DM: Brother Bombur, please give me a Perception Check. 

[22 perception]

“All that matters is that I carry it.” He says to Randa. “But I admit I would like at least a hand in divining it. An old warrior’s pride, you see. Do you have any notions about such a poem?”

Kor grins at Morgan. “Very technical. You must know your haiku, as you have perfectly arranged the 17 syllables in the 5-7-5 pattern. Well done. But, if I may offer a critique, a true haiku must have layers of meaning. The very best must answer what, where, and when. Yours has two whats, a when, but no where. This is not technically incorrect, but it lacks that exceptional level of sophistication I am seeking. The when doesn’t have to be explicit; it may simply be imagery that suggests a time, such as a season. For example, a frog in the poem might indicate summer, while snow winter.

“The original haiku were called renga, which were collaborative and included the now more commonly used haiku in the 5-7-5 tercet, then were preceded or followed by a 7-7, 14 syllable couplet. The older style has fallen out of favor, as there is a beauty in the simplicity of the tercet alone and it is one you can do without collaboration, but don’t feel you must limit yourself to it. The old style has beauty too."

Kor shifts in his seat and his face grows grim.

"Too many fallen.

A tired arm, autumn breeze.

Barbed Fields, tasty tea."

He grins again holding up the teacup Dermot handed him. "Not all death poems need be without humor, eh?" He chuckles and reaches out to pinch Dermot playfully. Dermot grins and bears it, but he tenses up because, you know, personal space. 

Brother Bombur does not notice anything lurking in the night, though he is most attentive and is certain he would see if there was anything to worry about. 

"What, where, and when. I didn’t know that... I was just going by ear."
Morgan smiles and jots down a few notes.

"I’ve got to work on it. I was trying to evoke the emotion of a survivor: in this land, only survivors grow old enough to see the autumn. And I liked the idea that there’s so much blood on his swords he can’t even use them anymore. They’re stuck." 
He pauses, thinking.

"I just… need to work on the ‘where,’ though… It shouldn't be hard..." and he starts mumbling and scribbling.

" My peoples poetry is exemplified by the 'pantun', pairing sampiran and isi into a complementary whole.", Jacaranda ventured.

" I do not know if it would suit but I have some favourites.....within my own language there are deeper meanings given by words and phrases that rhyme, support and alter those above and below...the translations will be lesser works by necessity."

" Would you still hear them?"

"Major," shouted the Colonel! "This cannot be stood!

Send up the best of Criten Wood!

Up the hill forged the Squad, then over the crest to face

The Challenger with no disgrace.

Soon the sounds of battle heard just from over the hump

then THUMP THUMP THUMP Thump Thump thump!

The heads of the squad came rolling down the hill.

"I'm Staghelm of the Meadow," came the voice, "and I challenge you still!

DM: Going to assume names were exchanged when Kor gave his name on the next post so I don’t have to make sure I don’t accidentally use a name and mislead with suspicion. Anyone who wishes to have not shared your names, indicate so in your next post OOC.

Kor smiles at Morgan. “It was a fine effort, make no mistake. Very clever even. I liked your use of autumn and incorporated it into my own attempt, as I am in my autumn years. Remember, the more layers you can add using symbolism and words with multiple meanings, the more elegant the haiku. And don’t forget, what, where, when.”

Kor nods appreciatively at Randa’s words. “Haiku is not the only form of poetry. I may not be familiar with your form, but perhaps my problem in my search for perfection is that I have only searched in what I know. Please.” He waves his hand at her, inviting her to share.

Kor turns Ylis' words over in his mind, considering what is on the surface and what may be hidden beneath.

DM: Ylis, please give me a Performance Check to see how Kor judges your poem. Randa, do the same when you offer one.

OOC: This will be good either way....

Ylis Performance check  8

Jacaranda cast her mind back to some of her peoples favourites expressing them in both her own dialect and then in the common tongue knowing they lost a lot of depth in translation...

" Jikalau tidak kerana bintang.

Masakan bulan terbit tinggi?

Jikalau tidak kerana abang,

Masakan datang adik ke mari?

If not because of stars above.

Why does the moon rise up so high?

If not because of you, my love,

Why should I ever venture nigh?

or perhaps

Asam kandis asam gelugur

Ketiga dengan asam rembunia.

Nyawa menangis di pintu kubur

Hendak pulang di dalam dunia.

Sour mangosteen and gourd

Sour mango makes a third.

The soul is crying in the tomb.

So eager to come back on earth.

Nasi basi atas para

Nasi masak dalam perahu.

Pucat kasih badan sengsara

Hidup segan mati tak mahu.

Rice on a rack, no longer fresh,

Cooked aboard and left to lie.

Paleness of passion, aching flesh,

Loath to live, averse to die. "

Performance- 8

DM: Teeth, Ylis, and Damian all rolled die below 10 for this one Encounter. The dice gods have spoken. Combat it is. :p

Brother Bombur cleared his throat and spoke.

There once was a gnome of Allhammer’s command,

Who built a loud fire-spitter fresh out of his hand.

In Hupperdook’s foundry late,

Near the smokestacks past eight,

He learned where not to stash powder while testing firsthand.

Performance 7

As Kor gets more aggressive or draws weapons or whatever the case may be, Ylis says, "Wait a minute hold on. You can't get violent with us because you don't like our verse. You sat by our fire, you drank our tea, fighting is a violation of the rules of hospitality. You sure you want that stain on your honor?"

Kor quietly listens to Ylis, Randa, and Brother Bombur offer their poems. He considers each one carefully, thinking deeply for a few moments after each one.

“Randa, your native tongue is beautiful. I appreciate your translations because as a non-native speaker of your language, I would not be able to appreciate more than the musical sounds. I fear that while I can appreciate the words, the fact that I do not understand the language as a native means that some of the deeper meanings are lost upon me. It is nevertheless, a beautiful work. Thank you for sharing. I will think on it for some time, both the translation, and the native words.”

He chuckles as Ylis tries to smother the flames of a fight. “Little Miss, I am no roadside raider. It would be most dishonorable to insult those who have shared tea and poetry with me to draw steel. Calm yourself, you have nothing to fear from me, except perhaps critique of your poems.” He gives a wry smile. “Yours was… delightfully unique. I believe it is the perfect poem for the ears and heart of someone in this world, surely.”

Kor’s ears perk with Brother Bombur’s poem. “Ah! Is this your god? I am familiar with the All-Hammer. Moradin. A noteworthy number of followers dwell in Uthodurn. I have been there twice in my life. It pleases me to hear words of devotion in this circle’s poetry. I, too, seek to honor my god one last time with my perfect poem.

“You all have been so kind and shared much about yourselves through your poetry. Each offering gives insight into your own soul. I feel that perhaps I might share with you some of myself as thanks. I come from a warrior people, as you may have already concluded. Each of us, on our 16th year, forges our own weapon, whatever it may be, and we carry it all our lives.” Kor adjusts the polished black, guardless katana to indicate that it is what he speaks of.

“Each one of us invests part of ourselves into the process and creates a little god. We curse ourselves, chain ourselves to our god, in devotion to a cause. As each god is different, so too is each curse. My cause was to become a great warrior, my curse is that whenever this blade is drawn, someone must die. I am given power enough to make it so. Early in life, it was easy to draw this sword. As time went on, my hand was more reluctant to draw the sword. The warrior in me began to question his cause, that maybe I have ended lives that did not need to end. That maybe I lacked the maturity at that age to determine a cause to follow my entire life. My god does not judge the people it kills. A spit insult was measured the same as a brandished dagger.

"I traveled the world seeking answers and I came upon something that I believe is not known to many in this world. A dragon. That alone is rare enough, but this one is special. Have you heard of the Gilded Porcelain Dragon?”

Bombur adjusts his goggles and looks at the sword [cast identify]. Then he ponders whether he’s heard of this dragon. [histor check 23]

DM: The Identify spell requires that you touch the object for a minute. Do you have a feature that extends range of a spell?

Quote from Erik_Soong >>

Kor quietly listens to Ylis, Randa, and Brother Bombur offer their poems. He considers each one carefully, thinking deeply for a few moments after each one.

“Randa, your native tongue is beautiful. I appreciate your translations because as a non-native speaker of your language, I would not be able to appreciate more than the musical sounds. I fear that while I can appreciate the words, the fact that I do not understand the language as a native means that some of the deeper meanings are lost upon me. It is nevertheless, a beautiful work. Thank you for sharing. I will think on it for some time, both the translation, and the native words.”

He chuckles as Ylis tries to smother the flames of a fight. “Little Miss, I am no roadside raider. It would be most dishonorable to insult those who have shared tea and poetry with me to draw steel. Calm yourself, you have nothing to fear from me, except perhaps critique of your poems.” He gives a wry smile. “Yours was… delightfully unique. I believe it is the perfect poem for the ears and heart of someone in this world, surely.”

Kor’s ears perk with Brother Bombur’s poem. “Ah! Is this your god? I am familiar with the All-Hammer. Moradin. A noteworthy number of followers dwell in Uthodurn. I have been there twice in my life. It pleases me to hear words of devotion in this circle’s poetry. I, too, seek to honor my god one last time with my perfect poem.

“You all have been so kind and shared much about yourselves through your poetry. Each offering gives insight into your own soul. I feel that perhaps I might share with you some of myself as thanks. I come from a warrior people, as you may have already concluded. Each of us, on our 16th year, forges our own weapon, whatever it may be, and we carry it all our lives.” Kor adjusts the polished black, guardless katana to indicate that it is what he speaks of.

“Each one of us invests part of ourselves into the process and creates a little god. We curse ourselves, chain ourselves to our god, in devotion to a cause. As each god is different, so too is each curse. My cause was to become a great warrior, my curse is that whenever this blade is drawn, someone must die. I am given power enough to make it so. Early in life, it was easy to draw this sword. As time went on, my hand was more reluctant to draw the sword. The warrior in me began to question his cause, that maybe I have ended lives that did not need to end. That maybe I lacked the maturity at that age to determine a cause to follow my entire life. My god does not judge the people it kills. A spit insult was measured the same as a brandished dagger.

"I traveled the world seeking answers and I came upon something that I believe is not known to many in this world. A dragon. That alone is rare enough, but this one is special. Have you heard of the Gilded Porcelain Dragon?”

 Frekor ponders on Kor's thoughts about the poem examples for a moment before speaking.

-There's something that I think is important and we forgot to ask about the poem you want to make. To who is directed towards? That would narrow down your options a lot. If it's for you only, then I'm afraid that you'll never find the perfect match. But you can be satisfied with the general idea and themes that it tells, and that should be enough.-

He then tries to remember if he ever heard anything about this "Gilded Porcelain Dragon".

(History check: 14)

Quote from Erik_Soong >>

DM: The Identify spell requires that you touch the object for a minute. Do you have a feature that extends range of a spell?

I was using my goggles of object reading. I guess I assumed since they were visual it worked by looking at something. 

DM: I just read over the Goggles of Object Reading. When casting through a magic item, as you are, you do not have to perform any components, V, S, or M. However, it does not change the Range of the spell, which is Touch. I can definitely see how you thought that though, so I will allow you to decide if you want to use the goggles still, or do something else.

Nah just the history check

DM: Brother Bombur, being of Hupperdook, knows of the Gilded Porcelain Dragon. Her name is Rồng and rumor has it that she has helped the three most skilled master artisans there with their crafts. Only the three most skilled. She takes the form of an elf when among people. An elf of gold hair and eyes, and of porcelain skin. She is an ancient dragon of baffling power and legends in Hupperdook are that her parentage is both Gold and either Crystal or White dragons. No one is quite sure. Most people in Hupperdook don’t even believe she is real. Those that do believe know her as a maker of things, of Good nature, and a collaborator of the gods whose portfolios include creation, civilization, and knowledge, being able to cross the Divine Gate at will... provided that the god whose domain she wishes to visit permits it.

DM: Frekor, you haven’t the foggiest clue what a gilded porcelain dragon is, but it sure sounds pretty.

Kor cocks his head at an angle to consider Frekor’s question. “I suppose… I am writing it to myself. Something to think about while in the afterlife, whatever that might look like.” He looks back to the group to see if they have heard of the dragon.