Driven from lands farther north by more powerful dragons, a young white dragonhas descended upon the Sword Mountains, claiming the snow-capped range as its domain. The dragon patrols the skies around Icespire Peak, surveying its territory while hunting for food and easy treasure. With each passing day, the dragon’s domain grows as it ranges farther across the land, preying on anything it can catch with its claws or freeze to death with its icy breath. Sightings of the dragon are becoming more common, as are its attacks...
Our story begins in the mining town of Phandalin. Nestled in the rocky foothills of the snow-capped Sword Mountains, Phandalin consists of forty or fifty simple log buildings. Crumbling stone ruins surround the newer houses and shops, showing how this must have been a much larger town in centuries past.
Phandalin’s residents are quiet, hard-working folk who came from distant cities to eke out a life amid the harsh wilderness. They are farmers, stonecutters, blacksmiths, traders, prospectors, and children. The town has no walls and no garrison, but most of the adults keep weapons within easy reach in case the need for arms should arise. Visitors are welcome here, particularly if they have coin to spend or news to share.
The Stonehill Inn at the center of town offers modest lodging and meals.
A couple of doors down from the inn, posted outside the townmaster’s hall, is a job board for adventurers.
Phandalin also has a general store, an arms/armor outlet, a miner’s exchange and a modest shrine devoted to Tymora, goddess of luck.
It is about midday in the dank but charming tavern of the Stonehill Inn. A short, friendly-looking male human is serving drinks to a pair of dwarves who, from the rock dust in their beards, look like they are probably local miners. They grouse back and forth in their gravelly brogue as a halfling barmaid clanks copper tankards together while stocking them on dusty storage shelves.
The only other occupants of the old roadhouse are a pair of elves (though they are clearly not related), a rugged human, a silver dragonborn and a hulking firbolg...quite the odd cast of characters indeed...
One of the elves is dressed in leather armor and sports an assortment of daggers, a short sword, a short bow and a quiver of arrows. To non-elf races, he appears a grown adult but not elderly. To the other elf, Connak is definitely old enough to have been given his adult name, so over 100 for sure. Otherwise, he is a typical elf, slender, graceful and beautiful.
Looking around at the other patrons, Connak will saunter over to the bar and try to engage the barman in idle conversation, while invitingly tumbling some dice on the bar in view of the dwarves. In common, Connak asks, "What's the news in town? Any work for an adventurer looking to fatten his purse?"
A man sits alone at a small table. He is human in appearance, perhaps early twenties, though the lines on his brow and a pinkish, puckered scar from above his right ear and curving to just below his mouth add years to his face. The scar looks fairly recent, and the top of his right ear is gone, ending in a broken ridge. He has short cut light brown hair and a thin beard matching the colors of his eyes and sun darkened skin.
His expression seems distant as he pokes at a meal, a half drunk stein of ale nearby. While he chews, he absentmindedly traces his finger through a bit of spilled liquid on the table. For those with a keen eye, he seems to only chew on the left side of his mouth, perhaps missing teeth on the other side. He is well armed. A tall bow sits leaning against the back of the chair, along with a quiver of arrows. A belt lies on the top of the table near his left hand, with two scabbards for short blades and wrapped hilts peaking out the tops. On each leg is strapped a small axe, one well worn the other looking hardly used.
His clothes look like perhaps they were once of good quality, but they are faded and travel worn. He wears dull brown shirt, loose, with the top two buttons either undone or missing. Forest green trousers with a few holes beginning to form in the fraying fabric end in thick leather boots that are covered in road dust. Visible near his neck behind his shirt is hard leather, glistening faintly, perhaps recently oiled this morning. Bare arms, well muscled, are adorned by a black leather bracer on each forearm. A three fingered glove rests on the table near his right hand, bits of metal visible on the fingertips.
He sits with straight and rigid posture, eating his meal slowly, setting down his fork and finishing each mouthful a before taking another bite. He occasionally looks up from his meal at the others in the inn, uncertainty clear on his face. He turns to listen as the elf approaches the barman.
The dragonborn sits in a far away table, away from most everyone. He is easily over 6 feet tall, almost seven feet, and so he sits alone. He wears a suit of chain mail, meticulously polished but showing signs of minor wear. The mail glistens just slightly less brightly than his silver scales, and it's clear that he takes good care of both. In his tendrils (what would amount to hair in humans and elves) several colorful feathers are tied, giving him a more tribal look. He wears a white tabard, bearing a platinum dragon head. He has a crossbow and a mace stowed neatly to his sides, and his shield leans against the wall next to him, the ambient light gleaming off its buffed appearance. The shield bears the same symbol of a platinum colored dragon head as his tabard, an indication of his servitude. Across his face, purple war paint is applied, giving the look of claw marks across hos snout.
He takes a long swig from his stein, and continues muttering something to his left. You have no idea who he is talking to, as there is no one there, but whatever the "conversation" he is happening to have is clearly annoying him, as his nostrils continue to flare in and out. He takes another long swig and gazes towards the bar.
** (OOC) NOTE: this conversation obviously happens in Moon Elf Speech. **
" Greeting, Archer. It has been an Age since my eyes lingered on your face, yet not so very long either. Verily, it's only been a little over one short human year cycle, a mere speck of dust for our lifelines..."
The hooded figure who now leans on the bar next to Connak is dressed in a worn but well-made traveler's cloak and a long tunic of richly embroidered and finely threaded wool, died in an rare tint of rich, deep purple. The lowered hood reveals a woman with the appearance of a sensual, striking-looking but slightly built dark brunette in her mid-twenties with pale, creamy white skin and eyes of bright, sparkling blue tinged with golden hues, but her unearthly beauty, regal bearing and the tell-tale sharpened tips of two long ears discreetly showing through the ebony of her hair reveal her for one of theTeu-tel-quessir, the famed Silver Folk, also commonly known as Moon Elves.
Her face is now bent low as she stares without seeing them at her exquisitely graceful hands, intertwined on top of the counter with the palms held upwards. Her full lips curve slowly and almost unwillingly in a small, bittersweet smile.
" ... yet the memory lies with me still, even though the hurt we caused has been healed some and will heal yet more as aeons pass. 'Tis not about the pain, but upon the deed that my attentions are now focussed. A deed that must be fully comprehended before its mark can be erased, if that ever should come to pass. I would much appreciate your help in this, thar'fiscael. (+) "
(+) thar'fiscael : literally "good and bright archer", a term of respect and endearment for one considered to excel at his craft.
' Rogues Will Be Rogues ' (Circle of Fives Admission Rules, § 6 par. IV) " Put It Down. Now. Or Be Sorry. " (D. Khar-Errendis' Reported Tips For Curing Soul Ailments And Assorted Bad Behaviours, v. LIV p.XIII) " Tween thisThy and yonThou, shall I prove to Thee that these art what thou dost see ? " (Grimoire of The Great Pananthyr) " This One has said enough. Now, we fight. This way please ?" (8th Grade Bronze Disciple Raulnar Drohjo, Way of the Open Palm)
A very brief look of annoyance flashes across Connak's face before he looks away from the barman to reply to Tabesha'l in Elvish, "Duncan is cross with me. I tend to alienate the people around me." Connak fishes out a small pendant that Tabesha'l recognizes as belonging to Duncan, and shows her with a 'you see?' expression on his face. "I haven't seen Duncan since before he left you and I am not aware of his whereabouts. You have wasted your time seeking me out after my banishment. And my name is Connak, not Connac."
Turning back to the barman, Connak prods again in Common, "So, what's the news?"
The elven maiden looks at the archer with a hurt look, that quickly dissipates as she brings her feelings under control.
" The... name you mentioned is ever-present in my mind and the pain it wrecked on my heart has left a deep scar, I won't deny this. Yet that doesn't explain why you choose to insult me in such a casual manner. Maybe you are right, maybe you do alienate those around thee, and it seems to bring you... what, some sort of perverse pleasure ? Yet if I offended you in any way to justify this disdain of yours, please accept my apologies..."As she continues, she raises her now quickly darkening blue eyes to face the elf squarely: "... and rest assured such was not my intent. Although, in the future do refrain from treating me like a squeamish girl-wife. I have a story with Duncan, as do you, yet I now bear my path alone. And if you don't show me minimal decency for what I am or what I did, do not forget the Name which I bear. You surely would not want to disrespect that, as I'm sure you know the consequences of such an act. C-o-n-n-a-k. "
Her bearing remains calm and regal as she slowly spells out the archer's name, yet her hands have left the bar and are now dangling loosely at her sides, her eyes still staring him down, her upper lip puckering slightly. On her far side and leaning against the bar a long, gnarled staff made from a root polished in tones of petrol black and topped by a small blue stone seems to throb with an opaque, muffled haze of its own.
" You also should know that not all that is here revolves around thee and thy famed misdeeds - for which very frankly I give as much concern as a mountain lion would give a field mouse. I happened to see you upon coming into this hovel and thought I would pay my respects, as anyone amongst our people would treat another. But I see that's not something you are accustomed to."
** (OOC) had to edit previous post as I hadn't seen the rest of the thread before writing it first. My bad. **
' Rogues Will Be Rogues ' (Circle of Fives Admission Rules, § 6 par. IV) " Put It Down. Now. Or Be Sorry. " (D. Khar-Errendis' Reported Tips For Curing Soul Ailments And Assorted Bad Behaviours, v. LIV p.XIII) " Tween thisThy and yonThou, shall I prove to Thee that these art what thou dost see ? " (Grimoire of The Great Pananthyr) " This One has said enough. Now, we fight. This way please ?" (8th Grade Bronze Disciple Raulnar Drohjo, Way of the Open Palm)
A very brief look of annoyance flashes across Connak's face before he looks away from the barman to reply to Tabesha'l in Elvish, "Duncan is cross with me. I tend to alienate the people around me." Connak fishes out a small pendant that Tabesha'l recognizes as belonging to Duncan, and shows her with a 'you see?' expression on his face. "I haven't seen Duncan since before he left you and I am not aware of his whereabouts. You have wasted your time seeking me out after my banishment. And my name is Connak, not Connac."
Turning back to the barman, Connak prods again in Common, "So, what's the news?"
TOBLEN STONEHILL: Greetings, my fair-skinned friends! Clearly, you and a few others are newly arrived to our little mining town...I’m Toblen, and this (spreading his arms wide and glancing around as if the musty barroom was a magnificent palace) is the Stonehill Inn and Tavern.
If your looking to turn some coin during your visit, a couple doors down there’s a notice board where the local townmaster posts what they’re hiring folks for right now. If’n ye don’t die, just drop by old Harbin Wester’s place when your done and he’ll pay you pretty well. It’s either that or the mine shaft for you...in which case you’ll wind up looking like these two old dust collectors (he cocks a sideways glance at the dwarves sitting at the bar.)
The pair of dwarves briefly look up from their steins, fix Toblen with a stoney gaze for just a moment, then return to their murmuring.
With a slump of his shoulders, Connak turns to face Tabesha'l knowing he won't be rid of her without resolving her feelings, and for what it's worth, tries to explain his point of view. Switching back to Elvish again and whispering as much as possible, "My banishment is no secret among our nation. I can't resist the temptation to take things that don't belong to me when the opportunity presents itself even if they are worthless to me." Again, he dangles Duncan's pendant in front of Tabesha'l's nose. "This compulsion has cost me my future, my friends, brought shame onto my family and resulted in my exile. Yet you seem to think your broken heart is of more importance than my efforts to find some jobs where I can do some good deeds to make amends. You will find another to love. I may never accomplish enough to redeem myself among our peoples. And if anyone here understands elvish, I'm about to be kicked out of this town for sure, just so I can make sure you don't feel you've been disrespected. How's that for dishonorable?"
Turning back to Toblen, Connak makes a small bow, flips a silver onto the bar and says in Common, "I'll be back soon. Let me look at this notice board."
Toblen Stonehill: Be careful out there alone...a white wyrm has been spotted in the skies here as of late. You know how much they love the flavor of your delicate flesh, ha! Or wait, was that orcs? Well, we got them too, so either way some beastie will be havin’ a fine lunch of you if you are not careful! Maybe take some of your fellow travelers with you, eh? (He nods in the direction of the other PCs)
The dragonborn looks concerned at the mention of the soft-flesh becoming some angry creature's lunch. He stands, and gathers his shield. He says a bit louder than he should to the invisible conversation partner, and says, "I'm helping him, and your spiteful words will not dissuade me."
He moves to follow the elf out, at a respectful distance so as to not alarm him.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Connak looks perplexed at Toblen, "This wyrm strikes people right in the middle of your village? You said the notice board was a 'couple doors down'. Do I really need an escort to walk down the street?"
Regardless, Connak will 'sneak' to avoid being seen from above (but not at street level): 13
Sitting at the bar hulking over the countertop. His half giant frame sturggling to fit comfortably in the bar. A large ale sits in front of him mostly gone. He appears to not have been paying much attention to the area around him. Currently trying to get his coin to spin on the wooden countertop. Not adorned with any armor, but just a rams fur, the coiled horns wrapped backwards covering his head as the Greyish red fur covers his shoulder. A large axe leaning against the bar.
Although he has been wrapped up in his coin trick, he chimes in, in elvish. “Today is a new day, let’s not let pass troubles weigh down your future.” He chugs down the rest of the ale and rushes out the door. Only to rush back in for his axe. “Silly me” He says in common as he follows the Dragonborn to the job board. “Hello there!” He calls out. “Are you looking for work too? People call me Brutus.”
As Connak turns around to leave, Tabesha'l lays an open hand on her throat right beneath her chin in the traditional elven gesture for contrition and as a peace offering. " If you have also been banned from our People, you haven't heard of what happened upon my return to Quessel Tyrith : it seems you and I now share the same fate, albeit for different reasons. Forgive my harsh words as I just now forgive yours and we shall see about what to do in this desolate place without having you for a dragon meal, shall we ?" She gives the Firbolg a curt nod and the faintest of smiles, acknowledging the furry brute's elven speech, just as Connak proceeds outside and slithers away, melting into the shade beneath the village buildings' thatched roofs.
Connak... This one was strong-willed. It would be hard to break through his barrier of defiance, yet she could understand his reasons. And she wouldn't mind having one of her own kind as company for a little while, even one as ill-humored as he. Even one who reminded her of all that she had lost.
As she noticed the draconic colossus following them out of the inn, she looked back towards it with alarm. Yet the creature didn't seem agressive or immediately dangerous. It did have a bit of the unhinged about it, though, as it was clearly talking to itself !
" Something troubling you, friend ?"she inquired from the dragonborn in Common, one finely chiseled eyebrow raised. Then, still guarded but a little more relaxed as 'it' didn't seem to mean to cause anyone harm, the elven maiden asked gingerly: " Praytell, is that a Symbol for the Elder Bahamut I see stamped on thy shield ? Are thee of the gold dragon god's faith ? I have never had the pleasure to meet one of your order, although stories abound in the ancient tomes..."
Then, turning to Brutus, she says in elvish: " Your words do you and your People honor, Thou-Of-The-Fir-Folk. And your knowledge of theTeu-tel-quessir ways do you more honor yet. I am Tabesha'l Pananthyr, First Maiden of House Pananthyr from Quessel Tyrith." After a pause she adds almost under her breath, " ... at least I once was."
' Rogues Will Be Rogues ' (Circle of Fives Admission Rules, § 6 par. IV) " Put It Down. Now. Or Be Sorry. " (D. Khar-Errendis' Reported Tips For Curing Soul Ailments And Assorted Bad Behaviours, v. LIV p.XIII) " Tween thisThy and yonThou, shall I prove to Thee that these art what thou dost see ? " (Grimoire of The Great Pananthyr) " This One has said enough. Now, we fight. This way please ?" (8th Grade Bronze Disciple Raulnar Drohjo, Way of the Open Palm)
*** Before Connak walks out the bar, he responds to Brutus***
Looking pointedly at Tabesha'l after Brutus's elvish words of wisdom, he replies to Brutus in Elvish, "My past denies any future I want at home. Hard to not let that weigh me down."
*** Responds to Tabesha'l***
"Sure, as long as you understand I have no idea where Duncan is, and I have my own problems to deal with. I'm going to check out that board to see what good I can do in these parts." Connak says, a bit deflated.
The human listens to the quick exchange at the bar, frowning in concentration. He knew passable elvish, but the conversation was hard to follow, especially the moon elf's complex speech. As the strangers begin to leave the bar, he hastily straps on his sword belt and picks up a heavy backpack of supplies, throwing it over his shoulder. Tugging on his glove and grabbing his bow, he moves to follow, staying back a little ways, hesitant to break into the conversation but interested nonetheless. He lays a few coins on the bar as he passes, giving a quick nod to Toblen in thanks for the meal.
The draconic creature looks at the elf, frail in comparison to his big frame.
"I...it's...nothing. At least nothing anyone has need to cause worry. My only concern is the other vaecaesin...I don't much care for a lot of dragons, and I certainly don't want him to end up as it's meal" He outstretches his clawed hand in a handshake gesture.
"I am called Vaxis, and I am indeed a sunathaer to our great platinum dragon lord. Perhaps you would allow me to accompany you for a while, at least until Bahamut dictates otherwise?"
He looks at the human and the firbolg
"Perhaps they can accompany us too...they look to be the most capable patrons of this establishment"
Brutus looks over his shoulder looking for the two that Vaxis is talking about before pointing to himself questioningly. “Us two? I mean yeah, well I don’t know about him, but count me in. The Tribe always said that there is strength in numbers.” Brutus waits with a smile and an eagerness buzzing about him.
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Driven from lands farther north by more powerful dragons, a young white dragon has descended upon the Sword Mountains, claiming the snow-capped range as its domain. The dragon patrols the skies around Icespire Peak, surveying its territory while hunting for food and easy treasure. With each passing day, the dragon’s domain grows as it ranges farther across the land, preying on anything it can catch with its claws or freeze to death with its icy breath. Sightings of the dragon are becoming more common, as are its attacks...
Our story begins in the mining town of Phandalin. Nestled in the rocky foothills of the snow-capped Sword Mountains, Phandalin consists of forty or fifty simple log buildings. Crumbling stone ruins surround the newer houses and shops, showing how this must have been a much larger town in centuries past.
Phandalin’s residents are quiet, hard-working folk who came from distant cities to eke out a life amid the harsh wilderness. They are farmers, stonecutters, blacksmiths, traders, prospectors, and children. The town has no walls and no garrison, but most of the adults keep weapons within easy reach in case the need for arms should arise. Visitors are welcome here, particularly if they have coin to spend or news to share.
It is about midday in the dank but charming tavern of the Stonehill Inn. A short, friendly-looking male human is serving drinks to a pair of dwarves who, from the rock dust in their beards, look like they are probably local miners. They grouse back and forth in their gravelly brogue as a halfling barmaid clanks copper tankards together while stocking them on dusty storage shelves.
The only other occupants of the old roadhouse are a pair of elves (though they are clearly not related), a rugged human, a silver dragonborn and a hulking firbolg...quite the odd cast of characters indeed...
(AND WE ARE OFF!! GOOD LUCK!!)
One of the elves is dressed in leather armor and sports an assortment of daggers, a short sword, a short bow and a quiver of arrows. To non-elf races, he appears a grown adult but not elderly. To the other elf, Connak is definitely old enough to have been given his adult name, so over 100 for sure. Otherwise, he is a typical elf, slender, graceful and beautiful.
Looking around at the other patrons, Connak will saunter over to the bar and try to engage the barman in idle conversation, while invitingly tumbling some dice on the bar in view of the dwarves. In common, Connak asks, "What's the news in town? Any work for an adventurer looking to fatten his purse?"
A man sits alone at a small table. He is human in appearance, perhaps early twenties, though the lines on his brow and a pinkish, puckered scar from above his right ear and curving to just below his mouth add years to his face. The scar looks fairly recent, and the top of his right ear is gone, ending in a broken ridge. He has short cut light brown hair and a thin beard matching the colors of his eyes and sun darkened skin.
His expression seems distant as he pokes at a meal, a half drunk stein of ale nearby. While he chews, he absentmindedly traces his finger through a bit of spilled liquid on the table. For those with a keen eye, he seems to only chew on the left side of his mouth, perhaps missing teeth on the other side. He is well armed. A tall bow sits leaning against the back of the chair, along with a quiver of arrows. A belt lies on the top of the table near his left hand, with two scabbards for short blades and wrapped hilts peaking out the tops. On each leg is strapped a small axe, one well worn the other looking hardly used.
His clothes look like perhaps they were once of good quality, but they are faded and travel worn. He wears dull brown shirt, loose, with the top two buttons either undone or missing. Forest green trousers with a few holes beginning to form in the fraying fabric end in thick leather boots that are covered in road dust. Visible near his neck behind his shirt is hard leather, glistening faintly, perhaps recently oiled this morning. Bare arms, well muscled, are adorned by a black leather bracer on each forearm. A three fingered glove rests on the table near his right hand, bits of metal visible on the fingertips.
He sits with straight and rigid posture, eating his meal slowly, setting down his fork and finishing each mouthful a before taking another bite. He occasionally looks up from his meal at the others in the inn, uncertainty clear on his face. He turns to listen as the elf approaches the barman.
The dragonborn sits in a far away table, away from most everyone. He is easily over 6 feet tall, almost seven feet, and so he sits alone. He wears a suit of chain mail, meticulously polished but showing signs of minor wear. The mail glistens just slightly less brightly than his silver scales, and it's clear that he takes good care of both. In his tendrils (what would amount to hair in humans and elves) several colorful feathers are tied, giving him a more tribal look. He wears a white tabard, bearing a platinum dragon head. He has a crossbow and a mace stowed neatly to his sides, and his shield leans against the wall next to him, the ambient light gleaming off its buffed appearance. The shield bears the same symbol of a platinum colored dragon head as his tabard, an indication of his servitude. Across his face, purple war paint is applied, giving the look of claw marks across hos snout.
He takes a long swig from his stein, and continues muttering something to his left. You have no idea who he is talking to, as there is no one there, but whatever the "conversation" he is happening to have is clearly annoying him, as his nostrils continue to flare in and out. He takes another long swig and gazes towards the bar.
DM - Saturday and Tuesday: Eberron
Player - PBP: (Vaxis, Dragonborn Cleric of Bahamut, DoIP), Discord: Byron Bojengles III (Dragonmarked Half-Elf Rogue/Warlock Hexblade)
Other games: (Aardwolf MUD, Diablo 3, Starcraft 2, Pokemon, Borderlands {all})
** (OOC) NOTE: this conversation obviously happens in Moon Elf Speech. **
" Greeting, Archer. It has been an Age since my eyes lingered on your face, yet not so very long either. Verily, it's only been a little over one short human year cycle, a mere speck of dust for our lifelines..."
The hooded figure who now leans on the bar next to Connak is dressed in a worn but well-made traveler's cloak and a long tunic of richly embroidered and finely threaded wool, died in an rare tint of rich, deep purple. The lowered hood reveals a woman with the appearance of a sensual, striking-looking but slightly built dark brunette in her mid-twenties with pale, creamy white skin and eyes of bright, sparkling blue tinged with golden hues, but her unearthly beauty, regal bearing and the tell-tale sharpened tips of two long ears discreetly showing through the ebony of her hair reveal her for one of theTeu-tel-quessir, the famed Silver Folk, also commonly known as Moon Elves.
Her face is now bent low as she stares without seeing them at her exquisitely graceful hands, intertwined on top of the counter with the palms held upwards. Her full lips curve slowly and almost unwillingly in a small, bittersweet smile.
" ... yet the memory lies with me still, even though the hurt we caused has been healed some and will heal yet more as aeons pass. 'Tis not about the pain, but upon the deed that my attentions are now focussed. A deed that must be fully comprehended before its mark can be erased, if that ever should come to pass. I would much appreciate your help in this, thar'fiscael. (+) "
(+) thar'fiscael : literally "good and bright archer", a term of respect and endearment for one considered to excel at his craft.
' Rogues Will Be Rogues ' (Circle of Fives Admission Rules, § 6 par. IV)
" Put It Down. Now. Or Be Sorry. " (D. Khar-Errendis' Reported Tips For Curing Soul Ailments And Assorted Bad Behaviours, v. LIV p.XIII)
" Tween thisThy and yonThou, shall I prove to Thee that these art what thou dost see ? " (Grimoire of The Great Pananthyr)
" This One has said enough. Now, we fight. This way please ?" (8th Grade Bronze Disciple Raulnar Drohjo, Way of the Open Palm)
A very brief look of annoyance flashes across Connak's face before he looks away from the barman to reply to Tabesha'l in Elvish, "Duncan is cross with me. I tend to alienate the people around me." Connak fishes out a small pendant that Tabesha'l recognizes as belonging to Duncan, and shows her with a 'you see?' expression on his face. "I haven't seen Duncan since before he left you and I am not aware of his whereabouts. You have wasted your time seeking me out after my banishment. And my name is Connak, not Connac."
Turning back to the barman, Connak prods again in Common, "So, what's the news?"
The elven maiden looks at the archer with a hurt look, that quickly dissipates as she brings her feelings under control.
" The... name you mentioned is ever-present in my mind and the pain it wrecked on my heart has left a deep scar, I won't deny this. Yet that doesn't explain why you choose to insult me in such a casual manner. Maybe you are right, maybe you do alienate those around thee, and it seems to bring you... what, some sort of perverse pleasure ? Yet if I offended you in any way to justify this disdain of yours, please accept my apologies..." As she continues, she raises her now quickly darkening blue eyes to face the elf squarely: "... and rest assured such was not my intent. Although, in the future do refrain from treating me like a squeamish girl-wife. I have a story with Duncan, as do you, yet I now bear my path alone. And if you don't show me minimal decency for what I am or what I did, do not forget the Name which I bear. You surely would not want to disrespect that, as I'm sure you know the consequences of such an act. C-o-n-n-a-k. "
Her bearing remains calm and regal as she slowly spells out the archer's name, yet her hands have left the bar and are now dangling loosely at her sides, her eyes still staring him down, her upper lip puckering slightly. On her far side and leaning against the bar a long, gnarled staff made from a root polished in tones of petrol black and topped by a small blue stone seems to throb with an opaque, muffled haze of its own.
" You also should know that not all that is here revolves around thee and thy famed misdeeds - for which very frankly I give as much concern as a mountain lion would give a field mouse. I happened to see you upon coming into this hovel and thought I would pay my respects, as anyone amongst our people would treat another. But I see that's not something you are accustomed to."
** (OOC) had to edit previous post as I hadn't seen the rest of the thread before writing it first. My bad. **
' Rogues Will Be Rogues ' (Circle of Fives Admission Rules, § 6 par. IV)
" Put It Down. Now. Or Be Sorry. " (D. Khar-Errendis' Reported Tips For Curing Soul Ailments And Assorted Bad Behaviours, v. LIV p.XIII)
" Tween thisThy and yonThou, shall I prove to Thee that these art what thou dost see ? " (Grimoire of The Great Pananthyr)
" This One has said enough. Now, we fight. This way please ?" (8th Grade Bronze Disciple Raulnar Drohjo, Way of the Open Palm)
TOBLEN STONEHILL: Greetings, my fair-skinned friends! Clearly, you and a few others are newly arrived to our little mining town...I’m Toblen, and this (spreading his arms wide and glancing around as if the musty barroom was a magnificent palace) is the Stonehill Inn and Tavern.
If your looking to turn some coin during your visit, a couple doors down there’s a notice board where the local townmaster posts what they’re hiring folks for right now. If’n ye don’t die, just drop by old Harbin Wester’s place when your done and he’ll pay you pretty well. It’s either that or the mine shaft for you...in which case you’ll wind up looking like these two old dust collectors (he cocks a sideways glance at the dwarves sitting at the bar.)
The pair of dwarves briefly look up from their steins, fix Toblen with a stoney gaze for just a moment, then return to their murmuring.
With a slump of his shoulders, Connak turns to face Tabesha'l knowing he won't be rid of her without resolving her feelings, and for what it's worth, tries to explain his point of view. Switching back to Elvish again and whispering as much as possible, "My banishment is no secret among our nation. I can't resist the temptation to take things that don't belong to me when the opportunity presents itself even if they are worthless to me." Again, he dangles Duncan's pendant in front of Tabesha'l's nose. "This compulsion has cost me my future, my friends, brought shame onto my family and resulted in my exile. Yet you seem to think your broken heart is of more importance than my efforts to find some jobs where I can do some good deeds to make amends. You will find another to love. I may never accomplish enough to redeem myself among our peoples. And if anyone here understands elvish, I'm about to be kicked out of this town for sure, just so I can make sure you don't feel you've been disrespected. How's that for dishonorable?"
Turning back to Toblen, Connak makes a small bow, flips a silver onto the bar and says in Common, "I'll be back soon. Let me look at this notice board."
Toblen Stonehill: Be careful out there alone...a white wyrm has been spotted in the skies here as of late. You know how much they love the flavor of your delicate flesh, ha! Or wait, was that orcs? Well, we got them too, so either way some beastie will be havin’ a fine lunch of you if you are not careful! Maybe take some of your fellow travelers with you, eh? (He nods in the direction of the other PCs)
The dragonborn looks concerned at the mention of the soft-flesh becoming some angry creature's lunch. He stands, and gathers his shield. He says a bit louder than he should to the invisible conversation partner, and says, "I'm helping him, and your spiteful words will not dissuade me."
He moves to follow the elf out, at a respectful distance so as to not alarm him.
DM - Saturday and Tuesday: Eberron
Player - PBP: (Vaxis, Dragonborn Cleric of Bahamut, DoIP), Discord: Byron Bojengles III (Dragonmarked Half-Elf Rogue/Warlock Hexblade)
Other games: (Aardwolf MUD, Diablo 3, Starcraft 2, Pokemon, Borderlands {all})
Connak looks perplexed at Toblen, "This wyrm strikes people right in the middle of your village? You said the notice board was a 'couple doors down'. Do I really need an escort to walk down the street?"
Regardless, Connak will 'sneak' to avoid being seen from above (but not at street level): 13
Sitting at the bar hulking over the countertop. His half giant frame sturggling to fit comfortably in the bar. A large ale sits in front of him mostly gone. He appears to not have been paying much attention to the area around him. Currently trying to get his coin to spin on the wooden countertop. Not adorned with any armor, but just a rams fur, the coiled horns wrapped backwards covering his head as the Greyish red fur covers his shoulder. A large axe leaning against the bar.
Although he has been wrapped up in his coin trick, he chimes in, in elvish. “Today is a new day, let’s not let pass troubles weigh down your future.” He chugs down the rest of the ale and rushes out the door. Only to rush back in for his axe. “Silly me” He says in common as he follows the Dragonborn to the job board. “Hello there!” He calls out. “Are you looking for work too? People call me Brutus.”
As Connak turns around to leave, Tabesha'l lays an open hand on her throat right beneath her chin in the traditional elven gesture for contrition and as a peace offering. " If you have also been banned from our People, you haven't heard of what happened upon my return to Quessel Tyrith : it seems you and I now share the same fate, albeit for different reasons. Forgive my harsh words as I just now forgive yours and we shall see about what to do in this desolate place without having you for a dragon meal, shall we ?" She gives the Firbolg a curt nod and the faintest of smiles, acknowledging the furry brute's elven speech, just as Connak proceeds outside and slithers away, melting into the shade beneath the village buildings' thatched roofs.
Connak... This one was strong-willed. It would be hard to break through his barrier of defiance, yet she could understand his reasons. And she wouldn't mind having one of her own kind as company for a little while, even one as ill-humored as he. Even one who reminded her of all that she had lost.
As she noticed the draconic colossus following them out of the inn, she looked back towards it with alarm. Yet the creature didn't seem agressive or immediately dangerous. It did have a bit of the unhinged about it, though, as it was clearly talking to itself !
" Something troubling you, friend ?" she inquired from the dragonborn in Common, one finely chiseled eyebrow raised. Then, still guarded but a little more relaxed as 'it' didn't seem to mean to cause anyone harm, the elven maiden asked gingerly: " Praytell, is that a Symbol for the Elder Bahamut I see stamped on thy shield ? Are thee of the gold dragon god's faith ? I have never had the pleasure to meet one of your order, although stories abound in the ancient tomes..."
Then, turning to Brutus, she says in elvish: " Your words do you and your People honor, Thou-Of-The-Fir-Folk. And your knowledge of theTeu-tel-quessir ways do you more honor yet. I am Tabesha'l Pananthyr, First Maiden of House Pananthyr from Quessel Tyrith." After a pause she adds almost under her breath, " ... at least I once was."
' Rogues Will Be Rogues ' (Circle of Fives Admission Rules, § 6 par. IV)
" Put It Down. Now. Or Be Sorry. " (D. Khar-Errendis' Reported Tips For Curing Soul Ailments And Assorted Bad Behaviours, v. LIV p.XIII)
" Tween thisThy and yonThou, shall I prove to Thee that these art what thou dost see ? " (Grimoire of The Great Pananthyr)
" This One has said enough. Now, we fight. This way please ?" (8th Grade Bronze Disciple Raulnar Drohjo, Way of the Open Palm)
*** Before Connak walks out the bar, he responds to Brutus***
Looking pointedly at Tabesha'l after Brutus's elvish words of wisdom, he replies to Brutus in Elvish, "My past denies any future I want at home. Hard to not let that weigh me down."
*** Responds to Tabesha'l***
"Sure, as long as you understand I have no idea where Duncan is, and I have my own problems to deal with. I'm going to check out that board to see what good I can do in these parts." Connak says, a bit deflated.
The human listens to the quick exchange at the bar, frowning in concentration. He knew passable elvish, but the conversation was hard to follow, especially the moon elf's complex speech. As the strangers begin to leave the bar, he hastily straps on his sword belt and picks up a heavy backpack of supplies, throwing it over his shoulder. Tugging on his glove and grabbing his bow, he moves to follow, staying back a little ways, hesitant to break into the conversation but interested nonetheless. He lays a few coins on the bar as he passes, giving a quick nod to Toblen in thanks for the meal.
The draconic creature looks at the elf, frail in comparison to his big frame.
"I...it's...nothing. At least nothing anyone has need to cause worry. My only concern is the other vaecaesin...I don't much care for a lot of dragons, and I certainly don't want him to end up as it's meal" He outstretches his clawed hand in a handshake gesture.
"I am called Vaxis, and I am indeed a sunathaer to our great platinum dragon lord. Perhaps you would allow me to accompany you for a while, at least until Bahamut dictates otherwise?"
He looks at the human and the firbolg
"Perhaps they can accompany us too...they look to be the most capable patrons of this establishment"
DM - Saturday and Tuesday: Eberron
Player - PBP: (Vaxis, Dragonborn Cleric of Bahamut, DoIP), Discord: Byron Bojengles III (Dragonmarked Half-Elf Rogue/Warlock Hexblade)
Other games: (Aardwolf MUD, Diablo 3, Starcraft 2, Pokemon, Borderlands {all})
Brutus looks over his shoulder looking for the two that Vaxis is talking about before pointing to himself questioningly. “Us two? I mean yeah, well I don’t know about him, but count me in. The Tribe always said that there is strength in numbers.” Brutus waits with a smile and an eagerness buzzing about him.