The light of the sun peaks up over the Toadsquat mountains, as the caravan of goods most of you have been tasked with defending sets off across the newly reestablished Great Trade road, cutting across the restored Shaar Wilderness. It has been two years since the earth tumbled up from below, filling in the Underchasm and giving new life to the Scarred South, and so much has changed since then. Old kingdoms, old rivers, old routes and old ways, all thought long gone, have begun to creep back into place. The world is healing. The world has begun to renew itself. But there are still scars. The land will never be what it once was. Too much pain has been felt, too much blood spilt. All of you know this, have known this, whether consciously and unconsciously, as you have lived in the years since. The evidence is before you, as you travel across the earth. It is cracked. Dry. Too many years without water have left it barren in many places, and it will be a long time until it recovers. It only gets drier, as you travel deeper into the heart of the Shaar with your fellow caravaners. Speaking of, introductions are in order.
There are five wagons in the caravan, and thirteen travelers, yourselves included. Allow me to introduce them.
The wagon at the front is manned by Fay Juen (he/they) and Kirna Juen (she/her), a young human couple from Dunfeld who make their living trading goods. They both appear well-equipped and capable of defending themselves, and those who have spoken to them over the course of the journey would know that they have made this journey several times before.
The second wagon belongs to Thunxandridir Jindaar (she/they), or just Thun, an elderly dragonborn, and her thri-kreen companion [incomprehensible chattering], or Chakka (they/them). Those who had spoken with them would learn that the gruff and quiet Thun is a priest of Bahamut, hoping to spread her faith in the new, disordered lands, and Chakka is from a pack that intentionally sent them out to learn of the world outside their territory, then report back on their findings. They consider Thun a close friend, the term they use being "clutch-mate."
The last three wagons all belong to a single man, the reason you are on this journey. A semi-wealthy merchant by the name of Dondeir Hammud (he/him) is traveling with you on the third wagon, and hopes to bring new wealth to his business by relocating to New Shaarmid. He has promised you each 350 gold (more than double the monthly labor of a skilled worker) to embark on this four-month-long journey with him. The excitable man has insisted that you travel at a fast pace, however, despite the dangers of such speed. He is accompanied by a large, powerfully muscled man named Fefir (he/him), who speaks little, but is quite eloquent when he does.
The fourth wagon is populated by an unlikely pair, a heavyset, white-bearded dwarf by the name of Thomir Steelhorn (he/him) and a young half-elven mage named Telvoril Steelhorn (he/him). They claim to be uncle and nephew, despite the obvious genealogical questions that brings up, and insist upon it being such a long story that it would take the entire journey and then some to explain, though their barely-hidden smirks perhaps betray something else. They, like you, have been brought on to defend the caravan.
Finally, there is the fifth wagon, with just a single inhabitant, another of Dondeir's hires. A human named Ursi Chatragi (they/them), they have been rather quiet during the journey, and speaking to them has betrayed exactly why they interact so little with others. It is not to preserve some air of mystery, so much as it is due to a powerful and striking misanthropy which causes just about any conversation with them to sour.
Now, please, introduce your characters, which wagon they have traveled alongside during the journey, and what they have been doing during the journey. You're going to have four months to get to know each other, so perhaps also describe some of the interactions you have with those you travel with, who your character has grown to know, to like, or dislike, and go right ahead if you'd like to roleplay any interactions with the other PCs or NPCs. Nodjeim, we will assume that you were discovered a short ways into the journey, and as long as you did not ask for your own share of pay Dondeir would be more than happy to have you along for the ride, as long as you stayed away from his wagon.
Some questions you might also answer: How does your character react to the barren lands of the Shaar? What aspects of its reinvigoration do they notice? How do they react to the two drow in the party, or the bandaged man? What do the other characters learn about you that they might not have initially known?
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"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Given his background Olan is drawn to the 3rd wagon and the wealthy merchant. Although he has spoken to the others in the caravan he spends much of his time speaking with Dondeir, and asking many questions. Given that he hails far from the north Olan appears to have a good understanding of this part of the world, especially Elfharrow.
Aside from the merchant he has also taken the time to acquaint himself with the others. The human couple on the first wagon are sociable enough, but they are also wordly wise so Olan is careful in what he says.
The crew of the second cart are intriguing and very much out of the ordinary. Olan's conversations with them are inquisitive although he has managed to avoid asking anything that could be offensive.
Thomir & Telvoril like Olan seem to have a certain economy of truth in conversation, which leads to some very confusing conversations which consist of answering questions that haven't been asked and ignoring those which have. It seems to have developed into a friendly contest to see who can extract anything that may be close to the truth.
Last of all is the solitary figure on the fifth cart who most seem to avoid. Having had one brief conversation, Olan has taken the hint and also stays away.
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Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
Of the others in the group, who don't seem to be allocated to any particular cart, they seem friendly enough, even the dark ones (having travelled a lot Olan tries not to judge a book by its cover). The only one he's not sure about is the monk. There's something 'off' there; not in a bad way, just..... 'off'. It's like he's not quite there sometimes. Still, in for a copper, in for a gold.....
"Greetings, I don't think we've met before. I am Olan Fargrove, traveller, swordsman and occasional scoundrel." He holds out his hand...
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Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
Throughout the journey, Evelyn Drake, known as Evie to her friends, stays mostly with the second cart. She finds Thun and Chakka fascinating, as she has little experience with dragonborn culture and zero experience meeting a thri-kreen. She spends much of her time asking questions about Chakka's culture, even going so far as to take notes in one of her many journals.
Evie introduced herself to all the members of the caravan. Fay and Kirna are nice enough folk, but the archaeologist has little interest in trade goods. For that reason she doesn't spend much time with Dondeir either. Thomir and Telvoril are an interesting pair, but she hasn't yet asked them to share the story they've said would take the entire journey to tell.
Evie came away from her introduction to Ursi feeling put out and a bit peeved at the man's rudeness. She's decided to avoid his cart altogether.
As for the reason she has come on this journey, Evelyn has spent much of her time just taking in the sights of the Shaar Wilderness. She takes plenty of notes and also makes quick sketches of the surroundings in a sketchbook. Whenever the caravan stops to make camp, she ventures as far away from it as she safely can, just exploring and hoping to come across something interesting buried in the dry earth. No doubt the filling of the Underchasm has returned many relics and artifacts to the surface, just waiting to be found. The idea fills her with excitement.
As for her fellow caravan guards, Evie hasn't spoken much with them yet, although she is most fascinated by the monk wrapped in bandages. She has spoken a little to him, trying to tease out his story. The drow she has avoided for the most part; old prejudices run deep. She is more wary of them than anything and Evie can never find it in herself to be rude or confrontational, but their appearance is so strange, so unsuited to life under the sun.
Olan the elf reminds her a bit of Dondeir with his fine, colorful clothes. Also she has noticed him spending time with the wealthy merchant. As a result she hasn't had much of a chance to speak with him yet either. She has decided to give him the benefit of the doubt but his appearance reminds her of a court dandy, which she finds a bit hard to take seriously.
--
Evelyn glances down at Olan's proffered hand. It seems much more well-manicured than her own. She hopes he doesn't mind that she's got dirt under her fingernails; she extends her hand out to his.
"Evelyn Drake," she says. "Junior Archaeologist of the Rosewood Academy of Helruaa, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
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Characters: Bryony Alderleaf - Lvl. 3 Halfling Rogue (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk) ♦ Evelyn Drake - Lvl. 3 Human Wizard (Rule of Change) ♦ Aranea Kendrick - Lvl. 4 Human Warlock (Where the Cold Winds Blow) ♦ Elsenia Vesper - Lvl. 2 Shadar-kai Druid (Strixhaven)
Evie finds Chakka quite voluble, and seems to have little reason to conceal details of their culture. Their voice is raspy and interspersed with countless chirps and clicks, but at the same time is somewhat soothing, flowing in and out of human and inhuman sounds seamlessly.
"chhhkh... we roam the Shaar as we - khk- have done before. Even after the blue fire and the - ikkk- great collapsing. The dry does not bother us. Few things - chii- bother us. We like it that way. People think - zzxz- we are scary, monsters, because of what we look like, but we only fight when fought. It is perhaps good that we are feared by some - yytt- for they stay away."
He was a hazel shadow, wandering hooded and silent between the second and third carts. His armor and clothes were covered by his cape, only the contour of a shield distinguishable from his left side. His head moved easily as he tried to scout the surroundings. The sunlight was so unconformable that made him miss his time as a debt collector. Back then work was done by night.
Every time the caravan stopped, Veldruk made some food. At first he would ask politely if anyone wished to partake the meal. A week later he would just shout the menu and the interested would gather. He made sure to be seen tasting the ingredients and taking the first sip or bite from every dish. His kind was well and deservingly known for using poison and treachery. As he cooked his armor was visible. The shoulder pieces were segmented steel, well forged although common, but the breastplate was something else entirely. Jet-black metal, enameled with a silver tint, delicately carved to evoke the image of a wing. By the fire it assumed a green sheen that betrayed its true nature, adamantine. Compared to it the longsword by his waist was nothing special.
Despite not starting conversations he proved himself to be quite open to talk. He would tell anyone who asked about what he had to endure in the Underdark, sure those histories would leave clear why he left. Or at least part of it. His voice was always soft and his speech as eloquent as Fefir’s. In many ways the human was more of a kindred spirit to him than the other drow, Threlan. To her and the surface elf, Olan, he paid special attention. They were the most likely to try killing him. He made no attempt to speak with Ursi, noticing the failed attempts of all who tried so much as to introduce themselves to the man.
Only someone with a truly keen insight could notice that Veldruk felt uncomfortable around Thun. In the drow’s experience, clerics were manipulative bastards with too much ambition and too little morals, even for his race’s standards – just like gods, albeit less powerful. He simply could not trust the dragonborn and by consequence never approached him, Chakka or Evelyn.
The Steelhorns had picked his curiosity. He never heard of a dwarf and a half-elf being related by blood. Maybe they aren’t, the warlock pondered. Maybe Telvoril was adopted by Thormir’s sibling. Going by the younger’s name, it seemed unlikely that he was a dwarf brought back in the body of another race. Whatever the case, their history seemed interesting and their smirks suggested it didn’t carry that much tragedy.
Nodjeim was a mystery and others noticed as much. Veldruk opted for just letting the man be. Maybe it was empathy. No one walked with a hidden face if they could avoid it and he knew a thing or two about not wanting to be found. In T'lindhet suich thoughts would be called weakness and he would harshly punished if anyone so much as dreamt he had them.
Notes: Consider that Veldruk is using his Deception skill to mask his discomfort around the cleric. Also, image of the breastplate here.
"Please, we are traveling in the same direction and I will be no bother," Nodjeim explained to Dondeir Hammud. "All I ask is to be able to sit on a wagon from time to time for rest. In exchange I will keep watch overnight. I do not sleep. I will not tax your food or drink supplies..." Dondeir may not have been immediately sold on letting the oddly wrapped up figure accompany them but once he had extracted the promise that they would avoid his own wagon and reaffirmed that Nodjeim would earn no pay, the bargain was struck.
Oddly enough, when Nodjeim did ride upon the back of a wagon it was quite usually the last in line. It would be a far cry from the truth to say that Nodjeim enjoyed the company ofUrsi Chatragi but he was able to meditate was she spewed her words and still be able to nod appropriately when expected to. The fact he talked little mattered even less to Ursi, they did not want Nodjeim's thoughts or opinions so much as just to wash him in their own.
When Olan approaches and offers their hand Nodjeim give a short bow and then grasps their hand in return. "Well met," Nodjeim replies to their introduction. "I am Nodjeim. Traveller." If prodded for more Nodjeim reveals that he's "not been the same since..." and then he basically gestures to his bandages. "Well, yes. I have lost my past, for lack of better phrasing. I travel in hopes of finding it again. Or some clue to it, at least..." As for exactly why the bandages Nodjeim is a bit vague. Not so much because he is trying to be evasive about the circumstances but because he is truly ignorant of them. He does not come right out and state that he one day woke up dead... But if one pressed hard and long enough it could come out as Nodjeim is reluctant to lie outright unless absolutely necessary.
Nodjeim inquires about Olan and his own history, but in a subtle and offhanded manner. His inquiries are often subtle gestures or an incline of the head which asks without words for the speaker to elaborate or continue on. While Nodjeim is well fluent in this subtle manner of allowing others to speak as much as they wish he doesn't often get them revealing any more than they intend to. If for no other reason than he does not press them... And even if he was of a mind to he is not very charismatic. Perhaps it is the bandages, perhaps they can sense that his thoughts and mind is often... drifting.
Evelyn Drake gets as much, or as little, information as does Olan. Nodjeim is as open to one as to any other. And once more he allows Evelyn to speak upon her own life, hopes, dreams, goals and such as she wishes by using much the same measures of just allowing her to speak. The one difference would be that Nodjeim, having noted that Evelyn takes quite a few notes, basically tilts his own journal to her in a sign of a kind of kinship, of a fashion. Each dawn, if one looks, Nodjeim can be seen with his journal, either making an entry or rereading previous ones. If Evelyn would like some company on her sojourns away from the caravan, on occasion, Nodjeim would offer to walk with her. He is also a seeker even if he knows not of what. One minor thing he does keep an eye out is good random pieces of wood, often at night on watch he can be found whittling and carving odd little statuaries and icons out of whatever bits and bobs of wood he has come across...
Nodjeim has not yet spoken at any length to Veldruk for with Nodjeim's lack of need to eat or drink he felt no draw to the aromatic concoctions the man cooked up daily. He could eat. The process still worked. It just did nothing for Nodjeim and that made the consequences of eating... a bit uncomfortable. A dirty process none would opt to partake in if not required. And so he did not. Which is a very off topic thing to get to but there are times when the monks mind does wander quite astray from the topic... the topic... the topic yes, it was Veldruk. The two have not spoken at length but Nodjeim believes they have developed a comfortable nodding acquaintance with one another. A mutual respect of respecting once another's lack of need of sharing.
As for Threlan... Well Threlan can speak to the relationship they and Nodjeim have developed. Nodjeim shows no hostility or fondness for any based on race or any other indicator. Nodjeim is quiet and calm and accepting of all, even the unpalatable as is shown by his ability to tolerate Ursi Chatragi.
It is this very neutral acknowledgement of one another that Nodjeim has with the others on the caravan as well. Words have been exchanged pleasantly enough but no real connection or need to delve very deeply has been shown from either side. The Thri-Keen did cause Nodjeim to raise an eyebrow due to their... uniqueness... And perhaps Nodjeim paid slightly closer attention to them for a day or two, making notes in his journal and even a rudimentary sketch or two, but that was about that.
Whether it seems it or not, Nodjeim is always alert. Always on the lookout. Not knowing what he is looking for means he cannot overlook anything. He watches the the motes in the light with the same awareness as he watches the dwarf and the half-elf, unsure of just what will give him the clue he needs to even begin to know what the mystery he is trying to solve is. So for now he sits on the back of the last wagon and listens to Ursi complain. And complain. And complain. He nods at the right times but his mind is focused on the strange bird and it'd odd flight pattern he saw once... Perhaps in a dream.
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We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
OOC: Once we get to a part of the story where the day-to-day matters, I'll start rolling for Threlans gender/sex. for now though, I'll jsut write he/she. Threlan, has over the course of the journey, mostly traveled with whoever seems the least likely to take offense at him/her. During the day, she/he mostly sits quietly, marveling at the healing and growing surface world, but at night... oh, she/he tells the most wonderful stories. she/he speaks of far off places, where cold winds blow and heroes venture across the frozen landscape to slay the Ice Queen. How the towers of mage societies fall and rise. and many other tales, all of which leave at least one person restless that night, thinking about the story. (performance: 13).
If Threlan learns any part of Olan's backstory about how he his parents thought the other races were bad, but he didn't, she/he becomes his friend almost immediately
At first she/he is suspicious of Veldruk, for her/his people have obviously hurt him/her in the past. Though as he is a male drow, she/he is less sure he will pull out a scourge and haul him/her back to the Underdark for punishment than she would be if he was female.
Threlan is intrigued by Nodjeim, and often tries to strike up conversations with him. She/he asks him about his life, where he came from, everything! She/he is quite talkative and pushy. While he/she thinks that Nodjeim is tragically misunderstood and quite of-put by the rest of the caravan avoiding him, she also thinks that his story, for if he looks like that he must have an interesting story, would make a marvelous tale. The tale of the bandaged man she/he thinks to his/herself, would make an amazing title.
One day, He/She approaches Nodjeim and strikes up a conversation "Hello, I am Threlan. How do you do?"
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Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master,The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brorminthe Crusher; Discoverythe Keeper; Theathe Scoundrel; Jorvirthe Weaver; Threlan,the Speaker; Zolyathe Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
Nodjeim bows to Threlan. "I am Nodjeim," he replies succinctly but kindly.
Threlan can find out as much or as little of Nodjeim's story as anyone else. Through their pushiness and continued questioning they learn that Nodjeim does not know his own story. At least not all of it. He has no recollection of before... While whittling away at a piece of wood with his tools, Nodjeim answers questions slowly and carefully. Not in order to withhold or to be careful with the story, but it seems more because it is just their nature. Their manner of soft, precise speech can leads some to believe that perhaps he is quite elderly, others perhaps just write it off to his obvious lack of practice in socializing.
"The first memory I have is waking up one night in the barrens of East Rift. Alone. Wearing the robes I still wear. I knew... Nothing. Not about my life, anyway. I knew the constellations and the directions, I knew how to make fire and how to speak. I knew how to eek out the true form of the wood," Nodjeim explains and holding up their carving for inspection. He is whittling out a sphere or perhaps a globe, easily enough, but it is perched delicately at the ends of eight thing, slender spider legs... The body of said spider only so far hinted at but the legs are definitely over-proportioned for such a tiny body.
Nodjeim explains how they knew the world but not the self. "Imagine if you took one hundred people from the known world. Wrote down everything every individual knew, every fact, every way of doing things. Then throw away any information that the vast majority did not know. That is what I knew. The remainder. The things everyone knew... And how to bring out the inner shape of the wood."
Prodded and questioned enough, Nodjeim would reveal that when the day came it hurt. It burned. It seared his eyes and sautéed his flesh. So to speak. Once he found shelter from the light, once he his, he found no damage. But each time he stepped out... So he lived by night and rested and wrote and whittled holed away during the day. But people fear that which they do not know. Do not understand. And it seems rumors started to spread of the strange night creature with the shape of a man. I became hunted. I ran. Eventually I outran them but in doing so I learned that if one keeps moving the fears have less chance to put down roots and rile men to violence...
Another time, perhaps, he reveals that one night when being hunted he broke into a tomb. Within he found the bandages he wears, the spear he carries. He is not proud of having stolen from the dead but also shows no shame about it. "Many like to think the dead can bring their wealth with them into whatever comes next... Yet never has a grave been opened to be found empty unless a robber has already been there. Possessions are for the living. I believe that when we leave behind the flesh, we should also leave behind the things of the flesh." Wrapped in the bandages, carrying the spear, the sun no longer was his enemy. He now never takes them off or strays far from the weapon. "No need to wrinkle your nose," he says with humor in his voice, emotion being a rare thing for him. "I bathe and wash in the darkness when the opportunity presents. Despite appearances I am no more uncleanly than any other..."
And so his story goes. He believes that, with the finding of the spear and the bandages, there must be more out in the world that can help him. Both in the day to day but also in the theoretical, the philosophical. Who is he? Why is he? He knows not how to seek these answers without seeking.
((OOC - that is why I try to never roll until asked or I HAVE to. Seems whenever I roll preemptively I have nothing be ill luck...))
Evelyn enjoys Nodjeim's company when she ventures away from the caravan. She is fascinated by his carvings and will often sit and watch while he is at work. So far she has resisted the urge to ask too many questions about his bandages, but she has gotten the gist of his story, that he woke up in the East Rift with no memory of his life before. For Evie, who loves nothing more than good mystery, Nodjeim's origins are another puzzle she wants to solve, if he allows her assistance of course.
Despite herself, Evie finds herself drawn to Veldruk and his cooking. At first, she speaks little to him and watches his every move, but as the days pass, she grows more comfortable in his presence. He is quite a fine cook, and eventually she works up the courage to compliment him on his skills.
"I hope my reticence has not offended," she finally says to the drow. "I have little experience with your race. I'm afraid I've been filled with preconceived notions. Please forgive my rudeness before."
Realizing that the stereotypes she's learned about drow may not all be true, Evelyn also decides to try and extend the hand of friendship to Threlan. Threlan is also a puzzle to her, for they seem to change their gender quite frequently. This doesn't bother Evie at all; in fact it only makes her more curious about them. Why are they here? What made them leave the Underdark?
One day Evie works up the courage to approach Threlan. "My name is Evelyn," she says. "I'm sorry that we haven't spoken before. I hope you'll excuse my rudeness. If I may ask, what brings you on this journey?"
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Characters: Bryony Alderleaf - Lvl. 3 Halfling Rogue (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk) ♦ Evelyn Drake - Lvl. 3 Human Wizard (Rule of Change) ♦ Aranea Kendrick - Lvl. 4 Human Warlock (Where the Cold Winds Blow) ♦ Elsenia Vesper - Lvl. 2 Shadar-kai Druid (Strixhaven)
Evelyn glances down at Olan's proffered hand. It seems much more well-manicured than her own. She hopes he doesn't mind that she's got dirt under her fingernails; she extends her hand out to his.
"Evelyn Drake," she says. "Junior Archaeologist of the Rosewood Academy of Helruaa, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"An archaeologist! I have to say that in all honesty I have never before encountered somebody who follows such a calling. How fascinating. Personally I prefer not to trouble the past, in case it decides to take an interest in me" he winks.
"I don't know about yourself, but I find this to be a most fascinatingly diverse group of individuals. I haven't had much chance to make acquaintances yet, but I look forward rectifying that as we journey" he pauses momentarily and looks towards the last wagon and his pleasant tone slips momentarily "well, with one exception."
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Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
While the caravan is indeed initially suspicious towards Veldruk's cooking, over the course of a few weeks they learn to ignore their opinions on the elf and his ilk, and focus on the food he creates. Meager rations become something approaching palatable under the elf's touch, and it is this ability which garners him no small amount of affinity with his fellow travelers.
Nodjeim is initially subjected to no small amount of vitriol from the tongue of Ursi, but after it is made clear that the bandaged fellow is not budging, they begin to quiet down. There are several days spent entirely in silence, efforts to drive Nodjeim off waning and failing. Eventually, they begin to remark on things, not to complain or belittle them, but merely as observation. Rarely, at most once per day, they might make an attempt at actual humor, at the expense of none. Over several weeks, it almost seems as if Ursi regards Nodjeim as something akin to a friend, or at the very least not a foe.
The same can hardly be said for Threlan. At first, the caravaneers are hesitant to listen to his/her stories, but gradually they begin to actually tune in. Just as quickly, they tune out. Perhaps it is Veldruk's own gloom which supplants the wonder of Threlan's stories, perhaps it is the prejudice they may hold, perhaps it is the mere fact that he/she is spending every day baking under the hot sun, so that by nighttime his/her brain is sufficiently cooked, but the people here hold no appreciation in their hearts for Threlan's tales. Ursi is the first to quietly request that he/she stops right now, please, and tells no more of his/her ghoulish tales. At first, he/she thinks that it is just the ranger's typical dourness. Then, the others begin to agree. After some time, Threlan is forced to stop telling stories altogether or risk the group's displeasure.
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"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Olan detects a pleasant aroma. Collecting his bowl and cutlery he heads over to where Veldruk is cooking. "Salutations my friend. May I once again compliment you on your culinary expertise and ask what delights you have conjured for us today?"
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Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
(Also, at any point I can move things along in the journey, I'm just letting these little roleplay moments play out first. We can assume that your conversations are taking place over the next two months in each others' company. The vast majority of this place is baked, inhospitable earth and a few patches of dry grass, plus the occasional ruin. There is very little that lives here. If people have anything in particular they're looking out for or actions they'd like to do during the journey, let me know, but the first encounter I have planned is not for a ways in.)
(Also, this does count as downtime for the purpose of downtime activities, but since you're stuck on the open road there's not exactly a lot to do. Let me know if there's a particular downtime activity that you think you would be able to do during the journey and would like to do, and I'll see if I can make it happen. No need to carouse, all these people, even Ursi, are essentially positive contacts after so long spent in close quarters.)
(Also, downtime costs will likely be commuted or removed entirely depending on the activity, though they may be less effective)
After some time, Threlan is forced to stop telling stories altogether or risk the group's displeasure.
Olan joins Threlan by the fire. "Hello. How are you getting along? I wouldn't take the comments on your tales too personally. I think it's probably the heat and the dust that's making them all a bit grumpy". He taps the side of his nose "Either that or they have no appreciation of culture."
Veldruk was couldn’t trust Evenly kindness. She presented herself as polite, sincere, amiable. Everything he never expected from, well, anyone. Everything he would take as a sign of dissimulation and manipulation. Either that or she would be killed in the Underdark, said the voice of his mind. Only the ruthless survived there and no one truly lived, now he knew.
“To some degree, being reticent is part of our job.”He started with a soft voice and a kinder expression. “You weren’t rude in the slightest and no offense was taken.”That much was true as far as he was concerned. “In fact, most of what you heard about my race is not only right but likely too kind.” The warlock looked in Threlan’s direction. “Few can find another way to live, like I suspect we did.” He returned his attention to the Wizard.“You do well be as guarded as you can around our kind.”
Last thing Veldruk wanted was to make someone trustful of other drow. Specially not if that someone was travelling with him. It would be better if his companions were ready to kill his kind on sight. The contrary would definitely be true.
“Salutations and thank you for the kind words.” He answered when Olan approached. “Today we have pumpkin stuffed with shredded meat - an adaptation of a recipe I learned in Ormpar.” He stopped as soon as he mentioned the name of the city.“It’s the way the Ormpurians call their city.”The dark elf was fast to explain. “I prefer its original version, with shrimp instead of meat, but our location demanded a change of ingredients.”
It would be basically impossible to have seafood in the middle of the desert, at least without the help of magic. He didn’t believe in the praises given by his travelling companions but the dish should still be a considerable improvement from having the dry meat with the boiled fruit.
Notes: Image of the dish for torture the curious here.
"Alas," remarks Dondeir between bites. "Perhaps a few years ago our rations may have contained dried shrimp and the like, but the gulf has since receded and the great fishing fleet of Delzimmer run aground. It is part of the reason I'm moving inland. Much of the city's infrastructure is built around its former coastal position, and I'd rather move elsewhere than spend time and resources reconfiguring everything. Much of the wood that built these wagons came from my very own ships!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Oh, I totally forgot: Evelyn, please roll me Investigation as you explore the areas around the wagons!
And another thing: Alone among the travelers, Chakka takes no offense to Threlan's stories. Perhaps it is their kindred nature as feared species, or perhaps because the Thri-Kreen are known to have a much more limited emotional palette than most other species. Either way, since you mentioned that he/she would be traveling with those most friendly to him/her, that's where he/she spends most of his/her time.
Threlan listens to Nodjeim's story with wide eyes, furiously scribbling in a leather-bound notebook. While she/he writes down the tale with prose that was lacking earlier, she/he takes some...artistic liberties.
She/he is quite happy with Chakkas company. She/he spends many nights asking about what it is like to be a Thri-kreen, especially what its like having four arms ("I imagine it must be very convenient")
OOC: I was actually considering to play a thri-kreen named Chikka-Chakka, but I went with Threlan instead. What a coincedence. lol
Olan joins Threlan by the fire. "Hello. How are you getting along? I wouldn't take the comments on your tales too personally. I think it's probably the heat and the dust that's making them all a bit grumpy". He taps the side of his nose "Either that or they have no appreciation of culture."
"Well, I would say it's the heat and dust. Even though I live on the surface now, I often miss the cool feeling of a damp cave. Alas, I can never return. Nevertheless, thank you for the compliment. Usually, I am a good storyteller, or so I'm told, but I imagine the dust and heat are getting to me too. Besides, I never take comments to personally. It's part of what I do. Getting insulted, that is."
OOC: Could I use my downtime activity to practice telling my stories to Chakka and possibly Olan (if he's willing to listen) and editing my current ones in exchange for a bonus or advantage or something on my next performance check to tell a story?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master,The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brorminthe Crusher; Discoverythe Keeper; Theathe Scoundrel; Jorvirthe Weaver; Threlan,the Speaker; Zolyathe Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
Flamerule 21, 1489 DR
The light of the sun peaks up over the Toadsquat mountains, as the caravan of goods most of you have been tasked with defending sets off across the newly reestablished Great Trade road, cutting across the restored Shaar Wilderness. It has been two years since the earth tumbled up from below, filling in the Underchasm and giving new life to the Scarred South, and so much has changed since then. Old kingdoms, old rivers, old routes and old ways, all thought long gone, have begun to creep back into place. The world is healing. The world has begun to renew itself. But there are still scars. The land will never be what it once was. Too much pain has been felt, too much blood spilt. All of you know this, have known this, whether consciously and unconsciously, as you have lived in the years since. The evidence is before you, as you travel across the earth. It is cracked. Dry. Too many years without water have left it barren in many places, and it will be a long time until it recovers. It only gets drier, as you travel deeper into the heart of the Shaar with your fellow caravaners. Speaking of, introductions are in order.
There are five wagons in the caravan, and thirteen travelers, yourselves included. Allow me to introduce them.
The wagon at the front is manned by Fay Juen (he/they) and Kirna Juen (she/her), a young human couple from Dunfeld who make their living trading goods. They both appear well-equipped and capable of defending themselves, and those who have spoken to them over the course of the journey would know that they have made this journey several times before.
The second wagon belongs to Thunxandridir Jindaar (she/they), or just Thun, an elderly dragonborn, and her thri-kreen companion [incomprehensible chattering], or Chakka (they/them). Those who had spoken with them would learn that the gruff and quiet Thun is a priest of Bahamut, hoping to spread her faith in the new, disordered lands, and Chakka is from a pack that intentionally sent them out to learn of the world outside their territory, then report back on their findings. They consider Thun a close friend, the term they use being "clutch-mate."
The last three wagons all belong to a single man, the reason you are on this journey. A semi-wealthy merchant by the name of Dondeir Hammud (he/him) is traveling with you on the third wagon, and hopes to bring new wealth to his business by relocating to New Shaarmid. He has promised you each 350 gold (more than double the monthly labor of a skilled worker) to embark on this four-month-long journey with him. The excitable man has insisted that you travel at a fast pace, however, despite the dangers of such speed. He is accompanied by a large, powerfully muscled man named Fefir (he/him), who speaks little, but is quite eloquent when he does.
The fourth wagon is populated by an unlikely pair, a heavyset, white-bearded dwarf by the name of Thomir Steelhorn (he/him) and a young half-elven mage named Telvoril Steelhorn (he/him). They claim to be uncle and nephew, despite the obvious genealogical questions that brings up, and insist upon it being such a long story that it would take the entire journey and then some to explain, though their barely-hidden smirks perhaps betray something else. They, like you, have been brought on to defend the caravan.
Finally, there is the fifth wagon, with just a single inhabitant, another of Dondeir's hires. A human named Ursi Chatragi (they/them), they have been rather quiet during the journey, and speaking to them has betrayed exactly why they interact so little with others. It is not to preserve some air of mystery, so much as it is due to a powerful and striking misanthropy which causes just about any conversation with them to sour.
Now, please, introduce your characters, which wagon they have traveled alongside during the journey, and what they have been doing during the journey. You're going to have four months to get to know each other, so perhaps also describe some of the interactions you have with those you travel with, who your character has grown to know, to like, or dislike, and go right ahead if you'd like to roleplay any interactions with the other PCs or NPCs. Nodjeim, we will assume that you were discovered a short ways into the journey, and as long as you did not ask for your own share of pay Dondeir would be more than happy to have you along for the ride, as long as you stayed away from his wagon.
Some questions you might also answer: How does your character react to the barren lands of the Shaar? What aspects of its reinvigoration do they notice? How do they react to the two drow in the party, or the bandaged man? What do the other characters learn about you that they might not have initially known?
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Given his background Olan is drawn to the 3rd wagon and the wealthy merchant. Although he has spoken to the others in the caravan he spends much of his time speaking with Dondeir, and asking many questions. Given that he hails far from the north Olan appears to have a good understanding of this part of the world, especially Elfharrow.
Aside from the merchant he has also taken the time to acquaint himself with the others.
The human couple on the first wagon are sociable enough, but they are also wordly wise so Olan is careful in what he says.
The crew of the second cart are intriguing and very much out of the ordinary. Olan's conversations with them are inquisitive although he has managed to avoid asking anything that could be offensive.
Thomir & Telvoril like Olan seem to have a certain economy of truth in conversation, which leads to some very confusing conversations which consist of answering questions that haven't been asked and ignoring those which have. It seems to have developed into a friendly contest to see who can extract anything that may be close to the truth.
Last of all is the solitary figure on the fifth cart who most seem to avoid. Having had one brief conversation, Olan has taken the hint and also stays away.
Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
Of the others in the group, who don't seem to be allocated to any particular cart, they seem friendly enough, even the dark ones (having travelled a lot Olan tries not to judge a book by its cover). The only one he's not sure about is the monk. There's something 'off' there; not in a bad way, just..... 'off'. It's like he's not quite there sometimes. Still, in for a copper, in for a gold.....
"Greetings, I don't think we've met before. I am Olan Fargrove, traveller, swordsman and occasional scoundrel." He holds out his hand...
Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
Throughout the journey, Evelyn Drake, known as Evie to her friends, stays mostly with the second cart. She finds Thun and Chakka fascinating, as she has little experience with dragonborn culture and zero experience meeting a thri-kreen. She spends much of her time asking questions about Chakka's culture, even going so far as to take notes in one of her many journals.
Evie introduced herself to all the members of the caravan. Fay and Kirna are nice enough folk, but the archaeologist has little interest in trade goods. For that reason she doesn't spend much time with Dondeir either. Thomir and Telvoril are an interesting pair, but she hasn't yet asked them to share the story they've said would take the entire journey to tell.
Evie came away from her introduction to Ursi feeling put out and a bit peeved at the man's rudeness. She's decided to avoid his cart altogether.
As for the reason she has come on this journey, Evelyn has spent much of her time just taking in the sights of the Shaar Wilderness. She takes plenty of notes and also makes quick sketches of the surroundings in a sketchbook. Whenever the caravan stops to make camp, she ventures as far away from it as she safely can, just exploring and hoping to come across something interesting buried in the dry earth. No doubt the filling of the Underchasm has returned many relics and artifacts to the surface, just waiting to be found. The idea fills her with excitement.
As for her fellow caravan guards, Evie hasn't spoken much with them yet, although she is most fascinated by the monk wrapped in bandages. She has spoken a little to him, trying to tease out his story. The drow she has avoided for the most part; old prejudices run deep. She is more wary of them than anything and Evie can never find it in herself to be rude or confrontational, but their appearance is so strange, so unsuited to life under the sun.
Olan the elf reminds her a bit of Dondeir with his fine, colorful clothes. Also she has noticed him spending time with the wealthy merchant. As a result she hasn't had much of a chance to speak with him yet either. She has decided to give him the benefit of the doubt but his appearance reminds her of a court dandy, which she finds a bit hard to take seriously.
--
Evelyn glances down at Olan's proffered hand. It seems much more well-manicured than her own. She hopes he doesn't mind that she's got dirt under her fingernails; she extends her hand out to his.
"Evelyn Drake," she says. "Junior Archaeologist of the Rosewood Academy of Helruaa, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf - Lvl. 3 Halfling Rogue (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk) ♦ Evelyn Drake - Lvl. 3 Human Wizard (Rule of Change) ♦ Aranea Kendrick - Lvl. 4 Human Warlock (Where the Cold Winds Blow) ♦ Elsenia Vesper - Lvl. 2 Shadar-kai Druid (Strixhaven)
DMing: Curse of Strahd
Evie finds Chakka quite voluble, and seems to have little reason to conceal details of their culture. Their voice is raspy and interspersed with countless chirps and clicks, but at the same time is somewhat soothing, flowing in and out of human and inhuman sounds seamlessly.
"chhhkh... we roam the Shaar as we - khk - have done before. Even after the blue fire and the - ikkk - great collapsing. The dry does not bother us. Few things - chii - bother us. We like it that way. People think - zzxz - we are scary, monsters, because of what we look like, but we only fight when fought. It is perhaps good that we are feared by some - yytt - for they stay away."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
He was a hazel shadow, wandering hooded and silent between the second and third carts. His armor and clothes were covered by his cape, only the contour of a shield distinguishable from his left side. His head moved easily as he tried to scout the surroundings. The sunlight was so unconformable that made him miss his time as a debt collector. Back then work was done by night.
Every time the caravan stopped, Veldruk made some food. At first he would ask politely if anyone wished to partake the meal. A week later he would just shout the menu and the interested would gather. He made sure to be seen tasting the ingredients and taking the first sip or bite from every dish. His kind was well and deservingly known for using poison and treachery. As he cooked his armor was visible. The shoulder pieces were segmented steel, well forged although common, but the breastplate was something else entirely. Jet-black metal, enameled with a silver tint, delicately carved to evoke the image of a wing. By the fire it assumed a green sheen that betrayed its true nature, adamantine. Compared to it the longsword by his waist was nothing special.
Despite not starting conversations he proved himself to be quite open to talk. He would tell anyone who asked about what he had to endure in the Underdark, sure those histories would leave clear why he left. Or at least part of it. His voice was always soft and his speech as eloquent as Fefir’s. In many ways the human was more of a kindred spirit to him than the other drow, Threlan. To her and the surface elf, Olan, he paid special attention. They were the most likely to try killing him. He made no attempt to speak with Ursi, noticing the failed attempts of all who tried so much as to introduce themselves to the man.
Only someone with a truly keen insight could notice that Veldruk felt uncomfortable around Thun. In the drow’s experience, clerics were manipulative bastards with too much ambition and too little morals, even for his race’s standards – just like gods, albeit less powerful. He simply could not trust the dragonborn and by consequence never approached him, Chakka or Evelyn.
The Steelhorns had picked his curiosity. He never heard of a dwarf and a half-elf being related by blood. Maybe they aren’t, the warlock pondered. Maybe Telvoril was adopted by Thormir’s sibling. Going by the younger’s name, it seemed unlikely that he was a dwarf brought back in the body of another race. Whatever the case, their history seemed interesting and their smirks suggested it didn’t carry that much tragedy.
Nodjeim was a mystery and others noticed as much. Veldruk opted for just letting the man be. Maybe it was empathy. No one walked with a hidden face if they could avoid it and he knew a thing or two about not wanting to be found. In T'lindhet suich thoughts would be called weakness and he would harshly punished if anyone so much as dreamt he had them.
Notes: Consider that Veldruk is using his Deception skill to mask his discomfort around the cleric. Also, image of the breastplate here.
"Please, we are traveling in the same direction and I will be no bother," Nodjeim explained to Dondeir Hammud. "All I ask is to be able to sit on a wagon from time to time for rest. In exchange I will keep watch overnight. I do not sleep. I will not tax your food or drink supplies..." Dondeir may not have been immediately sold on letting the oddly wrapped up figure accompany them but once he had extracted the promise that they would avoid his own wagon and reaffirmed that Nodjeim would earn no pay, the bargain was struck.
Oddly enough, when Nodjeim did ride upon the back of a wagon it was quite usually the last in line. It would be a far cry from the truth to say that Nodjeim enjoyed the company of Ursi Chatragi but he was able to meditate was she spewed her words and still be able to nod appropriately when expected to. The fact he talked little mattered even less to Ursi, they did not want Nodjeim's thoughts or opinions so much as just to wash him in their own.
When Olan approaches and offers their hand Nodjeim give a short bow and then grasps their hand in return. "Well met," Nodjeim replies to their introduction. "I am Nodjeim. Traveller." If prodded for more Nodjeim reveals that he's "not been the same since..." and then he basically gestures to his bandages. "Well, yes. I have lost my past, for lack of better phrasing. I travel in hopes of finding it again. Or some clue to it, at least..." As for exactly why the bandages Nodjeim is a bit vague. Not so much because he is trying to be evasive about the circumstances but because he is truly ignorant of them. He does not come right out and state that he one day woke up dead... But if one pressed hard and long enough it could come out as Nodjeim is reluctant to lie outright unless absolutely necessary.
Nodjeim inquires about Olan and his own history, but in a subtle and offhanded manner. His inquiries are often subtle gestures or an incline of the head which asks without words for the speaker to elaborate or continue on. While Nodjeim is well fluent in this subtle manner of allowing others to speak as much as they wish he doesn't often get them revealing any more than they intend to. If for no other reason than he does not press them... And even if he was of a mind to he is not very charismatic. Perhaps it is the bandages, perhaps they can sense that his thoughts and mind is often... drifting.
Evelyn Drake gets as much, or as little, information as does Olan. Nodjeim is as open to one as to any other. And once more he allows Evelyn to speak upon her own life, hopes, dreams, goals and such as she wishes by using much the same measures of just allowing her to speak. The one difference would be that Nodjeim, having noted that Evelyn takes quite a few notes, basically tilts his own journal to her in a sign of a kind of kinship, of a fashion. Each dawn, if one looks, Nodjeim can be seen with his journal, either making an entry or rereading previous ones. If Evelyn would like some company on her sojourns away from the caravan, on occasion, Nodjeim would offer to walk with her. He is also a seeker even if he knows not of what. One minor thing he does keep an eye out is good random pieces of wood, often at night on watch he can be found whittling and carving odd little statuaries and icons out of whatever bits and bobs of wood he has come across...
Nodjeim has not yet spoken at any length to Veldruk for with Nodjeim's lack of need to eat or drink he felt no draw to the aromatic concoctions the man cooked up daily. He could eat. The process still worked. It just did nothing for Nodjeim and that made the consequences of eating... a bit uncomfortable. A dirty process none would opt to partake in if not required. And so he did not. Which is a very off topic thing to get to but there are times when the monks mind does wander quite astray from the topic... the topic... the topic yes, it was Veldruk. The two have not spoken at length but Nodjeim believes they have developed a comfortable nodding acquaintance with one another. A mutual respect of respecting once another's lack of need of sharing.
As for Threlan... Well Threlan can speak to the relationship they and Nodjeim have developed. Nodjeim shows no hostility or fondness for any based on race or any other indicator. Nodjeim is quiet and calm and accepting of all, even the unpalatable as is shown by his ability to tolerate Ursi Chatragi.
It is this very neutral acknowledgement of one another that Nodjeim has with the others on the caravan as well. Words have been exchanged pleasantly enough but no real connection or need to delve very deeply has been shown from either side. The Thri-Keen did cause Nodjeim to raise an eyebrow due to their... uniqueness... And perhaps Nodjeim paid slightly closer attention to them for a day or two, making notes in his journal and even a rudimentary sketch or two, but that was about that.
Whether it seems it or not, Nodjeim is always alert. Always on the lookout. Not knowing what he is looking for means he cannot overlook anything. He watches the the motes in the light with the same awareness as he watches the dwarf and the half-elf, unsure of just what will give him the clue he needs to even begin to know what the mystery he is trying to solve is. So for now he sits on the back of the last wagon and listens to Ursi complain. And complain. And complain. He nods at the right times but his mind is focused on the strange bird and it'd odd flight pattern he saw once... Perhaps in a dream.
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
OOC: Once we get to a part of the story where the day-to-day matters, I'll start rolling for Threlans gender/sex. for now though, I'll jsut write he/she.
Threlan, has over the course of the journey, mostly traveled with whoever seems the least likely to take offense at him/her. During the day, she/he mostly sits quietly, marveling at the healing and growing surface world, but at night... oh, she/he tells the most wonderful stories. she/he speaks of far off places, where cold winds blow and heroes venture across the frozen landscape to slay the Ice Queen. How the towers of mage societies fall and rise. and many other tales, all of which leave at least one person restless that night, thinking about the story. (performance: 13).
If Threlan learns any part of Olan's backstory about how he his parents thought the other races were bad, but he didn't, she/he becomes his friend almost immediately
At first she/he is suspicious of Veldruk, for her/his people have obviously hurt him/her in the past. Though as he is a male drow, she/he is less sure he will pull out a scourge and haul him/her back to the Underdark for punishment than she would be if he was female.
Threlan is intrigued by Nodjeim, and often tries to strike up conversations with him. She/he asks him about his life, where he came from, everything! She/he is quite talkative and pushy. While he/she thinks that Nodjeim is tragically misunderstood and quite of-put by the rest of the caravan avoiding him, she also thinks that his story, for if he looks like that he must have an interesting story, would make a marvelous tale. The tale of the bandaged man she/he thinks to his/herself, would make an amazing title.
One day, He/She approaches Nodjeim and strikes up a conversation "Hello, I am Threlan. How do you do?"
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
Join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
EXTENDED SIGNATUR
OOC: bruh. first roll of the game and I got a nat 1. thats not foreboding at all!
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
Join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
EXTENDED SIGNATUR
Nodjeim bows to Threlan. "I am Nodjeim," he replies succinctly but kindly.
Threlan can find out as much or as little of Nodjeim's story as anyone else. Through their pushiness and continued questioning they learn that Nodjeim does not know his own story. At least not all of it. He has no recollection of before... While whittling away at a piece of wood with his tools, Nodjeim answers questions slowly and carefully. Not in order to withhold or to be careful with the story, but it seems more because it is just their nature. Their manner of soft, precise speech can leads some to believe that perhaps he is quite elderly, others perhaps just write it off to his obvious lack of practice in socializing.
"The first memory I have is waking up one night in the barrens of East Rift. Alone. Wearing the robes I still wear. I knew... Nothing. Not about my life, anyway. I knew the constellations and the directions, I knew how to make fire and how to speak. I knew how to eek out the true form of the wood," Nodjeim explains and holding up their carving for inspection. He is whittling out a sphere or perhaps a globe, easily enough, but it is perched delicately at the ends of eight thing, slender spider legs... The body of said spider only so far hinted at but the legs are definitely over-proportioned for such a tiny body.
Nodjeim explains how they knew the world but not the self. "Imagine if you took one hundred people from the known world. Wrote down everything every individual knew, every fact, every way of doing things. Then throw away any information that the vast majority did not know. That is what I knew. The remainder. The things everyone knew... And how to bring out the inner shape of the wood."
Prodded and questioned enough, Nodjeim would reveal that when the day came it hurt. It burned. It seared his eyes and sautéed his flesh. So to speak. Once he found shelter from the light, once he his, he found no damage. But each time he stepped out... So he lived by night and rested and wrote and whittled holed away during the day. But people fear that which they do not know. Do not understand. And it seems rumors started to spread of the strange night creature with the shape of a man. I became hunted. I ran. Eventually I outran them but in doing so I learned that if one keeps moving the fears have less chance to put down roots and rile men to violence...
Another time, perhaps, he reveals that one night when being hunted he broke into a tomb. Within he found the bandages he wears, the spear he carries. He is not proud of having stolen from the dead but also shows no shame about it. "Many like to think the dead can bring their wealth with them into whatever comes next... Yet never has a grave been opened to be found empty unless a robber has already been there. Possessions are for the living. I believe that when we leave behind the flesh, we should also leave behind the things of the flesh." Wrapped in the bandages, carrying the spear, the sun no longer was his enemy. He now never takes them off or strays far from the weapon. "No need to wrinkle your nose," he says with humor in his voice, emotion being a rare thing for him. "I bathe and wash in the darkness when the opportunity presents. Despite appearances I am no more uncleanly than any other..."
And so his story goes. He believes that, with the finding of the spear and the bandages, there must be more out in the world that can help him. Both in the day to day but also in the theoretical, the philosophical. Who is he? Why is he? He knows not how to seek these answers without seeking.
((OOC - that is why I try to never roll until asked or I HAVE to. Seems whenever I roll preemptively I have nothing be ill luck...))
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Evelyn enjoys Nodjeim's company when she ventures away from the caravan. She is fascinated by his carvings and will often sit and watch while he is at work. So far she has resisted the urge to ask too many questions about his bandages, but she has gotten the gist of his story, that he woke up in the East Rift with no memory of his life before. For Evie, who loves nothing more than good mystery, Nodjeim's origins are another puzzle she wants to solve, if he allows her assistance of course.
Despite herself, Evie finds herself drawn to Veldruk and his cooking. At first, she speaks little to him and watches his every move, but as the days pass, she grows more comfortable in his presence. He is quite a fine cook, and eventually she works up the courage to compliment him on his skills.
"I hope my reticence has not offended," she finally says to the drow. "I have little experience with your race. I'm afraid I've been filled with preconceived notions. Please forgive my rudeness before."
Realizing that the stereotypes she's learned about drow may not all be true, Evelyn also decides to try and extend the hand of friendship to Threlan. Threlan is also a puzzle to her, for they seem to change their gender quite frequently. This doesn't bother Evie at all; in fact it only makes her more curious about them. Why are they here? What made them leave the Underdark?
One day Evie works up the courage to approach Threlan. "My name is Evelyn," she says. "I'm sorry that we haven't spoken before. I hope you'll excuse my rudeness. If I may ask, what brings you on this journey?"
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf - Lvl. 3 Halfling Rogue (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk) ♦ Evelyn Drake - Lvl. 3 Human Wizard (Rule of Change) ♦ Aranea Kendrick - Lvl. 4 Human Warlock (Where the Cold Winds Blow) ♦ Elsenia Vesper - Lvl. 2 Shadar-kai Druid (Strixhaven)
DMing: Curse of Strahd
"An archaeologist! I have to say that in all honesty I have never before encountered somebody who follows such a calling. How fascinating. Personally I prefer not to trouble the past, in case it decides to take an interest in me" he winks.
"I don't know about yourself, but I find this to be a most fascinatingly diverse group of individuals. I haven't had much chance to make acquaintances yet, but I look forward rectifying that as we journey" he pauses momentarily and looks towards the last wagon and his pleasant tone slips momentarily "well, with one exception."
Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
While the caravan is indeed initially suspicious towards Veldruk's cooking, over the course of a few weeks they learn to ignore their opinions on the elf and his ilk, and focus on the food he creates. Meager rations become something approaching palatable under the elf's touch, and it is this ability which garners him no small amount of affinity with his fellow travelers.
Nodjeim is initially subjected to no small amount of vitriol from the tongue of Ursi, but after it is made clear that the bandaged fellow is not budging, they begin to quiet down. There are several days spent entirely in silence, efforts to drive Nodjeim off waning and failing. Eventually, they begin to remark on things, not to complain or belittle them, but merely as observation. Rarely, at most once per day, they might make an attempt at actual humor, at the expense of none. Over several weeks, it almost seems as if Ursi regards Nodjeim as something akin to a friend, or at the very least not a foe.
The same can hardly be said for Threlan. At first, the caravaneers are hesitant to listen to his/her stories, but gradually they begin to actually tune in. Just as quickly, they tune out. Perhaps it is Veldruk's own gloom which supplants the wonder of Threlan's stories, perhaps it is the prejudice they may hold, perhaps it is the mere fact that he/she is spending every day baking under the hot sun, so that by nighttime his/her brain is sufficiently cooked, but the people here hold no appreciation in their hearts for Threlan's tales. Ursi is the first to quietly request that he/she stops right now, please, and tells no more of his/her ghoulish tales. At first, he/she thinks that it is just the ranger's typical dourness. Then, the others begin to agree. After some time, Threlan is forced to stop telling stories altogether or risk the group's displeasure.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Olan detects a pleasant aroma. Collecting his bowl and cutlery he heads over to where Veldruk is cooking. "Salutations my friend. May I once again compliment you on your culinary expertise and ask what delights you have conjured for us today?"
Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
(Also, at any point I can move things along in the journey, I'm just letting these little roleplay moments play out first. We can assume that your conversations are taking place over the next two months in each others' company. The vast majority of this place is baked, inhospitable earth and a few patches of dry grass, plus the occasional ruin. There is very little that lives here. If people have anything in particular they're looking out for or actions they'd like to do during the journey, let me know, but the first encounter I have planned is not for a ways in.)
(Also, this does count as downtime for the purpose of downtime activities, but since you're stuck on the open road there's not exactly a lot to do. Let me know if there's a particular downtime activity that you think you would be able to do during the journey and would like to do, and I'll see if I can make it happen. No need to carouse, all these people, even Ursi, are essentially positive contacts after so long spent in close quarters.)
(Also, downtime costs will likely be commuted or removed entirely depending on the activity, though they may be less effective)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Olan joins Threlan by the fire. "Hello. How are you getting along? I wouldn't take the comments on your tales too personally. I think it's probably the heat and the dust that's making them all a bit grumpy". He taps the side of his nose "Either that or they have no appreciation of culture."
Cunning Green-moss - Tiefling Barbarian Haj i Rae - Human Gloom Stalker Olan Fargrove - Elf Swashbuckler
Qal Joharge - Human Monk Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Thief
Veldruk was couldn’t trust Evenly kindness. She presented herself as polite, sincere, amiable. Everything he never expected from, well, anyone. Everything he would take as a sign of dissimulation and manipulation. Either that or she would be killed in the Underdark, said the voice of his mind. Only the ruthless survived there and no one truly lived, now he knew.
“To some degree, being reticent is part of our job.” He started with a soft voice and a kinder expression. “You weren’t rude in the slightest and no offense was taken.” That much was true as far as he was concerned. “In fact, most of what you heard about my race is not only right but likely too kind.” The warlock looked in Threlan’s direction. “Few can find another way to live, like I suspect we did.” He returned his attention to the Wizard. “You do well be as guarded as you can around our kind.”
Last thing Veldruk wanted was to make someone trustful of other drow. Specially not if that someone was travelling with him. It would be better if his companions were ready to kill his kind on sight. The contrary would definitely be true.
“Salutations and thank you for the kind words.” He answered when Olan approached. “Today we have pumpkin stuffed with shredded meat - an adaptation of a recipe I learned in Ormpar.” He stopped as soon as he mentioned the name of the city. “It’s the way the Ormpurians call their city.” The dark elf was fast to explain. “I prefer its original version, with shrimp instead of meat, but our location demanded a change of ingredients.”
It would be basically impossible to have seafood in the middle of the desert, at least without the help of magic. He didn’t believe in the praises given by his travelling companions but the dish should still be a considerable improvement from having the dry meat with the boiled fruit.
Notes: Image of the dish for
torturethe curious here."Alas," remarks Dondeir between bites. "Perhaps a few years ago our rations may have contained dried shrimp and the like, but the gulf has since receded and the great fishing fleet of Delzimmer run aground. It is part of the reason I'm moving inland. Much of the city's infrastructure is built around its former coastal position, and I'd rather move elsewhere than spend time and resources reconfiguring everything. Much of the wood that built these wagons came from my very own ships!"
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Oh, I totally forgot: Evelyn, please roll me Investigation as you explore the areas around the wagons!
And another thing: Alone among the travelers, Chakka takes no offense to Threlan's stories. Perhaps it is their kindred nature as feared species, or perhaps because the Thri-Kreen are known to have a much more limited emotional palette than most other species. Either way, since you mentioned that he/she would be traveling with those most friendly to him/her, that's where he/she spends most of his/her time.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"Well, I would say it's the heat and dust. Even though I live on the surface now, I often miss the cool feeling of a damp cave. Alas, I can never return. Nevertheless, thank you for the compliment. Usually, I am a good storyteller, or so I'm told, but I imagine the dust and heat are getting to me too. Besides, I never take comments to personally. It's part of what I do. Getting insulted, that is."
OOC: Could I use my downtime activity to practice telling my stories to Chakka and possibly Olan (if he's willing to listen) and editing my current ones in exchange for a bonus or advantage or something on my next performance check to tell a story?
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
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