Jex runs up the mountainside after the escaping goblins. His breath begins to labour with the strain of leaping up and down the steep slopes, even for the athletic assassin this was a strain. He sees one of Thurston's huge arrows whistle past and embed itself in the rocks ahead at the feet of the goblin. A bolt of magical energy flies dangerously close to his own ear. Whether it was Vark or Hurrig he couldn't be sure. Maybe Seid had come to kill him when he was separated from the group, it wouldn't be a surprise. Briefly catching the nimble goblin he draws his scimitar. The goblin is prepared though and surprisingly dodges to the side, deflecting the blow with his shield as he continues to run away.
Jex finds himself in a narrow pass between sheer rock walls on either side. As he dashes around the corner he comes face to face with the goblin once more.
Coming up over the hill, the goblin seems somehow surprised to see Jex still following, it opens its mouth wide in surprise to scream as Jex brings the scimitar sweeping across at its face. He was expecting it to duck and follow up with a sweep at its legs, but it just stands in horror, fixated on the blade. It's eyes never leaving as it approaches, until its left eye will never fix on anything again. Jex strikes it from its face in a clean swing of goo and blood. The goblin collapses to its knees, screaming and begging for its life.
"Hold still, if you want to live you need to pledge your life to me!" Jex bends down, ready to end the goblins knife with his wrist blade with a slight wrong twitch, but ripping some cloth from the goblin's tunic to stem the wound.
The goblin desperately scrambles to force the rag to the empty socket. Tears stream down his face from his one good eye and snot bubbles from his nose as he moans. Jex tries to help, but only gets in the way. I'm sure I saw someone do this once. Saving someone's life is really the opposite of anything Jex is good at though and the goblin's whimpers get softer as he passes out. Jex tries again, pressing the rag further into his empty eye socket. "Damnit Nat!" Unsurprisingly though, forcing a dirty rag into a collapsed eyesocket does not stabilise the creature. It just gets blood everywhere and caves in the skull of what is now a corpse even further.
"Well his luck had to end somewhere. And it ended with me." Jex mumbles to himself as he wipes down the scimitar. He looks along the ridge for any sign of the final escapee. Seeing nothing he slinks back to the others, leaving Nat propped up on the mountain, half hanging in a tree, as a warning to others.
"Th-thank you Bründir." Vark says as the dwarf begins tending to his wounds. The sorcerer is clearly frustrated, the old feelings of inadequacy swell up as he replays every missed attack he had just made in his head, but he swallows the negative feelings and resolves to improve.
After seeing his arrow going wild and Jex running after the goblin Thurston turns to Val again.
”Listen... I am not sure what I saw before, but it had your eyes and I could saw the resemblance. I will not press it further but if you want to talk...” he pats her in the shoulder.
He then comes back down the slope and heads toward the wagon. He kneels in front of the young sorcerer.
“That was amazing Vark!” He says “ I see that you had grown in power. Those rats didn’t have a chance against you!” He laughs “ now.. allow Thor to tend your wounds...” he approaches his hand and Vark can feel the warmth and some itching from little sparks, coming from it closing his wounds.
In the aftermath and cleanup, Brundir pitched in to strip down a goblin corpse of anything valuable or salvageable metal. When the deed was done, he strung the cretin up in a nearby tree and fired a crossbow bolt into its head for a clear warning to any that came through. It was mildly cathartic, the feeling that more of these bastards died today than escaped. Smart money was that they were part of the same army that attacked Sheercleft, so it was overdue karma.
Once all was gathered and reloaded, and the road was shored up enough for Jex's wagon to cross, Brundir took a few minutes to hang off the back of the wagon and talk with Vark, "Y'know, Brynja used to tell me stories, an' after getting these mangy bastards out of Sheercleft, I'm startin' to think they weren't just lil' stories fer a kid at night. One of the ones she used to tell was about a lady named Myschael. Oh, she was a fiery one, an' an elf too. I don' know how true this was, but my ma knew Myschael an' even traveled with'er fer a bit. When they met, Myschael had a terrible temper. Rumor was she was hidin' from two crime lords and one regular one fer settin' fires an' causin' all kinds of problems."
The dwarf pulls out a large skin of Elven mead, always slung by a lanyard under his cloak, takes a large drink and offers it to Vark, "Ye've earned as much from 'ere as ye like. So anyway, Myschael got so hot in th' head so much people called 'er 'Myschael the Tempest', cause wherever she went, there'd be a storm o' shit in 'er wake. When my ma came by 'er, they didn't get along, but found they were going th' same way - so happened it was fer trouble. Story o' what they did's a dif'rent thing, but they got to talkin'. Turns out Myschael was last of 'er people. They all got slaughtered, almost no survivors. It tore Myschael somethin' deep, an' she ne'er let 'erself come back from it. To her, ev'ryone was an enemy waitin' t'stick a blade in 'er side. My ma stuck with 'er fer a while an' th' two got close. Myschael still lived up to 'er name, but she got to where she could walk into town without seein' 'er face slapped on walls with a bounty. Hang in there, ye've got a lot t'go, but yer on the way."
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Vark smiles as the divine lightning, different yet familiar to his own, works across his wounds. "Well... I think they actually got several chances... but thank you, Thurston. I- I look forward to getting more accustomed to these new powers."
Vark sits out of most of the work done to repair the road, instead resting from the battle. He greets Bründir as the dwarf takes a seat near him and gratefully gulps down some of the mead. He often zoned out during the bard's tales, not for disinterest but more so because he'd fixate on one part of the story and get lost in his own thoughts. But as this one is clearly directed at the sorcerer he makes extra effort to pay attention. "I hope... I hope p-people don't think I'm that... volatile. I guess I certainly can be, at times." He takes another swig and sits with his thoughts for a moment, before handing the skin back to Bründir. "Before... my magic it- it felt colder. More like... fear. I was afraid when I found Aury being attacked. I was afraid when my mother told me to flee from my village. I was afraid of being alone.... But now since this pact it's hot, fiery, like Myschael it- it's anger. It's not Matthew's anger though, at least I don't think so. He never really seemed particularly... angry. I don't know where it comes from." His eyes drop down to his feet; the heels kick at dust beneath the wagon while he ponders this conundrum.
Jex watches as Thurston heals Vark and rests himself after taking some heavy blows in combat. His mind immediately begins working on ways to be involved, but he holds on the temptation for the moment. Watching instead as the dwarves shore up the path. He keeps watch as they work, glad he isn't really capable of doing the heavy lifting, it looks exhausting.
When the work is done he climbs up on the wagon with Thurston and Vark. Unable to contain himself any longer. "I know, Vark you don't want to travel with me here. But you really should rest. Thurston, you look tired too. It wouldn't hurt for us to be more familiar again, mend some bridges. Just like the road there, you see. Sometimes even when things look good again on the surface, they are still eroded beneath. And you have to know, Vark, we have your back still. Like with that goblin in the woods you know? We don't want you to get hurt." He is babbling a little, but has a cheerful grin on his face, watching out over the road as they move ahead. "Right now, I think you really need to refresh your Gi. Have your heard of that? I spent some time a while ago with some monks. Well really I was there to, erm, doesn't matter. Anyway, while I was there I learned some things. Most of the monks were focused on this thing they called kee, or chee, or something, I don't remember. This one, really wise woman though. She wasn't a monk, but she knew much more than them I think. She was a teacher, of sorts, or something like that. Anywat, she says they were not quite right. Their thing was really two things. So was anything that anybody did. None of these spells, or energy, or powers really have meaning other than these two things. Ti and Gi, always stuck with me. Now Ti is finite, you can spend it, it drains slowly. Some learn to slow that drain, maybe even hope to add little bits to it. But you can use it to top up your Gi. Like a reservoir in a desert and a waterskin. Gi is your own power, you can top it up with Ti, you can become more efficient with it, more powerful at channeling it. You need it for everything. Once your ti is gone though, your time is up. You won't know its coming, but when it does." He shrugs and makes a croaking noise. "Time for the dust. Anyway, it turns out, after she told me about all this, her Ti was empty. One of the monks really didn't like her whole Gi and Ti thing, contradicted his own teachings or something." He twitches his eye, almost regretfully. "Point is, you two need to look after your gi up here a while with me, I don't want your Ti to be drained completely."
Before returning to his work on the road, Hurrig walks over to Vark. "Good eyes Vark, we woulda had a big problem if not for you." Hurrig places a hand on Vark's shoulder and says a prayer, radiant light pours out of Hurrig's hand cascading over Varks shoulder and chest.
Hurrig begins felling trees now that the measurements are done. With the help of Brundir and Thurston he starts to strip the logs of their limbs, saving a few for camp later and tossing them over to Jex to stow on the wagon. Hurrig takes his time to put the logs in place, strong enough to hold the road until they can get a proper team out to fix the road more permanently. When finished, Hurrig joins Brundir and Vark, hearing tales he is unfamiliar with. "Ya know Vark, Moradin's magic feels warm to me too, but it isn't from anger, though Moradin was quite vengeful of the orcs and Gruumsh, it comes from the forge, warmth greater than any forge I've stepped into before. If Matthew never appeared to anger, maybe it is simply the nature of his devilish origin? "
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
"I don' know about all that with gods an' such," Brundir waves a hand casually, "But yer a bit right, Vark. Myschael had a temper 'cause she was still tryin' to figure things out. Ye came runnin' from losin' home an' friends, then ne'er really did anythin' with that. Now ye've got this Matthew fella' bouncin' in yer head. What I'm sayin' is ye need to look forward, don' think about th' past. Think about what ye've got an' where yer goin'."
Thurston's overwhelming form was hard to miss in the wagon, and all the attention for Vark left Brundir uncomfortably aware of a vacuum of courtesy toward the armoured figure, "So tell me, Mister I'm-Fightin'-Armies-Myself, I went to save Hurrig's arse from gettin' overrun. How many did ye kill, or were ye jus' keepin'em busy 'till Val an' Jex showed up?"
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Vark's brow furrows as he tries to discern exactly what point Jex is trying to make with his tale, and by the end he still hasn't quite figured it out. "Uhm... ah... th-thank you Jex. I... I'm not mad at you. I still think you can be insensitive but... you mean well. And... I can be oversensitive, I know. M-maybe we just need to figure out a better way of mixing your Gi and my Ti? That's what you were trying to say right?"
Hurrig's two cents are much more straightforward and Vark nods along. "Yes I... I think that could be it. It could be in-innate to the infernal source of his magic." he shrugs. "I guess Bründir is right though. Gotta look forward."
"Mixing Gi and Ti? I'm not so sure on that one Vark, you've got me there." He grins. "I'm no master on the philosophy, and like I said, the one I knew who was is dead. What I'm trying to say is, this." He pauses, trying to work out what the point was himself. "We don't want to cross Gis. We all need our energy pushing in the same direction, not worried that we're going to be getting each others' gi in the back when its turned you know? We never know how much TIme we have left. Best not spend it getting mad at each other." He whistles. "Deep stuff eh. Maybe a tune for the road?"
The wagon progresses steadily on up along the High Road for the next three hours, until around mid afternoon the weariness of a full day's travel begins to set in. There will be light for another six hours yet, and the travellers must weigh how hard they wish to push themselves and how urgent it is that they reach their destination.
Val nods to Thurston and remains quiet for the moment as the others patch up Vark's injuries and ensure that everyone is healed up enough for travel. As they begin their trek again, Val wanders up to Thurston. "That was... is... my brother, Larkin. He... I do not understand it, but his spirit is a part of me now. I think he was attached to his... our? hammer. And he was released when it awoke? Now I can call him to help me in battle, so he might be a part of me now? Or I call him from the afterlife? I do not understand it, I should speak with the others about it. Maybe they know?"
After another hour of travel, both the dwarves are feeling the exertion of the day to get to them, and the party takes a short rest. Four hours of daylight remain.
Thurston listens to Val and nods. "Well, I cannot say that the rest of them hasn't seen him as I did. A brave man your brother was and surely he loved you if he is willing not to step into Valhalla and stay here to help you. Our ancestors are an important part of who we are, but they shouldn't define who we became. If the Aesir had send your brother to aid you in battle you should feel grateful and honored. " he walks in silence for a little bit " We are a strange lot, aren't we? "he says with a smile.
During the rest.
Thurston, looking at the dwarves hard breathing conferes with Jex and Val
"We should rest. They had been exerting themselves the past days and I think that this nice trek are beign too much for them. We've made a good pace today. Better call it a day and look for a place to pass the night. What do you think? "
Bründir stretches his back, frustrated that his short legs can't keep up with the pace, "We all need horses. Somethin' to pull the wagon's fine, but no sense walkin' when we don ' 'ave to. Also, I don' want anymore nights outside cities if we can. Remember last time?" Bründir realized too late that "last time" was largely to the pain of one individual and tried his best not to look at Val. At best, she took it as a general warning and he didn't want her noticing him remembering the near-fatal wound. Worst case, she took it as a reminder too soon and it was best for the dwarf to sleep in armour.
Best not to take chances, a cold breeze set off the dwarf's nerves and he tried deflecting, "Thurston, if I hear yer sleepin' in less than yer jack, I'm choppin' off th' first thing I see."
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
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Jex runs up the mountainside after the escaping goblins. His breath begins to labour with the strain of leaping up and down the steep slopes, even for the athletic assassin this was a strain. He sees one of Thurston's huge arrows whistle past and embed itself in the rocks ahead at the feet of the goblin. A bolt of magical energy flies dangerously close to his own ear. Whether it was Vark or Hurrig he couldn't be sure. Maybe Seid had come to kill him when he was separated from the group, it wouldn't be a surprise. Briefly catching the nimble goblin he draws his scimitar. The goblin is prepared though and surprisingly dodges to the side, deflecting the blow with his shield as he continues to run away.
The goblin kicks dirt up into Jex's face, snarling at him as it ducks away and flees around the bend in the mountain path.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
Jex lowers his head and shoulders, running forward, intent on catching back up to his quarry.
Jex finds himself in a narrow pass between sheer rock walls on either side. As he dashes around the corner he comes face to face with the goblin once more.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
Coming up over the hill, the goblin seems somehow surprised to see Jex still following, it opens its mouth wide in surprise to scream as Jex brings the scimitar sweeping across at its face. He was expecting it to duck and follow up with a sweep at its legs, but it just stands in horror, fixated on the blade. It's eyes never leaving as it approaches, until its left eye will never fix on anything again. Jex strikes it from its face in a clean swing of goo and blood. The goblin collapses to its knees, screaming and begging for its life.
"Hold still, if you want to live you need to pledge your life to me!" Jex bends down, ready to end the goblins knife with his wrist blade with a slight wrong twitch, but ripping some cloth from the goblin's tunic to stem the wound.
The goblin desperately scrambles to force the rag to the empty socket. Tears stream down his face from his one good eye and snot bubbles from his nose as he moans. Jex tries to help, but only gets in the way. I'm sure I saw someone do this once. Saving someone's life is really the opposite of anything Jex is good at though and the goblin's whimpers get softer as he passes out. Jex tries again, pressing the rag further into his empty eye socket. "Damnit Nat!" Unsurprisingly though, forcing a dirty rag into a collapsed eyesocket does not stabilise the creature. It just gets blood everywhere and caves in the skull of what is now a corpse even further.
"Well his luck had to end somewhere. And it ended with me." Jex mumbles to himself as he wipes down the scimitar. He looks along the ridge for any sign of the final escapee. Seeing nothing he slinks back to the others, leaving Nat propped up on the mountain, half hanging in a tree, as a warning to others.
"Th-thank you Bründir." Vark says as the dwarf begins tending to his wounds. The sorcerer is clearly frustrated, the old feelings of inadequacy swell up as he replays every missed attack he had just made in his head, but he swallows the negative feelings and resolves to improve.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
After seeing his arrow going wild and Jex running after the goblin Thurston turns to Val again.
”Listen... I am not sure what I saw before, but it had your eyes and I could saw the resemblance. I will not press it further but if you want to talk...” he pats her in the shoulder.
He then comes back down the slope and heads toward the wagon. He kneels in front of the young sorcerer.
“That was amazing Vark!” He says “ I see that you had grown in power. Those rats didn’t have a chance against you!” He laughs “ now.. allow Thor to tend your wounds...” he approaches his hand and Vark can feel the warmth and some itching from little sparks, coming from it closing his wounds.
PbP Character: A few ;)
In the aftermath and cleanup, Brundir pitched in to strip down a goblin corpse of anything valuable or salvageable metal. When the deed was done, he strung the cretin up in a nearby tree and fired a crossbow bolt into its head for a clear warning to any that came through. It was mildly cathartic, the feeling that more of these bastards died today than escaped. Smart money was that they were part of the same army that attacked Sheercleft, so it was overdue karma.
Once all was gathered and reloaded, and the road was shored up enough for Jex's wagon to cross, Brundir took a few minutes to hang off the back of the wagon and talk with Vark, "Y'know, Brynja used to tell me stories, an' after getting these mangy bastards out of Sheercleft, I'm startin' to think they weren't just lil' stories fer a kid at night. One of the ones she used to tell was about a lady named Myschael. Oh, she was a fiery one, an' an elf too. I don' know how true this was, but my ma knew Myschael an' even traveled with'er fer a bit. When they met, Myschael had a terrible temper. Rumor was she was hidin' from two crime lords and one regular one fer settin' fires an' causin' all kinds of problems."
The dwarf pulls out a large skin of Elven mead, always slung by a lanyard under his cloak, takes a large drink and offers it to Vark, "Ye've earned as much from 'ere as ye like. So anyway, Myschael got so hot in th' head so much people called 'er 'Myschael the Tempest', cause wherever she went, there'd be a storm o' shit in 'er wake. When my ma came by 'er, they didn't get along, but found they were going th' same way - so happened it was fer trouble. Story o' what they did's a dif'rent thing, but they got to talkin'. Turns out Myschael was last of 'er people. They all got slaughtered, almost no survivors. It tore Myschael somethin' deep, an' she ne'er let 'erself come back from it. To her, ev'ryone was an enemy waitin' t'stick a blade in 'er side. My ma stuck with 'er fer a while an' th' two got close. Myschael still lived up to 'er name, but she got to where she could walk into town without seein' 'er face slapped on walls with a bounty. Hang in there, ye've got a lot t'go, but yer on the way."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Vark smiles as the divine lightning, different yet familiar to his own, works across his wounds. "Well... I think they actually got several chances... but thank you, Thurston. I- I look forward to getting more accustomed to these new powers."
Vark sits out of most of the work done to repair the road, instead resting from the battle. He greets Bründir as the dwarf takes a seat near him and gratefully gulps down some of the mead. He often zoned out during the bard's tales, not for disinterest but more so because he'd fixate on one part of the story and get lost in his own thoughts. But as this one is clearly directed at the sorcerer he makes extra effort to pay attention. "I hope... I hope p-people don't think I'm that... volatile. I guess I certainly can be, at times." He takes another swig and sits with his thoughts for a moment, before handing the skin back to Bründir. "Before... my magic it- it felt colder. More like... fear. I was afraid when I found Aury being attacked. I was afraid when my mother told me to flee from my village. I was afraid of being alone.... But now since this pact it's hot, fiery, like Myschael it- it's anger. It's not Matthew's anger though, at least I don't think so. He never really seemed particularly... angry. I don't know where it comes from." His eyes drop down to his feet; the heels kick at dust beneath the wagon while he ponders this conundrum.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Jex watches as Thurston heals Vark and rests himself after taking some heavy blows in combat. His mind immediately begins working on ways to be involved, but he holds on the temptation for the moment. Watching instead as the dwarves shore up the path. He keeps watch as they work, glad he isn't really capable of doing the heavy lifting, it looks exhausting.
When the work is done he climbs up on the wagon with Thurston and Vark. Unable to contain himself any longer. "I know, Vark you don't want to travel with me here. But you really should rest. Thurston, you look tired too. It wouldn't hurt for us to be more familiar again, mend some bridges. Just like the road there, you see. Sometimes even when things look good again on the surface, they are still eroded beneath. And you have to know, Vark, we have your back still. Like with that goblin in the woods you know? We don't want you to get hurt." He is babbling a little, but has a cheerful grin on his face, watching out over the road as they move ahead. "Right now, I think you really need to refresh your Gi. Have your heard of that? I spent some time a while ago with some monks. Well really I was there to, erm, doesn't matter. Anyway, while I was there I learned some things. Most of the monks were focused on this thing they called kee, or chee, or something, I don't remember. This one, really wise woman though. She wasn't a monk, but she knew much more than them I think. She was a teacher, of sorts, or something like that. Anywat, she says they were not quite right. Their thing was really two things. So was anything that anybody did. None of these spells, or energy, or powers really have meaning other than these two things. Ti and Gi, always stuck with me. Now Ti is finite, you can spend it, it drains slowly. Some learn to slow that drain, maybe even hope to add little bits to it. But you can use it to top up your Gi. Like a reservoir in a desert and a waterskin. Gi is your own power, you can top it up with Ti, you can become more efficient with it, more powerful at channeling it. You need it for everything. Once your ti is gone though, your time is up. You won't know its coming, but when it does." He shrugs and makes a croaking noise. "Time for the dust. Anyway, it turns out, after she told me about all this, her Ti was empty. One of the monks really didn't like her whole Gi and Ti thing, contradicted his own teachings or something." He twitches his eye, almost regretfully. "Point is, you two need to look after your gi up here a while with me, I don't want your Ti to be drained completely."
Before returning to his work on the road, Hurrig walks over to Vark. "Good eyes Vark, we woulda had a big problem if not for you." Hurrig places a hand on Vark's shoulder and says a prayer, radiant light pours out of Hurrig's hand cascading over Varks shoulder and chest.
Hurrig begins felling trees now that the measurements are done. With the help of Brundir and Thurston he starts to strip the logs of their limbs, saving a few for camp later and tossing them over to Jex to stow on the wagon. Hurrig takes his time to put the logs in place, strong enough to hold the road until they can get a proper team out to fix the road more permanently. When finished, Hurrig joins Brundir and Vark, hearing tales he is unfamiliar with. "Ya know Vark, Moradin's magic feels warm to me too, but it isn't from anger, though Moradin was quite vengeful of the orcs and Gruumsh, it comes from the forge, warmth greater than any forge I've stepped into before. If Matthew never appeared to anger, maybe it is simply the nature of his devilish origin? "
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
"I don' know about all that with gods an' such," Brundir waves a hand casually, "But yer a bit right, Vark. Myschael had a temper 'cause she was still tryin' to figure things out. Ye came runnin' from losin' home an' friends, then ne'er really did anythin' with that. Now ye've got this Matthew fella' bouncin' in yer head. What I'm sayin' is ye need to look forward, don' think about th' past. Think about what ye've got an' where yer goin'."
Thurston's overwhelming form was hard to miss in the wagon, and all the attention for Vark left Brundir uncomfortably aware of a vacuum of courtesy toward the armoured figure, "So tell me, Mister I'm-Fightin'-Armies-Myself, I went to save Hurrig's arse from gettin' overrun. How many did ye kill, or were ye jus' keepin'em busy 'till Val an' Jex showed up?"
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Vark's brow furrows as he tries to discern exactly what point Jex is trying to make with his tale, and by the end he still hasn't quite figured it out. "Uhm... ah... th-thank you Jex. I... I'm not mad at you. I still think you can be insensitive but... you mean well. And... I can be oversensitive, I know. M-maybe we just need to figure out a better way of mixing your Gi and my Ti? That's what you were trying to say right?"
Hurrig's two cents are much more straightforward and Vark nods along. "Yes I... I think that could be it. It could be in-innate to the infernal source of his magic." he shrugs. "I guess Bründir is right though. Gotta look forward."
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
"Mixing Gi and Ti? I'm not so sure on that one Vark, you've got me there." He grins. "I'm no master on the philosophy, and like I said, the one I knew who was is dead. What I'm trying to say is, this." He pauses, trying to work out what the point was himself. "We don't want to cross Gis. We all need our energy pushing in the same direction, not worried that we're going to be getting each others' gi in the back when its turned you know? We never know how much TIme we have left. Best not spend it getting mad at each other." He whistles. "Deep stuff eh. Maybe a tune for the road?"
The wagon progresses steadily on up along the High Road for the next three hours, until around mid afternoon the weariness of a full day's travel begins to set in. There will be light for another six hours yet, and the travellers must weigh how hard they wish to push themselves and how urgent it is that they reach their destination.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
Val nods to Thurston and remains quiet for the moment as the others patch up Vark's injuries and ensure that everyone is healed up enough for travel. As they begin their trek again, Val wanders up to Thurston. "That was... is... my brother, Larkin. He... I do not understand it, but his spirit is a part of me now. I think he was attached to his... our? hammer. And he was released when it awoke? Now I can call him to help me in battle, so he might be a part of me now? Or I call him from the afterlife? I do not understand it, I should speak with the others about it. Maybe they know?"
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
After another hour of travel, both the dwarves are feeling the exertion of the day to get to them, and the party takes a short rest. Four hours of daylight remain.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
During the travel
Thurston listens to Val and nods. "Well, I cannot say that the rest of them hasn't seen him as I did. A brave man your brother was and surely he loved you if he is willing not to step into Valhalla and stay here to help you. Our ancestors are an important part of who we are, but they shouldn't define who we became. If the Aesir had send your brother to aid you in battle you should feel grateful and honored. " he walks in silence for a little bit " We are a strange lot, aren't we? "he says with a smile.
During the rest.
Thurston, looking at the dwarves hard breathing conferes with Jex and Val
"We should rest. They had been exerting themselves the past days and I think that this nice trek are beign too much for them. We've made a good pace today. Better call it a day and look for a place to pass the night. What do you think? "
PbP Character: A few ;)
Bründir stretches his back, frustrated that his short legs can't keep up with the pace, "We all need horses. Somethin' to pull the wagon's fine, but no sense walkin' when we don ' 'ave to. Also, I don' want anymore nights outside cities if we can. Remember last time?" Bründir realized too late that "last time" was largely to the pain of one individual and tried his best not to look at Val. At best, she took it as a general warning and he didn't want her noticing him remembering the near-fatal wound. Worst case, she took it as a reminder too soon and it was best for the dwarf to sleep in armour.
Best not to take chances, a cold breeze set off the dwarf's nerves and he tried deflecting, "Thurston, if I hear yer sleepin' in less than yer jack, I'm choppin' off th' first thing I see."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero