The chill wind screams and bites, drowning out the yells of the sailors as they prepare to depart for the frigid land of Frostfell. The company of adventurers and scholars that make up the Frostfell Expedition stand on the deck of the elemental galleon, taking one last look at the distant lights of Stormhome. It will be many months, perhaps even years, before they return to the continent of Khorvaire.
“We’re all set, my lady.” The captain, a dashing half-elf declares theatrically, sweeping off his feathered hat. “We await your command.”
The red-haired dwarf to whom this is addressed inhales deeply of the chill, salt-laden air. “Proceed, captain.” Thora Deepcandle replies, her eyes on the foaming waves. The captain bows and hastens to comply.
The galleon departs, propelled by a water elemental, and the comforting lights of Stormhome recede behind you, replaced by an expanse of crashing waves and dense fog.
Standing to one side, on the deck of the ship, a gnome watches the ship crew preparing to cast off. Next to him is a mastiff-sized feline-shaped construct, with a riding saddle on its back. There is a set of saddle bags over the back of the strange mount as well, with a lance, heavy crossbow, and a shield attached to the construct at various points. The gnome has his own pack as well, with an assortment of tools sticking out of various pockets.
As the ship starts to move away from land, Brocc will turn from the view overboard and glance to the rest of the passengers of the ship. "How long did you say this journey was to be aboard ship?" Brocc asks the expidition's leader as he moves over to stand next to her. The cat-construct pads along at his side.
A red skinned tiefling with long black hair, dressed in flamboyant clothes and leather armor of black and gold leans on the edge of the ship, watching as the last bits of land disappear beyond the horizon. On one side of their belt hangs two shortswords whilst on the other, two daggers. They seem to be well verse in combat as their armor, though well kept, have scars left behind from battles long ago.
Letting out a dejected sigh, they mumble to themselves. "Never have I felt so heavy hearted whilst leaving on a ship... Maybe Agni wasn't such a good choice."
A half-orc, wearing simple leathers and furs, takes a moment to watch the shrinking form of Stormhome. It had been a nice visit, seeing the land where the weather bent to the whims of wizards. It was quite different from the City of Stilts he grew up in, or his chosen home in the Frostfell. But it was to that home he was returning now and he could hardly contain his excitement. This expedition was his chance!
Wanting to get to work he initially set off to speak with Thora about their supplies and equipment, but pauses on seeing the seemingly put out tiefling. Interested in getting along with his new companions he approaches. "What's wrong? We've barely left and you already look homesick. Don't worry, the Frostfell isn't so bad once you get used to the cold...and the long nights of winter... and the occasional giant."
Non simply shrugs. "Oh, no. Not homesick. Just worried. I'm going on this expedition for a very specific reason and I'm just hoping it goes well." Letting out another sigh, they turn to face the half-orc, replacing their worry with a bright smile. "Well, anyhow, I suppose we should introduce ourselves." With an eccentric flourish of their hand, they bow deep before dramatically rising again. "It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Non. I would usually introduce myself as Agni when in this form but seeing as we're going to be on this expedition for a while, it would just be easier to call me Non."
Piper, a tall gray warforged, stands a little alone from the rest of the crowd. Many large brass pipes extend from his back in what appears to be an erratic way.
Sensing the tentative mood of a number of his fellow crew mates, Piper asks aloud to no-one in particular, "Perhaps a tune is appropriate for the occasion?"
Without waiting for a response he starts playing; the music resonating from the pipes could be described as being more unique than necessarily good and does not sound too dissimilar to bagpipes (if not slightly more metallic). The tune Piper plays is slow and melancholic.
Qulenna's mood was high, she had made it to Stormhome and now was finally setting out to Frostfell. She knew that there she would finally fulfill her destiny and be welcomed in her homeland. She could feel the wind already on her face and she couldn't help but smile, until the Warforged began to make...sounds from his pipes. She had been enjoying the hustle and bustle of the crew, hard work was something to be admired, but now it was made a bit sadder somehow by the melancholic tune he played.
"You..." she said her slender Elven finger directed at the Warforged pointedly, "Can you play something a bit more upbeat, I'd rather not remember this occasion with sadness"
Satisfied that her request would most likely be met without further discussion Qulenna turned to face the crew once more, watching the elegant dance of people moving about. It was a bit like a busy city street in Sharn, people calling out, things being moved too and from, ultimately all in an effort to stay afloat. She took notice of the Non and as of yet unidentified Half Orc being chummy and grinned, it was good they were getting to know one another, from what she had heard in stories everyone needed to be able to work together as a team to survive the Frostfell. It would be just like the gang back in Sharn, she missed them but she knew this trip would ultimately lead her to much more prosperity and happiness than nicking a few goods a day from folks.
"I am Qulenna, 'Q' for short" she said interjecting herself quite abruptly into their conversation. Qulenna's deep blue eyes stared at her two new travelling companions with a fierce level of intensity. Her braided and tied back black hair danced in the slight wind while her fur lined cloak clung tightly to her slender frame. Her hands rested in a seemingly comfortable position on the hilts of two daggers that were kept on her hips just in front of the light crossbow that hung from a clasp on her lower back.
Piper was confused, was this tune not appropriate? He did not dwell on it for too long.
Inclining his head at Q's request. Piper abruptly changed his tune mid-note into a more jovial sea shanty - the music coming from his pipes sounding more akin to an accordion now. As Piper played he bound from one leg to another whilst clapping his hands and moving his head in and out. Was this more appropriate for the mood? He hoped so.
Anghus MacDonovan begins to tap his foot in rhythm with the shanty, and a second later he launches into a gnomish jig with the agility of someone half his age.
“Come, friends.” He yells. “Let us make this a night to remember.”
Thora, previously tense, smiles and relaxes. “It all depends on the weather, my good Brocc.” She replies. “If we are not driven off course by storms, we could arrive in Frostfell. by the end of the month.”
The Sea Turtle is a titanic elemental galleon with three decks. The upper deck contains the dining hall and the pilot’s cabin. Accommodations and a lounge can be found on the second deck, and the lower deck contains the storage hold. All rooms are internally heated.
Dining Hall: The members of the expedition meet here every night at 7:00 for dinner. The dining hall is open 24/7, and the dishes on the tables never seem to empty.
The Pilot’s Cabin: This is where Captain Jacques operates the galleon from. The cabin also contains his personal quarters.
Personal Rooms: Every member of the expedition receives their own, cramped room, large enough only to accommodate a bunk and a desk.
The Lounge: This is by far the most frequented room on the galleon. It contains several comfortable armchairs, a card table, a fireplace, which burns with an unquenchable magical fire, and a library offering hundreds of books.
The Storage Hold: The hold is packed with equipment, rations, and supplies for the expedition.
Hearing the others making introductions, Brocc walks over to stand with the tiefling and half-orc. "Name's Brocc." he says with a nod to them. "This is Pounce." He says, nodding to the large cat-construct that has followed him over. "Seems like we have a good month, if not more, on this ship." He shrugs. "Maybe I'll have time to do some crafting work as we travel then." He fiddles with several tools jutting out of his pockets. When the warforge starts to play music Brocc smiles and turns to watch as the construct then starts to sort-of dance. Then he turns back to the two he is near. "So what brings you two on this trip?"
Non's mood seems to lift as Piper begins to play a more jovial tune. They laugh and cheer on the Warforged before turning to their new companions with a smile on their face.
"A pleasure to meet you Qulenna, Brocc. As you may have heard, my name is Non, though you can also call me Agni whilst in this form. I'm here hoping to find some long lost information that may not even exist in an attempt to ease my friend's pain and suffering. I won't lie, I do not have high hopes but hope is all I have so I must hold onto it as much as I can."
Non speaks incredibly dramatically, flourishing their hands and holding their chest, their face portraying a myriad of emotions within the span of a few seconds. Turning to the rest, they tilt their head in curiosity. "And what of the rest of you? Seeking knowledge? Adventure? An escape from the seemingly inescapable and incredibly oppressive expectations society forces upon us? Treasure, mayhaps?"
G’narTorrn, ranger of the Frostfell. Well Met to all of you!” The Half-orc introduces to the newly assembled companions, his foot beginning to tap along with the livelier music played the warforged. “I work for House Tharashk, operating my own little branch in the far north. I’ve been hired to range for the expedition, steering us around, and occasionally fighting off, the dangers there. I stake my name and reputation on keeping you safe.”
He gives the lot of them a closer inspection, specifically their weapons, and ruefully chuckles. “Though honestly it looks like you all can hold your own in a fight.” Directly to Brocc.“A month you say? Almost makes me wish something happens on the way there so I’m not a layabout. Mayhaps spend some time with Miss Deepcandle looking at the route?”
"I was brought along to help with keeping gear in working order, but, probably more so even, to be a warrior in case we find something that means us harm." Brocc says with a shrug. He gives the two a nod then moves to leave. "Best go and find my room so I can see about getting rid of some of these supplies I have myself and Pounce carrying around here."
"Yes!" Qulenna cheerfully says regarding wanting something to happen, her own spirits climbing ever higher with the sea shanty, she looks back to the Warforged and gives him a smile revealing that her teeth have been some what filed down to a point. She then turns back to those gathered and her smile turns serious once more, "I am supposed to be here, it's my destiny, as it was the destiny of my ancestors before me, to travel to a new place and seek the knowledge that it holds"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
“Destiny or simply the chance of a life time, this will be a trip to remember. The gnome has the right idea! Let the music ring loud to celebrate our voyage! Let us raise our voices on this Auspicious Occasion!”nShould the music continue G’nar will join Anghus in dancing and try to cajole the others into joining.
Ulfgar had been standing at the edge watching Stormhome grow distant as he also watched the waves and ripples of the water below. He found the sensation of the boat's movement slightly nauseating, a mild discomfort he was sure he would get used to, but was mostly excited over all. This was his first time on a boat.
He turned as the expedition members began to gather. He stood there a while: a four-and-a-half feet tall dwarf with long dark brown hair, a long, neat, dark brown beard, and dressed in warm finery. Aside from the dagger at his belt one would never think he would be much in a fight. Truth be told, he wasn't. His skills lay elsewhere for the most part. He watched and listened a bit, his brown eyes darting from one person to the next. Such an odd assortment of fellows. Eventually he slowly made his way to them.
"Hello," he spoke with a soft voice and more quietly one would expect of a dwarf. "My name is Ulgar. Nice to meet you all."
As the G'nar began to dance and asked the others to join Q found herself drawn up into it, especially when Piper sauntered over making the music seem louder as it was closer. Her feet moved dexterously and her hips shifted side to side, she put her arms above her head with her fingers curled delicately. It was the first time in a number of years she had danced but she hadn't lost her touch it would seem.
As Ulgar joined them she smiled at him, "Welcome Ulgar..." she continued her dancing even as she spoke, "...we were just sharing why we were all going on this expedition"
Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, buried beneath the current surface level happiness she was allowing herself to feel, Q's mind was processing some very serious issues as she looked to each person gathered and wondered if any of them would happily bury their blade in another's back for the treasure they sought and found, or who might abandon her in a time of need. She was still young by Elven terms, and her 30 years alone on the streets of Sharn where a jovial smile might lead to you getting your skull bashed in and your stuff stold, with only only her ancestors to trust, had made her wary of new people. Their non evil intent would have to be proven over many years...thus was the Q's damage.
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12 Aryth, 998 YK
The chill wind screams and bites, drowning out the yells of the sailors as they prepare to depart for the frigid land of Frostfell. The company of adventurers and scholars that make up the Frostfell Expedition stand on the deck of the elemental galleon, taking one last look at the distant lights of Stormhome. It will be many months, perhaps even years, before they return to the continent of Khorvaire.
“We’re all set, my lady.” The captain, a dashing half-elf declares theatrically, sweeping off his feathered hat. “We await your command.”
The red-haired dwarf to whom this is addressed inhales deeply of the chill, salt-laden air. “Proceed, captain.” Thora Deepcandle replies, her eyes on the foaming waves. The captain bows and hastens to comply.
The galleon departs, propelled by a water elemental, and the comforting lights of Stormhome recede behind you, replaced by an expanse of crashing waves and dense fog.
The adventure has begun.
Dramatis Personae
Thora Deepcandle: Thora is the daughter of the late Thurm Deepcandle, and the leader of the expedition into Frostfell.
Jacques Lyrandar: The dashing half-elf captain of the elemental galleon, The Dragon Turtle.
Whisper: The changeling first mate of The Dragon Turtle. Whisper lost his tongue many years ago under mysterious circumstances.
Anghus MacDonovan: An eldlerly gnome historian and Thurm's closest friend.
Lei and Song Qi: Brother and sister Lei and Song are an archeologist and cartographer, respectively.
Galileo: An orc philosopher who doubles as the expedition's doctor.
Standing to one side, on the deck of the ship, a gnome watches the ship crew preparing to cast off. Next to him is a mastiff-sized feline-shaped construct, with a riding saddle on its back. There is a set of saddle bags over the back of the strange mount as well, with a lance, heavy crossbow, and a shield attached to the construct at various points. The gnome has his own pack as well, with an assortment of tools sticking out of various pockets.
As the ship starts to move away from land, Brocc will turn from the view overboard and glance to the rest of the passengers of the ship. "How long did you say this journey was to be aboard ship?" Brocc asks the expidition's leader as he moves over to stand next to her. The cat-construct pads along at his side.
A red skinned tiefling with long black hair, dressed in flamboyant clothes and leather armor of black and gold leans on the edge of the ship, watching as the last bits of land disappear beyond the horizon. On one side of their belt hangs two shortswords whilst on the other, two daggers. They seem to be well verse in combat as their armor, though well kept, have scars left behind from battles long ago.
Letting out a dejected sigh, they mumble to themselves. "Never have I felt so heavy hearted whilst leaving on a ship... Maybe Agni wasn't such a good choice."
A half-orc, wearing simple leathers and furs, takes a moment to watch the shrinking form of Stormhome. It had been a nice visit, seeing the land where the weather bent to the whims of wizards. It was quite different from the City of Stilts he grew up in, or his chosen home in the Frostfell. But it was to that home he was returning now and he could hardly contain his excitement. This expedition was his chance!
Wanting to get to work he initially set off to speak with Thora about their supplies and equipment, but pauses on seeing the seemingly put out tiefling. Interested in getting along with his new companions he approaches. "What's wrong? We've barely left and you already look homesick. Don't worry, the Frostfell isn't so bad once you get used to the cold...and the long nights of winter... and the occasional giant."
Non simply shrugs. "Oh, no. Not homesick. Just worried. I'm going on this expedition for a very specific reason and I'm just hoping it goes well." Letting out another sigh, they turn to face the half-orc, replacing their worry with a bright smile. "Well, anyhow, I suppose we should introduce ourselves." With an eccentric flourish of their hand, they bow deep before dramatically rising again. "It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Non. I would usually introduce myself as Agni when in this form but seeing as we're going to be on this expedition for a while, it would just be easier to call me Non."
Piper, a tall gray warforged, stands a little alone from the rest of the crowd. Many large brass pipes extend from his back in what appears to be an erratic way.
Sensing the tentative mood of a number of his fellow crew mates, Piper asks aloud to no-one in particular, "Perhaps a tune is appropriate for the occasion?"
Without waiting for a response he starts playing; the music resonating from the pipes could be described as being more unique than necessarily good and does not sound too dissimilar to bagpipes (if not slightly more metallic). The tune Piper plays is slow and melancholic.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Qulenna's mood was high, she had made it to Stormhome and now was finally setting out to Frostfell. She knew that there she would finally fulfill her destiny and be welcomed in her homeland. She could feel the wind already on her face and she couldn't help but smile, until the Warforged began to make...sounds from his pipes. She had been enjoying the hustle and bustle of the crew, hard work was something to be admired, but now it was made a bit sadder somehow by the melancholic tune he played.
"You..." she said her slender Elven finger directed at the Warforged pointedly, "Can you play something a bit more upbeat, I'd rather not remember this occasion with sadness"
Satisfied that her request would most likely be met without further discussion Qulenna turned to face the crew once more, watching the elegant dance of people moving about. It was a bit like a busy city street in Sharn, people calling out, things being moved too and from, ultimately all in an effort to stay afloat. She took notice of the Non and as of yet unidentified Half Orc being chummy and grinned, it was good they were getting to know one another, from what she had heard in stories everyone needed to be able to work together as a team to survive the Frostfell. It would be just like the gang back in Sharn, she missed them but she knew this trip would ultimately lead her to much more prosperity and happiness than nicking a few goods a day from folks.
"I am Qulenna, 'Q' for short" she said interjecting herself quite abruptly into their conversation. Qulenna's deep blue eyes stared at her two new travelling companions with a fierce level of intensity. Her braided and tied back black hair danced in the slight wind while her fur lined cloak clung tightly to her slender frame. Her hands rested in a seemingly comfortable position on the hilts of two daggers that were kept on her hips just in front of the light crossbow that hung from a clasp on her lower back.
Piper was confused, was this tune not appropriate? He did not dwell on it for too long.
Inclining his head at Q's request. Piper abruptly changed his tune mid-note into a more jovial sea shanty - the music coming from his pipes sounding more akin to an accordion now. As Piper played he bound from one leg to another whilst clapping his hands and moving his head in and out. Was this more appropriate for the mood? He hoped so.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Anghus MacDonovan begins to tap his foot in rhythm with the shanty, and a second later he launches into a gnomish jig with the agility of someone half his age.
“Come, friends.” He yells. “Let us make this a night to remember.”
Thora, previously tense, smiles and relaxes. “It all depends on the weather, my good Brocc.” She replies. “If we are not driven off course by storms, we could arrive in Frostfell. by the end of the month.”
The Sea Turtle
The Sea Turtle is a titanic elemental galleon with three decks. The upper deck contains the dining hall and the pilot’s cabin. Accommodations and a lounge can be found on the second deck, and the lower deck contains the storage hold. All rooms are internally heated.
Dining Hall: The members of the expedition meet here every night at 7:00 for dinner. The dining hall is open 24/7, and the dishes on the tables never seem to empty.
The Pilot’s Cabin: This is where Captain Jacques operates the galleon from. The cabin also contains his personal quarters.
Personal Rooms: Every member of the expedition receives their own, cramped room, large enough only to accommodate a bunk and a desk.
The Lounge: This is by far the most frequented room on the galleon. It contains several comfortable armchairs, a card table, a fireplace, which burns with an unquenchable magical fire, and a library offering hundreds of books.
The Storage Hold: The hold is packed with equipment, rations, and supplies for the expedition.
Hearing the others making introductions, Brocc walks over to stand with the tiefling and half-orc. "Name's Brocc." he says with a nod to them. "This is Pounce." He says, nodding to the large cat-construct that has followed him over. "Seems like we have a good month, if not more, on this ship." He shrugs. "Maybe I'll have time to do some crafting work as we travel then." He fiddles with several tools jutting out of his pockets. When the warforge starts to play music Brocc smiles and turns to watch as the construct then starts to sort-of dance. Then he turns back to the two he is near. "So what brings you two on this trip?"
Non's mood seems to lift as Piper begins to play a more jovial tune. They laugh and cheer on the Warforged before turning to their new companions with a smile on their face.
"A pleasure to meet you Qulenna, Brocc. As you may have heard, my name is Non, though you can also call me Agni whilst in this form. I'm here hoping to find some long lost information that may not even exist in an attempt to ease my friend's pain and suffering. I won't lie, I do not have high hopes but hope is all I have so I must hold onto it as much as I can."
Non speaks incredibly dramatically, flourishing their hands and holding their chest, their face portraying a myriad of emotions within the span of a few seconds. Turning to the rest, they tilt their head in curiosity. "And what of the rest of you? Seeking knowledge? Adventure? An escape from the seemingly inescapable and incredibly oppressive expectations society forces upon us? Treasure, mayhaps?"
G’nar Torrn, ranger of the Frostfell. Well Met to all of you!” The Half-orc introduces to the newly assembled companions, his foot beginning to tap along with the livelier music played the warforged. “I work for House Tharashk, operating my own little branch in the far north. I’ve been hired to range for the expedition, steering us around, and occasionally fighting off, the dangers there. I stake my name and reputation on keeping you safe.”
He gives the lot of them a closer inspection, specifically their weapons, and ruefully chuckles. “Though honestly it looks like you all can hold your own in a fight.” Directly to Brocc. “A month you say? Almost makes me wish something happens on the way there so I’m not a layabout. Mayhaps spend some time with Miss Deepcandle looking at the route?”
"I was brought along to help with keeping gear in working order, but, probably more so even, to be a warrior in case we find something that means us harm." Brocc says with a shrug. He gives the two a nod then moves to leave. "Best go and find my room so I can see about getting rid of some of these supplies I have myself and Pounce carrying around here."
"Yes!" Qulenna cheerfully says regarding wanting something to happen, her own spirits climbing ever higher with the sea shanty, she looks back to the Warforged and gives him a smile revealing that her teeth have been some what filed down to a point. She then turns back to those gathered and her smile turns serious once more, "I am supposed to be here, it's my destiny, as it was the destiny of my ancestors before me, to travel to a new place and seek the knowledge that it holds"
Brandishing teeth... but not threateningly.... Q seems to be happy at the song choice.
Piper sauntered over to where the others had gathered.
"This one understands. Destiny. Ancestors. Knowledge. These are good reasons to seek new places."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
“Destiny or simply the chance of a life time, this will be a trip to remember. The gnome has the right idea! Let the music ring loud to celebrate our voyage! Let us raise our voices on this Auspicious Occasion!”nShould the music continue G’nar will join Anghus in dancing and try to cajole the others into joining.
Persuasion 12
Ulfgar had been standing at the edge watching Stormhome grow distant as he also watched the waves and ripples of the water below. He found the sensation of the boat's movement slightly nauseating, a mild discomfort he was sure he would get used to, but was mostly excited over all. This was his first time on a boat.
He turned as the expedition members began to gather. He stood there a while: a four-and-a-half feet tall dwarf with long dark brown hair, a long, neat, dark brown beard, and dressed in warm finery. Aside from the dagger at his belt one would never think he would be much in a fight. Truth be told, he wasn't. His skills lay elsewhere for the most part. He watched and listened a bit, his brown eyes darting from one person to the next. Such an odd assortment of fellows. Eventually he slowly made his way to them.
"Hello," he spoke with a soft voice and more quietly one would expect of a dwarf. "My name is Ulgar. Nice to meet you all."
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As the G'nar began to dance and asked the others to join Q found herself drawn up into it, especially when Piper sauntered over making the music seem louder as it was closer. Her feet moved dexterously and her hips shifted side to side, she put her arms above her head with her fingers curled delicately. It was the first time in a number of years she had danced but she hadn't lost her touch it would seem.
As Ulgar joined them she smiled at him, "Welcome Ulgar..." she continued her dancing even as she spoke, "...we were just sharing why we were all going on this expedition"
Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, buried beneath the current surface level happiness she was allowing herself to feel, Q's mind was processing some very serious issues as she looked to each person gathered and wondered if any of them would happily bury their blade in another's back for the treasure they sought and found, or who might abandon her in a time of need. She was still young by Elven terms, and her 30 years alone on the streets of Sharn where a jovial smile might lead to you getting your skull bashed in and your stuff stold, with only only her ancestors to trust, had made her wary of new people. Their non evil intent would have to be proven over many years...thus was the Q's damage.