Throughout the day those summoned to the Tiers have entered the Bastard city. All of you have passed through the city at some point, and while most of the destruction from the initial attack has been repaired or rebuilt. It is easy for you to pick out the buildings made after the attack, the stones a different shade. The capital of the newest province in the empire, the Hall of Justice has become the resident to one of the most trusted and important of the Archons. The Archon of Justice, Tunon. You all stand outside the entrance of the Hall of Justice, having a bit of time to yourselves before you are set to enter the hall. Prepare yourselves to meet one who answers only to Ulthan.
Slag would approach the building slowly, walking with a slight limp and appearing to place a considerable amount of weight on what appears to be unique and dangerous looking javelin. Underneath a thick dark green cowl a pair of bright glowing green eyes would illuminate an emotionless black iron face. With every step and movement the sound of clicking and grinding gears can be heard by all those nearby. The sounds of the warforged are only muffled by the sound of the many tools, elixirs, and poisons lining the inside of cloak and covering his belt clanking and bumping together with every heavy step. Pausing at the entrance to the hall of justice, Slag would pause a moment and pull what appeared to be a large mechanical wasp with a stinger made up of a number of syringes out of an integrated tool compartment in his arm. Tossing the wasp into the air, the warforged would turn his head towards the other individuals and the light in his eyes would dim as he sized them up before a surprisingly dwarvish sounding voice erupted from the metal iron mask. "Were ya summoned to meet Tunon as well?" He would ask as the tiny mechanical creature buzzes between the crowd before landing on Slag's shoulder.
The large mechanical wasp is about the size of a bat and is actually a [Tooltip Not Found]
Here is a picture I made of it... I am really bad at this so don't laugh!
Morinvarin wears fine dark green robes and a pair of practical boots, all of his clothing immaculately clean. His features are androgynous and his long white hair hangs in a braid that nearly reaches the small of his back. Aside from a dagger hanging from his belt, he appears completely unarmed.
He looks drow at first glance, but upon closer inspection his ears and light purplish gray skin mark him as only half elven. His dark eyes look at everyone and everything with the keen interest of a scholar. His expression is pleasant and open and he seems quite harmless to those who don’t know better.
When he speaks, his voice is pleasant and melodic, "Indeed. Quite the honor."
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Current Characters: Tailine, Tiefling Rogue 2 - Zanoliv
Knuckle-walking, Boo cautiously approaches the Hall of Justice. Though currently on all fours, he would reach an even 6'5'. His skin is pale with jagged, dagger-like tribal markings running from his neck to his toes. His baggy trousers are made from a rough patchwork of fur from multiple animals. On -and completely covering- his head, was an elk skull, its antlers a foot wider than his shoulders. Boo stopped and sat cross-legged just behind the warforged and half-elf. "Boo has cometh. Boo bring grace of Gorgal, serve his lord Ulthan."
Ildaer stands in front of the building, his eyes flicking between any passersby with an experienced precision, watching for any threats and watching for weaknesses. He stands at about average height, with the grey skin and red eyes common to drow. His white hair is tied back with a leather cord.
He does not approach the rest of the group that was summoned here to see the Archon. For now he would watch and wait.
A slender but solid and reassuring figure leans against the patched-together statue right in front of the Hall before heading in.
Marrow is playing with her knives, sheathing and unsheathing them over and over with a smirk on one corner of her mouth and a piercing gaze ready for all who look her way. The hair on one side of her head is jet black and the other blindingly, shockingly white. She's not at all difficult to look at, but she's... well, she's a bit off. In a riveting, can't-look-away fashion.
She might be talking to someone else as she toys with her blades, but if she is, you can't hear it. It's mesmerizing, and also unnerving. Hard to look away. She's in a well-worn chain shirt and standard regulation Disfavored uniform and boots. A small but solid and well-maintained shield rests on her back, looped over her shoulder. Otherwise she carries no obvious weapon apart from the blades that catch the light here and there.
The human woman displays the confident ease of someone who knows every inch of The Bastard City, and has the scars to prove it. She nods at her fellow combat veterans with a gaze and a shrug that says "well, here we are again."
"What's new, Slag? Been a while -- last time we met was mopping up the nest a few blocks up from here, right?" she asks the huge warforged as she passes, making a fast series of clicks at the robot wasp. (OOC: she's not actually communicating with it.) She raises both eyebrows repeatedly and half-smirks at Morinvarin and Ildaer. She narrows her eyes at Boo.
A grey-skinned, bald figure in chainmail and two big weapons tied on his backs approaches the building, unwillingly. He has black eyes, and stands 6 feet tall and appears quite bulky.
Tork whispers to himself in orcish hoping that no one else speaks his language:
"Damn you Tork, this is your last chance... Don't waste it, or do something stupid like your last time..."
He slowly approaches the group waiting in front of the building for meeting with the archon as ordered. He turns to the others, who look obviously here for the same reason.
"Hey, is anyone else nervous or is it just me?", and then smiles to try to look cute to the crowd, but fails miserably. He receives the stare of shame from the others, and blushes, which is quite uncommon for an Orc.
Those in the second party of the OOC thread.
Second spot saved for later use.
Ah, so we will follow whats going on and join if replacement is needed?
Hello! I am glad I found this. So I think he means he is reserving the second post for additional information if he needs it.
Nope. This is second party. So you all will be on your own adventure. Though I may switch people out to ensure both parties have all content.
I am excited.
Cool:)
https://ddb.ac/campaigns/join/4230163501573629
The link to the campaign so you can enable content sharing, I will be sending invites to those who have not responded soon.
I enabled content sharing. I am trying to find a good picture for my character but it is rough :P
It is going to start soon yay!!!
Oh I'm glad I found the thread! Looking forward to starting.
Hey folks! Posting so this will show up in my Threads!
Current Characters: Tailine, Tiefling Rogue 2 - Zanoliv
Throughout the day those summoned to the Tiers have entered the Bastard city. All of you have passed through the city at some point, and while most of the destruction from the initial attack has been repaired or rebuilt. It is easy for you to pick out the buildings made after the attack, the stones a different shade. The capital of the newest province in the empire, the Hall of Justice has become the resident to one of the most trusted and important of the Archons. The Archon of Justice, Tunon. You all stand outside the entrance of the Hall of Justice, having a bit of time to yourselves before you are set to enter the hall. Prepare yourselves to meet one who answers only to Ulthan.
Slag would approach the building slowly, walking with a slight limp and appearing to place a considerable amount of weight on what appears to be unique and dangerous looking javelin. Underneath a thick dark green cowl a pair of bright glowing green eyes would illuminate an emotionless black iron face. With every step and movement the sound of clicking and grinding gears can be heard by all those nearby. The sounds of the warforged are only muffled by the sound of the many tools, elixirs, and poisons lining the inside of cloak and covering his belt clanking and bumping together with every heavy step. Pausing at the entrance to the hall of justice, Slag would pause a moment and pull what appeared to be a large mechanical wasp with a stinger made up of a number of syringes out of an integrated tool compartment in his arm. Tossing the wasp into the air, the warforged would turn his head towards the other individuals and the light in his eyes would dim as he sized them up before a surprisingly dwarvish sounding voice erupted from the metal iron mask. "Were ya summoned to meet Tunon as well?" He would ask as the tiny mechanical creature buzzes between the crowd before landing on Slag's shoulder.
The large mechanical wasp is about the size of a bat and is actually a [Tooltip Not Found]
Here is a picture I made of it... I am really bad at this so don't laugh!
Morinvarin wears fine dark green robes and a pair of practical boots, all of his clothing immaculately clean. His features are androgynous and his long white hair hangs in a braid that nearly reaches the small of his back. Aside from a dagger hanging from his belt, he appears completely unarmed.
He looks drow at first glance, but upon closer inspection his ears and light purplish gray skin mark him as only half elven. His dark eyes look at everyone and everything with the keen interest of a scholar. His expression is pleasant and open and he seems quite harmless to those who don’t know better.
When he speaks, his voice is pleasant and melodic, "Indeed. Quite the honor."
Current Characters: Tailine, Tiefling Rogue 2 - Zanoliv
OOC: I added a picture I drew of what Slags Homunculus looks like if anyone is interested to my spoiler above.
Knuckle-walking, Boo cautiously approaches the Hall of Justice. Though currently on all fours, he would reach an even 6'5'. His skin is pale with jagged, dagger-like tribal markings running from his neck to his toes. His baggy trousers are made from a rough patchwork of fur from multiple animals. On -and completely covering- his head, was an elk skull, its antlers a foot wider than his shoulders. Boo stopped and sat cross-legged just behind the warforged and half-elf. "Boo has cometh. Boo bring grace of Gorgal, serve his lord Ulthan."
Ildaer stands in front of the building, his eyes flicking between any passersby with an experienced precision, watching for any threats and watching for weaknesses. He stands at about average height, with the grey skin and red eyes common to drow. His white hair is tied back with a leather cord.
He does not approach the rest of the group that was summoned here to see the Archon. For now he would watch and wait.
A slender but solid and reassuring figure leans against the patched-together statue right in front of the Hall before heading in.
Marrow is playing with her knives, sheathing and unsheathing them over and over with a smirk on one corner of her mouth and a piercing gaze ready for all who look her way. The hair on one side of her head is jet black and the other blindingly, shockingly white. She's not at all difficult to look at, but she's... well, she's a bit off. In a riveting, can't-look-away fashion.
She might be talking to someone else as she toys with her blades, but if she is, you can't hear it. It's mesmerizing, and also unnerving. Hard to look away. She's in a well-worn chain shirt and standard regulation Disfavored uniform and boots. A small but solid and well-maintained shield rests on her back, looped over her shoulder. Otherwise she carries no obvious weapon apart from the blades that catch the light here and there.
The human woman displays the confident ease of someone who knows every inch of The Bastard City, and has the scars to prove it. She nods at her fellow combat veterans with a gaze and a shrug that says "well, here we are again."
"What's new, Slag? Been a while -- last time we met was mopping up the nest a few blocks up from here, right?" she asks the huge warforged as she passes, making a fast series of clicks at the robot wasp. (OOC: she's not actually communicating with it.) She raises both eyebrows repeatedly and half-smirks at Morinvarin and Ildaer. She narrows her eyes at Boo.
Tork
lvl 4 | Half-Orc | Warrior
A grey-skinned, bald figure in chainmail and two big weapons tied on his backs approaches the building, unwillingly. He has black eyes, and stands 6 feet tall and appears quite bulky.
Tork whispers to himself in orcish hoping that no one else speaks his language:
"Damn you Tork, this is your last chance... Don't waste it, or do something stupid like your last time..."
He slowly approaches the group waiting in front of the building for meeting with the archon as ordered. He turns to the others, who look obviously here for the same reason.
"Hey, is anyone else nervous or is it just me?", and then smiles to try to look cute to the crowd, but fails miserably. He receives the stare of shame from the others, and blushes, which is quite uncommon for an Orc.