them back before sitting down quietly with Sigmund and the man he's speaking to.
As Sigmund attempted to emapthize with the man, he noticed that whatever he was wearing was made to look old and dirty, there were no signs anywhere he looked that this man worked a single day of his life.
"I'm not hearthbroken, what you imply is disgusting, just tell me if you'll do it" said without taking his eyes from the couple.
Roland doesn't approach the table, seeing that several of his new companions are already on it. He stays near the druid, but doesn't sit right beside him (who would? his first thing he offered was to poison a guy). He keeps an eye out to see if anyone else is up to anything amiss.
Perception: 8
Current Player In: The Guild as Elsara Deepmoon
Opium continues to sit and sip his wine. The whole situation is confusing and annoying. Not obly must he be a puppet in the hands of something that has not even explained what it is, he also has to socialize with random strangers to even begin to grasp the truth. The Druid did not mind the people he shared a vision with - it was no more their fault than his, after all, but the rest...
The hearts of beast he grew up amongst were simple. Ruled by primitive emotions and reasons like hunger, fear, loyalty, anger. They were easy to comprehend and influence, one hardly needed magic for that. The druids that taught him were not much different - most were so old they thought candlelight was a keen invention. The world outside of Witchwood was different. People in it were unfamiliar, their customs - foreign, their motives - unknown. But their hearts remained the same. They were still ruled by hunger and fear, desire and anger, only masked. In his travels Opium discovered that the best way to gain someones cooperation is to press these buttons until a desired response. Apparantly, his company believed differently. Oh well, at least his wine is getting better. Or he is getting drunker.
He checks out the room to see if anything else is out of the ordinary.
Perception: 23
DM Price of Misfortune (finished)
Darvin sits there for a second, listening to this man call for murder, and isn't quite sure what to make of it. He doesn't make a point of getting involved in lovers squabbles, and finds the gentleman in front of him rather distasteful, even to the tiefling.
While the man is plotting, Darvin surreptitiously casts thaumaturgy to augment his voice. Pulling the hood of his cloaks over his head, he gets the tattered ones attention, leans in conspiratorially, and without altering his demeanor one bit says with a loud, demonic voice powerful enough for everyone in the bar to hear, "WHY DO YOU WANT TO HAVE US KILL THE GENTLEMAN WITH THE NICE LADY OVER THERE? THEY SEEM A PERFECTLY FINE COUPLE TO ME"
Without missing a beat, Darvin coughs and dismisses his magic. "Sorry, lesser demon in my throat."
Sigmund follows up on Darvin's outburst with
"That is a good question. Why, exactly, do you want him dead if you aren't heatbroken as you claim?"
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Player in: Dark Omens
Darvin managed to break the man down (with just that little push) he tried to strighten the neck of his shirt with a movement that has become second nature (as soon as he does that he remembers that he is wearing basically a potato sack and seems scoffs) and says "My name is Airic Duven" (Isabeau laughed a bit when she heard that, she recognized him as the first born of a noble family from Waterdeep...@Isabeau you can make up whatever memory you share with Airic, he is just an annoying brat, the kind of person that unwillingly makes you want to punch him in the face)
Airic finally noticed that he is way out of his element and explains "She is my young sister" (Airic is in his mid 20's) "she has been jeopardizing our family's reputation, and as you may know, you are nothing in Waterdeep without your reputation, I wanted to end this, but, I decided that you'll do it for me, people like you always want gold and shiny things" he says that with a petulant demeanor. So, what is your price?
Edit: I apologize for the plain text, most of my post are made using my phone and I don't ser where can I change the text's format :\
By the way, the family resemblance is now evident, so there's no need to roll insight.
"I have more pressing matters to attend to," Darvin excuses himself with a scoff at the offer. There was no magic about this man, and he cared little for the affairs of nobles. He returns to his companions and tells them what he'd heard.
"What, poison doen't sound that bad all of a sudden, huh?" Druid scoffs, raising his eyebrow. "If I had to guess, I'd say he is not 'the destite and the desperate" we're looking for."
So I've had an idea about Opiums alignment, I've talked with DM and we're going to roll with it: It's going to be somewhat fluid. He is Neutral for now, but it's not a conscious choice. As a consequence of his secluded druid upbringing, he can't very well tell right from wrong, those are concepts he is only vaguely familiar with (and before he came to civilization not something he ever thought he needed), so his choices and general disposition will depend on those of his companions and results of quests. Right now, he only understands survival of the fittest, although isn't above helping those in need if the mood strikes. The societal laws is something truly foreign to him, but at the same time Opium recognizes their necessity.
The alignment will be established further along the story and will not changed after (that would be cheating).
Opium looks at his companions once more and tries to think. Others in here do not fit the description, but who knows. Looks can be deceiving, the druid who occasionally turns into a wolf or a panther knows it of all people, but cant's figure out a way to find the one strange entity spoke of.
"Maybe we're not supposed to look here? Should we try someplace else?" He suggests reluctantly. The prospect of looking for a desperate soul in this great conglomeration of misery called The City of Splendors are about as appealing as watered down wine the druid is about to finish. Besides, it will be like looking for one broken needle in a haystack.
DM Price of Misfortune (finished)
Roland seems to recoil slightly from the outburst at the table with the thaumaturgy. He looks to Opium. "Still don't think p-poison should be an opening gambit." He comments. He tries to quietly concentrate in this busy tavern, contemplating to see if that sudden urge or pulling he gets is directing him even now. (DM, sending you a note, just to ask about something :-) )
Current Player In: The Guild as Elsara Deepmoon
Isabeau winced and rubbed her ears. Looking around to the others who were left at the table she said. "Well, while the others are doing all of that, maybe we can trade personal histories and see if there are any common points?"
"There's not much to say about myself," Darvin begins, "I've spent my whole life cloistered in Candlekeep. At least until recently. I've known no parents but my teachers and my spellbook." He gestures to his back, where he had earlier stored his tome. "With magic this powerful, the connection could be anything. Past or future."
"Hmmm... let's keep an eye out for anyone who might approach the gentleman over here. After all, a desperate man might take his attempts at bribery. But either way.... what about the rest of you?"
"I'm afraid no amount of gold will persuade me to kill that man for you. Why wish ill on your own blood? Surely reputation isn't as important as family?"
Sigmund leans forward and looks the man in the eye with a concerned look on his face as he wraps up his sentence, he then leans back and shrugs.
"But what do I know about Waterdeep... perhaps priorities are a little different here. If I were you I'd just leave this place behind and go somewhere...simpler. If it wasn't for the business I am here on I'd want nothing to do with this place. I'd prefer to be back home, at the temple."
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Player in: Dark Omens
Roland looks to Darvin. "I'm j-just a farmer... Well, I was." He tells him. "Just a quiet life, except when a roaming monster turned up... and the Thayans..."
He says that last bit with great disgust. He has obvious animosity for such people.
Current Player In: The Guild as Elsara Deepmoon
"Trade stories? Sure, why not. Not like we have any pressing matters at hand," Opium says. "My story is one paragraph precisely: was born, was trained, got my vision, left the circle, made some bad choices, made a few deals to get here and so here I am. I'm reasonably sure that's it."
DM Price of Misfortune (finished)
You continue trading stories but can't find nothing in common. Some of you continue drinking, others questions people but no one else provided any information or a Jon prospect. Frustrantes you allí take once again a place at the the people, even though the table was cluttered with all of you there someone was able to find a place in the table, you might've tried to stop him, however you noticed him when he made himself appear out of nothing.
The old man is so dramatic, what is the point of getting a such talented and promising group withou letting them know, right?
"Another weirdo? That's it, I'm shapeshifting into a wolf and biting his ass off!" Opium rolls his eyes. "What the hell is going on?"
Naturally, the druid does no such thing, but this is getting even more annoying. He nearly gave up on trying to understand the situation as it is, how much more confusing can it get?
DM Price of Misfortune (finished)