Like Lazarus, Tyst Skogskatt has found a seat in a corner facing the door. The Tabaxi's black fur seems to be almost constantly shedding a fine layer of soot, although the area around him is noticeably devoid of any dust. He sits almost absent-mindedly picking various bits of forest detritus out of his fur and hide armor - pine needles, leaves, bits of wood, a random beetle of some kind (which he pushes around the table for a moment before knocking it off the table entirely and proceeding to ignore it completely). To anyone looking at himhe seems to be not paying attention to the activity around him, but he is actually observing quite closely - eyes glancing around quickly to take in the various patrons and ears constantly twitching and pivoting to catch bits of conversation.
Perception: 9
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"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Lazarus you hear many conversations about people's children and lives at home, you also hear many fearful recounts of events that have happened on previous dives into the abyss, others talk rumors and gossip about things they've heard.
One person talks about a person, Damien, who had gotten someone severely injured with some sort of magic item that they were studying. Another talks about how they were a scholar from Tapizae, the knowledge capitol of the overworld and had only come to study the fauna and flora of the Abyss. Someone said they were a royal guard who was going to be promoted to the king's personal guard for his combat prowess but had instead been sent off to join the cartography unit as their protector instead, due to the political stability in the overworld and lack of opposition to the king's rule, (other than drunks with an average BAC of 0.10).
The thing you hear mentioned the most is the demon ants that have started popping from the Grand chasm 50 kilometers (31 miles for my fellow Americans) south east of the main base. Another rumor you hear is about a blindfolded man who went toe to toe with the commander and even drew blood, while unarmed the man also said something about it being a shame he's only a member of one of the "suicide units".
Although many people are expecting the commander in a few minutes you feel the urge to interact and talk to your fellow unit members.
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"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"
A tall lean and very pale human will be sipping what appears to be a deep red liquid out of wine glass. Indeed, those with perception or those who know him will realize it is likely not wine, but something more sinister. He rarely smiles and when he does, he gets even more stares, as his fangs become visible. He wears a chain vest and partial leather armor and will have a buckler strapped to his back or arm. His weapon is a heavy rapier, almost a longsword in appearance.
He takes a sip of the pigs blood he was given by the cook. Not his favorite but it will do. Súce glances at Lazarus as he talks to himself and raises an eyebrow at him. Súce has met Lazarus before and has a suspicion he has been touched by a dark force. Súce should know about dark forces, he served the lords of the abyss long enough. "So Lazarus, who are those voices that you chat away with; perhaps a celestial being to come to our aid during our next grand adventure?" He will grin slightly at this, expecting any being Lazarus talks to to be far from celestial.
Lazarus looks up as a pale human sits across from him. “Well met, Suce. I see you’re still enjoying the finer ’vintages’. As for my muttering, talking to myself is often the only way to find an intelligent conversation in a crowd such as this.” Lazarus cracks a smile.
“Seems there’s a lot of tension around here about many things. For my first dive I can say I plan to be wary.”
He looks down the table at a sooty, cat-like creature. “Hey, Tabaxi. Picking up any good intel? I’m Laz by the way. This is Suce.”
Lazarus looks up as a pale human sits across from him. “Well met, Suce. I see you’re still enjoying the finer ’vintages’. As for my muttering, talking to myself is often the only way to find an intelligent conversation in a crowd such as this.” Lazarus cracks a smile.
“Seems there’s a lot of tension around here about many things. For my first dive I can say I plan to be wary.”
He looks down the table at a sooty, cat-like creature. “Hey, Tabaxi. Picking up any good intel? I’m Laz by the way. This is Suce.”
Tysts ears flick to Lazarus and he turns to look at the humans sitting near him at the table. He pauses for second, considering his response, then nods at each of them. "Laz. Suce. I'm Tyst." Then he shrugs. "Nothing much to hear. Very few people in here say anything noteworthy, most talk just to hear themselves talk. And if they're drinking they do it louder." He makes direct eye contact with Lazarus. "Some don't even need anyone nearby to listen." As he talks, he deliberately, but almost absent-mindedly pushes a forgotten spoon off the table.
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"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Taxidea looks at Suce and sighs. "As I just told your friend here, all I've heard is the drivel typical of this drunken lot. Most of them are too drunk to find the floor if they fell on it, let alone have any information about the next mission."
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"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
At the far end of the table sits a figure too small to dominate the space—yet somehow, he does. Perched atop a high-backed chair he’s subtly modified with stacked tomes, he sits with perfect posture, legs crossed, tail swaying in slow, deliberate rhythm. His coat like a scholar’s banner, ember-red eyes flicker beneath storm-tossed hair, scanning his open Codex. One hand scribbles into the Codex, the other taps riddles onto the tables surface in a cipher only ghosts would understand.
Zarvox’s fingers still. The tapping ceases. His tail curls into a question mark. He lifts his gaze from the Codex—not abruptly, but like a curtain rising. His ember-red eyes sweep across the room, slow and deliberate, as if reading a script only he can see. The noise around him becomes texture, not distraction. Every clink of blade, every muttered curse, every gust of wind is cataloged, weighed, and filed. He leans slightly forward, resting his chin on steepled fingers. His horns catch the light. His gaze lingering as a spoon falls. A beetle is flicked. A joke is made. Zarvox tilts his head—not in amusement, but in analysis. His smile is present, but not warm. It’s the smile of someone who’s already solved the puzzle and is waiting to see if anyone else will.
Closing his Codex and hopping off his pile of books, he stands—not tall, but theatrically—his coat flaring as if caught in a breeze that doesn’t exist. Tail flicking once, with a sigh that sounds almost… amused. Addressing them all but staring at the pale man with the blood-filled glass and abyssal grin, Zarvox speaks:
"If the commander is late,” he says, “then we should begin without him. I propose a game: one truth, one lie, one fear. Share yours, and I’ll share mine. Or don’t. I’ll guess anyway.”
He opens the Codex again, quill hovering. "The abyss is listening. I merely take notes.”
Sol sits shuffling playing cards, as he often does. He wears fancy, but cheep clothes.
He starts to casually listen in on other conversations, but is distracted by 'one of your fellow unit members is chained to the table with what looks to be celestial runed cuffs'. He leans in so better to hear, better to be heard and to keep it more private, "So friend, what did you have to do to earn those fancy bracelets?" He also examines the cuffs to better understand them
"If the commander is late,” he says, “then we should begin without him. I propose a game: one truth, one lie, one fear. Share yours, and I’ll share mine. Or don’t. I’ll guess anyway.”
He opens the Codex again, quill hovering. "The abyss is listening. I merely take notes.”
Tyst's eyes narrow as he regards the Tiefling. "So you're what? The Abyss's secretary?" He says with a small laugh. "Listen Tiefling, here's a truth: I have no desire to share my truths or fears with you, the abyss...or anyone else for that matter. You wanna guess? Have at it. The abyss is welcome to listen too, but I think you'll both be disappointed."
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"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Zarvox nods once—no surprise, no satisfaction. Just inevitability. He doesn’t speak. He writes. The quill moves like it’s carving rather than scribing.
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Like Lazarus, Tyst Skogskatt has found a seat in a corner facing the door. The Tabaxi's black fur seems to be almost constantly shedding a fine layer of soot, although the area around him is noticeably devoid of any dust. He sits almost absent-mindedly picking various bits of forest detritus out of his fur and hide armor - pine needles, leaves, bits of wood, a random beetle of some kind (which he pushes around the table for a moment before knocking it off the table entirely and proceeding to ignore it completely). To anyone looking at him he seems to be not paying attention to the activity around him, but he is actually observing quite closely - eyes glancing around quickly to take in the various patrons and ears constantly twitching and pivoting to catch bits of conversation.
Perception: 9
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Lazarus you hear many conversations about people's children and lives at home, you also hear many fearful recounts of events that have happened on previous dives into the abyss, others talk rumors and gossip about things they've heard.
One person talks about a person, Damien, who had gotten someone severely injured with some sort of magic item that they were studying. Another talks about how they were a scholar from Tapizae, the knowledge capitol of the overworld and had only come to study the fauna and flora of the Abyss. Someone said they were a royal guard who was going to be promoted to the king's personal guard for his combat prowess but had instead been sent off to join the cartography unit as their protector instead, due to the political stability in the overworld and lack of opposition to the king's rule, (other than drunks with an average BAC of 0.10).
The thing you hear mentioned the most is the demon ants that have started popping from the Grand chasm 50 kilometers (31 miles for my fellow Americans) south east of the main base. Another rumor you hear is about a blindfolded man who went toe to toe with the commander and even drew blood, while unarmed the man also said something about it being a shame he's only a member of one of the "suicide units".
Although many people are expecting the commander in a few minutes you feel the urge to interact and talk to your fellow unit members.
"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"
Súce- hráve
A tall lean and very pale human will be sipping what appears to be a deep red liquid out of wine glass. Indeed, those with perception or those who know him will realize it is likely not wine, but something more sinister. He rarely smiles and when he does, he gets even more stares, as his fangs become visible. He wears a chain vest and partial leather armor and will have a buckler strapped to his back or arm. His weapon is a heavy rapier, almost a longsword in appearance.
He takes a sip of the pigs blood he was given by the cook. Not his favorite but it will do. Súce glances at Lazarus as he talks to himself and raises an eyebrow at him. Súce has met Lazarus before and has a suspicion he has been touched by a dark force. Súce should know about dark forces, he served the lords of the abyss long enough. "So Lazarus, who are those voices that you chat away with; perhaps a celestial being to come to our aid during our next grand adventure?" He will grin slightly at this, expecting any being Lazarus talks to to be far from celestial.
Lazarus looks up as a pale human sits across from him. “Well met, Suce. I see you’re still enjoying the finer ’vintages’. As for my muttering, talking to myself is often the only way to find an intelligent conversation in a crowd such as this.” Lazarus cracks a smile.
“Seems there’s a lot of tension around here about many things. For my first dive I can say I plan to be wary.”
He looks down the table at a sooty, cat-like creature. “Hey, Tabaxi. Picking up any good intel? I’m Laz by the way. This is Suce.”
All good
Quote from H2O_Keeper >>
Tysts ears flick to Lazarus and he turns to look at the humans sitting near him at the table. He pauses for second, considering his response, then nods at each of them. "Laz. Suce. I'm Tyst." Then he shrugs. "Nothing much to hear. Very few people in here say anything noteworthy, most talk just to hear themselves talk. And if they're drinking they do it louder." He makes direct eye contact with Lazarus. "Some don't even need anyone nearby to listen." As he talks, he deliberately, but almost absent-mindedly pushes a forgotten spoon off the table.
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Súce grins at Lazarus response and sips his drink. He glances over at the Tabaxi. "No news on the next mission?"
Taxidea looks at Suce and sighs. "As I just told your friend here, all I've heard is the drivel typical of this drunken lot. Most of them are too drunk to find the floor if they fell on it, let alone have any information about the next mission."
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Zarvox Narration.
At the far end of the table sits a figure too small to dominate the space—yet somehow, he does. Perched atop a high-backed chair he’s subtly modified with stacked tomes, he sits with perfect posture, legs crossed, tail swaying in slow, deliberate rhythm. His coat like a scholar’s banner, ember-red eyes flicker beneath storm-tossed hair, scanning his open Codex. One hand scribbles into the Codex, the other taps riddles onto the tables surface in a cipher only ghosts would understand.
Zarvox’s fingers still. The tapping ceases. His tail curls into a question mark. He lifts his gaze from the Codex—not abruptly, but like a curtain rising. His ember-red eyes sweep across the room, slow and deliberate, as if reading a script only he can see. The noise around him becomes texture, not distraction. Every clink of blade, every muttered curse, every gust of wind is cataloged, weighed, and filed. He leans slightly forward, resting his chin on steepled fingers. His horns catch the light. His gaze lingering as a spoon falls. A beetle is flicked. A joke is made. Zarvox tilts his head—not in amusement, but in analysis. His smile is present, but not warm. It’s the smile of someone who’s already solved the puzzle and is waiting to see if anyone else will.
Closing his Codex and hopping off his pile of books, he stands—not tall, but theatrically—his coat flaring as if caught in a breeze that doesn’t exist. Tail flicking once, with a sigh that sounds almost… amused. Addressing them all but staring at the pale man with the blood-filled glass and abyssal grin, Zarvox speaks:
"If the commander is late,” he says, “then we should begin without him. I propose a game: one truth, one lie, one fear. Share yours, and I’ll share mine. Or don’t. I’ll guess anyway.”
He opens the Codex again, quill hovering. "The abyss is listening. I merely take notes.”
Sol sits shuffling playing cards, as he often does. He wears fancy, but cheep clothes.
He starts to casually listen in on other conversations, but is distracted by 'one of your fellow unit members is chained to the table with what looks to be celestial runed cuffs'. He leans in so better to hear, better to be heard and to keep it more private, "So friend, what did you have to do to earn those fancy bracelets?" He also examines the cuffs to better understand them
Perception on conversations: 12
Looking at the cuffs
Arcana: 6
Investigation: 7
D&D since 1984
Tyst's eyes narrow as he regards the Tiefling. "So you're what? The Abyss's secretary?" He says with a small laugh. "Listen Tiefling, here's a truth: I have no desire to share my truths or fears with you, the abyss...or anyone else for that matter. You wanna guess? Have at it. The abyss is welcome to listen too, but I think you'll both be disappointed."
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Zarvox Narration.
Zarvox nods once—no surprise, no satisfaction. Just inevitability. He doesn’t speak. He writes. The quill moves like it’s carving rather than scribing.