The Guild of Vengeance chose you and you chose them. You recently received word by a message runner to be here right now. You make your way to a seedy little bar called The Pit. There are three old drunks at the bar and half orc bartender, they are all silent. The half orc nods and you make your way into a back room and down the stairs into the cellar as the message instructed. The cellar is barren save for a note, stuck to a support post by a bloody arrow below a lit candle sconce.
The Note: A few days days ride southeast of Brixtonia is fishing community called Southwyck. People there are being killed, mutilated and their bodies placed on public display. Go there forthwith, find out who is responsible and exterminate them. Do this and you may find yourselves in my good graces. Fail and you will surely die, one way or another. -V
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM: A JOURNEY ACROSS THE PLANES
PLAYER CHARACTER SELLSWORDS ON THE ENDLESS PLAINS: CADE CRIMSON, BARD
"So it would seem. Unless any of you can think of a reason to wait, let us be on our way." Lucian says this while leaning on his staff and looking around at the others gathered there.
The light brown-skinned tiefling enters The Pit and looks around at the clientele surreptitiously. After a short pause, he follows the message's directions and passes by the bartender, giving a quick nod as he passes, not making eye contact and ignoring any possible stares. The walk to the cellar is uneventful and, being the first to descend the stairs, he finds a darkened corner to wait in. He watches with his solid golden eyes as four others enter. His eyes go wide for a moment as another tiefling enters, but then he quickly composes himself. The others gather around a note tacked to one of the pillars by a bloody arrow. The tiefling raises an eyebrow at the macabre notice. He steps forward, garnering glances from the others, but they don't appear surprised. When the other tiefling speaks, Freedom almost smiles, looking at her appraisingly. He hums a single note as if to warm up his voice and then asks, "Horses?" His voice is high and silky — much higher than anyone would expect from a male of his apparent age — and he does look male, though the only visible hair anyone can see on him is his eyebrows and the dark stubble around the horns that grow down the back of his head. Getting a better look at him, the others see that everywhere skin is visible, it is heavily scared by haphazard, seemingly random patterns, whether by blade or burn, it's hard to tell.
(Sorry forgot to describe anything) The dwarf turns to Freedom. He's wearing simple clothes that seemed to be covered in dark stains. Weapons cover him, with javelins strapped to his bag, a spear slung across his shoulders, and a greataxe that seems almost too big for him used as a walking stick. For some odd reason, he also has the hilt of a broken greatsword on his belt. His dark skin is contrasted by his shock of white hair. "Yes, horses, do you expect us to walk there? I don't know if you've noticed, but my legs aren't that long lad."
Horses work for me. I like the breeze on my skin. In fact the one thing that stood out the most aside from her lineage as a teifling was her clothing. or rather lack there of. Urchan wore little more than a loincloth and a low cut top that hugged her curves and ended near the base of her rib cage. What little clothing she wares is made of fine clothes however. She wears nothing else other than bits of jewelry on her fingers, toes and horns which swept gracefully from her hairline to just past the back of her head. Of one could look away from her other features, one might also notice her fingers, tail and horns also ended in a vibrant blue instead of the rust red tones of the rest of her and that she has slight scale patterns that shimmer slightly on her shoulders and outer thighs.
The last one to finally find his way down into the cellar is accompanied by a faint tapping noice, almost as if something thin and sharp repeatedly hit the dusty ground. Next, a creature descends into the chamber that appears to be something of an oversized crow. Dressed in ratty pants and a jerkin, the bird-like figure takes of his hood and gazes through the room until its eyes settle on the note. The crow walks over to the support post and his yellow eyes sharpen as hurry through the note. The creature raises an arm that appears to be covered in jet-black feathers, the same can be seen covering every inch of his body that is not coated with cloth. With an opening of the spout, the creature knocks itself on the chest and a deep male voice says "Screech." As the others then engage in conversation, the crow remains quiet. While the tieflings speak about organizing horses, he nods in a short and hasty gesture before waiting again.
"I simply meant," the brown-skinned tiefling replies to the dwarf in almost a simpering tone, "that I wondered where these horses are to come from. I do not own a horse." He looks at the others, including the kenku, which he doesn't regard any differently than the dwarf or elf. "Do you all own horses?" In contract to Urchan, Freedom is wearing simple, concealing clothing; only his head, neck and hands are visible. Aside from his scars, he is fairly inconspicuous — if you consider tieflings inconspicuous — though, his black fingernails filed to points might raise an eyebrow. On his belt are two daggers, a light crossbow, and some kind of metal spike.
Screech opens his beak and the neighing of a horse wavers through the room before he shakes his head five times in a blurr of motion. He then nods his head while producing a trail of fast, consecutive foot steps.
"Well if nobody's got a horse, or the money to buy one, I'm guessin' we're just gonna have to hustle as fast as we can." Gildar looks around for confirmation, and if he sees everyone nodding, he'll head back up the stairs to get more information.
"I am fairly adept at getting what I want," Freedom says. "If we need to ... borrow some horses, I might be able to accomplish that. But let's see if the barman upstairs has anymore information for us first. I have roots here in town and would rather not risk burning any bridges on my way out unnecessarily."
The Guild of Vengeance chose you and you chose them. You recently received word by a message runner to be here right now. You make your way to a seedy little bar called The Pit. There are three old drunks at the bar and half orc bartender, they are all silent. The half orc nods and you make your way into a back room and down the stairs into the cellar as the message instructed. The cellar is barren save for a note, stuck to a support post by a bloody arrow below a lit candle sconce.
The Note:
A few days days ride southeast of Brixtonia is fishing community called Southwyck. People there are being killed, mutilated and their bodies placed on public display. Go there forthwith, find out who is responsible and exterminate them. Do this and you may find yourselves in my good graces. Fail and you will surely die, one way or another. -V
DM: A JOURNEY ACROSS THE PLANES
PLAYER CHARACTER
SELLSWORDS ON THE ENDLESS PLAINS: CADE CRIMSON, BARD
Urchan hates being threatened. But if the note is to be believed there are bigger issues at hand. Looks like we're headed Southwyck.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 12 (8W-4L)- - Coliseum of Conquest: Master of Faerie Fire. Just don't ask her to spell it.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 6 (2W-1L)- - Coliseum Reborn : Master of a Myriad of forms.
Runt, the Stormchosen: Half-Orc barbarian level 5 -- The Guild
Tomoe Gozen: Human Fighter Samurai level 5 -- Cronero (Solo Campaign)
"So it would seem. Unless any of you can think of a reason to wait, let us be on our way." Lucian says this while leaning on his staff and looking around at the others gathered there.
Gildar thumps his greataxe into the ground and says, "The longer we wait, the more innocents die. Let's get some horses and be on our way."
Urchan stretches, revealing an ample amount of skin. Its been a while since i got ta fry someone. Small sparks spout from her finger tips
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 12 (8W-4L)- - Coliseum of Conquest: Master of Faerie Fire. Just don't ask her to spell it.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 6 (2W-1L)- - Coliseum Reborn : Master of a Myriad of forms.
Runt, the Stormchosen: Half-Orc barbarian level 5 -- The Guild
Tomoe Gozen: Human Fighter Samurai level 5 -- Cronero (Solo Campaign)
The light brown-skinned tiefling enters The Pit and looks around at the clientele surreptitiously. After a short pause, he follows the message's directions and passes by the bartender, giving a quick nod as he passes, not making eye contact and ignoring any possible stares. The walk to the cellar is uneventful and, being the first to descend the stairs, he finds a darkened corner to wait in. He watches with his solid golden eyes as four others enter. His eyes go wide for a moment as another tiefling enters, but then he quickly composes himself. The others gather around a note tacked to one of the pillars by a bloody arrow. The tiefling raises an eyebrow at the macabre notice. He steps forward, garnering glances from the others, but they don't appear surprised. When the other tiefling speaks, Freedom almost smiles, looking at her appraisingly. He hums a single note as if to warm up his voice and then asks, "Horses?" His voice is high and silky — much higher than anyone would expect from a male of his apparent age — and he does look male, though the only visible hair anyone can see on him is his eyebrows and the dark stubble around the horns that grow down the back of his head. Getting a better look at him, the others see that everywhere skin is visible, it is heavily scared by haphazard, seemingly random patterns, whether by blade or burn, it's hard to tell.
(Sorry forgot to describe anything) The dwarf turns to Freedom. He's wearing simple clothes that seemed to be covered in dark stains. Weapons cover him, with javelins strapped to his bag, a spear slung across his shoulders, and a greataxe that seems almost too big for him used as a walking stick. For some odd reason, he also has the hilt of a broken greatsword on his belt. His dark skin is contrasted by his shock of white hair. "Yes, horses, do you expect us to walk there? I don't know if you've noticed, but my legs aren't that long lad."
Horses work for me. I like the breeze on my skin. In fact the one thing that stood out the most aside from her lineage as a teifling was her clothing. or rather lack there of. Urchan wore little more than a loincloth and a low cut top that hugged her curves and ended near the base of her rib cage. What little clothing she wares is made of fine clothes however. She wears nothing else other than bits of jewelry on her fingers, toes and horns which swept gracefully from her hairline to just past the back of her head. Of one could look away from her other features, one might also notice her fingers, tail and horns also ended in a vibrant blue instead of the rust red tones of the rest of her and that she has slight scale patterns that shimmer slightly on her shoulders and outer thighs.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 12 (8W-4L)- - Coliseum of Conquest: Master of Faerie Fire. Just don't ask her to spell it.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 6 (2W-1L)- - Coliseum Reborn : Master of a Myriad of forms.
Runt, the Stormchosen: Half-Orc barbarian level 5 -- The Guild
Tomoe Gozen: Human Fighter Samurai level 5 -- Cronero (Solo Campaign)
The last one to finally find his way down into the cellar is accompanied by a faint tapping noice, almost as if something thin and sharp repeatedly hit the dusty ground. Next, a creature descends into the chamber that appears to be something of an oversized crow. Dressed in ratty pants and a jerkin, the bird-like figure takes of his hood and gazes through the room until its eyes settle on the note. The crow walks over to the support post and his yellow eyes sharpen as hurry through the note. The creature raises an arm that appears to be covered in jet-black feathers, the same can be seen covering every inch of his body that is not coated with cloth. With an opening of the spout, the creature knocks itself on the chest and a deep male voice says "Screech." As the others then engage in conversation, the crow remains quiet. While the tieflings speak about organizing horses, he nods in a short and hasty gesture before waiting again.
"The only problem is, I don't got enough money to buy a horse, so anybody got any contacts or bright ideas to get us some?" asks Gildar.
Im...actually out of money as well. I just bought a gem i need for a new spell.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 12 (8W-4L)- - Coliseum of Conquest: Master of Faerie Fire. Just don't ask her to spell it.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 6 (2W-1L)- - Coliseum Reborn : Master of a Myriad of forms.
Runt, the Stormchosen: Half-Orc barbarian level 5 -- The Guild
Tomoe Gozen: Human Fighter Samurai level 5 -- Cronero (Solo Campaign)
"I simply meant," the brown-skinned tiefling replies to the dwarf in almost a simpering tone, "that I wondered where these horses are to come from. I do not own a horse." He looks at the others, including the kenku, which he doesn't regard any differently than the dwarf or elf. "Do you all own horses?" In contract to Urchan, Freedom is wearing simple, concealing clothing; only his head, neck and hands are visible. Aside from his scars, he is fairly inconspicuous — if you consider tieflings inconspicuous — though, his black fingernails filed to points might raise an eyebrow. On his belt are two daggers, a light crossbow, and some kind of metal spike.
"Not that I recall, no." (OOC, how law-abiding is this group? I want to suggest stealing them, but I don't know if the guild allows things like that)
( Well, seeing how we are part of a somewhat zealous guild that actively crusades against evil. Im neutral good.)
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 12 (8W-4L)- - Coliseum of Conquest: Master of Faerie Fire. Just don't ask her to spell it.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 6 (2W-1L)- - Coliseum Reborn : Master of a Myriad of forms.
Runt, the Stormchosen: Half-Orc barbarian level 5 -- The Guild
Tomoe Gozen: Human Fighter Samurai level 5 -- Cronero (Solo Campaign)
Freedom gives the dwarf a quick look of incredulity, but then smiles, waiting to hear a response from Laucian or Screech.
Screech opens his beak and the neighing of a horse wavers through the room before he shakes his head five times in a blurr of motion. He then nods his head while producing a trail of fast, consecutive foot steps.
"Well if nobody's got a horse, or the money to buy one, I'm guessin' we're just gonna have to hustle as fast as we can." Gildar looks around for confirmation, and if he sees everyone nodding, he'll head back up the stairs to get more information.
*sigh* Looks like its time to get all sweaty.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 12 (8W-4L)- - Coliseum of Conquest: Master of Faerie Fire. Just don't ask her to spell it.
Grianne Wildpaw: Wood Elf Druid level 6 (2W-1L)- - Coliseum Reborn : Master of a Myriad of forms.
Runt, the Stormchosen: Half-Orc barbarian level 5 -- The Guild
Tomoe Gozen: Human Fighter Samurai level 5 -- Cronero (Solo Campaign)
"I am fairly adept at getting what I want," Freedom says. "If we need to ... borrow some horses, I might be able to accomplish that. But let's see if the barman upstairs has anymore information for us first. I have roots here in town and would rather not risk burning any bridges on my way out unnecessarily."
Screech seems a bit puzzled at first, but decides to move along and accompanies the dwarf and the two tieflings upstairs.