Baredark grunted in acknowledgment, "Better to get paid, and have fun later, I guess."
Baredark sits cross-legged, bright red hair pulled back in a bun as he sharpens the tip of a javelin; even sitting, Baredark looks the size of a full grown adult despite his young age.
"Hunting? Again?" Shiloh Chrysorune's faintly glowing, human-shaped blue eyes look up from the book she had borrowed from the local librarian, her silver-skinned hands shutting the book and shoving it into the strange pouch stitched to her belt; it was some type of novelization about a young woman who set off on her own to explore the world; the same fantastical wanderlust could be seen in her own eyes, the young half-drow's mind wondering into different places. Well-dressed, Shiloh is the daughter of the local seamstress, a human woman by the name of Rachel Goldenfield. And while Rachel allowed her daughter quite a bit of freedom (as evinced by the dyed, dark azure bangs along her otherwise jet black hair), it was always a bit of a frustration to her that her little lady sometimes ventured out into the wilds wearing outfits not entirely appropriate for such pursuits; her little girl was adventurous and tougher than she looked, but she was her little princess, not some cudgel-wielding barbarian!
That wasn't different at all today, either; young Shiloh was on the cusp of womanhood at 17 years of age and had already briefly done a stint as a lady acolyte at the nearby convent of Selune, having only returned after her mother took ill. Shiloh typically was clad in a long-sleeved cotton blouse, dyed gray, worn under a dark-indigo shaded bustier woven with white silken leaf patterns done by her mother. Beneath the bustier is a pleated silver cotton skirt that comes just below her knees, held in place by the mysterious belt supposedly from her father, revealing a set of silken black lady's stockings worn underneath. The ensemble is complete with a pair of dull umber lady's boots starting at the middle of her calf and baring an extremely low but elegant square heel; they are both elegant and practical.
Of course, the all looked strangely out of sorts with the crossbow strapped to her back and the brown wooded cloak draped over her svelte frame.
Though nowhere near subject to the same whispering and mutterings as her elder companion, young Shiloh found a bit of a kinship with Kairon; her strange origins as a hybrid of two most unexpected races certainly made her the subject of vicious rumors while growing up as a younger child, being neither elf nor human. And Drow-blooded much less; Shiloh had been told that her father's kind were horrible, horrible creatures that lived somewhere dark and foreboding - though that didn't stymie her desire to meet him. As such, she found the company of the middle-aged layabout welcoming; both were occasionally subject to cruel whispers about things that neither one of them had a hand in, after all, and Shiloh had learned early on from him how to deal with the unwarranted cruelty.
"Mr. Kairon, don't you ever get bored of chasing around the gnolls? Why not try talking to them?" Shiloh smiled innocently, taking a moment to smooth out her skirt before folding her hands in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankle. "I mean, why do they hate us so much? Has anyone ever stopped to ask?"
Nirev, who was hoping someone would have the initiative, smiles and says to no-one in particular "This is why I like you" as a small ball of fire sprouts from his right hand (cast prestidigitation). His white face reflects the harmless blueish flame that he twirls around his hand.
"Gnolls? Talk?" Guffawed Baredark, hearing Shiloh's comments, "They barely have enough thought in their head to wield a weapon and kill whatever they can see. You'd have better luck convincing me to read."
Stowing the javelin in its sling, Baredark stands, towering over the group. "Night hunt? Or are we meeting at the edge of town on the morrow?"
"Well, you don't know if it will work because you never try, silly!" Shiloh squeaked in protest, looking up over at Baredark, who positively TOWERED over all 5 feet and 3 inches of her svelte frame even at his young age. "There might be a gnoll who isn't rabid and bloodthirsty. Honestly, Baredark, you could stand to read more. I think you don't give yourself nearly enough credit when it comes to learning things from books."
When the mention of a night hunt came up, however, the young girl immediately looks a bit perturbed.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Shiloh stood, nervously shuffling her feet. "The last time we tried that, we were ambushed by that pack of wolves, remember? And I don't want to get lectured by my mother and the adults again. Poor Mr. Kairon nearly got thrown out of town, our parents were so furious with him."
Kairon smiles at Shiloh, “When it comes to gnolls, my axe does enough talking for both of us, my young Half-Elf.”
His gravelly voice leaned in on the word “Elf” as it tended to do. He knew, much like his own infernal ancestry, Shiloh’s drow heritage was both exotic and unique, but also meant dealing with certain difficulties that others of her kind didn’t have to worry about. At least all tieflings could rally around the fact that they were tieflings, regardless their exact origin. To him, acknowledging her as part Drow gave power to the separation between her father’s people and the so-called “surface-dwelling elves”.
“If you throw that flame, Nirev, don’t overlook the meat. No one will pay for boot leather,” Kairon chuckles at his own joke, looking around for eye-rolling. Being the elder, he felt it was his responsibility to throw out all the “dad jokes” he could possibly muster. Besides, they were funny!
“Night hunts serve me just fine, wolf pelts are some of the warmest around! But Shiloh does bring up a good point, you kids have rules for a reason, and who am I to encourage disobedience?”
While Nirev shrugs at the discussion about the noble treatment of gnolls, he does wish to leave tonight.
He turns to Kairon and says "this is why I take this nice crossbow, remember?" while patting a light crossbow he has shown to know how to wield.
"But yeah, we should go out tonight. I sure could use the money...", he refrains from talking more. He looks at Shiloh and says: "Come on! It'll be fun! And also, we always come back, because we watch each other's backs." he says. "What do you think could go wrong?", he adds confidently.
"Bah! Parlor tricks and reading might suit you both just fine," Baredark jabs playfully, pointing out Nirev's flame and patting the pouch on Shiloh's side as he walks past her, "But I prefer to keep myself moving rather than sit and stare at mumbo jumbo all day. I will concede, though, that you are quite right. A night hunt would probably not do well for everyone. Don't want our parents to become worried."
After a few more steps, Baredark turns back towards the group, "Oh wait... I don't have to listen to parents or rules! What do you say Kairon, time to hunt?"
(EDIT: sorry... I'm a grammer nazi of my own stuff...)
“I fear one of us must play the part of the responsible adult and escort or young Half-Elf back to the seamstress and to assured safety.... unless.......”
A larger than life smile comes across Kairon’s face as he looks over at Shiloh. He curls his index finger under the head of one of his hand axes and lifts it out of its sheath a quarter inch. It glows with a faint bit of arcane energy for just a moment before fading. He lifts one eyebrow, and says, “home? Or to the woods, kiddo, your call.”
"What could go wrong?" Shiloh gaped, taken aback at Nirev's boldness. "My mother could give me the switch, is what could go wrong. As it is, i'm grateful that she lets me hunt with any of you at all instead of preening me up like her little doll. I don't want that to change. And... And..." Shiloh was stammering now. "And... and what if I reaggravate mother's illness? You remember how serious that was a few years ago; mother nearly died! I had to leave the acolyte position I had at the temple of Selune up in the nearby hills."
But, when Mr. Kairon began tempting her, Shiloh felt her curiosity burning within her veins like an insatiable fire.
Shiloh wanted to go exploring, confound her curious nature. She absolutely, positively wanted to go exploring.
Why would you do this to me, Mr. Kairon?
With a sigh, Shiloh ran a hand through her hair, straightening it out. What she was about to do was likely against her better judgement, but with the entire lot of them giving her puppy-dog eyes, how could she resist? It wasn't fair!
"Oh... alright. I'll come. But only so I can make sure you lot don't get yourselves hurt. Remember when you stumbled into that thicket of stickerbush in the dark that one time, Baredark? You were so cut up and bloody. And, um... if... If I do this... Mr. Kairon, would you be willing to vouch for me if my mother gets upset? Even if it's you, I think it would put her at ease that you're there."
"Wait for me guys!" Calls out a high pitched voice. A child approaches, running down the hill towards you, swathed in a dirty grey robe. "I just finished my chores! What are we doing?" It's your friend, Sweet Milo. Halfling, on the smaller side of the race, and still quite young. Started showing odd signs in the last few months - magical gifts, having something to do with the disease of scales slowly overtaking his skin. His differences, particularly his magical ones, have made him rather unpopular among the other halflings, and even the children of the village have taken to following him, waiting for some unexpected sign of magic. Only you have remained relatively unsurprised at Sweet Milo's new gifts, and without a doubt his abilities are helpful in the wild. Sweet Milo currently has his hood up, despite the warm day, but as he approaches you all he slips it down, revealing his twinkling blue eyes and straight brown hair. "Mom let me go early - I learned how to do something new! Watch this!" Milo points at a stretch of open dirt near the dock, and stares at it, finally twisting his hand with a grabbing gesture. (mold earth) The dirt shifts, suddenly becoming rippled and grooved. Within moments, the face of a laughing halfling appears imprinted about three inches into the dirt. "Makes sweeping a breeze!"
The moment he says breeze, a sudden draft blows out from Milo in every direction, causing leaves to swirl and anything not held down to shift slightly. (gust) "Oops." Milo whispers, eyes downcast.
Baredark bears down on Sweet Mila, lifting him in the air and dropping him down to stand on Baredark's shoulders. "The lady Shiloh has granted us permission, so yes. A hunting we will go!"
"How about a bit of practice on those parlor tricks?" Baredark jokes up to Milo, "Point the way!"
Relaxing, Shiloh finds that the sudden breeze has passed and that it's safe to remove her hands from her skirt as she allows the sudden, nervous tension to drain out of hers form. She squats down slightly, tousling Milo's hair with a smile; though he could be a bit too proud of his power, Shiloh bore the much younger Milo no ill will.
"It's okay... just be more careful with that wind magic of yours around ladies, would you? That could have been very embarrassing." She smiles warmly, as if trying to emulate an elder sister. . "And yes... apparently, we are going hunting, per Mr. Kairon."
Milo looks around the dock, suddenly unsure of his directions, he points to the right, back towards the village. "No, wait." He mutters to himself. Getting oriented, he finally points off in the direction of the hunting woods. "That way, right?" He looks to Nirev and Kairon for confirmation. He seems unsure of the direction, despite having grown up here his whole life.
Nirev points the way, closing his eyes as he does so. He leads the way to the woods, assuming the others would follow.
(ooc: I noticed the overcrowdness of sorcerers too. I don't mind it really. Maybe we can focus on different utilities in our choice of spells? I like control and social spells. Personally I don't like multiclassing in 5e)
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Baredark grunted in acknowledgment, "Better to get paid, and have fun later, I guess."
Baredark sits cross-legged, bright red hair pulled back in a bun as he sharpens the tip of a javelin; even sitting, Baredark looks the size of a full grown adult despite his young age.
(Link to my character sheet in case you all need it: https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/SodaSaint/characters/6953444 )
"Hunting? Again?" Shiloh Chrysorune's faintly glowing, human-shaped blue eyes look up from the book she had borrowed from the local librarian, her silver-skinned hands shutting the book and shoving it into the strange pouch stitched to her belt; it was some type of novelization about a young woman who set off on her own to explore the world; the same fantastical wanderlust could be seen in her own eyes, the young half-drow's mind wondering into different places. Well-dressed, Shiloh is the daughter of the local seamstress, a human woman by the name of Rachel Goldenfield. And while Rachel allowed her daughter quite a bit of freedom (as evinced by the dyed, dark azure bangs along her otherwise jet black hair), it was always a bit of a frustration to her that her little lady sometimes ventured out into the wilds wearing outfits not entirely appropriate for such pursuits; her little girl was adventurous and tougher than she looked, but she was her little princess, not some cudgel-wielding barbarian!
That wasn't different at all today, either; young Shiloh was on the cusp of womanhood at 17 years of age and had already briefly done a stint as a lady acolyte at the nearby convent of Selune, having only returned after her mother took ill. Shiloh typically was clad in a long-sleeved cotton blouse, dyed gray, worn under a dark-indigo shaded bustier woven with white silken leaf patterns done by her mother. Beneath the bustier is a pleated silver cotton skirt that comes just below her knees, held in place by the mysterious belt supposedly from her father, revealing a set of silken black lady's stockings worn underneath. The ensemble is complete with a pair of dull umber lady's boots starting at the middle of her calf and baring an extremely low but elegant square heel; they are both elegant and practical.
Of course, the all looked strangely out of sorts with the crossbow strapped to her back and the brown wooded cloak draped over her svelte frame.
Though nowhere near subject to the same whispering and mutterings as her elder companion, young Shiloh found a bit of a kinship with Kairon; her strange origins as a hybrid of two most unexpected races certainly made her the subject of vicious rumors while growing up as a younger child, being neither elf nor human. And Drow-blooded much less; Shiloh had been told that her father's kind were horrible, horrible creatures that lived somewhere dark and foreboding - though that didn't stymie her desire to meet him. As such, she found the company of the middle-aged layabout welcoming; both were occasionally subject to cruel whispers about things that neither one of them had a hand in, after all, and Shiloh had learned early on from him how to deal with the unwarranted cruelty.
"Mr. Kairon, don't you ever get bored of chasing around the gnolls? Why not try talking to them?" Shiloh smiled innocently, taking a moment to smooth out her skirt before folding her hands in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankle. "I mean, why do they hate us so much? Has anyone ever stopped to ask?"
Nirev, who was hoping someone would have the initiative, smiles and says to no-one in particular "This is why I like you" as a small ball of fire sprouts from his right hand (cast prestidigitation). His white face reflects the harmless blueish flame that he twirls around his hand.
"Gnolls? Talk?" Guffawed Baredark, hearing Shiloh's comments, "They barely have enough thought in their head to wield a weapon and kill whatever they can see. You'd have better luck convincing me to read."
Stowing the javelin in its sling, Baredark stands, towering over the group. "Night hunt? Or are we meeting at the edge of town on the morrow?"
"Well, you don't know if it will work because you never try, silly!" Shiloh squeaked in protest, looking up over at Baredark, who positively TOWERED over all 5 feet and 3 inches of her svelte frame even at his young age. "There might be a gnoll who isn't rabid and bloodthirsty. Honestly, Baredark, you could stand to read more. I think you don't give yourself nearly enough credit when it comes to learning things from books."
When the mention of a night hunt came up, however, the young girl immediately looks a bit perturbed.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Shiloh stood, nervously shuffling her feet. "The last time we tried that, we were ambushed by that pack of wolves, remember? And I don't want to get lectured by my mother and the adults again. Poor Mr. Kairon nearly got thrown out of town, our parents were so furious with him."
Kairon smiles at Shiloh, “When it comes to gnolls, my axe does enough talking for both of us, my young Half-Elf.”
His gravelly voice leaned in on the word “Elf” as it tended to do. He knew, much like his own infernal ancestry, Shiloh’s drow heritage was both exotic and unique, but also meant dealing with certain difficulties that others of her kind didn’t have to worry about. At least all tieflings could rally around the fact that they were tieflings, regardless their exact origin. To him, acknowledging her as part Drow gave power to the separation between her father’s people and the so-called “surface-dwelling elves”.
“If you throw that flame, Nirev, don’t overlook the meat. No one will pay for boot leather,” Kairon chuckles at his own joke, looking around for eye-rolling. Being the elder, he felt it was his responsibility to throw out all the “dad jokes” he could possibly muster. Besides, they were funny!
“Night hunts serve me just fine, wolf pelts are some of the warmest around! But Shiloh does bring up a good point, you kids have rules for a reason, and who am I to encourage disobedience?”
While Nirev shrugs at the discussion about the noble treatment of gnolls, he does wish to leave tonight.
He turns to Kairon and says "this is why I take this nice crossbow, remember?" while patting a light crossbow he has shown to know how to wield.
"But yeah, we should go out tonight. I sure could use the money...", he refrains from talking more. He looks at Shiloh and says: "Come on! It'll be fun! And also, we always come back, because we watch each other's backs." he says. "What do you think could go wrong?", he adds confidently.
"Bah! Parlor tricks and reading might suit you both just fine," Baredark jabs playfully, pointing out Nirev's flame and patting the pouch on Shiloh's side as he walks past her, "But I prefer to keep myself moving rather than sit and stare at mumbo jumbo all day. I will concede, though, that you are quite right. A night hunt would probably not do well for everyone. Don't want our parents to become worried."
After a few more steps, Baredark turns back towards the group, "Oh wait... I don't have to listen to parents or rules! What do you say Kairon, time to hunt?"
(EDIT: sorry... I'm a grammer nazi of my own stuff...)
“I fear one of us must play the part of the responsible adult and escort or young Half-Elf back to the seamstress and to assured safety.... unless.......”
A larger than life smile comes across Kairon’s face as he looks over at Shiloh. He curls his index finger under the head of one of his hand axes and lifts it out of its sheath a quarter inch. It glows with a faint bit of arcane energy for just a moment before fading. He lifts one eyebrow, and says, “home? Or to the woods, kiddo, your call.”
"What could go wrong?" Shiloh gaped, taken aback at Nirev's boldness. "My mother could give me the switch, is what could go wrong. As it is, i'm grateful that she lets me hunt with any of you at all instead of preening me up like her little doll. I don't want that to change. And... And..." Shiloh was stammering now. "And... and what if I reaggravate mother's illness? You remember how serious that was a few years ago; mother nearly died! I had to leave the acolyte position I had at the temple of Selune up in the nearby hills."
But, when Mr. Kairon began tempting her, Shiloh felt her curiosity burning within her veins like an insatiable fire.
Shiloh wanted to go exploring, confound her curious nature. She absolutely, positively wanted to go exploring.
Why would you do this to me, Mr. Kairon?
With a sigh, Shiloh ran a hand through her hair, straightening it out. What she was about to do was likely against her better judgement, but with the entire lot of them giving her puppy-dog eyes, how could she resist? It wasn't fair!
"Oh... alright. I'll come. But only so I can make sure you lot don't get yourselves hurt. Remember when you stumbled into that thicket of stickerbush in the dark that one time, Baredark? You were so cut up and bloody. And, um... if... If I do this... Mr. Kairon, would you be willing to vouch for me if my mother gets upset? Even if it's you, I think it would put her at ease that you're there."
"Wait for me guys!" Calls out a high pitched voice. A child approaches, running down the hill towards you, swathed in a dirty grey robe. "I just finished my chores! What are we doing?" It's your friend, Sweet Milo. Halfling, on the smaller side of the race, and still quite young. Started showing odd signs in the last few months - magical gifts, having something to do with the disease of scales slowly overtaking his skin. His differences, particularly his magical ones, have made him rather unpopular among the other halflings, and even the children of the village have taken to following him, waiting for some unexpected sign of magic. Only you have remained relatively unsurprised at Sweet Milo's new gifts, and without a doubt his abilities are helpful in the wild. Sweet Milo currently has his hood up, despite the warm day, but as he approaches you all he slips it down, revealing his twinkling blue eyes and straight brown hair. "Mom let me go early - I learned how to do something new! Watch this!" Milo points at a stretch of open dirt near the dock, and stares at it, finally twisting his hand with a grabbing gesture. (mold earth) The dirt shifts, suddenly becoming rippled and grooved. Within moments, the face of a laughing halfling appears imprinted about three inches into the dirt. "Makes sweeping a breeze!"
The moment he says breeze, a sudden draft blows out from Milo in every direction, causing leaves to swirl and anything not held down to shift slightly. (gust) "Oops." Milo whispers, eyes downcast.
"EEP!" Shiloh squeaks, quickly pushing down her skirt at the sudden gust of wind,. lest she suddenly finds herself indecent.
"Milo!" She whines, staring at the young halfling with some measure of annoyance. "Be more careful!"
Nirev chuckles at Miro's excitement. He pretends he wasn't just as silly when he learned how to gust winds as well.
"Sorry Shiloh." Milo looks up at Nirev, hearing the chuckle. "Are we going to go hunting?"
(OOC: How many sorcerers are we? I see three and counting in the campaign. Anybody want to multiclass? I think we might need some more casters. :P)
Baredark bears down on Sweet Mila, lifting him in the air and dropping him down to stand on Baredark's shoulders. "The lady Shiloh has granted us permission, so yes. A hunting we will go!"
"How about a bit of practice on those parlor tricks?" Baredark jokes up to Milo, "Point the way!"
Relaxing, Shiloh finds that the sudden breeze has passed and that it's safe to remove her hands from her skirt as she allows the sudden, nervous tension to drain out of hers form. She squats down slightly, tousling Milo's hair with a smile; though he could be a bit too proud of his power, Shiloh bore the much younger Milo no ill will.
"It's okay... just be more careful with that wind magic of yours around ladies, would you? That could have been very embarrassing." She smiles warmly, as if trying to emulate an elder sister. . "And yes... apparently, we are going hunting, per Mr. Kairon."
(How old is Milo, for a reference? )
Milo looks around the dock, suddenly unsure of his directions, he points to the right, back towards the village. "No, wait." He mutters to himself. Getting oriented, he finally points off in the direction of the hunting woods. "That way, right?" He looks to Nirev and Kairon for confirmation. He seems unsure of the direction, despite having grown up here his whole life.
Shiloh giggles, amused at the halfing boy's adorable attempts to give directions.
Nirev points the way, closing his eyes as he does so. He leads the way to the woods, assuming the others would follow.
(ooc: I noticed the overcrowdness of sorcerers too. I don't mind it really. Maybe we can focus on different utilities in our choice of spells? I like control and social spells. Personally I don't like multiclassing in 5e)