Israd, the 7th day of Omael, 1196 (24 years since the Elfcleanse Edicts)
The low rumbling of wheels trundling over the cracked cobbled road grates on your ears. The smell of the mules wafts through the humid air and mixes with the thick odour of whale oil permeating from the barrels stacked in the wagons. Those who are able to sweat do so profusely, droplets beading along their foreheads and imparting the sharp taste of salt as they drip onto unsuspecting lips.
For four laborious days you have travelled the sparse road leading from the fishing village of Staple to the annexed town of Barmouth. The portly seafolk man who introduced himself to you as Ishaz offered three gold suns per day as payment, with a bonus if the journey went off without a hitch. Baking under the Ravenne sun, you may be asking yourself if it was really worth it.
Looking around, you can see the rest of the hired help looking just as miserable. Nine other mercenary guards, the mule-handler Corrigan, Ladle the cook and Meister Ishaz stumble along the open road eagerly awaiting shade. You’ve barely spoken to any of the others. Earning such a pittance for these conditions, most of the others seem to just want to get it over with.
As one of the wagons rolls by, you see the renowned crest of the Barmouth glassblowers guild embossed on the flank. The mules strain to pull the wagons over yet another hill, and you suddenly hear Ishaz let out a bellowing laugh from the front of the caravan.
“Ha! I knew we were close! Feast your eyes gentlemen on the perilous jungles of the Ravenni!” the obese piscine man licks his lips as he pushes a mop of kelp-green hair out from his eyes.
As you crest the rise, you see it too. Towering trees of all shapes and sizes, some reaching almost a hundred feet into the sky, vibrant plants with all the colours of the spectrum, thick vines hanging from the boughs supporting wildlife that you could only hear of in children’s stories. It is a beautiful sight; with the sun’s rays shining down on the vast jungle, you see the cook known as Ladle pressing his small idol of the Warmfather to his chest. Those of you familiar with Ravenne know that this picturesque scene betrays the true nature of the dangers that dwell in that wild place.
Ishaz clumsily climbs atop the nearest wagon to address you all.
“Through no fault of my own, we departed Staple late.” He briefly narrows his eyes at Corrigan, the mule handler. “However, we have made good time this day! In twenty minutes we will be beneath those lush canopies,” he sweeps his fin-coated arm southwards, “when we arrive, we’ll rest for the remainder of the day. We should reach Barmouth the morning after tomorrow.” He smiles the way that greasy merchants often do before hopping down and ushering the mules forward.
Sure enough, you soon find yourself pitching tents, collecting dry wood or stringing up hammocks in the well-deserved shade. For the past few days, you never found yourselves with time to spare. Everybody was too exhausted to socialise once camp was made, yet now you find yourselves with a few hours until dusk, which means a good meal, some time to yourself and maybe even a conversation or two if the others are keen on the thought.
Once the camp is made up in the shelter of a massive gnarled root, the sounds of jungle life give a calm ambience to your rest. The sounds of colourful birds gently cooing, the social calls of strange apes and the sounds of small creatures skittering through the undergrowth all accompany the heavenly smell of a Foarish sow slowly roasting on a spit.
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"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." -Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
Arc looks around at the crew. They look tired and Arc is ... well just Arc. The forged don't get tired and don't sweat. And, to make him that much more annoying to those around him, Arc is always happy (as much as you can call a forged happy) and full of energy. Creatures can't help but like him though some have come to endure him when he enjoys life with such gusto while everyone around him is exhausted.
"Wow, these trees are amazing, I love the colors we are finding in this new part of the land. And listen, you can hear so many new animals and creatures, I can't wait to learn what they are and what they can do. Have any of you ever been hear before?" Arc's voice is as un-monotone as a forged voice can be because of the energy he seems to include in everything he says and the quick movements of his head as he looks back and forth at this and that not wanting to miss anything.
Galius rests next to the fire, with his elbows on his thighs as he alternates between watching Ladle cook and looking out into to trees to see if he can spot the wildlife making their sounds. Galius is medium height, medium build, with curly blond hair past his ears, a prominent jawline, and more-so his cheekbones. His skin is that bronzed sort of tan that almost glows. His eyes are deep blue, almost cobalt. What people notice most about him, however, is the way his face moves. Where most people smile and it seems polite or maybe attractive, Galius smiles and it’s like the sun came out and warmed your face. That isn’t to say he’s liked by everyone, but it’s apparent to anyone who meets him - Galius is not merely human. He has been touched by something not of this world, and left a piece of itself behind.
Right now, though, Galius is simply waiting near the cook fire hoping to make some conversation for the first time in a few days. He’s wearing plain pants and a loose shirt under a leather jerkin along with comfortable boots. The rapier at his hip seems an afterthought compared to his trumpet. This, he carries with him all the time, lightly working through notes even when he’s only holding it at his side.
Galius waits, and watches to see who else gathers around the fire tonight.
Alexia sits silently in the shadows at the edge of the fire's light. She's kept her dark green hood up throughout the trip, keeping her ears and most of her white blond hair underneath it. Alexia doesn't initiate conversation, but responds politely in a low, rough voice if addressed, her dark grey eyes never leaving your face as she speaks or listens. In contrast to most members of the caravan, some of the ever-present tension in Alexia's shoulders has begun to melt away the closer you came to the jungle. Now she merely watches the goings-on of the camp. Upon hearing Arc's question she doesn't answer, merely pulling her cloak tighter around herself and touching the tree root behind her briefly as it for support.
Short for a human male, and good at staying out of sight Conor occupies his customary place on the edge of the group, his dark clothing is nondescript and he makes little effort to socialise with the others beyond necessary back and forths related to the work. He ignores the Warforged's question as he leans against a relatively comfortable part of the tree, higher up off the ground but he seems comfortable.
Conor has a face that only his mother would say was handsome, and even then with fingers crossed behind her back, his hooked nose the least favourable of a number of disappointing features collectively called his face. He does have green eyes which seem to shift colour at times and for now they are focused on the others in the group as he watches them go about their business. His weapons are resting nearby, swordbelt containing his rapier and a dagger within easy reach and a second dagger in his boot top. He holds his shortbow as he checks over the string and then begins a similar check with the arrows, ensuring the fletching is smooth and undamaged in each shaft.
Lucina is quiet for the most part, sitting down. Her long light blonde hair managing to cover her ears and her shocking set of blue eyes looking around the camp a bit thoughtfully. She lightly hugs her cloak around herself, wearing beneath it a simple light colored dress with a skirt that flowed around her knees and with sleeves that ended just above her elbows with the same type of flow. Seeming like no more than a simple waitress or something. She keeps her gaze averted, as if anxious about something. Of course, why wouldn't she be anxious? Not many took kindly to a half-elf.
Yet she listens to Arc's words, humming softly before she decides to respond. "I don't believe I have. I have heard a few things about this place, but I do tend to forget things, so if I have been here I must've forgotten." After that she falls silent, gazing around at her companions a bit curiously. However she says nothing more and continues to pull her cloak around herself.
Ladle slices off a few cuts of the sow onto plates before seasoning them. He then rummages around in his pack for a jar of strange orange vegetables floating in brine, serving them alongside the pork before handing the meals out to those around the low fire.
"If we're spending time in Ravenne, we might as well eat like 'em." he sniffs, biting into the crunchy orange stalk. "And to answer ya' question krieg, I've been through these parts once or twice. Evil place I'll tell you that." He absentmindedly runs his hand along the idol of the Warmfather hanging from his bracelet. "These knife-eared savages kill without question or remorse." His eyes flick to Alexia and he blushes slightly, clearing his throat. He continues in a lower tone, checking for who's listening, "Anyway, the Ravenni are the least of our worries. The Meister's taken us off the beaten track. If he gets to the guildmasters early he'll probably get a bonus, so he's riskin' our necks by taki-" he quickly cuts off as Ishaz approaches and sits by the fire with a book and a curved green fruit in hand.
The other three human mercenaries stay by the wagons speaking amongst themselves in hushed voices. They occasionally look back towards the fire, giggling to themselves. They look no older than 18. One is a tall, lanky lad with a messy mop of blonde hair, the other two could pass as brothers with dark skin and shaved heads. They appear to be passing a wineskin between themselves.
Alexia fixes Ladle with an unblinking stare for a moment, eyes narrowed upon his comment regarding "knife eared savages", then flicks her eyes to Arc. "I've been here before" she says simply in a soft voice before adding, almost as an afterthought. "But not for years." She shrinks back against the root behind her, looking like she already regrets opening her mouth, and takes a bite of her food.
Galius sees the obvious that there’s more to this trip than what they’re being told. He’ll try to eat quickly.
”how about a little dinner music, then? Come join us, folks!” He waves the mercs with the wineskin over.
Galius starts playing his trumpet a bit, trying not to by too loud (but it’s a freakin trumpet). (OoC, I’m building up to using Enthralling Performance on Ladle and two mercs, not in a rush. It’ll be a dc 13 Wis save. Success- they have no idea anything happened. Fail- charmed for an hour.)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The mercenaries stop their laughing and look towards Galius. He can sense contempt in their look, and they ignore the invitation. Corrigan, who is sat enjoying the fire with fat from the pork dribbling into his dark beard, snorts towards the young men. "I wouldn't waste your time with those lot, lad. They'll take one look at those eyes and that skin of yours and make their mind up straight away."
Despite the warning from Corrigan, you could swear that you saw the tap of a foot and the drumming of fingers on the top of the wagon from the youngsters, as the trumpet blares out a catchy but peaceful melody.
Ladle ST: 13
Merc 1 ST: 20
Merc 2 ST: 17
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"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." -Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
Lucina shows no sign of hearing the "knife eared savages" part, but she does look up hearing the music. She then drops her gaze and just hums along to the tune that Galius plays, trying to be relaxed. There wasn't a day where she was actually relaxed however, she was always anxious and nervous. She glances over towards Alexia, during the performance before getting up and sitting by her, cautiously she says, "The music seems lively and peaceful, don't you think so?" Of course, she was trying to make light conversation.
Azrael has observed everyone and everything since she took the job to transport good A to point B. The tall, white-haired, and ashen-skinned woman interjects her observations with odd fascination but most of you find her strange. She has little by the way of social grace and seems constantly at odds with being friendly but often is just intimidating due to her size as well as frank way of speaking.
"I'm sorry but I don't think I know your names," Azrael says suddenly looking around the camp. "You can call me Az," she adds next adjusting her worn gray cloak over her battered chainmail as she sits down by the edge of the fire. Az looks curiously around the group and the jungle camp. "It seems a nice place," she muses replying to the warforge before she seems distant again looking out into the jungle.
All of Az's possessions seem well-worn and pieced together. Her most prominent weapons are javelins and a battered shield with the symbol of a closed gauntlet with an eye emblazoned upon it.
Alexia nods in answer to Lucina's question. "Quite nice," she agrees softly, her eyes flicking to Lucina's face. Her hand goes to the root behind her again, as if for support. "I like music," she adds quietly. "I haven't heard it from that kind of instrument before." She looks at Azrael. "I'm Alexia," she supplies quickly, tugging her hood a little farther over her face.
Valen stands over the fire as it burns, reciting a prayer to the Warmfather for thanks and praise. As it crackles and the sow goes on, he opens a thick, orante tome from his pack and speaks a prayer of cleansing over the pot and water (Purify Food and Drink as a Ritual). Once the ritual is finished, he makes his way around camp: First to his employers and the three other mercenaries to share a joke and congratulations, then to Galius and Lucina to ensure they settled in. To Azrael, he gives a wide smile at recognizing her emblem as a holy sigil, "Another pilgrim on the great road of this world and the soul? A pleasure to meet you and I do hope our path is bountiful for us and others." On the fringes of camp he finds Conor and Alexia and invites them to join the rest by the fire, "The Warmfather gives light and warmth through the friends around as well as the hearth they share. Don't take much stock in the prejudices of the elderly. Their ways are set in stone, but it doesn't always make them bad people."
When Valen wanders outside camp, he waves Arc over to a particularly large and vibrant shrub, "I know you understand reasoning and logic, but I don't know how you feel about the soul. You know the Warmfather gives us light, but do you know he gives us all these grand colors too? His enemies are those that rest in the dark," The priest scratches his head for a moment, "I'm getting into things best left for those that think for a living. What matters is you're right: these colors are amazing and a sight to be treasured. Care to walk a bit and see what else we can find?" Valen draws his sword and shield and sets off into the brush to scout the areas just out of sight from camp.
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Lucina looks over to Azrael, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she sat by Alexia, and keeping her gaze averted. "I am Lucina." Her voice soft, it was almost hard to hear if someone wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. She looks back to Alexia, in the same soft tone she replies, "I've only heard it a few times out of all the instruments I've heard being played."
Alexia's eyes track Valen as he moves about camp, and she moves further backwards into the shadows of the tree behind her as he comes closer, tugging her hood up even more. As he leaves, she shakes her head. "He shouldn't go off into the jungle alone," she murmurs before looking back at Lucina unblinkingly. "Music is a wonder. Any kind of music. But this is...particularly bright. Even if..." She stops speaking abruptly, her grey stare flicking to the jungle beyond the campfire.
Lucina nods in agreement with Alexia about music being a wonder, and watches the others now hugging her knees. "Even if... what?"She asks, keeping her gaze on everyone as well as she could. Carefully she maneuver's her cloak in order to wrap it around her knees a well feeling more comfortable with a bit of cover over her dress. Even if it was warm out she didn't feel comfortable without it around herself while around others she didn't know that well. At least at home she knew who to avoid and who to be friendly with.
"We're...all hired just like them, right," Az asks confused. "This...well really isn't my usual work if I'm honest," she adds next with a shrug of her narrow shoulders. "What do you do to make your way in the world," she adds next looking curiously around the camp fire at her lingering companions.
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Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Arc listens as most of the others ignore him. He is used to that. Most creatures are inclined to let him spout his mundane thoughts without feeling the need to respond and Arc moves on. Lucina finally responds with a polite indication that she doesn't remember being here and then Alexia finally leans in to tell him she has indeed been here before, but years ago. Arc is intrigued for a moment but before he can think of something to say Ladle speaks up and Galius starts with his music.
Ladle's comment about this place being 'evil' makes Arc think again. This somewhat human concept of 'evil' has been hard to define. Arc likes to live by rules and the categories given by the more human creatures have often been the hardest to place correctly. Especially the notion of 'good and evil'. Arc's initial experience led him to believe that 'evil' was just another name for the enemies of his master Lord Glandenblade of the Dwarves. But Arc has since come to understand that there is a more subtle meaning behind these words and listens carefully when others speak them.
Valen then speaks to Arc of another of these ethereal concepts and invites Arc for a walk. "Uh yes, I will follow you, I would love to learn about the creatures of this area. So much to see. It never ends. My mind can't hold all of the information like it used to. I now have more information than I can keep at the same time in my mind."
As they begin walking Arc responds "So if I rest in the dark I would be an enemy? These concepts have proven to be contradictory in my experience. I know that I should not take meanings with complete literal definitions but you can see how I become confused. I am good at following rules but even rules are difficult to define from time to time."
"I am intrigued by the 'soul' though. As I have gained a relationship with Todwaschen, the Soulcaller I have become more familiar with my existence. I still am unable to feel pain or pleasure but he calls to me with an intense curiosity that gives me powers and insights. It is why I travel the lands instead of staying in the hideouts with the other forged who escaped from Lord Glandenblade."
Israd, the 7th day of Omael, 1196 (24 years since the Elfcleanse Edicts)
The low rumbling of wheels trundling over the cracked cobbled road grates on your ears. The smell of the mules wafts through the humid air and mixes with the thick odour of whale oil permeating from the barrels stacked in the wagons. Those who are able to sweat do so profusely, droplets beading along their foreheads and imparting the sharp taste of salt as they drip onto unsuspecting lips.
For four laborious days you have travelled the sparse road leading from the fishing village of Staple to the annexed town of Barmouth. The portly seafolk man who introduced himself to you as Ishaz offered three gold suns per day as payment, with a bonus if the journey went off without a hitch. Baking under the Ravenne sun, you may be asking yourself if it was really worth it.
Looking around, you can see the rest of the hired help looking just as miserable. Nine other mercenary guards, the mule-handler Corrigan, Ladle the cook and Meister Ishaz stumble along the open road eagerly awaiting shade. You’ve barely spoken to any of the others. Earning such a pittance for these conditions, most of the others seem to just want to get it over with.
As one of the wagons rolls by, you see the renowned crest of the Barmouth glassblowers guild embossed on the flank. The mules strain to pull the wagons over yet another hill, and you suddenly hear Ishaz let out a bellowing laugh from the front of the caravan.
“Ha! I knew we were close! Feast your eyes gentlemen on the perilous jungles of the Ravenni!” the obese piscine man licks his lips as he pushes a mop of kelp-green hair out from his eyes.
As you crest the rise, you see it too. Towering trees of all shapes and sizes, some reaching almost a hundred feet into the sky, vibrant plants with all the colours of the spectrum, thick vines hanging from the boughs supporting wildlife that you could only hear of in children’s stories. It is a beautiful sight; with the sun’s rays shining down on the vast jungle, you see the cook known as Ladle pressing his small idol of the Warmfather to his chest. Those of you familiar with Ravenne know that this picturesque scene betrays the true nature of the dangers that dwell in that wild place.
Ishaz clumsily climbs atop the nearest wagon to address you all.
“Through no fault of my own, we departed Staple late.” He briefly narrows his eyes at Corrigan, the mule handler. “However, we have made good time this day! In twenty minutes we will be beneath those lush canopies,” he sweeps his fin-coated arm southwards, “when we arrive, we’ll rest for the remainder of the day. We should reach Barmouth the morning after tomorrow.” He smiles the way that greasy merchants often do before hopping down and ushering the mules forward.
Sure enough, you soon find yourself pitching tents, collecting dry wood or stringing up hammocks in the well-deserved shade. For the past few days, you never found yourselves with time to spare. Everybody was too exhausted to socialise once camp was made, yet now you find yourselves with a few hours until dusk, which means a good meal, some time to yourself and maybe even a conversation or two if the others are keen on the thought.
Once the camp is made up in the shelter of a massive gnarled root, the sounds of jungle life give a calm ambience to your rest. The sounds of colourful birds gently cooing, the social calls of strange apes and the sounds of small creatures skittering through the undergrowth all accompany the heavenly smell of a Foarish sow slowly roasting on a spit.
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." - Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
Arc looks around at the crew. They look tired and Arc is ... well just Arc. The forged don't get tired and don't sweat. And, to make him that much more annoying to those around him, Arc is always happy (as much as you can call a forged happy) and full of energy. Creatures can't help but like him though some have come to endure him when he enjoys life with such gusto while everyone around him is exhausted.
"Wow, these trees are amazing, I love the colors we are finding in this new part of the land. And listen, you can hear so many new animals and creatures, I can't wait to learn what they are and what they can do. Have any of you ever been hear before?" Arc's voice is as un-monotone as a forged voice can be because of the energy he seems to include in everything he says and the quick movements of his head as he looks back and forth at this and that not wanting to miss anything.
Lot's of stuff ...
Galius rests next to the fire, with his elbows on his thighs as he alternates between watching Ladle cook and looking out into to trees to see if he can spot the wildlife making their sounds. Galius is medium height, medium build, with curly blond hair past his ears, a prominent jawline, and more-so his cheekbones. His skin is that bronzed sort of tan that almost glows. His eyes are deep blue, almost cobalt. What people notice most about him, however, is the way his face moves. Where most people smile and it seems polite or maybe attractive, Galius smiles and it’s like the sun came out and warmed your face. That isn’t to say he’s liked by everyone, but it’s apparent to anyone who meets him - Galius is not merely human. He has been touched by something not of this world, and left a piece of itself behind.
Right now, though, Galius is simply waiting near the cook fire hoping to make some conversation for the first time in a few days. He’s wearing plain pants and a loose shirt under a leather jerkin along with comfortable boots. The rapier at his hip seems an afterthought compared to his trumpet. This, he carries with him all the time, lightly working through notes even when he’s only holding it at his side.
Galius waits, and watches to see who else gathers around the fire tonight.
Paladin - warforged - orange
Alexia sits silently in the shadows at the edge of the fire's light. She's kept her dark green hood up throughout the trip, keeping her ears and most of her white blond hair underneath it. Alexia doesn't initiate conversation, but responds politely in a low, rough voice if addressed, her dark grey eyes never leaving your face as she speaks or listens. In contrast to most members of the caravan, some of the ever-present tension in Alexia's shoulders has begun to melt away the closer you came to the jungle. Now she merely watches the goings-on of the camp. Upon hearing Arc's question she doesn't answer, merely pulling her cloak tighter around herself and touching the tree root behind her briefly as it for support.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Short for a human male, and good at staying out of sight Conor occupies his customary place on the edge of the group, his dark clothing is nondescript and he makes little effort to socialise with the others beyond necessary back and forths related to the work. He ignores the Warforged's question as he leans against a relatively comfortable part of the tree, higher up off the ground but he seems comfortable.
Conor has a face that only his mother would say was handsome, and even then with fingers crossed behind her back, his hooked nose the least favourable of a number of disappointing features collectively called his face. He does have green eyes which seem to shift colour at times and for now they are focused on the others in the group as he watches them go about their business. His weapons are resting nearby, swordbelt containing his rapier and a dagger within easy reach and a second dagger in his boot top. He holds his shortbow as he checks over the string and then begins a similar check with the arrows, ensuring the fletching is smooth and undamaged in each shaft.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
Lucina is quiet for the most part, sitting down. Her long light blonde hair managing to cover her ears and her shocking set of blue eyes looking around the camp a bit thoughtfully. She lightly hugs her cloak around herself, wearing beneath it a simple light colored dress with a skirt that flowed around her knees and with sleeves that ended just above her elbows with the same type of flow. Seeming like no more than a simple waitress or something. She keeps her gaze averted, as if anxious about something. Of course, why wouldn't she be anxious? Not many took kindly to a half-elf.
Yet she listens to Arc's words, humming softly before she decides to respond. "I don't believe I have. I have heard a few things about this place, but I do tend to forget things, so if I have been here I must've forgotten." After that she falls silent, gazing around at her companions a bit curiously. However she says nothing more and continues to pull her cloak around herself.
Ladle slices off a few cuts of the sow onto plates before seasoning them. He then rummages around in his pack for a jar of strange orange vegetables floating in brine, serving them alongside the pork before handing the meals out to those around the low fire.
"If we're spending time in Ravenne, we might as well eat like 'em." he sniffs, biting into the crunchy orange stalk. "And to answer ya' question krieg, I've been through these parts once or twice. Evil place I'll tell you that." He absentmindedly runs his hand along the idol of the Warmfather hanging from his bracelet. "These knife-eared savages kill without question or remorse." His eyes flick to Alexia and he blushes slightly, clearing his throat. He continues in a lower tone, checking for who's listening, "Anyway, the Ravenni are the least of our worries. The Meister's taken us off the beaten track. If he gets to the guildmasters early he'll probably get a bonus, so he's riskin' our necks by taki-" he quickly cuts off as Ishaz approaches and sits by the fire with a book and a curved green fruit in hand.
The other three human mercenaries stay by the wagons speaking amongst themselves in hushed voices. They occasionally look back towards the fire, giggling to themselves. They look no older than 18. One is a tall, lanky lad with a messy mop of blonde hair, the other two could pass as brothers with dark skin and shaved heads. They appear to be passing a wineskin between themselves.
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." - Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
Alexia fixes Ladle with an unblinking stare for a moment, eyes narrowed upon his comment regarding "knife eared savages", then flicks her eyes to Arc. "I've been here before" she says simply in a soft voice before adding, almost as an afterthought. "But not for years." She shrinks back against the root behind her, looking like she already regrets opening her mouth, and takes a bite of her food.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Galius sees the obvious that there’s more to this trip than what they’re being told. He’ll try to eat quickly.
”how about a little dinner music, then? Come join us, folks!” He waves the mercs with the wineskin over.
Galius starts playing his trumpet a bit, trying not to by too loud (but it’s a freakin trumpet). (OoC, I’m building up to using Enthralling Performance on Ladle and two mercs, not in a rush. It’ll be a dc 13 Wis save. Success- they have no idea anything happened. Fail- charmed for an hour.)
Paladin - warforged - orange
The mercenaries stop their laughing and look towards Galius. He can sense contempt in their look, and they ignore the invitation. Corrigan, who is sat enjoying the fire with fat from the pork dribbling into his dark beard, snorts towards the young men. "I wouldn't waste your time with those lot, lad. They'll take one look at those eyes and that skin of yours and make their mind up straight away."
Despite the warning from Corrigan, you could swear that you saw the tap of a foot and the drumming of fingers on the top of the wagon from the youngsters, as the trumpet blares out a catchy but peaceful melody.
Ladle ST: 13
Merc 1 ST: 20
Merc 2 ST: 17
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." - Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
Lucina shows no sign of hearing the "knife eared savages" part, but she does look up hearing the music. She then drops her gaze and just hums along to the tune that Galius plays, trying to be relaxed. There wasn't a day where she was actually relaxed however, she was always anxious and nervous. She glances over towards Alexia, during the performance before getting up and sitting by her, cautiously she says, "The music seems lively and peaceful, don't you think so?" Of course, she was trying to make light conversation.
Azrael has observed everyone and everything since she took the job to transport good A to point B. The tall, white-haired, and ashen-skinned woman interjects her observations with odd fascination but most of you find her strange. She has little by the way of social grace and seems constantly at odds with being friendly but often is just intimidating due to her size as well as frank way of speaking.
"I'm sorry but I don't think I know your names," Azrael says suddenly looking around the camp. "You can call me Az," she adds next adjusting her worn gray cloak over her battered chainmail as she sits down by the edge of the fire. Az looks curiously around the group and the jungle camp. "It seems a nice place," she muses replying to the warforge before she seems distant again looking out into the jungle.
All of Az's possessions seem well-worn and pieced together. Her most prominent weapons are javelins and a battered shield with the symbol of a closed gauntlet with an eye emblazoned upon it.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Alexia nods in answer to Lucina's question. "Quite nice," she agrees softly, her eyes flicking to Lucina's face. Her hand goes to the root behind her again, as if for support. "I like music," she adds quietly. "I haven't heard it from that kind of instrument before." She looks at Azrael. "I'm Alexia," she supplies quickly, tugging her hood a little farther over her face.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Valen stands over the fire as it burns, reciting a prayer to the Warmfather for thanks and praise. As it crackles and the sow goes on, he opens a thick, orante tome from his pack and speaks a prayer of cleansing over the pot and water (Purify Food and Drink as a Ritual). Once the ritual is finished, he makes his way around camp: First to his employers and the three other mercenaries to share a joke and congratulations, then to Galius and Lucina to ensure they settled in. To Azrael, he gives a wide smile at recognizing her emblem as a holy sigil, "Another pilgrim on the great road of this world and the soul? A pleasure to meet you and I do hope our path is bountiful for us and others." On the fringes of camp he finds Conor and Alexia and invites them to join the rest by the fire, "The Warmfather gives light and warmth through the friends around as well as the hearth they share. Don't take much stock in the prejudices of the elderly. Their ways are set in stone, but it doesn't always make them bad people."
When Valen wanders outside camp, he waves Arc over to a particularly large and vibrant shrub, "I know you understand reasoning and logic, but I don't know how you feel about the soul. You know the Warmfather gives us light, but do you know he gives us all these grand colors too? His enemies are those that rest in the dark," The priest scratches his head for a moment, "I'm getting into things best left for those that think for a living. What matters is you're right: these colors are amazing and a sight to be treasured. Care to walk a bit and see what else we can find?" Valen draws his sword and shield and sets off into the brush to scout the areas just out of sight from camp.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Lucina looks over to Azrael, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she sat by Alexia, and keeping her gaze averted. "I am Lucina." Her voice soft, it was almost hard to hear if someone wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. She looks back to Alexia, in the same soft tone she replies, "I've only heard it a few times out of all the instruments I've heard being played."
Alexia's eyes track Valen as he moves about camp, and she moves further backwards into the shadows of the tree behind her as he comes closer, tugging her hood up even more. As he leaves, she shakes her head. "He shouldn't go off into the jungle alone," she murmurs before looking back at Lucina unblinkingly. "Music is a wonder. Any kind of music. But this is...particularly bright. Even if..." She stops speaking abruptly, her grey stare flicking to the jungle beyond the campfire.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Galius finishes his song and smiles at his listeners.
”It’s one of my greatest joys to play the trumpet. I play a few instruments, and I sing, too, but nothing beats that brass.”
He walks around the fire and shakes hands, introducing himself “Galius Pax. Pleased to meet you all.”
Galius keeps an eye on the mercs and makes small talk with the others. “Anyone know the story with the mercs?”
Paladin - warforged - orange
Lucina nods in agreement with Alexia about music being a wonder, and watches the others now hugging her knees. "Even if... what?" She asks, keeping her gaze on everyone as well as she could. Carefully she maneuver's her cloak in order to wrap it around her knees a well feeling more comfortable with a bit of cover over her dress. Even if it was warm out she didn't feel comfortable without it around herself while around others she didn't know that well. At least at home she knew who to avoid and who to be friendly with.
"We're...all hired just like them, right," Az asks confused. "This...well really isn't my usual work if I'm honest," she adds next with a shrug of her narrow shoulders. "What do you do to make your way in the world," she adds next looking curiously around the camp fire at her lingering companions.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Arc listens as most of the others ignore him. He is used to that. Most creatures are inclined to let him spout his mundane thoughts without feeling the need to respond and Arc moves on. Lucina finally responds with a polite indication that she doesn't remember being here and then Alexia finally leans in to tell him she has indeed been here before, but years ago. Arc is intrigued for a moment but before he can think of something to say Ladle speaks up and Galius starts with his music.
Ladle's comment about this place being 'evil' makes Arc think again. This somewhat human concept of 'evil' has been hard to define. Arc likes to live by rules and the categories given by the more human creatures have often been the hardest to place correctly. Especially the notion of 'good and evil'. Arc's initial experience led him to believe that 'evil' was just another name for the enemies of his master Lord Glandenblade of the Dwarves. But Arc has since come to understand that there is a more subtle meaning behind these words and listens carefully when others speak them.
Valen then speaks to Arc of another of these ethereal concepts and invites Arc for a walk. "Uh yes, I will follow you, I would love to learn about the creatures of this area. So much to see. It never ends. My mind can't hold all of the information like it used to. I now have more information than I can keep at the same time in my mind."
As they begin walking Arc responds "So if I rest in the dark I would be an enemy? These concepts have proven to be contradictory in my experience. I know that I should not take meanings with complete literal definitions but you can see how I become confused. I am good at following rules but even rules are difficult to define from time to time."
"I am intrigued by the 'soul' though. As I have gained a relationship with Todwaschen, the Soulcaller I have become more familiar with my existence. I still am unable to feel pain or pleasure but he calls to me with an intense curiosity that gives me powers and insights. It is why I travel the lands instead of staying in the hideouts with the other forged who escaped from Lord Glandenblade."
Lot's of stuff ...