Welcome everyone, we will wait to make sure everyone is on board before beginning this new adventure. In the meantime you could describe your character and or your quarters if you wish.
Oh! And I have decided everyone can have a mount. No flying, but feel welcome to reskin any of the horses, mastiffs, etc.
A casual glance at Pell would provide the impression that the tallish human wearing dark smoky colored armor and vestments, with a large heavy pack, a shield bearing an emblem of a skeletal hand holding a balanced scale on his back and a mace at his hip was quite vigorous and in the prime of his life as he walked with strength and even swagger. Yet any closer investigation would see an emaciated too pale face with sunken eye sockets and cheeks, mottled black hair that appears to be falling out in splotches all over his scalp and dark brown eyes that appear black in all but the brightest light. Bright light also highlights the spiderweb of veins and capillaries that would not usually be visible among humans with normal healthy looking skin instead of Pell's pale pasty white appearance. Usually people break eye contact at this point, and glance downwards, only to see a necklace of wooden beads, from which a bat hangs upside down like some macabre preserved pendent. Yet if looking long enough, the bat may shift slightly trying to keep its balance as it sways, open an eye or let out a tiny squeak, evidencing its living status. Eyes shying away from that as well, they may end up resting on Pell's pale and pasty white veiny hands with overly long fingers that just do not look right either. As a priest of Kelemvor, recognized by the emblem on Pell's shield, it is awkward enough out and about during every day life, but the combination of his deity and his appearance makes just about everyone uneasy to be in his presence.
Pell's mount is a riding horse, an unremarkable mare with a brown coat. However, her head is yellowish white with nuances and outlines that make it look particularly like a horse skull. Pell named her Kalemvar, a minimal alteration from the name of his deity, which speaks volumes of Pell's sense of humor.
Luc lounges comfortably in a wooden chair seated alone at a table in the Drunken Dragon, his back to wall so he can survey the room and everyone in it. A mug of high end spirits sits on the table half full, and Luc sips it occasionally as he contemplates what has brought him to this place. Riding into town only a few hours ago on his white stallion, Roddriggo, Luc could hardly believe yet another new adventure was about to unfold for him. He tipped the stable boy an extra copper to take good care of his steed, and slipped inside the 'Dragon. After renting a room, and eating a modest meal, he sits... thinking... remembering... trying to forget...
Luc Cazal is tall and lean with dark brown eyes that seem to bore into a person and see their very soul. He is usually very charming in social settings, and frequently ends up with a pretty lass keeping his bed warm... but not this night. His dark brown hair is combed back away from his forehead and parted to the left side. His matching mustache and chin beard are neatly trimmed with nary a single hair out of place. Recently Luc has begun the see in the reflecting glass a few flecks of grey near his temples and on his chin, reminders that he is not a young as he once was... or as innocent. Although he is wearing his traveling clothes, they are meticulously clean, not what one would expect after a day of riding. As more patrons filter into the establishment for food and drink, Luc subtly flicks his wrist and the flames from the candles and lamps near him dim a bit to allow him to recede into the gloom so he will be less noticed... for now.
Dark amber liquid swirls in a tall glass. An aasimar of medium build brings it up to eye level and inspects it, the dark liquid contrasting with the fair skin of his fingers. He brings the lip of the glass to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply.
“Vanilla, oak, burnt sugar…and something…” he begins, “nutmeg, yes, a little nutmeg at the end.” He eyes the leather-bound book on the table and scratches some notes onto the parchment, then takes a drink.
“Oh, oh, that’s good.” He says and smiles before making a few more notes.
Ahramin Jedhor hadn’t always had the good fortune to sit in a well-appointed room, drinking fine spirits. He was from the field ward of Waterdeep, the slums. Left to fend for himself at a young age, Ahramin had spent his formative years picking the pockets of nobility before moving on to more brazen acts of theft. That life had led him to the dagger sitting sheathed on his hip and the voice that gave him a choice.
The room was small and every bit of space efficiently used. His new bosses had outfitted it exactly as he asked. Dark wood flooring covered all but one corner where soft, woven mats lie instead. A practice dummy stood in the center of the mats with his arming rack along the back wall.
Behind him was a bookshelf, only about half full of books. Various tomes of arcane knowledge competed for space with bottles of all shapes and sizes. Aharmin wasn’t sure which he valued more.
The glaive, Altio, rested against the table where he sat. The haft was dark and the blade glimmered with a violet sheen that matched the amethysts inlaid in the hilt.
Ahriman drained the rest of the spirit, stood up from the table, and put on his long traveler's overcoat. He reached to draw the hood up and over his head before stopping himself.
“This is a safe place.” He said.
With a flex of his hand, Altio vanished in a wisp of dark purple smoke. He reached down to his hip, checking for the wrapped leather cord of his dagger's grip as he walked out of his chambers.
Ostran is a jovial Halfling, a trait common to his people. His skin has a bit of a copper tone to it. His hair is auburn, but most of the time it is just covered by his signature red bandana. On a normal day, he wears his leathers and a shirt underneath. The sleeves are usually rolled up and the collar to the shirt sticks up from under his armor. a hefty belt sits at his mid section, holding two fine looking straight sabers. The only other item of note on his person are his fine boots that sport golden images of wings on the side.
Then there's Ostran's pride and joy, his Battle Ram ((Using the stats of a Mastiff)), Aries! Aries is generally grumpy and stand-offish, but utterly loyal to Ostran. The Halfling made sure to keep Aries well guarded, fitting the Ram with Scale Mail Barding. After all, Aries isn't just a mount, he's Ostran's best friend.
Luc notices a curios fellow enter the Drunken Dragon, a short gnome trying unsuccessfully to look like he fits in at this establishment. The gnome scans the room until he sees Luc, at which point he make a subtle head motion in Luc’s direction before heading up the stairs to the second floor.
Luc pushes back from the table where he is seated and quickly crosses the room following the gnome. He takes the stairs two at a time reaching the top just as his quarry turns the corner at the end of the hall. Following him with a little more caution now, Luc slips one of his silvered daggers from his belt and begins to bring a spell to the forefront of his mind.
Rounding the corner, he sees the gnome drawing markings on the floor with chalk, he speaks to Luc without turning around. “Your new assignment awaits. Will take only a moment for the portal to be ready.” He continues drawing runes and mumbling softly.
“I’ll gather my things, though I won’t be able to get my horse up here.” Luc says starting to turn back towards his own room.
“Your possessions and Roddriggo are already awaiting you.” the gnome says as he straightens up. Waving his arms in a rapid series of movements he chants the last of his spell. The runes and markings begin to glow and green light radiates up from the floor. “Step in, the next chapter of your life awaits you.”
With a nod of thanks to the gnome, Luc crosses over to the portal. “Could have let me finish my drink.” He murmurs and disappears into the green glow.
When he emerges, Luc is in the center of a finely appointed room. Four-poster bed, already made up and comfortable looking. Washbasin and coat stand all in order including his soap and perfume. Writing table and chair with his papers, parchments, inks and waxes all arranged as he likes them. Opening the armoire, he sees his clothes newly laundered, hung up and ready for use. Most strikingly of all are the floor to ceiling windows looking out into… darkness. Not the darkness of a usual night sky, just darkness. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” he thinks to himself.
Spending some time to get acquainted with your surroundings. The furniture is nice, looks new. There is a good supply of fresh produce, cheeses, and salted meats. Despite the eerie void staring at you.... it’s comfortable. The common room is brightly decorated with a sitting area of couches overlooking a practice ring with a few straw dummies. After speaking with each other and introducing yourselves (RP if you wish) you all get a ping in your head and a voice echoes “come now, there is work to do.” This you know is the call to head down to the operations table.
You head down the stairs; the stairs stretch into a natural cavern. A waterfall to the left, a giant white face is onlooking expectantly awaiting your arrival. Past the small pool is a grass field with your mounts relaxing. Pass them is a giant swirling white and blue portal.
Ahriman will introduce himself simply as "Ahriman" and will add that you can call him Ari if you'd like.
Before heading down to the portal area, Ari will swing back by his room to pick up and put on his breastplate. He will also cast his eyes along the bookshelf, picking out a short and squat bottle, then pouring some of the contents into a boiled leather flask before attaching it to his hip.
Pell goes around and tries to initiate conversations with everyone in the room. About the only way he'll stop is if his audience walks away, at which point he'll simply walk to the next person and try again. His topics of conversation are not particularly pertinent to the people he chooses to speak to, and often are dull subjects, like the weather a week ago, or that time....
Once all gathered the Face continues. It’s gender neutral, you don’t recognize it. But for some reason have a familiarity with it.
“Something has come up that needs your attention. There has been a string of disappearances in the town of Jorgensen. Farming village with a population of 238 in the prime material plane. recently 6 men and women have disappeared in the night. Our sources tell something fiendish is the cause. Your mission is to find the source of the missing people and eliminate the target. The portal behind you is set for your destination. Good luck!”
Luc leaves his room, and finds his way to the common area where the others are gathered. Picking over some of the food laid out, he strikes up conversations with Ostran, Ahriman and Pell. Their pleasantries are cut short by the mental "ping". "I guess it's time to get started." he says to the others.
Following Ari's lead, Luc makes sure to grab his gear before heading to the portal room. After hearing abut the mission, he turns to his new team. "Sounds like a good bit of work. Shouldn't be too hard for us to figure it out. Maybe they're taking it easy on us for our first mission." Saddling up Roddriggo, he joins Ari at the portal. Looking back at Ostran he says "That's a fine looking ram you have there!" Turning back to the portal, he urges Roddriggo forward...
You all make your way to the portal, this warm sensation envelops you. You see nothing but that blue and white light, you get that feeling of shortness of breath with your heart race racing and racing, increasing until you think you’re going to pass out, but then it’s gone. You open your eyes and you’re outside. The warmth is replaced by a gentle breeze. Looking a head in the distance seems to be the town. Not too large but there is sprawling farms around the hills.
Looking at the village below, Pell says, "Don't you love this part? We'll go in, take care of their little problem. Then they'll be so grateful they'll shower us with gifts, praise and wonderful conversation and companionship. Lets go!"
Luc takes in the new surroundings, the hills, the farms, smelling the fresh air. 'This looks like a fine place to get our new group started.'he thinks. Letting out a deep breath he turns to Pell, "I agree, my new friend, this looks like a great opportunity to do some good... and reap some rewards in the aftermath." Sweeping his arm in a wide arc ending toward the village, and with a mock bow and smirk he adds "After you."
Ari watches the exchange between Luc and Pell, and smiles. He brings the leather flask from his hip and takes a sip, then nods approvingly and spurs his mount on towards the town.
Ostran perhaps spent too much time doting over his mount and best friend, Ares. He did manage to catch a bit about what was going on. Something about farmers disappearing or something, right? At any rate, it doesn't sound like something he'd need a mount for. "Don't worry, my friend. we'll get ya back in no time! Besides, some fresh air will do ya good!" He cheerfully says to the ram. Ares, for all his wisdom, just blankly chews on his food. Ostran gives him a couple of pats and then sets up on his mount. It takes a moment for Ares to respond to the halfing's commands, but he does eventually, begrudgingly, moves through the portal.
"Hey, fellas! Sorry to keep ya waitin'! " That's when the breeze catches him, drawing his attention to the rural town. "Ah...reminds me of home!" He takes in a deep breath "Man, just take in that fresh air!"
You walk into town and despite it being a nice day.zz it’s pretty quiet. Everything is here, blacksmith, inn, shops, homes, etc. but you don’t hear the metal clanging from the anvil, no street peddlers yelling, no children playing.... just quiet.
There is a job board posted in the middle with 6 posters for the missing people. 3 women and 3 men.
after a short walk you can swear you see some people behind windows ducking out of view as you walk by.
Welcome everyone, we will wait to make sure everyone is on board before beginning this new adventure. In the meantime you could describe your character and or your quarters if you wish.
Oh! And I have decided everyone can have a mount. No flying, but feel welcome to reskin any of the horses, mastiffs, etc.
A casual glance at Pell would provide the impression that the tallish human wearing dark smoky colored armor and vestments, with a large heavy pack, a shield bearing an emblem of a skeletal hand holding a balanced scale on his back and a mace at his hip was quite vigorous and in the prime of his life as he walked with strength and even swagger. Yet any closer investigation would see an emaciated too pale face with sunken eye sockets and cheeks, mottled black hair that appears to be falling out in splotches all over his scalp and dark brown eyes that appear black in all but the brightest light. Bright light also highlights the spiderweb of veins and capillaries that would not usually be visible among humans with normal healthy looking skin instead of Pell's pale pasty white appearance. Usually people break eye contact at this point, and glance downwards, only to see a necklace of wooden beads, from which a bat hangs upside down like some macabre preserved pendent. Yet if looking long enough, the bat may shift slightly trying to keep its balance as it sways, open an eye or let out a tiny squeak, evidencing its living status. Eyes shying away from that as well, they may end up resting on Pell's pale and pasty white veiny hands with overly long fingers that just do not look right either. As a priest of Kelemvor, recognized by the emblem on Pell's shield, it is awkward enough out and about during every day life, but the combination of his deity and his appearance makes just about everyone uneasy to be in his presence.
Pell's mount is a riding horse, an unremarkable mare with a brown coat. However, her head is yellowish white with nuances and outlines that make it look particularly like a horse skull. Pell named her Kalemvar, a minimal alteration from the name of his deity, which speaks volumes of Pell's sense of humor.
Luc lounges comfortably in a wooden chair seated alone at a table in the Drunken Dragon, his back to wall so he can survey the room and everyone in it. A mug of high end spirits sits on the table half full, and Luc sips it occasionally as he contemplates what has brought him to this place. Riding into town only a few hours ago on his white stallion, Roddriggo, Luc could hardly believe yet another new adventure was about to unfold for him. He tipped the stable boy an extra copper to take good care of his steed, and slipped inside the 'Dragon. After renting a room, and eating a modest meal, he sits... thinking... remembering... trying to forget...
Luc Cazal is tall and lean with dark brown eyes that seem to bore into a person and see their very soul. He is usually very charming in social settings, and frequently ends up with a pretty lass keeping his bed warm... but not this night. His dark brown hair is combed back away from his forehead and parted to the left side. His matching mustache and chin beard are neatly trimmed with nary a single hair out of place. Recently Luc has begun the see in the reflecting glass a few flecks of grey near his temples and on his chin, reminders that he is not a young as he once was... or as innocent. Although he is wearing his traveling clothes, they are meticulously clean, not what one would expect after a day of riding. As more patrons filter into the establishment for food and drink, Luc subtly flicks his wrist and the flames from the candles and lamps near him dim a bit to allow him to recede into the gloom so he will be less noticed... for now.
[ Insert Favorite Saying Here ] ... ;-)
Dark amber liquid swirls in a tall glass. An aasimar of medium build brings it up to eye level and inspects it, the dark liquid contrasting with the fair skin of his fingers. He brings the lip of the glass to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply.
“Vanilla, oak, burnt sugar…and something…” he begins, “nutmeg, yes, a little nutmeg at the end.” He eyes the leather-bound book on the table and scratches some notes onto the parchment, then takes a drink.
“Oh, oh, that’s good.” He says and smiles before making a few more notes.
Ahramin Jedhor hadn’t always had the good fortune to sit in a well-appointed room, drinking fine spirits. He was from the field ward of Waterdeep, the slums. Left to fend for himself at a young age, Ahramin had spent his formative years picking the pockets of nobility before moving on to more brazen acts of theft. That life had led him to the dagger sitting sheathed on his hip and the voice that gave him a choice.
The room was small and every bit of space efficiently used. His new bosses had outfitted it exactly as he asked. Dark wood flooring covered all but one corner where soft, woven mats lie instead. A practice dummy stood in the center of the mats with his arming rack along the back wall.
Behind him was a bookshelf, only about half full of books. Various tomes of arcane knowledge competed for space with bottles of all shapes and sizes. Aharmin wasn’t sure which he valued more.
The glaive, Altio, rested against the table where he sat. The haft was dark and the blade glimmered with a violet sheen that matched the amethysts inlaid in the hilt.
Ahriman drained the rest of the spirit, stood up from the table, and put on his long traveler's overcoat. He reached to draw the hood up and over his head before stopping himself.
“This is a safe place.” He said.
With a flex of his hand, Altio vanished in a wisp of dark purple smoke. He reached down to his hip, checking for the wrapped leather cord of his dagger's grip as he walked out of his chambers.
“Let's see who else is here.”
Ostran is a jovial Halfling, a trait common to his people. His skin has a bit of a copper tone to it. His hair is auburn, but most of the time it is just covered by his signature red bandana. On a normal day, he wears his leathers and a shirt underneath. The sleeves are usually rolled up and the collar to the shirt sticks up from under his armor. a hefty belt sits at his mid section, holding two fine looking straight sabers. The only other item of note on his person are his fine boots that sport golden images of wings on the side.
Then there's Ostran's pride and joy, his Battle Ram ((Using the stats of a Mastiff)), Aries! Aries is generally grumpy and stand-offish, but utterly loyal to Ostran. The Halfling made sure to keep Aries well guarded, fitting the Ram with Scale Mail Barding. After all, Aries isn't just a mount, he's Ostran's best friend.
Luc notices a curios fellow enter the Drunken Dragon, a short gnome trying unsuccessfully to look like he fits in at this establishment. The gnome scans the room until he sees Luc, at which point he make a subtle head motion in Luc’s direction before heading up the stairs to the second floor.
Luc pushes back from the table where he is seated and quickly crosses the room following the gnome. He takes the stairs two at a time reaching the top just as his quarry turns the corner at the end of the hall. Following him with a little more caution now, Luc slips one of his silvered daggers from his belt and begins to bring a spell to the forefront of his mind.
Rounding the corner, he sees the gnome drawing markings on the floor with chalk, he speaks to Luc without turning around. “Your new assignment awaits. Will take only a moment for the portal to be ready.” He continues drawing runes and mumbling softly.
“I’ll gather my things, though I won’t be able to get my horse up here.” Luc says starting to turn back towards his own room.
“Your possessions and Roddriggo are already awaiting you.” the gnome says as he straightens up. Waving his arms in a rapid series of movements he chants the last of his spell. The runes and markings begin to glow and green light radiates up from the floor. “Step in, the next chapter of your life awaits you.”
With a nod of thanks to the gnome, Luc crosses over to the portal. “Could have let me finish my drink.” He murmurs and disappears into the green glow.
When he emerges, Luc is in the center of a finely appointed room. Four-poster bed, already made up and comfortable looking. Washbasin and coat stand all in order including his soap and perfume. Writing table and chair with his papers, parchments, inks and waxes all arranged as he likes them. Opening the armoire, he sees his clothes newly laundered, hung up and ready for use. Most strikingly of all are the floor to ceiling windows looking out into… darkness. Not the darkness of a usual night sky, just darkness. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” he thinks to himself.
[ Insert Favorite Saying Here ] ... ;-)
Spending some time to get acquainted with your surroundings. The furniture is nice, looks new. There is a good supply of fresh produce, cheeses, and salted meats. Despite the eerie void staring at you.... it’s comfortable. The common room is brightly decorated with a sitting area of couches overlooking a practice ring with a few straw dummies. After speaking with each other and introducing yourselves (RP if you wish) you all get a ping in your head and a voice echoes “come now, there is work to do.” This you know is the call to head down to the operations table.
You head down the stairs; the stairs stretch into a natural cavern. A waterfall to the left, a giant white face is onlooking expectantly awaiting your arrival. Past the small pool is a grass field with your mounts relaxing. Pass them is a giant swirling white and blue portal.
The face speaks “Welcome Jumpers.”
Ahriman will introduce himself simply as "Ahriman" and will add that you can call him Ari if you'd like.
Before heading down to the portal area, Ari will swing back by his room to pick up and put on his breastplate. He will also cast his eyes along the bookshelf, picking out a short and squat bottle, then pouring some of the contents into a boiled leather flask before attaching it to his hip.
Pell goes around and tries to initiate conversations with everyone in the room. About the only way he'll stop is if his audience walks away, at which point he'll simply walk to the next person and try again. His topics of conversation are not particularly pertinent to the people he chooses to speak to, and often are dull subjects, like the weather a week ago, or that time....
Once all gathered the Face continues. It’s gender neutral, you don’t recognize it. But for some reason have a familiarity with it.
“Something has come up that needs your attention. There has been a string of disappearances in the town of Jorgensen. Farming village with a population of 238 in the prime material plane. recently 6 men and women have disappeared in the night. Our sources tell something fiendish is the cause. Your mission is to find the source of the missing people and eliminate the target. The portal behind you is set for your destination. Good luck!”
Pell perks up, "Fiends! Almost as fun as undead. Did I tell you about the time I turned undead and..."
Ari walks up Pell, "Friend, I love a good undead story. Let's go make some undead into dead-dead, shall we?"
He claps his hand on Pell's shoulder before saddling his mount, a dapple grey mare, and heading towards the portal.
Luc leaves his room, and finds his way to the common area where the others are gathered. Picking over some of the food laid out, he strikes up conversations with Ostran, Ahriman and Pell. Their pleasantries are cut short by the mental "ping". "I guess it's time to get started." he says to the others.
Following Ari's lead, Luc makes sure to grab his gear before heading to the portal room. After hearing abut the mission, he turns to his new team. "Sounds like a good bit of work. Shouldn't be too hard for us to figure it out. Maybe they're taking it easy on us for our first mission." Saddling up Roddriggo, he joins Ari at the portal. Looking back at Ostran he says "That's a fine looking ram you have there!" Turning back to the portal, he urges Roddriggo forward...
[ Insert Favorite Saying Here ] ... ;-)
You all make your way to the portal, this warm sensation envelops you. You see nothing but that blue and white light, you get that feeling of shortness of breath with your heart race racing and racing, increasing until you think you’re going to pass out, but then it’s gone. You open your eyes and you’re outside. The warmth is replaced by a gentle breeze. Looking a head in the distance seems to be the town. Not too large but there is sprawling farms around the hills.
Looking at the village below, Pell says, "Don't you love this part? We'll go in, take care of their little problem. Then they'll be so grateful they'll shower us with gifts, praise and wonderful conversation and companionship. Lets go!"
Luc takes in the new surroundings, the hills, the farms, smelling the fresh air. 'This looks like a fine place to get our new group started.' he thinks. Letting out a deep breath he turns to Pell, "I agree, my new friend, this looks like a great opportunity to do some good... and reap some rewards in the aftermath." Sweeping his arm in a wide arc ending toward the village, and with a mock bow and smirk he adds "After you."
[ Insert Favorite Saying Here ] ... ;-)
Ari watches the exchange between Luc and Pell, and smiles. He brings the leather flask from his hip and takes a sip, then nods approvingly and spurs his mount on towards the town.
OOC: Doing just a little catch up, sorry
Ostran perhaps spent too much time doting over his mount and best friend, Ares. He did manage to catch a bit about what was going on. Something about farmers disappearing or something, right? At any rate, it doesn't sound like something he'd need a mount for. "Don't worry, my friend. we'll get ya back in no time! Besides, some fresh air will do ya good!" He cheerfully says to the ram. Ares, for all his wisdom, just blankly chews on his food. Ostran gives him a couple of pats and then sets up on his mount. It takes a moment for Ares to respond to the halfing's commands, but he does eventually, begrudgingly, moves through the portal.
"Hey, fellas! Sorry to keep ya waitin'! " That's when the breeze catches him, drawing his attention to the rural town. "Ah...reminds me of home!" He takes in a deep breath "Man, just take in that fresh air!"
You walk into town and despite it being a nice day.zz it’s pretty quiet. Everything is here, blacksmith, inn, shops, homes, etc. but you don’t hear the metal clanging from the anvil, no street peddlers yelling, no children playing.... just quiet.
There is a job board posted in the middle with 6 posters for the missing people. 3 women and 3 men.
after a short walk you can swear you see some people behind windows ducking out of view as you walk by.
Ahramin will go inspect the job board with the missing persons posters for names, descriptions, whatever details are on the posters themselves.