“Sounds like some of you need some ale before we get to Borca.“ Calls the man with the top hat. “Isolde, let Ol’ Tindal treat these folks to some of the finest ale this side of the Mists should they accept.”
Isolde sighs, smiles, and obliges.
“Alright! Who wants some ale?” Asks the man, now identified as Tindal, before opening a cask in the back of the carriage.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't drink. Save some for yourself and your friends."
(OOC, wouldn't anyone of your characters be confused about Gustav's Form of Dread? He did use it during the encounter without warning anyone that he could do it)
(OOC, wouldn't anyone of your characters be confused about Gustav's Form of Dread? He did use it during the encounter without warning anyone that he could do it)
“Well I’ll be damned, gentlemen and beautiful lady… are you guys all Priests or something?” He chuckles… then looks to the actual Cleric and grins. “No offense.”
“You are welcome, and thank you, I hope things are better as well.” Isolde smiles at Gustav, then… she frowns. “Honestly… I’m not sure how the Mists work exactly… no one really is - but I do know that even though my Carnival can go to lands beyond it, we always get drawn back in. There doesn’t seem to be a true escape from it.”
Nos Heliwr looks at Isolde as she talks, "e bes meanin' t' say thet none knows aught o' th' why o' th' mists but, surely, they bes sumpin' ye bes knowin' 'bout this blasted place, da?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
"I'm no priest of any sort. I'm more the type that some of the crazier ones try to burn alive." Amira says as she moves to take a small amount of the offered ale, not wanting to much as she had already drank before parting ways with Flimira.
“Sounds like some of you need some ale before we get to Borca.“ Calls the man with the top hat. “Isolde, let Ol’ Tindal treat these folks to some of the finest ale this side of the Mists should they accept.”
Isolde sighs, smiles, and obliges.
“Alright! Who wants some ale?” Asks the man, now identified as Tindal, before opening a cask in the back of the carriage.
"Ha! Nae need t' bes askin' fer a second invoite fer tha' offer!" Nos Heliwr 'glides' over to the back of the carrage, "Oi la! Th' onlt thing bes me lack o' a flagon t' bes quaffin', ye does perchane 'ave one t' lend me?" Nos Heliwr brightens up considerably from the shock of almost dying, it not being a thing he had ever experienced before, though his eye still contain a deep sense of horror that could be readily discerned by any who know what they were looking at.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Ale is passed around freely to whomever might want it, and Tindal smiles to the group. “There you go, my friends. There will be plenty more in Borca, and it’s way better than this Darkon brew.”
Isolde looks into the Mists and grins. “Everybody get ready, our stop is coming up.”
It does indeed, as the Mists part ways once more, the wheels of your carriage not moving silently along wisps of grey but rolling along cobblestone streets and past buildings. Men, women, in children stare at the array of carriages in awe, wonder, and joy as you pass by. The streets of this town look very clean and refined, with buildings seeming to be kept in the same pristine condition despite being wooden or brick in the nature of their constructive materials.
“Welcome to Borca! We’re going to the fields to set things up. You lot coming with us or should we drop you off at the tavern?” Isolde asks.
“Well I’ll be damned, gentlemen and beautiful lady… are you guys all Priests or something?” He chuckles… then looks to the actual Cleric and grins. “No offense.”
"None taken!"- Zerxes smiles and signs the same with his hand. He also refuses the ale but drinks some water from his bag along with the others. As they arrive to Borca, he answers Isolde's question: "I think we should go to the fields with you. I assume we can meet a lot of locals when you open the gates for the public. And of course we can help you set up the tents."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Player: Snikkit Sparks - Gnome Artificier (Alchemist) 3 | Stranger Things: Hunt for the Thessalhydra Theron Pyllae - Variant Human Fighter 1 | Shell Island Riwakan Thioscale - Dragonborn Fighter (Battle Master) 5 | Adventures in the Sands: Lost Tomb of Meneptah (Group 2) DM: Derailed Dreams - Panic on the Zakhara Express
"The tavern does sound like a nice place to go but I agree that for now we shall stick with you. It brings up some very nostalgic feelings for me after all." Amira says as she seems to be less suspicious now, some excitement clearly on her face as she prepares to help them get set up.
The Carnival caravan keeps moving through the cobblestone streets, past several buildings and well dressed people as the suns rays are cast down upon you, warming your skin. Within a few moments, you leave the city and immediately see a forested area to your right, overlooked by rocky cliffsides and mountainous rock faces. The fields you are going to are not far off, as before you are several grassy sections beside the formerly cobblestone now dirt road you travel on as you quickly disembark by caravan from city to nature. The natural world within Borca are pleasant, as birds singing and rustling of leaves and twigs snapping indicate a pleasant amount of wildlife - and you have plenty of time to take it in as soon the Carnival caravan makes its stop. The troupe begins to get up, and a man speaks an incantation as all of the tents are suddenly set up and put in their places. Troupers gather their belongings with haste, heading to their respective tents. Signs and fliers are placed around the encampment, as are various carnival games and places for refreshment. Isolde smiles at her troupers, then looks to you lot. “The people will be coming any moment now. So we’ve got to get set up fast.” She is the last to get up, looking over her troupe and carnival with a proud look on her face. She grabs her sword and puts it in a sheathe at her side. “If you wish to help set up or kill time with games and drinks, feel free.”
Zerxes looks in disappointment as a man from the troupe sets up all tents with a few magic words. "Well, so much for our help in setting up the camp. In that case if you don't mind, I step aside for a prayer. The Sun is in a perfect position for it and I have a lot to talk about with Amaunator. And I have a lot to ask..."- he starts walking to find a spot which is a bit further from the cheerful sounds of the camp, but after the first few steps he turns back - "True, Nos, if you need my services later, just let me know!" - then, he continues his walk.
After finding a spot he light up an incense and start his meditation to seek guidance from his god.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Player: Snikkit Sparks - Gnome Artificier (Alchemist) 3 | Stranger Things: Hunt for the Thessalhydra Theron Pyllae - Variant Human Fighter 1 | Shell Island Riwakan Thioscale - Dragonborn Fighter (Battle Master) 5 | Adventures in the Sands: Lost Tomb of Meneptah (Group 2) DM: Derailed Dreams - Panic on the Zakhara Express
The Carnival caravan keeps moving through the cobblestone streets, past several buildings and well dressed people as the suns rays are cast down upon you, warming your skin. Within a few moments, you leave the city and immediately see a forested area to your right, overlooked by rocky cliffsides and mountainous rock faces. The fields you are going to are not far off, as before you are several grassy sections beside the formerly cobblestone now dirt road you travel on as you quickly disembark by caravan from city to nature. The natural world within Borca are pleasant, as birds singing and rustling of leaves and twigs snapping indicate a pleasant amount of wildlife - and you have plenty of time to take it in as soon the Carnival caravan makes its stop. The troupe begins to get up, and a man speaks an incantation as all of the tents are suddenly set up and put in their places. Troupers gather their belongings with haste, heading to their respective tents. Signs and fliers are placed around the encampment, as are various carnival games and places for refreshment. Isolde smiles at her troupers, then looks to you lot. “The people will be coming any moment now. So we’ve got to get set up fast.” She is the last to get up, looking over her troupe and carnival with a proud look on her face. She grabs her sword and puts it in a sheathe at her side. “If you wish to help set up or kill time with games and drinks, feel free.”
I-I'll wait here for a bit... (He ponders to himself, trying to process everything! Why did he suddenly get dragged into the mists? Who was that who attacked them? Who were these people that were dragged with him? Did any of them notice his Undead form during the battle? Will the important figure of his past be found down here? So many more questions are also racing in his mind!)
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"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't drink. Save some for yourself and your friends."
“Ohhh, come on… live a little, young man!”
"I... oh... um... I have to refuse, but thank you!"
(OOC, wouldn't anyone of your characters be confused about Gustav's Form of Dread? He did use it during the encounter without warning anyone that he could do it)
(True was unconscious by that time)
"I don't drink fermented drinks either."
“Well I’ll be damned, gentlemen and beautiful lady… are you guys all Priests or something?” He chuckles… then looks to the actual Cleric and grins. “No offense.”
"Of a sort, we call ourselves Monks where I'm from." True says, preening his claws a bit
Nos Heliwr looks at Isolde as she talks, "e bes meanin' t' say thet none knows aught o' th' why o' th' mists but, surely, they bes sumpin' ye bes knowin' 'bout this blasted place, da?"
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
"I'm no priest of any sort. I'm more the type that some of the crazier ones try to burn alive." Amira says as she moves to take a small amount of the offered ale, not wanting to much as she had already drank before parting ways with Flimira.
"Ha! Nae need t' bes askin' fer a second invoite fer tha' offer!" Nos Heliwr 'glides' over to the back of the carrage, "Oi la! Th' onlt thing bes me lack o' a flagon t' bes quaffin', ye does perchane 'ave one t' lend me?" Nos Heliwr brightens up considerably from the shock of almost dying, it not being a thing he had ever experienced before, though his eye still contain a deep sense of horror that could be readily discerned by any who know what they were looking at.
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Ale is passed around freely to whomever might want it, and Tindal smiles to the group. “There you go, my friends. There will be plenty more in Borca, and it’s way better than this Darkon brew.”
Isolde looks into the Mists and grins. “Everybody get ready, our stop is coming up.”
It does indeed, as the Mists part ways once more, the wheels of your carriage not moving silently along wisps of grey but rolling along cobblestone streets and past buildings. Men, women, in children stare at the array of carriages in awe, wonder, and joy as you pass by. The streets of this town look very clean and refined, with buildings seeming to be kept in the same pristine condition despite being wooden or brick in the nature of their constructive materials.
“Welcome to Borca! We’re going to the fields to set things up. You lot coming with us or should we drop you off at the tavern?” Isolde asks.
"None taken!" - Zerxes smiles and signs the same with his hand. He also refuses the ale but drinks some water from his bag along with the others. As they arrive to Borca, he answers Isolde's question: "I think we should go to the fields with you. I assume we can meet a lot of locals when you open the gates for the public. And of course we can help you set up the tents."
Player:
Snikkit Sparks - Gnome Artificier (Alchemist) 3 | Stranger Things: Hunt for the Thessalhydra
Theron Pyllae - Variant Human Fighter 1 | Shell Island
Riwakan Thioscale - Dragonborn Fighter (Battle Master) 5 | Adventures in the Sands: Lost Tomb of Meneptah (Group 2)
DM:
Derailed Dreams - Panic on the Zakhara Express
"The tavern does sound like a nice place to go but I agree that for now we shall stick with you. It brings up some very nostalgic feelings for me after all." Amira says as she seems to be less suspicious now, some excitement clearly on her face as she prepares to help them get set up.
True starts to flex and stretch to get the life back in his muscles "To the fields then"
He's still not sure what to think, but there is meditation in manual labor
One of the troupers whistles as True flexes.
The Carnival caravan keeps moving through the cobblestone streets, past several buildings and well dressed people as the suns rays are cast down upon you, warming your skin. Within a few moments, you leave the city and immediately see a forested area to your right, overlooked by rocky cliffsides and mountainous rock faces. The fields you are going to are not far off, as before you are several grassy sections beside the formerly cobblestone now dirt road you travel on as you quickly disembark by caravan from city to nature. The natural world within Borca are pleasant, as birds singing and rustling of leaves and twigs snapping indicate a pleasant amount of wildlife - and you have plenty of time to take it in as soon the Carnival caravan makes its stop. The troupe begins to get up, and a man speaks an incantation as all of the tents are suddenly set up and put in their places. Troupers gather their belongings with haste, heading to their respective tents. Signs and fliers are placed around the encampment, as are various carnival games and places for refreshment. Isolde smiles at her troupers, then looks to you lot. “The people will be coming any moment now. So we’ve got to get set up fast.” She is the last to get up, looking over her troupe and carnival with a proud look on her face. She grabs her sword and puts it in a sheathe at her side. “If you wish to help set up or kill time with games and drinks, feel free.”
True is going to help with setup as much as possible
Zerxes looks in disappointment as a man from the troupe sets up all tents with a few magic words.
"Well, so much for our help in setting up the camp. In that case if you don't mind, I step aside for a prayer. The Sun is in a perfect position for it and I have a lot to talk about with Amaunator. And I have a lot to ask..." - he starts walking to find a spot which is a bit further from the cheerful sounds of the camp, but after the first few steps he turns back - "True, Nos, if you need my services later, just let me know!" - then, he continues his walk.
After finding a spot he light up an incense and start his meditation to seek guidance from his god.
Player:
Snikkit Sparks - Gnome Artificier (Alchemist) 3 | Stranger Things: Hunt for the Thessalhydra
Theron Pyllae - Variant Human Fighter 1 | Shell Island
Riwakan Thioscale - Dragonborn Fighter (Battle Master) 5 | Adventures in the Sands: Lost Tomb of Meneptah (Group 2)
DM:
Derailed Dreams - Panic on the Zakhara Express
(The tents were set up, nothing else)
I-I'll wait here for a bit... (He ponders to himself, trying to process everything! Why did he suddenly get dragged into the mists? Who was that who attacked them? Who were these people that were dragged with him? Did any of them notice his Undead form during the battle? Will the important figure of his past be found down here? So many more questions are also racing in his mind!)