Erbertcurls up in a blanket, a little stuffed sausage gnome in a blanket. He directs Hoppy to sit up high in a branch, looking over him, watching him directly below. He hopes that the mouse Hoppy ate earlier doesn't move too quickly through his system so that he is in the splatter zone. "Never seen such a day as this. One for the books. Hrrrumph." And finally drifts off to sleep. He dreams of scorched earth, burned palms and feet, cries of sorrow and the hangman's noose. He awakens the next morning in a cold sweat.
After the words and suspicions are exchanged and the others start to be on their way, whatever their path is, Malon runs after Alabaster after a couple of seconds of hesitation.
"Wait up ! You're thinking to go with Gaz, are you ?"
He smiles sheepishly before adding.
"I'd stick with you for now, if you're still fine with it. I don't think I'm a good uh, freedom fighter but ... I'd rather accompany someone I know I can trust."
He awaits for his reply; after all, he could very well have reasons to turn him over. Not to mention Gaz and his followers could very well start to wonder where Malon's accent comes from and push him to know more. But he took their side, did he not ?
More than that, the idea of having someone with stronger opinions than him to look to ... somehow, it is something he missed since he had left home. However scary was following this little band, it was also, in a way, reassuring.
Alabaster cocks his head and looks at Malon with interest, then laughs. "Sure thing, buddy." He gives him a resounding pat on the shoulder. "I don't see why not."
"I appreciate your help, by the way. Thanks for coming when I called." He says, this time more sincerely, "Or else they might've taken Gaz. Anyway, they have lost a lot of their people, so I figured they could use some help."
In the morning, Erbert stands and stretches, then looks around at their surroundings, glances through Hoppy's eyes looking for any movement. As he's looking at the group he notices.. "Hey, did that fellow Alabaster and Malon leave? I thought they might cool down and join us. Did any of you see them walk away?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Malon smiles at Alabaster, and hesitates for a moment at least saluting the others, but as he looks, they are gone already.
"To be fair, I'm still not even sure where to look for to find what I want to find ... might as well make myself useful during that time. Though I would uh ... trust you more about talking to him to offer our help."
He lets out a slight chuckle, trying to chase off the events and emotions of the night as well as his awkwardness, his eyes still somewhat reddened, as he gets ready to catch up with Gaz and the Wilderlings.
(I'm unsure who Nico would have followed. Feel free to head off with whoever you'd prefer.)
Herbert/Herrena/Thea/Iver:
The sun rises over the now-quiet Torken woods, filtering through the plentiful oaks and vibrant foliage of the southern reaches of the Wilderness. The blood from the battle remains on the ground up ahead - a reminder of the events of last night. The remaining journey to the Torken should take around half a day's travel over the packed dirt path. Feel free to continue roleplaying out conversations - when you do decide to travel, I'd like everyone to roll Perception checks.
Alabaster/Malon:
Following the aftermath of the battle, instead of remaining with the party to rest, you decided to follow Gaz through the dense forests surrounding the Torken tribe. The four Wilderlings accompanying Gaz have repurposed the shackles present on the guards to bind the hands of the half-dozen remaining Imperials. The clerical woman dressed in dirtied, bloodied, formerly-white clothing introduces herself as Asha - a former prison doctor who absconded from the Imperials during the initial conflict for healing and feeding Wilderling prisoners against strict orders of the Imperium. Two of the Wilderlings scout ahead, leading the troop forwards - they clearly know the woods quite well.
Gaz approaches Alabaster and Malon, giving each a wide grin. "Looks like you're on the right side of things now, eh? I'm not sure what that gnome wanted, but we're bringing these to the Outcast camp. We're going to have some fun - maybe send the Imperials a little message. The Outcasts have been agitated lately - say the time's right for a rebellion. Truth be told, we're an eclectic bunch. Not really on anyone's side, except ourselves. We're Outcasts for a reason. I guess we can be too harsh for some of the other tribes." Gaz spits. "Most of my troop were kicked from their homes for radical behavior during peacetime treaties, or something like that. It's not our fault we can't stand the Imperials trotting on our land, but I guess we endangered their treaties by giving the Imperials what they deserved." Gaz shakes his head.
Though your characters don't know this, the Outcast camp is around a day's travel from here, and the troop will settle down for a rest at some point. I would like Perception checks from both of you (three, if Nico accompanies you instead of the rest of the party) for that rest.
Iver is grateful to wake up alive. It doesn't take him long to put on his armour and everything else, and within a few minutes, he's ready to go. "Let's continue to the Torken. We just need to find this person and then we can move on to the next destination. Any ideas for how we might find this one person amidst all the other Torken?"Remembering the smith's words, he thinks about the arena. She said the Torken are always around there. He wonders whether they could make an announcement in the arena. That sounds like a good way to find a person, or perhaps someone who knows them.
“Let’s just arrive and then we will figure it out. There may be a good central place to make an announcement or to keep watch over. Also let’s hope there are no further wilderling or Imperial entanglements on the way there.”
Erbert perception : 6
Hoppy perception : 16
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Malon manages a tight smile at the healer, listening carefully to what they're being told about her ... career, so to speak. He remains mostly quiet, taking in the view around, not daring yet offering his own service as a scout, being more used to coastal landscape. He is however appaled at some of the words spoken ... healing Wilderlings, punishable by the law ? He decides however to hide his ignorance, in case they should decide to ask questions he would rather avoid for now. Instead, he takes in this new infamy to try to bolster his courage at following this band of rebellious freedom fighters, as words from his past echo in his mind.
He remains similarly quiet as Gaz speaks, taking in his words. Despite his fear of this rough around the edges Elf, a part of him feels thrilled about all this expedition. In a way, is he not an outcast of a sort himself ?
At some point, as they get ready to rest for the night, the young man decides to go to one of the prisoners, and hesitantly starts to talk.
"Tell me, soldier ... what's your name, where are you from ? Conscript or volunteer ?"
"I'm glad you got out." Alabaster says to Asha, his dark brown eyes glint lightly in the dimness of the forest as he gazes at her, conveying sincerity. He clenches his teeth in response to hearing the predicament of the Wilderlings that had fallen under the control of the Imperials, but slowly relaxes again as the late breezes blow past his cheeks and being surrounded by his new companions gives him comfort. A sense of hope. "And thank you for helping us back there, though sadly some of them didn't appreciate it."
"Rebellion, huh?" He smirks at Gaz. "I like the sound of that." He thinks of Thea briefly, who seemed to have her own share of pain under the Imperials, but has apparently moved on from it. He looks down at the two handaxes hanging down his belt at each side of his hip, then turns to Gaz again, though not speaking to him directly. "There's gotta be some people to keep fighting for people who have given in."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Thea listens to the sounds of the little camp waking up, the rustling and rattling as everyone begins to ready themselves for the continuation of the journey. She slowly shifts out of both her meditative state of mind and stance. She rubbs her hands over her face intensively for a moment, then her eyes snap open. But somehow, she doesn't really look that well rested at all. After taking a couple of gulps from her flask, then goes on to gather her belongings, but the moment shes done she settles down again, waiting for everyone to finish their preparations. Even as the group gets moving though, she's uncharacteristically quiet. There are a few, brief moments of contemplation on her face, second during which she seems to almost initiate a conversation, but they die down rather quickly. She remains taciturn and lost on thought, very unlike the kind of company Thea offered before. Instead her gaze is directed at her surroundings, once the group leaves the remains of the bloodied battlefields behind them.
Herrena woke up feeling… better the following morning. A decent night’s sleep seemed to have lightened her mood and washed away many of the conflicted feelings she had about the previous evening. And besides, now that her next adventure was restarting again in earnest, her naturally excitable nature was slowly returning as well.
Turning to Nico who had decided to join them on their trip to the Torken, she asked the man “So, you said you’re from the Torken right? Shot in the dark, but have you ever heard of a man named Aster? We were sent to deliver something to him but don’t really know where to start besides some sort of arena. We don’t even know what he looks like to be honest. You think finding a random person from your tribe will be difficult?”
Considering Nico grew up among the Torken, he would recognize Aster's name to be one of the arbiters overseeing the famed Torken Arena. Nico would also know more about the general structure of Torken society - valor, might, and honor are the qualities Torken hold in the highest regard. The duty of the strong, according to the Torken, are to defend the weak; the duty of the weak, in turn, is to support the strong, and respect must be held for each individual for such a system to function. Of course, there are the individual cowards and dishonorable members in the tribe - but they are few and far in between, and most end up kicked out to join the Outcasts for one too many offenses. The Torken are one of the oldest tribes in the Wilderness - situated along the slope of a rocky mountain range, they have learned to persevere through difficult times, famine, war, and all sorts of hardships. They're distrusting of outsiders, but if you manage to impress the Torken and prove your own strength, you've generally earned yourself a staunch ally who will defend you to the death.
Strangely enough, they are nearly devoid of magic - and cling on to the remaining magic they have left. The Torken used to be quite powerful - a type of sentient, magical construct known as runestones are popular among the Wilderling tribes, serving as guardians against the wilderness - and each other. Depending on the carvings imbuing each one with magic, they must lie dormant for up to several thousand years - only a handful remain dormant, and each time one reawakens draws no small amount of celebration among the Torken. A small group of druidic shamans form the Torken Council. They are responsible for nearly all of the decisions governing Torken society. Matters of war, however, are handled by the floating title known as the Torken Champion. Anyone may challenge the current Champion, resulting in an honorable, fair, duel. Much of the Torken society revolves around the arena. Mercenaries, adventurers, Torken young, and even beings of all kind flock to test their mettle, while many more come to watch the show. The arena runs constantly; the time is rare when the stands aren't loud with cheers as a battle rages on below.
13
With the morning already on the rise, the party gathers their equipment, packs their bedrolls, and prepares for travel. In various states of mind upon reflection of the previous evening's events, the party eventually continues their trail through the Torken woods.
The travel remains, perhaps thankfully, uneventful beyond the occasional chirp of birds in the woods and vague movement of woodland beings among the oaken woods. If one thing can be commended about the Wilderness, it is the beauty of the surrounding nature. With autumn on the rise, the trees have already started to filter into shades of orange and brown. The dirt path continues to wind, picking up in slope as the mountain ridge blocking this sectioned area of the Wilderness from the rest of the continent comes into view. This is the home of the Torken.
Hours pass without issue as the faint sight of a walled city comes into view. Green-and-black flags hoist proudly in the air of the slanted city, sprawling over the side of a mountain and spilling into the woods beyond. Wooden pikes jut from the sides of the Torken, resembling upheld spears - it becomes clear there are no less than a dozen such structures, each one indicating how much the Torken have grown over the centuries. The buildings are mainly timber and stone, containing a hint of manufactured, rugged, dwarven tones in its architecture. Smoke from hearths belch into the air. The elevation has notably increased by the time you wander towards the gates, and with the combined hike and thinning of the air, you find yourselves more exhausted than you originally imagined this journey would make you.
Looming majestically overhead is the gateway into the Torken tribe. The wooden wall stands nearly twenty feet in height. Around a dozen guards stand in strict formation around the exterior of the gates - all tall, lean, muscled warriors, wielding wooden spears in one hand and shields in the other. Some are humans - ranges in skin color indicate most, if not all, contain various amounts of orcish blood in their veins. The rest are dwarves. All have varying degrees of tattoos and paint covering their faces and exposed skin - the traditional whites, blacks, and vibrant greens of the Torken warriors sends a clear message of pride in their heritage.
Upon the party approaching within a few paces of the gates, one guard holds up a fist and speaks. "Halt. For what purpose are you here today?"
14
The trek through the wilderness seems to drag for hours and hours - Alabaster and Malon feel their muscles ache and stomachs rumble with hunger, but Gaz and his troop presses on. It seems clear they are accustomed to lengthy treks through the woods. And given the certainty with which the scouts move ahead, it seems they know the woods by heart.
Asha flashes the barest hint of a smile. "You're welcome for the aid. I do what I can. I offered to work as a medic for the soldiers of the Imperium long ago. I am a doctor, and I cannot in good conscience support the Imperials with the knowledge of how their prisons are run. I'm glad I escaped, too - those who attempt to are usually found and executed. Gaz was kind enough to let me into his group."
Gaz almost seems to resemble a wolf in the way he rushes through the woods. The elf has clearly allowed the primal side of his anger take control over his senses. He throws a wolfish grin in Alabaster's direction. "That's what I'm here for. I'm not afraid of dying - most of the Outcasts aren't, we're all fighting for ourselves - and I'll be damned if I don't give these Imperials what's been coming to them for years. I'll show you around the Outcasts. Give you a sense of what we've been through. Maybe you'll get a chance to hear our leader speak. By the way - don't look people directly in the eye unless you're sure you can take a punch. It's just the way of the wilds."
The soldier Malon approached flinches away at the sound of his voice, casting a red-eyed glare of frustration, anger, and sorrow towards Malon as he speaks, voice bitter and strained. "Look, does it matter any more? You've won. I'm Kionel." The guard spits on the ground. He seems young - far younger than a soldier should be. "Who in the hells would volunteer for this? Look at us. All the soldiers. Underfed. Miserable. This is our king's solution to the crowd in the capital, I guess. Promise the people too poor to have another choice with the lure of coin, right? They said it'd be fine. We'd sit here, have biscuits and coffee, not even need to pick up our weapons. They lied. We eat every other day, we sleep on the ground, in the rain, in the mud. It's worse than over there. I have a sister, two brothers. Never saw my father. Mother's ill, she's probably dead, though I guess I'll never know." The soldier shakes his head, tears of anger in his eyes. "My ass the government's been taking care of them. They probably left them in the gutter we lived in. I guess it's too late to change anything, now." Kionel's eyes lock on Malon, pulling from his rant as if realizing he was addressed for the first time. "What does it matter to you, Wilderling? You wouldn't know. You think you're in the right, huh? Nobody is. Get that in your head. What're you talking to me for, huh? To laugh at me before I die?"
Iver walks quietly the entire day. He's thinking about the other night, contemplating everything that was said or that happened. However, one thing bothers him above all else. It's how different fighting on the surface is from fighting in that arena. Careful opponents, magic, long fights... all so strange. He takes out his right rapier and slashes the air with it. Slow, weak. When foes no longer drop with one surprise attack, he'll have to work harder to make both his blades useful. He slides the rapier back into its scabbard. That will take some time. Another thing he's pondering is magic. He thinks about how little he hurt Gaz, compared to how Thea crushed those soldiers in an instant. And not only her. All around him, he's seeing magic used all the time. There, underground, there were barely any magicians. Or, at the very least, not among the "contenders", who were mostly Imperials. Well, it's not like he's going to become a mage all of a sudden. Besides, a sword still felt more reassuring, in the end. Yet, if he "observes" the others as they make their magic happen, aware of any tiny movement they make, perhaps he'll be able to imitate them to create similar effects? Maybe not the same, but something to aid him in his own way of fighting?
As they stand there, in front of the Torken gateway, he figures that keeping a low profile, at least for the moment, would be a good idea. Though he's still pondering making an announcement in the arena to find that Aster, that's most likely the last resort option. "You said you were Torken, right?" He asks Nico. "Could you speak to them? I bet they'll trust you more than they will any other of us."
Erbert nods and says in a low voice to Nico, "That's a good idea, Nico. We will follow your lead here." Erbert sends Hoppy flying higher and connects with his vision, looking over the walls and into the Torken area, just trying to get a picture of the layout and how many are in the area.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Asha flashes the barest hint of a smile. "You're welcome for the aid. I do what I can. I offered to work as a medic for the soldiers of the Imperium long ago. I am a doctor, and I cannot in good conscience support the Imperials with the knowledge of how their prisons are run. I'm glad I escaped, too - those who attempt to are usually found and executed. Gaz was kind enough to let me into his group."
Alabaster listens and nods solemnly. "Yeah, that's what they do." He says. He thumbs over his bottom lip in thought, a curl of hair falls in front of his eyes. "Most people would've stayed, even if it were against what they believe in - not everyone has the courage to stand up and rebel against it. But if no one dares to make a change, it'll never get better."
Gaz almost seems to resemble a wolf in the way he rushes through the woods. The elf has clearly allowed the primal side of his anger take control over his senses. He throws a wolfish grin in Alabaster's direction. "That's what I'm here for. I'm not afraid of dying - most of the Outcasts aren't, we're all fighting for ourselves - and I'll be damned if I don't give these Imperials what's been coming to them for years. I'll show you around the Outcasts. Give you a sense of what we've been through. Maybe you'll get a chance to hear our leader speak. By the way - don't look people directly in the eye unless you're sure you can take a punch. It's just the way of the wilds."
Alabaster laughs, heartily. "Thanks for the heads up." It puts him more at ease, in fact. Moving through the woods, he feels at home. This, the solidarity, the unbending spirits, is what he is used to. This is what he knows. And he'd be damned to let the Imperium to take this away from them.
Malon listens to the soldier, a deep sadness washing over him. Despite his own exhaustion at the forced march and the fact he knows he has his responsibility in this, he manages to hold the look of the man.
"Nice to meet you, Kionel, I am Malon."He says without the least irony.
"I am asking because ... I guess I hoped it was otherwise, but ... I expected that."
He sighs heavily, thoughtful for a moment.
"I am not here to make fun of you. In fact, if things had been a little different ... I could very well have been in your shoes, or boots right now. I know a bit of the problems you're talking about. Look, my words don't carry much among those people, but I'll do my best so they hear your side of the story. Did they even feed you and the other prisoners ?"
Erbert curls up in a blanket, a little stuffed sausage gnome in a blanket. He directs Hoppy to sit up high in a branch, looking over him, watching him directly below. He hopes that the mouse Hoppy ate earlier doesn't move too quickly through his system so that he is in the splatter zone. "Never seen such a day as this. One for the books. Hrrrumph." And finally drifts off to sleep. He dreams of scorched earth, burned palms and feet, cries of sorrow and the hangman's noose. He awakens the next morning in a cold sweat.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
After the words and suspicions are exchanged and the others start to be on their way, whatever their path is, Malon runs after Alabaster after a couple of seconds of hesitation.
"Wait up ! You're thinking to go with Gaz, are you ?"
He smiles sheepishly before adding.
"I'd stick with you for now, if you're still fine with it. I don't think I'm a good uh, freedom fighter but ... I'd rather accompany someone I know I can trust."
He awaits for his reply; after all, he could very well have reasons to turn him over. Not to mention Gaz and his followers could very well start to wonder where Malon's accent comes from and push him to know more. But he took their side, did he not ?
More than that, the idea of having someone with stronger opinions than him to look to ... somehow, it is something he missed since he had left home. However scary was following this little band, it was also, in a way, reassuring.
Malon : Kalashtar Ranger
Goramar : Half-Orc Ranger
Alabaster cocks his head and looks at Malon with interest, then laughs. "Sure thing, buddy." He gives him a resounding pat on the shoulder. "I don't see why not."
"I appreciate your help, by the way. Thanks for coming when I called." He says, this time more sincerely, "Or else they might've taken Gaz. Anyway, they have lost a lot of their people, so I figured they could use some help."
In the morning, Erbert stands and stretches, then looks around at their surroundings, glances through Hoppy's eyes looking for any movement. As he's looking at the group he notices.. "Hey, did that fellow Alabaster and Malon leave? I thought they might cool down and join us. Did any of you see them walk away?"
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Malon smiles at Alabaster, and hesitates for a moment at least saluting the others, but as he looks, they are gone already.
"To be fair, I'm still not even sure where to look for to find what I want to find ... might as well make myself useful during that time. Though I would uh ... trust you more about talking to him to offer our help."
He lets out a slight chuckle, trying to chase off the events and emotions of the night as well as his awkwardness, his eyes still somewhat reddened, as he gets ready to catch up with Gaz and the Wilderlings.
Malon : Kalashtar Ranger
Goramar : Half-Orc Ranger
(I'm unsure who Nico would have followed. Feel free to head off with whoever you'd prefer.)
Herbert/Herrena/Thea/Iver:
The sun rises over the now-quiet Torken woods, filtering through the plentiful oaks and vibrant foliage of the southern reaches of the Wilderness. The blood from the battle remains on the ground up ahead - a reminder of the events of last night. The remaining journey to the Torken should take around half a day's travel over the packed dirt path. Feel free to continue roleplaying out conversations - when you do decide to travel, I'd like everyone to roll Perception checks.
Alabaster/Malon:
Following the aftermath of the battle, instead of remaining with the party to rest, you decided to follow Gaz through the dense forests surrounding the Torken tribe. The four Wilderlings accompanying Gaz have repurposed the shackles present on the guards to bind the hands of the half-dozen remaining Imperials. The clerical woman dressed in dirtied, bloodied, formerly-white clothing introduces herself as Asha - a former prison doctor who absconded from the Imperials during the initial conflict for healing and feeding Wilderling prisoners against strict orders of the Imperium. Two of the Wilderlings scout ahead, leading the troop forwards - they clearly know the woods quite well.
Gaz approaches Alabaster and Malon, giving each a wide grin. "Looks like you're on the right side of things now, eh? I'm not sure what that gnome wanted, but we're bringing these to the Outcast camp. We're going to have some fun - maybe send the Imperials a little message. The Outcasts have been agitated lately - say the time's right for a rebellion. Truth be told, we're an eclectic bunch. Not really on anyone's side, except ourselves. We're Outcasts for a reason. I guess we can be too harsh for some of the other tribes." Gaz spits. "Most of my troop were kicked from their homes for radical behavior during peacetime treaties, or something like that. It's not our fault we can't stand the Imperials trotting on our land, but I guess we endangered their treaties by giving the Imperials what they deserved." Gaz shakes his head.
Though your characters don't know this, the Outcast camp is around a day's travel from here, and the troop will settle down for a rest at some point. I would like Perception checks from both of you (three, if Nico accompanies you instead of the rest of the party) for that rest.
Perception: 13.
Iver is grateful to wake up alive. It doesn't take him long to put on his armour and everything else, and within a few minutes, he's ready to go. "Let's continue to the Torken. We just need to find this person and then we can move on to the next destination. Any ideas for how we might find this one person amidst all the other Torken?" Remembering the smith's words, he thinks about the arena. She said the Torken are always around there. He wonders whether they could make an announcement in the arena. That sounds like a good way to find a person, or perhaps someone who knows them.
Varielky
(Nico is going with Herrena, Herbert, Thea, and Iver)
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
More
“Let’s just arrive and then we will figure it out. There may be a good central place to make an announcement or to keep watch over. Also let’s hope there are no further wilderling or Imperial entanglements on the way there.”
Erbert perception : 6
Hoppy perception : 16
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"Oh, my name is Malon. A pleasure to meet you."
Malon manages a tight smile at the healer, listening carefully to what they're being told about her ... career, so to speak. He remains mostly quiet, taking in the view around, not daring yet offering his own service as a scout, being more used to coastal landscape. He is however appaled at some of the words spoken ... healing Wilderlings, punishable by the law ? He decides however to hide his ignorance, in case they should decide to ask questions he would rather avoid for now. Instead, he takes in this new infamy to try to bolster his courage at following this band of rebellious freedom fighters, as words from his past echo in his mind.
He remains similarly quiet as Gaz speaks, taking in his words. Despite his fear of this rough around the edges Elf, a part of him feels thrilled about all this expedition. In a way, is he not an outcast of a sort himself ?
At some point, as they get ready to rest for the night, the young man decides to go to one of the prisoners, and hesitantly starts to talk.
"Tell me, soldier ... what's your name, where are you from ? Conscript or volunteer ?"
Perception : 10
Malon : Kalashtar Ranger
Goramar : Half-Orc Ranger
"I'm glad you got out." Alabaster says to Asha, his dark brown eyes glint lightly in the dimness of the forest as he gazes at her, conveying sincerity. He clenches his teeth in response to hearing the predicament of the Wilderlings that had fallen under the control of the Imperials, but slowly relaxes again as the late breezes blow past his cheeks and being surrounded by his new companions gives him comfort. A sense of hope. "And thank you for helping us back there, though sadly some of them didn't appreciate it."
"Rebellion, huh?" He smirks at Gaz. "I like the sound of that." He thinks of Thea briefly, who seemed to have her own share of pain under the Imperials, but has apparently moved on from it. He looks down at the two handaxes hanging down his belt at each side of his hip, then turns to Gaz again, though not speaking to him directly. "There's gotta be some people to keep fighting for people who have given in."
Perception: 9
Thea listens to the sounds of the little camp waking up, the rustling and rattling as everyone begins to ready themselves for the continuation of the journey. She slowly shifts out of both her meditative state of mind and stance. She rubbs her hands over her face intensively for a moment, then her eyes snap open. But somehow, she doesn't really look that well rested at all. After taking a couple of gulps from her flask, then goes on to gather her belongings, but the moment shes done she settles down again, waiting for everyone to finish their preparations. Even as the group gets moving though, she's uncharacteristically quiet. There are a few, brief moments of contemplation on her face, second during which she seems to almost initiate a conversation, but they die down rather quickly. She remains taciturn and lost on thought, very unlike the kind of company Thea offered before. Instead her gaze is directed at her surroundings, once the group leaves the remains of the bloodied battlefields behind them.
Perception: 17
Herrena woke up feeling… better the following morning. A decent night’s sleep seemed to have lightened her mood and washed away many of the conflicted feelings she had about the previous evening. And besides, now that her next adventure was restarting again in earnest, her naturally excitable nature was slowly returning as well.
Turning to Nico who had decided to join them on their trip to the Torken, she asked the man “So, you said you’re from the Torken right? Shot in the dark, but have you ever heard of a man named Aster? We were sent to deliver something to him but don’t really know where to start besides some sort of arena. We don’t even know what he looks like to be honest. You think finding a random person from your tribe will be difficult?”
Zoldier’s Curse of the Crimson Throne: DM/ Redii || Zoldier's Strange Aeon's: DM
(Has Nico heard about Aster?)
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
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Considering Nico grew up among the Torken, he would recognize Aster's name to be one of the arbiters overseeing the famed Torken Arena. Nico would also know more about the general structure of Torken society - valor, might, and honor are the qualities Torken hold in the highest regard. The duty of the strong, according to the Torken, are to defend the weak; the duty of the weak, in turn, is to support the strong, and respect must be held for each individual for such a system to function. Of course, there are the individual cowards and dishonorable members in the tribe - but they are few and far in between, and most end up kicked out to join the Outcasts for one too many offenses. The Torken are one of the oldest tribes in the Wilderness - situated along the slope of a rocky mountain range, they have learned to persevere through difficult times, famine, war, and all sorts of hardships. They're distrusting of outsiders, but if you manage to impress the Torken and prove your own strength, you've generally earned yourself a staunch ally who will defend you to the death.
Strangely enough, they are nearly devoid of magic - and cling on to the remaining magic they have left. The Torken used to be quite powerful - a type of sentient, magical construct known as runestones are popular among the Wilderling tribes, serving as guardians against the wilderness - and each other. Depending on the carvings imbuing each one with magic, they must lie dormant for up to several thousand years - only a handful remain dormant, and each time one reawakens draws no small amount of celebration among the Torken. A small group of druidic shamans form the Torken Council. They are responsible for nearly all of the decisions governing Torken society. Matters of war, however, are handled by the floating title known as the Torken Champion. Anyone may challenge the current Champion, resulting in an honorable, fair, duel. Much of the Torken society revolves around the arena. Mercenaries, adventurers, Torken young, and even beings of all kind flock to test their mettle, while many more come to watch the show. The arena runs constantly; the time is rare when the stands aren't loud with cheers as a battle rages on below.
13
With the morning already on the rise, the party gathers their equipment, packs their bedrolls, and prepares for travel. In various states of mind upon reflection of the previous evening's events, the party eventually continues their trail through the Torken woods.
The travel remains, perhaps thankfully, uneventful beyond the occasional chirp of birds in the woods and vague movement of woodland beings among the oaken woods. If one thing can be commended about the Wilderness, it is the beauty of the surrounding nature. With autumn on the rise, the trees have already started to filter into shades of orange and brown. The dirt path continues to wind, picking up in slope as the mountain ridge blocking this sectioned area of the Wilderness from the rest of the continent comes into view. This is the home of the Torken.
Hours pass without issue as the faint sight of a walled city comes into view. Green-and-black flags hoist proudly in the air of the slanted city, sprawling over the side of a mountain and spilling into the woods beyond. Wooden pikes jut from the sides of the Torken, resembling upheld spears - it becomes clear there are no less than a dozen such structures, each one indicating how much the Torken have grown over the centuries. The buildings are mainly timber and stone, containing a hint of manufactured, rugged, dwarven tones in its architecture. Smoke from hearths belch into the air. The elevation has notably increased by the time you wander towards the gates, and with the combined hike and thinning of the air, you find yourselves more exhausted than you originally imagined this journey would make you.
Looming majestically overhead is the gateway into the Torken tribe. The wooden wall stands nearly twenty feet in height. Around a dozen guards stand in strict formation around the exterior of the gates - all tall, lean, muscled warriors, wielding wooden spears in one hand and shields in the other. Some are humans - ranges in skin color indicate most, if not all, contain various amounts of orcish blood in their veins. The rest are dwarves. All have varying degrees of tattoos and paint covering their faces and exposed skin - the traditional whites, blacks, and vibrant greens of the Torken warriors sends a clear message of pride in their heritage.
Upon the party approaching within a few paces of the gates, one guard holds up a fist and speaks. "Halt. For what purpose are you here today?"
14
The trek through the wilderness seems to drag for hours and hours - Alabaster and Malon feel their muscles ache and stomachs rumble with hunger, but Gaz and his troop presses on. It seems clear they are accustomed to lengthy treks through the woods. And given the certainty with which the scouts move ahead, it seems they know the woods by heart.
Asha flashes the barest hint of a smile. "You're welcome for the aid. I do what I can. I offered to work as a medic for the soldiers of the Imperium long ago. I am a doctor, and I cannot in good conscience support the Imperials with the knowledge of how their prisons are run. I'm glad I escaped, too - those who attempt to are usually found and executed. Gaz was kind enough to let me into his group."
Gaz almost seems to resemble a wolf in the way he rushes through the woods. The elf has clearly allowed the primal side of his anger take control over his senses. He throws a wolfish grin in Alabaster's direction. "That's what I'm here for. I'm not afraid of dying - most of the Outcasts aren't, we're all fighting for ourselves - and I'll be damned if I don't give these Imperials what's been coming to them for years. I'll show you around the Outcasts. Give you a sense of what we've been through. Maybe you'll get a chance to hear our leader speak. By the way - don't look people directly in the eye unless you're sure you can take a punch. It's just the way of the wilds."
The soldier Malon approached flinches away at the sound of his voice, casting a red-eyed glare of frustration, anger, and sorrow towards Malon as he speaks, voice bitter and strained. "Look, does it matter any more? You've won. I'm Kionel." The guard spits on the ground. He seems young - far younger than a soldier should be. "Who in the hells would volunteer for this? Look at us. All the soldiers. Underfed. Miserable. This is our king's solution to the crowd in the capital, I guess. Promise the people too poor to have another choice with the lure of coin, right? They said it'd be fine. We'd sit here, have biscuits and coffee, not even need to pick up our weapons. They lied. We eat every other day, we sleep on the ground, in the rain, in the mud. It's worse than over there. I have a sister, two brothers. Never saw my father. Mother's ill, she's probably dead, though I guess I'll never know." The soldier shakes his head, tears of anger in his eyes. "My ass the government's been taking care of them. They probably left them in the gutter we lived in. I guess it's too late to change anything, now." Kionel's eyes lock on Malon, pulling from his rant as if realizing he was addressed for the first time. "What does it matter to you, Wilderling? You wouldn't know. You think you're in the right, huh? Nobody is. Get that in your head. What're you talking to me for, huh? To laugh at me before I die?"
Iver walks quietly the entire day. He's thinking about the other night, contemplating everything that was said or that happened. However, one thing bothers him above all else. It's how different fighting on the surface is from fighting in that arena. Careful opponents, magic, long fights... all so strange. He takes out his right rapier and slashes the air with it. Slow, weak. When foes no longer drop with one surprise attack, he'll have to work harder to make both his blades useful. He slides the rapier back into its scabbard. That will take some time.
Another thing he's pondering is magic. He thinks about how little he hurt Gaz, compared to how Thea crushed those soldiers in an instant. And not only her. All around him, he's seeing magic used all the time. There, underground, there were barely any magicians. Or, at the very least, not among the "contenders", who were mostly Imperials. Well, it's not like he's going to become a mage all of a sudden. Besides, a sword still felt more reassuring, in the end. Yet, if he "observes" the others as they make their magic happen, aware of any tiny movement they make, perhaps he'll be able to imitate them to create similar effects? Maybe not the same, but something to aid him in his own way of fighting?
As they stand there, in front of the Torken gateway, he figures that keeping a low profile, at least for the moment, would be a good idea. Though he's still pondering making an announcement in the arena to find that Aster, that's most likely the last resort option. "You said you were Torken, right?" He asks Nico. "Could you speak to them? I bet they'll trust you more than they will any other of us."
Varielky
Erbert nods and says in a low voice to Nico, "That's a good idea, Nico. We will follow your lead here." Erbert sends Hoppy flying higher and connects with his vision, looking over the walls and into the Torken area, just trying to get a picture of the layout and how many are in the area.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Alabaster listens and nods solemnly. "Yeah, that's what they do." He says. He thumbs over his bottom lip in thought, a curl of hair falls in front of his eyes. "Most people would've stayed, even if it were against what they believe in - not everyone has the courage to stand up and rebel against it. But if no one dares to make a change, it'll never get better."
Alabaster laughs, heartily. "Thanks for the heads up." It puts him more at ease, in fact. Moving through the woods, he feels at home. This, the solidarity, the unbending spirits, is what he is used to. This is what he knows. And he'd be damned to let the Imperium to take this away from them.
Nico steps up to speak to the guard. "These outsiders have some matter that they wish to see Aster for."
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
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Malon listens to the soldier, a deep sadness washing over him. Despite his own exhaustion at the forced march and the fact he knows he has his responsibility in this, he manages to hold the look of the man.
"Nice to meet you, Kionel, I am Malon." He says without the least irony.
"I am asking because ... I guess I hoped it was otherwise, but ... I expected that."
He sighs heavily, thoughtful for a moment.
"I am not here to make fun of you. In fact, if things had been a little different ... I could very well have been in your shoes, or boots right now. I know a bit of the problems you're talking about. Look, my words don't carry much among those people, but I'll do my best so they hear your side of the story. Did they even feed you and the other prisoners ?"
Malon : Kalashtar Ranger
Goramar : Half-Orc Ranger