Our story begins on a peaceful day in the kingdom of Kulamaos. Everything is calm and peaceful. Then, the silence is shattered as raucous shouts fill the air, the jubilant cry of folk ready for the Haven Festival, which celebrates the historic battle that took place here many years ago. As people gather, and out-of-towners rise from their beds at the local inn, a light flickers on in a building. Built high on a hill overlooking the town, Ludvige's Tower is a towering piece of crumbling stone, filled with history and lore. Ludvige Kulenova himself, the party wizard of the Heroes of the Hold, has lived there for many years, living out a peaceful retired life now that his adventuring days are long over.
As the festival preparations are nearly complete and the morning sun casts away the shadows of the night, he rises and prepares himself for the day ahead. It would tiresome, surely, but also a day of great celebration and merriment. Finally, after making his preparations, he sets out of his tower, hiking down the hill towards the town square, where people are beginning to gather. Trailing behind him is his newest apprentice, who he has carry a small, wooden box that he says "he needs for something special". The box is unusually heavy for its size, but its contents are unknown. Ludvige and his apprentice stride through the town, for while he may be old, he still has a spring in his step. People stop and stare, at the famed wizard who defeated the dark incursion all those years ago, now aged into a jovial old fellow with a hearty laugh and fantastically groomed beard.
"Hello, hello" declares Mayor Tyna Thistlewhistle, a round halfling woman with a friendly but nervous look in her eye and a scratchy voice "Welcome to the 60th annual Haven Festival! Whether you are a native of our town, or come from the far reaches of Traedaloss, we are glad to have you. As always, each of the town elders will put together a party of 'adventurers' to test their mettle against the different competitions of the festival! Each competition is scored, and the party with the highest score wins the festival and becomes honorary Heroes of the Hold, to be appointed by our own Ludvige Kulenova, the great mage of the original heroes!" At this people clap and turn to Ludvige, but he merely shakes his head and smiles at his halfling friend's flair for the dramatic. "Now, elders. Choose your parties and the games will commence in one hours time" Mayor Thistlewhistle gestures to the large clock that hangs above the door to the temple of Gruumsh, which at present states the time to be seven oclock.
As the crowd disperses in excited chatter, Ludvige turns to his apprentice, noting their strange appearance once again. Fascinating it was, to see something so close to thing he once feared so normal. "Well, my pupil. I have things to attend to. Pick out four people for my party, will you? I'm sure you'll choose wisely. Oh, and hold on to that, it is very precious." He says, turning his attention the box. He then spins on his heel and leaves, heading to god's knows where. As the apprentice turns, she see spots multiple individuals who seem to not have a team yet.
Zyemira, when the other people of Havenheart look at Ludvige's apprentice, who do they see? And what does this apprentice do left to her own devices, her master having merrily skipped off to be a kooky old guy?
And the rest of you, whether new or familiar with the Haven Festival, who do the established teams watch struggle to find a group? Do they notice your for clothes? Your bearing? Your power? Or do they know you, but still won't let you on their team?
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Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, a young genderfluid actor, writer, explorer, and bass vocalist. Pronouns They/Them/Theirs
My Characters:Brorminthe Devout Crusher; Ellorathe Romantic Rookie
Ever the early riser, Braggus had been sitting cross legged on the floor of his simple room for roughly an hour before the sun first crept over the gentle hills on Havenheart's horizon. It had become something of a morning ritual for him, waking early to meditate on the day ahead as he braided his thick black hair and beard, opening up the small satchel he was using to collect fragrant wildflowers and interesting plants on his travels, and weaving them into his locks. Such flora was rare in Snom, but here in the center of the continent, the green fields and thick forests of Kumaloas were abundant with beautiful plant life.
He sniffed a bright blue bloom he'd taken from one of the fields on his way into town and grinned. While the lowlands lacked for the crisp, cool mountain air that Snom boasted in abundance, the fragrance of wildflowers was something he had come to love during the first four months of his Akssava. Some of the lowland men had cast strange glances at the muscular stranger with flowers weaved into his braids, though Braggus paid them little mind. His mother always taught him to revere the land that provided for his safe passage.
The inn began to come to life as Braggus ended his quiet ritual, and the sounds of joy caused him to flash another wide smile. Beyond what it could help him learn for his own purposes, he was excited to see just what this festival had to offer — ideally, a hearty meal, strong drink and good company.
Black Braggus stood and donned his simple traveling breeches, tunic and the plain brown cloak he used to keep himself safe from the elements, though it also helped to conceal his weaponry. It wouldn't do to approach the lowlanders with steel openly waving about, or at least, he thought it might make him stand out less to keep it tucked away. He quickly munched on a stick of dried mountain goat meat before exiting his quarters and hurriedly following the excited crowd out of the inn, nearly stumbling down the stairs in his excitement.
As he joined the spectators to listen to the local leaders' remarks, Braggus could hardly remember a word of what was said aside from mentions of a contest that piqued his interest. For most of the time, from within the throngs of locals and visitors, his eyes were fixed exclusively on the most remarkable individual he'd yet seen - a striking blue dragon kin in the flesh.
When the crowd broke and people started to assemble their teams, Braggus stood still and kept to himself for the most part, still eyeing the Dragonborn with awe and curiosity. He'd never met one such as this, though the Drakish held deep respect for the dragon folk, just as they still revered dragons over the new order of divinity. Though Braggus dared not approach of his own volition, he also lacked the tact to keep from blatantly gawking at the Dragonborn, who held a strange box and seemed to be some sort of assistant to the one called "the great mage."
The established teams glance towards Branor but don’t call him over. His plain monk’s robes and scribe’s satchel don’t shout strength or merriment, and his reserved manner makes him easy to overlook in the festival bustle. To them, he looks like an outsider here on business rather than celebration—disciplined, perhaps even capable, but not the sort they’d choose for games of glory. If they had just looked closer, they would have seen the quiet readiness in his stance, the sharp calculation behind his eyes—signs of a dwarf trained to move with precision and strike without waste. The way he watches the crowd isn’t idle observation, but the practiced gaze of someone who has spent years spotting weaknesses—whether in a ledger, a merchant, or an opponent across the ring.
Zeymira definitely stood out in a crowd. While her red robes weren't anything out of the ordinary, that she was covered in blue scale was. Then there were the toe talons sticking out from beneath her robes, the snout, and swept back horns. It was obvious she was some kind of lizard, or a dragon...
She seemed ready for trouble, with quarterstaff used as a walking stick, a couple of daggers on her belt, and a spear slung on her back. The only thing out of place was the small box she was carrying in her other hand.
Also, it really wasn't obvious that she was female at a glance, since she was completely flat chested.
Zeymira was flustered by her masters command. Pick out 4 people? How is she supposed to choose? She knows books, not people! Still, she needed to pick 4 someones, though she doubted there would be any wisdom in her choices.
Looking around she spotted a fellow openly staring at her. That seemed to be as good a place to start as any. She walked up to Braggus and said, "Hello. I noticed you watching me. Are you perhaps interested in joining the competition?"
{Braggus seems easier to spot compared to Branor, for someone who's not that good at perception. Maybe Braggus will spot Branor 🙂}
As others gathered in the morning light, Róisín was sitting on a small bench at a corner just down from the small inn she was staying at. Having arrived a few days before, she had scouted around, and this seemed to be the best spot to set up to play music for a bit. At least, best without having managed to secure any sort of actual sponsored work. It had taken getting out before the sun had even risen, but it was worth it. While the crowd still grew, she played her lute and began to sing in her clear feminine voice. The first verses are softer, light notes in the morning. But her voice rises for the final verses, bringing a forcefulness that might not have been expected from the gentle start to the song.
'You ask, who will answer? In need, who will come? When the last line is broken When the day is all but done
Heo is se wind Heo is se wind You are the wind That'll carry them home
When fire burns low, turns into smoke When all the songs are sung Remember those and all who rode To battles lost and won
I know the fear you have inside Let hope rule over doubt If dark the night, be the light When all other lights go out
You ask, who will answer? In need, who will come? When the last line is broken When the day is all but done'
It's you, your name they're calling From the deep, they will rise Go forth and they will follow Time to fight, it's time to ride
Heo is se wind Heo is se wind You are the wind That'll carry them home'
As her voice comes to halt, her fingers continue to pluck at the lute strings in a stirring instrumental version of the chorus, until finally the notes fade away. Her eyes search for those who might have listened, curious to see what attention she might have gathered. (Performance Check, if needed: 26) The performer looked to be a young woman, immediately recognizable for her red hair. She has it up in a messy bun, though one long shock falls down over her shoulder. She is dressed in a plain grey tunic, surrounded by a grey-green cloak. She is fair skinned with freckles and gives the crowd, whoever was listening, a bright smile.
Soon any attention she might have garnered turns to the mayor and other announcements being made. She stands, twisting to stretch her muscles as she listens. She is a bit surprised to hear Mayor Thistlewhistle's mention of a competition for 'adventurers'. She hadn't heard of such a thing and at first presumed these elders must already have teams put together. Yet, she saw that it seemed groups were being formed right now. She watched impassively, not knowing anyone here in town. And she doubted a rousing song would get her a place in the competition. For now, she was content to just sit back and see what happened.
Looking around she spotted a fellow openly staring at her. That seemed to be as good a place to start as any. She walked up to Braggus and said, "Hello. I noticed you watching me. Are you perhaps interested in joining the competition?"
Braggus initially felt his eyes widen in surprise when the blue reptilian began making its way toward him. Had he offended them with his staring? That was the only immediate thought the man could muster as the stranger's taloned feet tread across the soft grass, stopping a few feet before him.
As silly as it may have appeared to an outside observer, Braggus seemed genuinely reverent. He cast his eyes downward as the Dragonborn approached, inclining his head respectfully in much the same way the few members of his enclave were expected to behave on the exceptionally rare occasions they parlayed directly with the dragon their hidden mountain community centered around.
When the dragon kin asked him to join her group for the festival competition that was apparently soon to begin, he allowed a characteristic smile to break through his somber expression. The thought of competition invigorated him, regardless of what that might entail specifically.
"I give you apologies for my watching," Braggus began. Though his grasp of the common tongue had expanded greatly during his journey so far, it was clear he was still learning. Even so, he spoke proudly. "Can you tell me, what is the goal in this competition? Whatever it is, it would be high honor to win at your side!"
Braggus gave the reptilian some form of a salute, bringing his closed fist across his brow from left to right. "Give me apologies, I did not introduce myself. I am Braggus, friend. Do you have other team allies already?"
Glancing around, the pickings seemed to be growing slimmer by the minute. Braggus did note a focused-looking Dwarven man keeping to himself and a fair fire-touched bard observing on her own - he seemed to recall her playing earlier in the day.
The dragonborn answers, "I am Zeymira, a scholar and mage. No apologies needed. My master wants me to gather his team, but I'm not a people person, so I didn't know where to start, until I saw someone so interested in me." She smiles before continuing, "The goal of the competition is to become the honorary Heroes of the Hold for this year's festival. No significant rewards, it's done in honor of the original Heroes of the Hold."
Zeymira starts looking around again, "As I said, I'm a mage, with a variety of elemental magic. not to mention that I can breathe out lightning. What can you do? And do you see anyone interesting?"
Zeymira notices the singer who had been singing such an appropriate song before the mayor's announcement. She mutters, "Hmm, a singer should be a people person..."
The dragonborn answers, "I am Zeymira, a scholar and mage. No apologies needed. My master wants me to gather his team, but I'm not a people person, so I didn't know where to start, until I saw someone so interested in me." She smiles before continuing, "The goal of the competition is to become the honorary Heroes of the Hold for this year's festival. No significant rewards, it's done in honor of the original Heroes of the Hold."
Zeymira starts looking around again, "As I said, I'm a mage, with a variety of elemental magic. not to mention that I can breathe out lightning. What can you do? And do you see anyone interesting?"
Zeymira notices the singer who had been singing such an appropriate song before the mayor's announcement. She mutters, "Hmm, a singer should be a people person..."
Braggus inclined his head again as Zeymira spoke, keeping his eyes at his feet in respect.
"It would be high honor to help remember these old heroes, Zeymira," he said. "I have excitement to witness your magics myself, honored Zeymira. I request only to show my abilities, rather than say."
He crosses his arms and gazes around as the crowd thinned, his glance once again falling on the stoic Dwarf. The Drakish had proper respect for the Dwarves of Snom. While they certainly weren't on especially friendly terms, their kin's ingenuity magi-technical savvy in building Snom into what it had become was admired.
Excusing himself briefly from Zeymira's presence, Braggus strode over to the Dwarf with a characteristically cheery grin, one of the bright petals he'd braided into his thick hair falling behind him. "I give you greetings, Dwarf friend," he said, jumping straight to the point. "Dragon kin has asked me to win these games with her. We are going to do so, but we need more team allies. Join us and share in the high honor we will be given," he finished, phrasing his request more as a matter-of-fact, still sporting a braggadocious grin.
Branor studies Braggus for a moment—measuring the confidence in his grin, the certainty in his words—before answering.
“You ask plainly, and I’ll answer the same,” he says in a calm voice. “I’ve no need to linger on the edges while others prove themselves. If your dragon kin seeks victory and you’re bold enough to claim it, then I’ll lend my hand. My employers are busy here for the event and my services are only required for a portion of each day. The remainder of my time I will work towards victory.”
Branor studies Braggus for a moment—measuring the confidence in his grin, the certainty in his words—before answering.
“You ask plainly, and I’ll answer the same,” he says in a calm voice. “I’ve no need to linger on the edges while others prove themselves. If your dragon kin seeks victory and you’re bold enough to claim it, then I’ll lend my hand. My employers are busy here for the event and my services are only required for a portion of each day. The remainder of my time I will work towards victory.”
Braggus nodded his approval at the stranger's answer, giving him the same salute he'd offered to Zeymira, moving a closed fist across his brow.
"I am called Braggus, Dwarf friend — the honored one says she is Zeymira. What shall I be calling you?"
With a slight bow, "I am Branor Veyfield. Bookkeeper extraordinaire and not too bad in a scrap either. You'd be surprised how many people try to take a swing at you when you tell them how bad their business is doing."
As she looks about, Róisín notices the blue-scaled dragonborn glancing over towards her. Agilely moving through the crowd, she makes her way over. As she does, she realizes she is on her way towards her as well. She slows until they meet. "A good day to you," she says with a light, lilting accent. And as the dragonborn starts to speak, she pauses to listen.
Meanwhile Zeymira heads over to the singer. "Hello. Would you be interested in joining Ludvige Kulenova's party for the competitions? I could use a people person to do the talking."
"You're the man's assistant then?"Róisín asks. "Of course I'd love to join you." She gives Zeymira an eager look, seeming very impressed to be associated with Ludvige. "I know little of these games but seems you have just three folks. Four if we include you. Do you need more?" She then tilts her head a bit, getting a quizzical look on her face. "And is talking to people one of the contests? I dare say that sounds like an easy one. Let me tell ya, I can talk!"
With a slight bow, "I am Branor Veyfield. Bookkeeper extraordinaire and not too bad in a scrap either. You'd be surprised how many people try to take a swing at you when you tell them how bad their business is doing."
Braggus loosed a bellowing chuckle at that.
"It is rare to me a book man is having strength and humor, Veyfield friend. I am wanting to learn more," he paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to where Zeymira and the bright-haired bard spoke. "But I sense the time for talking is not now. Now, we are seeking victory!"
He saunters over to where Zeymira is speaking with the red-headed stranger, seeming just as pleased as ever, beaming at the prospect of good company and contests. He lowers his gaze, addressing Zeymira once more.
"Honored one, we are gaining another team ally. He is called Branor Veyfield," Braggus said, motioning to their newfound Dwarf acquaintance before acknowledging the human woman. "I am remembering you from early day, I believe. Your music is very beautiful, it is making our festival all the brighter. Do you join us?"
Orunmila Enwe stood, as she always seemed to these days at the edge of the outer circle of onlookers she had been up before dawn as was her custom but the morning had been spent walking the fields and nothing the different methods of tilling and husbandry in use in this far flung region. Her dress was, as always, plain and unadorned.......she had hung up her soldiers harness a decade ago and it still hung there back at home....too heavy to carry if she wasn't being ordered too......and, if she was honest, her shoulders weren't as broad as they had been back then.
She stretched hearing a couple of cracks that likely her bones would complain about later, she broke into a wide smile as she saw a warrior festooned with flowers and for a moment was reminded of the young men who returned from their Firsting festooned in ochre and Protea blooms. Leaning on her age smoothed spear as one might a walking stick she grinned as the mayor spoke.
She had not been approached for the competition, her close cropped hair was too gray, her keloid scars too obvious, the way she leaned on the spear as if she required it to walk......she was not an alluring prospect......but then she never really had been except for.......
She chuckled out loud to herself drawing confused glances from those around her........and that's another reason old woman......they think your crazy.......
She heard a tune being played somewhere....pretty...but not enough percussion for her....
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the blue-scale........their kind......no, NOT their kind.......those who they resembled had ravaged Tresmude.....but then there were certainly others who remembered her own people and unit in similar ways.....it was not on an individual to carry the weight of history. Especially a history they only resembled.
She looked down at her travel worn leathers, trail marked boots and scarred and calloused hands.
No one with an once of sense would look twice at you, you old bibi.......
"You're the man's assistant then?"Róisín asks. "Of course I'd love to join you." She gives Zeymira an eager look, seeming very impressed to be associated with Ludvige. "I know little of these games but seems you have just three folks. Four if we include you. Do you need more?" She then tilts her head a bit, getting a quizzical look on her face. "And is talking to people one of the contests? I dare say that sounds like an easy one. Let me tell ya, I can talk!"
Zeymira replies. "I''m not qualified to assist, I'm just an apprentice. My name's Zeymira, by the way. I have to admit, I don't know much about the games either, I arrived in this town a couple of months after the last festival. But my master said to recruit 4 more people. I don't know if talking is part of the contests, but I'm not comfortable talking in front of crowds, and I'm sure the wining team will have to say a few words."
"Ah, an apprentice then!" Róisín heartily agrees with the dragonborn. After the dragonborn introduces herself, she does the same. "I am Róisín Cailin. A pleasure to meet you Zeymira," and she makes a deep, fluid bow. Standing back straight she looks past Zeymira as Braggus addresses her. She gives him a nod and a quick smile. "I am joining you, yes. And I am so glad you enjoyed my music earlier. I appreciate the compliment!" She then looks over at the dwarf. "And you are evidently joining as well Branor. Welcome."
She takes a step back, seeming to briefly assesses those gathered so far. "Now perhaps I'm missing something, but it looks like you've got 3 recruits, and your master wanted four?" Her eyes scan about the square even as she continues to talk. "I presume you must be the brains of the group Zeymira. Branor, you seem athletic. And you Braggus..." Her eyes flit back to look at him again, lingering there for a moment. "You do look strong." A slight smile comes to her lips, though she's already back to looking about the area. "I am evidently here to help with any talking! What else do we need. Hmm..."
Her eyes fell on the woman who remains apart from any others, leaning against her spear. She saw the scars and the grey hair, plus the way she held herself. As she starts to move towards the woman, she tells the others gathered, "I'll be right back. I think I've got an idea about finishing up our group." She doesn't rush, but she steps over to where Orunmila is standing. "A good day to you madame. By any chance are you still looking for a group to join? I hate to presume, but we need another member, and I am certain your knowledge and skills would be of great benefit to us. I am Róisín, and you would be joining the group of Ludvige Kulenova, along with his blue-scaled apprentice over there." She nods back to where she had left the rest of the group.
Zyemira, when the other people of Havenheart look at Ludvige's apprentice, who do they see? And what does this apprentice do left to her own devices, her master having merrily skipped off to be a kooky old guy?
And the rest of you, whether new or familiar with the Haven Festival, who do the established teams watch struggle to find a group? Do they notice your for clothes? Your bearing? Your power? Or do they know you, but still won't let you on their team?
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, a young genderfluid actor, writer, explorer, and bass vocalist. Pronouns They/Them/Theirs
My Characters: Brormin the Devout Crusher; Ellora the Romantic Rookie
Check out my EXTENDED SIGNATUR (hasn't been updated in forever, fyi) and don’t forget to join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
"I don't make sense to you, and I don't make sense to myself. Maybe the only one I make sense to is God" ~ Me, trying to sound smart
Ever the early riser, Braggus had been sitting cross legged on the floor of his simple room for roughly an hour before the sun first crept over the gentle hills on Havenheart's horizon. It had become something of a morning ritual for him, waking early to meditate on the day ahead as he braided his thick black hair and beard, opening up the small satchel he was using to collect fragrant wildflowers and interesting plants on his travels, and weaving them into his locks. Such flora was rare in Snom, but here in the center of the continent, the green fields and thick forests of Kumaloas were abundant with beautiful plant life.
He sniffed a bright blue bloom he'd taken from one of the fields on his way into town and grinned. While the lowlands lacked for the crisp, cool mountain air that Snom boasted in abundance, the fragrance of wildflowers was something he had come to love during the first four months of his Akssava. Some of the lowland men had cast strange glances at the muscular stranger with flowers weaved into his braids, though Braggus paid them little mind. His mother always taught him to revere the land that provided for his safe passage.
The inn began to come to life as Braggus ended his quiet ritual, and the sounds of joy caused him to flash another wide smile. Beyond what it could help him learn for his own purposes, he was excited to see just what this festival had to offer — ideally, a hearty meal, strong drink and good company.
Black Braggus stood and donned his simple traveling breeches, tunic and the plain brown cloak he used to keep himself safe from the elements, though it also helped to conceal his weaponry. It wouldn't do to approach the lowlanders with steel openly waving about, or at least, he thought it might make him stand out less to keep it tucked away. He quickly munched on a stick of dried mountain goat meat before exiting his quarters and hurriedly following the excited crowd out of the inn, nearly stumbling down the stairs in his excitement.
As he joined the spectators to listen to the local leaders' remarks, Braggus could hardly remember a word of what was said aside from mentions of a contest that piqued his interest. For most of the time, from within the throngs of locals and visitors, his eyes were fixed exclusively on the most remarkable individual he'd yet seen - a striking blue dragon kin in the flesh.
When the crowd broke and people started to assemble their teams, Braggus stood still and kept to himself for the most part, still eyeing the Dragonborn with awe and curiosity. He'd never met one such as this, though the Drakish held deep respect for the dragon folk, just as they still revered dragons over the new order of divinity. Though Braggus dared not approach of his own volition, he also lacked the tact to keep from blatantly gawking at the Dragonborn, who held a strange box and seemed to be some sort of assistant to the one called "the great mage."
Close your eyes, bro
The established teams glance towards Branor but don’t call him over. His plain monk’s robes and scribe’s satchel don’t shout strength or merriment, and his reserved manner makes him easy to overlook in the festival bustle. To them, he looks like an outsider here on business rather than celebration—disciplined, perhaps even capable, but not the sort they’d choose for games of glory. If they had just looked closer, they would have seen the quiet readiness in his stance, the sharp calculation behind his eyes—signs of a dwarf trained to move with precision and strike without waste. The way he watches the crowd isn’t idle observation, but the practiced gaze of someone who has spent years spotting weaknesses—whether in a ledger, a merchant, or an opponent across the ring.
Zeymira definitely stood out in a crowd. While her red robes weren't anything out of the ordinary, that she was covered in blue scale was. Then there were the toe talons sticking out from beneath her robes, the snout, and swept back horns. It was obvious she was some kind of lizard, or a dragon...
She seemed ready for trouble, with quarterstaff used as a walking stick, a couple of daggers on her belt, and a spear slung on her back. The only thing out of place was the small box she was carrying in her other hand.
Also, it really wasn't obvious that she was female at a glance, since she was completely flat chested.
Picture in spoiler...
Zeymira was flustered by her masters command. Pick out 4 people? How is she supposed to choose? She knows books, not people! Still, she needed to pick 4 someones, though she doubted there would be any wisdom in her choices.
Looking around she spotted a fellow openly staring at her. That seemed to be as good a place to start as any. She walked up to Braggus and said, "Hello. I noticed you watching me. Are you perhaps interested in joining the competition?"
{Braggus seems easier to spot compared to Branor, for someone who's not that good at perception. Maybe Braggus will spot Branor 🙂}
As others gathered in the morning light, Róisín was sitting on a small bench at a corner just down from the small inn she was staying at. Having arrived a few days before, she had scouted around, and this seemed to be the best spot to set up to play music for a bit. At least, best without having managed to secure any sort of actual sponsored work. It had taken getting out before the sun had even risen, but it was worth it. While the crowd still grew, she played her lute and began to sing in her clear feminine voice. The first verses are softer, light notes in the morning. But her voice rises for the final verses, bringing a forcefulness that might not have been expected from the gentle start to the song.
'You ask, who will answer?
In need, who will come?
When the last line is broken
When the day is all but done
Heo is se wind
Heo is se wind
You are the wind
That'll carry them home
When fire burns low, turns into smoke
When all the songs are sung
Remember those and all who rode
To battles lost and won
I know the fear you have inside
Let hope rule over doubt
If dark the night, be the light
When all other lights go out
You ask, who will answer?
In need, who will come?
When the last line is broken
When the day is all but done'
It's you, your name they're calling
From the deep, they will rise
Go forth and they will follow
Time to fight, it's time to ride
Heo is se wind
Heo is se wind
You are the wind
That'll carry them home'
As her voice comes to halt, her fingers continue to pluck at the lute strings in a stirring instrumental version of the chorus, until finally the notes fade away. Her eyes search for those who might have listened, curious to see what attention she might have gathered. (Performance Check, if needed: 26) The performer looked to be a young woman, immediately recognizable for her red hair. She has it up in a messy bun, though one long shock falls down over her shoulder. She is dressed in a plain grey tunic, surrounded by a grey-green cloak. She is fair skinned with freckles and gives the crowd, whoever was listening, a bright smile.
Soon any attention she might have garnered turns to the mayor and other announcements being made. She stands, twisting to stretch her muscles as she listens. She is a bit surprised to hear Mayor Thistlewhistle's mention of a competition for 'adventurers'. She hadn't heard of such a thing and at first presumed these elders must already have teams put together. Yet, she saw that it seemed groups were being formed right now. She watched impassively, not knowing anyone here in town. And she doubted a rousing song would get her a place in the competition. For now, she was content to just sit back and see what happened.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Braggus initially felt his eyes widen in surprise when the blue reptilian began making its way toward him. Had he offended them with his staring? That was the only immediate thought the man could muster as the stranger's taloned feet tread across the soft grass, stopping a few feet before him.
As silly as it may have appeared to an outside observer, Braggus seemed genuinely reverent. He cast his eyes downward as the Dragonborn approached, inclining his head respectfully in much the same way the few members of his enclave were expected to behave on the exceptionally rare occasions they parlayed directly with the dragon their hidden mountain community centered around.
When the dragon kin asked him to join her group for the festival competition that was apparently soon to begin, he allowed a characteristic smile to break through his somber expression. The thought of competition invigorated him, regardless of what that might entail specifically.
"I give you apologies for my watching," Braggus began. Though his grasp of the common tongue had expanded greatly during his journey so far, it was clear he was still learning. Even so, he spoke proudly. "Can you tell me, what is the goal in this competition? Whatever it is, it would be high honor to win at your side!"
Braggus gave the reptilian some form of a salute, bringing his closed fist across his brow from left to right. "Give me apologies, I did not introduce myself. I am Braggus, friend. Do you have other team allies already?"
Glancing around, the pickings seemed to be growing slimmer by the minute. Braggus did note a focused-looking Dwarven man keeping to himself and a fair fire-touched bard observing on her own - he seemed to recall her playing earlier in the day.
Close your eyes, bro
He see's Branor:
The dragonborn answers, "I am Zeymira, a scholar and mage. No apologies needed. My master wants me to gather his team, but I'm not a people person, so I didn't know where to start, until I saw someone so interested in me." She smiles before continuing, "The goal of the competition is to become the honorary Heroes of the Hold for this year's festival. No significant rewards, it's done in honor of the original Heroes of the Hold."
Zeymira starts looking around again, "As I said, I'm a mage, with a variety of elemental magic. not to mention that I can breathe out lightning. What can you do? And do you see anyone interesting?"
Zeymira notices the singer who had been singing such an appropriate song before the mayor's announcement. She mutters, "Hmm, a singer should be a people person..."
Braggus inclined his head again as Zeymira spoke, keeping his eyes at his feet in respect.
"It would be high honor to help remember these old heroes, Zeymira," he said. "I have excitement to witness your magics myself, honored Zeymira. I request only to show my abilities, rather than say."
He crosses his arms and gazes around as the crowd thinned, his glance once again falling on the stoic Dwarf. The Drakish had proper respect for the Dwarves of Snom. While they certainly weren't on especially friendly terms, their kin's ingenuity magi-technical savvy in building Snom into what it had become was admired.
Excusing himself briefly from Zeymira's presence, Braggus strode over to the Dwarf with a characteristically cheery grin, one of the bright petals he'd braided into his thick hair falling behind him. "I give you greetings, Dwarf friend," he said, jumping straight to the point. "Dragon kin has asked me to win these games with her. We are going to do so, but we need more team allies. Join us and share in the high honor we will be given," he finished, phrasing his request more as a matter-of-fact, still sporting a braggadocious grin.
Close your eyes, bro
Branor studies Braggus for a moment—measuring the confidence in his grin, the certainty in his words—before answering.
“You ask plainly, and I’ll answer the same,” he says in a calm voice. “I’ve no need to linger on the edges while others prove themselves. If your dragon kin seeks victory and you’re bold enough to claim it, then I’ll lend my hand. My employers are busy here for the event and my services are only required for a portion of each day. The remainder of my time I will work towards victory.”
Braggus nodded his approval at the stranger's answer, giving him the same salute he'd offered to Zeymira, moving a closed fist across his brow.
"I am called Braggus, Dwarf friend — the honored one says she is Zeymira. What shall I be calling you?"
Close your eyes, bro
With a slight bow, "I am Branor Veyfield. Bookkeeper extraordinaire and not too bad in a scrap either. You'd be surprised how many people try to take a swing at you when you tell them how bad their business is doing."
As she looks about, Róisín notices the blue-scaled dragonborn glancing over towards her. Agilely moving through the crowd, she makes her way over. As she does, she realizes she is on her way towards her as well. She slows until they meet. "A good day to you," she says with a light, lilting accent. And as the dragonborn starts to speak, she pauses to listen.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Meanwhile Zeymira heads over to the singer. "Hello. Would you be interested in joining Ludvige Kulenova's party for the competitions? I could use a people person to do the talking."
"You're the man's assistant then?" Róisín asks. "Of course I'd love to join you." She gives Zeymira an eager look, seeming very impressed to be associated with Ludvige. "I know little of these games but seems you have just three folks. Four if we include you. Do you need more?" She then tilts her head a bit, getting a quizzical look on her face. "And is talking to people one of the contests? I dare say that sounds like an easy one. Let me tell ya, I can talk!"
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Braggus loosed a bellowing chuckle at that.
"It is rare to me a book man is having strength and humor, Veyfield friend. I am wanting to learn more," he paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to where Zeymira and the bright-haired bard spoke. "But I sense the time for talking is not now. Now, we are seeking victory!"
He saunters over to where Zeymira is speaking with the red-headed stranger, seeming just as pleased as ever, beaming at the prospect of good company and contests. He lowers his gaze, addressing Zeymira once more.
"Honored one, we are gaining another team ally. He is called Branor Veyfield," Braggus said, motioning to their newfound Dwarf acquaintance before acknowledging the human woman. "I am remembering you from early day, I believe. Your music is very beautiful, it is making our festival all the brighter. Do you join us?"
Close your eyes, bro
Orunmila Enwe stood, as she always seemed to these days at the edge of the outer circle of onlookers she had been up before dawn as was her custom but the morning had been spent walking the fields and nothing the different methods of tilling and husbandry in use in this far flung region. Her dress was, as always, plain and unadorned.......she had hung up her soldiers harness a decade ago and it still hung there back at home....too heavy to carry if she wasn't being ordered too......and, if she was honest, her shoulders weren't as broad as they had been back then.
She stretched hearing a couple of cracks that likely her bones would complain about later, she broke into a wide smile as she saw a warrior festooned with flowers and for a moment was reminded of the young men who returned from their Firsting festooned in ochre and Protea blooms. Leaning on her age smoothed spear as one might a walking stick she grinned as the mayor spoke.
She had not been approached for the competition, her close cropped hair was too gray, her keloid scars too obvious, the way she leaned on the spear as if she required it to walk......she was not an alluring prospect......but then she never really had been except for.......
She chuckled out loud to herself drawing confused glances from those around her........and that's another reason old woman......they think your crazy.......
She heard a tune being played somewhere....pretty...but not enough percussion for her....
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the blue-scale........their kind......no, NOT their kind.......those who they resembled had ravaged Tresmude.....but then there were certainly others who remembered her own people and unit in similar ways.....it was not on an individual to carry the weight of history. Especially a history they only resembled.
She looked down at her travel worn leathers, trail marked boots and scarred and calloused hands.
No one with an once of sense would look twice at you, you old bibi.......
Zeymira replies. "I''m not qualified to assist, I'm just an apprentice. My name's Zeymira, by the way. I have to admit, I don't know much about the games either, I arrived in this town a couple of months after the last festival. But my master said to recruit 4 more people. I don't know if talking is part of the contests, but I'm not comfortable talking in front of crowds, and I'm sure the wining team will have to say a few words."
"Ah, an apprentice then!" Róisín heartily agrees with the dragonborn. After the dragonborn introduces herself, she does the same. "I am Róisín Cailin. A pleasure to meet you Zeymira," and she makes a deep, fluid bow. Standing back straight she looks past Zeymira as Braggus addresses her. She gives him a nod and a quick smile. "I am joining you, yes. And I am so glad you enjoyed my music earlier. I appreciate the compliment!" She then looks over at the dwarf. "And you are evidently joining as well Branor. Welcome."
She takes a step back, seeming to briefly assesses those gathered so far. "Now perhaps I'm missing something, but it looks like you've got 3 recruits, and your master wanted four?" Her eyes scan about the square even as she continues to talk. "I presume you must be the brains of the group Zeymira. Branor, you seem athletic. And you Braggus..." Her eyes flit back to look at him again, lingering there for a moment. "You do look strong." A slight smile comes to her lips, though she's already back to looking about the area. "I am evidently here to help with any talking! What else do we need. Hmm..."
Her eyes fell on the woman who remains apart from any others, leaning against her spear. She saw the scars and the grey hair, plus the way she held herself. As she starts to move towards the woman, she tells the others gathered, "I'll be right back. I think I've got an idea about finishing up our group." She doesn't rush, but she steps over to where Orunmila is standing. "A good day to you madame. By any chance are you still looking for a group to join? I hate to presume, but we need another member, and I am certain your knowledge and skills would be of great benefit to us. I am Róisín, and you would be joining the group of Ludvige Kulenova, along with his blue-scaled apprentice over there." She nods back to where she had left the rest of the group.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer