(OOC) Drew, my character has low wisdom and I'm playing him accordingly. My character is acting ignorant but there is nothing weird about how your character is acting.
(OOC) John, thanks for the clarification. I didn't think anything was off in your character's response. I asked about the sleep issue because I wanted to make sure I had understood the situation correctly before I had Tanis respond. Since it pertained to Paul as well, I went ahead and put it in the main thread.
Kilgore sits by the smoking ashes of last night's fire poring over a book of unknown provenance. There are strange symbols and runes embossed in faded gold on the cover.
If you looked over his shoulder at the pages of the book you would see the margins filled with notes and hand drawn figures. The main body of the text was an ancient script which bore some resemblance to standard elvish.
He muttered quietly to himself as his finger traced the words of tome only to suddenly begin scrawling notes in the only available space on the page.
Only after he finishes writing does he seem aware of the others, and rises to join them.
"Ah, dear travelers. It appears as if we are on our own for the time being. Our companion has up and disappeared on us. Is anyone of you able to ascertain which direction he might have headed?"
"Too sudden. I don' like his 'aste. Seems deliberate t'me. Nobles 'ave a funny way 'o' doin' tha'."
The old man struggles to his feet, slinging his tools and belongings to his person. He runs his fingers through his snowy beard as his wrinkled eyes pan the foggy. He scoffs aloud,
"I've na' run inta' any monsters yet in this accursed fog."
He sniffs the air, his crooked nose trembling under the force. A glaze runs over his groggy expression.
"But I can'na say for certain. T'was na' this thick when I was fumblin' around."
Bruno squeezes another spotted fruit as he pockets the empty bag. This time, he pours the shimmering liquid into crudely shaped cups.
"Mornin' always goes best with a flagon 'o' drink. Fruit's na' poison, lads, although it can burn goin' down. Have yer fill."
*OOC* The fog is so dense and the darkness so pervading that the elves are unsure whether they have been in a trance for a minute or an entire 4 hours. The elves weren't asleep, but instead in their trance. Normally, the elves are vaguely aware of their surroundings, but the elves have found themselves confused by the change in their environment. Dark thoughts and memories plagued their trance. They are unsure for how long they zoned out. **
@Dcraft *The trees and foliage around you seem similar, but there is a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that something is off. It is hard to distinguish what in all of this fog. You see tracks on the road leading through the forest. *
"Not every morning," Tanis says to Azreal. He stares a moment longer at the treeline before slinging his bow and quiver over his solder and moving to examine the tracks along the roadside. "I believe, master Kilgore, that our friend Patri may have headed this direction" Tanis motions to the area where the tracks fade into the forest. "We may be able to follow his trail, though I warn you, sirs, these woods bode ill for travelers this day." A ridge of tension forms across Tanis jaw as he strains to recall the tattered fragments of his fey sleep.
Azrael jumps to his feet and swings his halberd up to rest across his shoulders. There is enough light to distinguish a symbol depicting two faces etched into the hilt of his weapon and sewn into the back of his black leather gloves.
"I have a good feeling about today. I've yet to see anything but roads, ships, and inns since my Lord commanded me to leave his sanctuary. The sooner we catch up to Patri the better."
Azrael hesitates before taking a cup of Bruno's mystery juice, but a glance at the smiths stature seems to convince the warrior.
He says "Bottoms up" wondering how bad it could really be.
Azrael divine sense feels no dark or celestial presence, but feels as though he missed something just out of the corner of his eye. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.
The group moves down the road. You believe it to be mid-morning, but the further the road leads into the forest the darker the shadows grow around you. The mists do not dissipate as the hours' pass. Instead, they seem to persistently swirl around you making themselves a traveling companion. It is at this time the group hears something pierce through the silence of the thick brush and trees around you. You hear a howl in the distance followed by a despairing cry.
"Is this really the best course of action, sirs? We have no idea who, or what, made that cry; furthermore, if we go rushing off into the woods, in this fog, we cannot be certain we will easily find our way back."
Azrael stops abruptly to fall into another rigid stance and snarls "It could be an ambush. Are you willing to ignore a plea for help on that chance?"
There are not many elves in Azraels homeland and he has heard that they can be cold. But he has also heard that they can sense things many humans cannot.
The old smith loosens his shoulders in wide motions. He looks over to Azrael. In his head, the old man sighs a long, tired sigh. He looks down at his wrapped fists before plopping his sack of tools on the ground.
"These ol' bones may be draped in a drifter's skin, but I've na' tha' nerve ta' abandon simple folk. Call it sympathy if ye must."
He lumbers over in an awkward manner to meet Azrael. Looking down at his wrapped fists, he mutters gibberish. He leans over to Azrael.
"I've never made tools fer an elf...Might soothe me o'er usin' me hands for naught 'cept me trade."
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(OOC) Drew, my character has low wisdom and I'm playing him accordingly. My character is acting ignorant but there is nothing weird about how your character is acting.
(OOC) John, thanks for the clarification. I didn't think anything was off in your character's response. I asked about the sleep issue because I wanted to make sure I had understood the situation correctly before I had Tanis respond. Since it pertained to Paul as well, I went ahead and put it in the main thread.
Kilgore sits by the smoking ashes of last night's fire poring over a book of unknown provenance. There are strange symbols and runes embossed in faded gold on the cover.
If you looked over his shoulder at the pages of the book you would see the margins filled with notes and hand drawn figures. The main body of the text was an ancient script which bore some resemblance to standard elvish.
He muttered quietly to himself as his finger traced the words of tome only to suddenly begin scrawling notes in the only available space on the page.
Only after he finishes writing does he seem aware of the others, and rises to join them.
"Ah, dear travelers. It appears as if we are on our own for the time being. Our companion has up and disappeared on us. Is anyone of you able to ascertain which direction he might have headed?"
Bruno shakes his head at Kilgore.
"Too sudden. I don' like his 'aste. Seems deliberate t'me. Nobles 'ave a funny way 'o' doin' tha'."
The old man struggles to his feet, slinging his tools and belongings to his person. He runs his fingers through his snowy beard as his wrinkled eyes pan the foggy. He scoffs aloud,
"I've na' run inta' any monsters yet in this accursed fog."
He sniffs the air, his crooked nose trembling under the force. A glaze runs over his groggy expression.
"But I can'na say for certain. T'was na' this thick when I was fumblin' around."
Bruno squeezes another spotted fruit as he pockets the empty bag. This time, he pours the shimmering liquid into crudely shaped cups.
"Mornin' always goes best with a flagon 'o' drink. Fruit's na' poison, lads, although it can burn goin' down. Have yer fill."
You'll never shine if you don't glow
*OOC* The fog is so dense and the darkness so pervading that the elves are unsure whether they have been in a trance for a minute or an entire 4 hours. The elves weren't asleep, but instead in their trance. Normally, the elves are vaguely aware of their surroundings, but the elves have found themselves confused by the change in their environment. Dark thoughts and memories plagued their trance. They are unsure for how long they zoned out. **
@Dcraft *The trees and foliage around you seem similar, but there is a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that something is off. It is hard to distinguish what in all of this fog. You see tracks on the road leading through the forest. *
"Not every morning," Tanis says to Azreal. He stares a moment longer at the treeline before slinging his bow and quiver over his solder and moving to examine the tracks along the roadside. "I believe, master Kilgore, that our friend Patri may have headed this direction" Tanis motions to the area where the tracks fade into the forest. "We may be able to follow his trail, though I warn you, sirs, these woods bode ill for travelers this day." A ridge of tension forms across Tanis jaw as he strains to recall the tattered fragments of his fey sleep.
Azrael jumps to his feet and swings his halberd up to rest across his shoulders. There is enough light to distinguish a symbol depicting two faces etched into the hilt of his weapon and sewn into the back of his black leather gloves.
"I have a good feeling about today. I've yet to see anything but roads, ships, and inns since my Lord commanded me to leave his sanctuary. The sooner we catch up to Patri the better."
Azrael hesitates before taking a cup of Bruno's mystery juice, but a glance at the smiths stature seems to convince the warrior.
He says "Bottoms up" wondering how bad it could really be.
*Azrael makes a constitution check* 13
The mysterious drink hits Azrael's throat and it tastes like a grave to him. He begins to cough and sputter some of the drink out of his mouth.
The group believes they notice something swirl out of the mists.
Azrael tries to choke down what he can of the juice as he turns his bloodshot eyes to face the mist.
*Divine Sense*
Azrael divine sense feels no dark or celestial presence, but feels as though he missed something just out of the corner of his eye. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.
"Let's move out. The fog is starting to mess with my head."
Azrael tries to remain calm as he scans the area around him.
"Oh, and thanks for the drink."
He chuckles as he wipes the glowing purple drink from his face.
Tanis finishes his analysis of the tracks and rises, staring out through the thick fog towards the area where the tracks fade into the forest.
"Agreed, master Azrael."
Tanis walks back towards the fire and picks up Patri's letter. Turning towards the group he says,
"If there are no objections, I suggest we follow Azrael's suggestion and head out immediately. The sooner we can escape this fog the better."
Kilgore sniffs the mysterious juice Bruno has passed around. The smell burns his nostrils.
"Much obliged."
As he takes a swig his eyes begin to water.
In the midst of coughing fit he says, "Master Bruno, please tell me this drink has some medicinal qualities?"
After recovering from the mysterious juice, Kilgore begins to head in the direction suggested by Tanis.
"Well... let's get on with it, them. As Tanis says, the quicker we move, the sooner we''ll see the fair sun."
*OOC: I suppose being the mage I'll take the rear*
The group moves down the road. You believe it to be mid-morning, but the further the road leads into the forest the darker the shadows grow around you. The mists do not dissipate as the hours' pass. Instead, they seem to persistently swirl around you making themselves a traveling companion. It is at this time the group hears something pierce through the silence of the thick brush and trees around you. You hear a howl in the distance followed by a despairing cry.
"Somebody's under attack."
Azrael closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before covering his face with his crimson balaclava.
"We should try and stay close together. Lets go!"
You can hear the sound of his leather gloves tightening around the hilt of his weapon. He assumes a well-rehearsed stance and charges into the fog.
Kilgore rushes in behind Azrael, his staff at the ready.
"Corellon, give us aid!"
Tanis stays stationary as Kilgore rushes by him.
"Is this really the best course of action, sirs? We have no idea who, or what, made that cry; furthermore, if we go rushing off into the woods, in this fog, we cannot be certain we will easily find our way back."
Tanis points ahead of them on the road.
"We have our task. I suggest we stick to it."
Azrael stops abruptly to fall into another rigid stance and snarls "It could be an ambush. Are you willing to ignore a plea for help on that chance?"
There are not many elves in Azraels homeland and he has heard that they can be cold. But he has also heard that they can sense things many humans cannot.
"What say you?!"
"The needy are with us always, master Azrael. Surely we cannot be expected to answer all their pleas for help."
Tanis shrugs slightly as he continues,
"Still, it is better that we continue together. If you wish to investigate those noises, I will follow you."
The old smith loosens his shoulders in wide motions. He looks over to Azrael. In his head, the old man sighs a long, tired sigh. He looks down at his wrapped fists before plopping his sack of tools on the ground.
"These ol' bones may be draped in a drifter's skin, but I've na' tha' nerve ta' abandon simple folk. Call it sympathy if ye must."
He lumbers over in an awkward manner to meet Azrael. Looking down at his wrapped fists, he mutters gibberish. He leans over to Azrael.
"I've never made tools fer an elf...Might soothe me o'er usin' me hands for naught 'cept me trade."
You'll never shine if you don't glow