You have been travelling down this road for a while; the gray dirt long packed down, stirred up by fresh travel. Your company is large; even as adventuring parties go, with some twenty plus hired hands.
You may not have known all your companions before this journey, but the last several weeks have given you plenty of time to learn about them.
The caravan is comprised of two geared up wagons, your guide Sikhil Datharathi, the patron Kethra Helder, and a variety of "adventurers" ranging from powerful wizards to common bandits.
What you've learned about Sikhil so far is that even as an arcane caster, he always feels better in and around nature; having a general dislike of cities. He had been captured by the lizardfolk of the temple in his youth; until he escaped and made a makeshift map. He's spent the rest of his days learning magic and finding someone willing and able to aid in his revenge. Doesn't hurt that the temple is loaded with treasure.
Mrs. Helder, as she prefers to be called, is very different; a professional merchant by trade, and not a woman to get her hands dirty by the looks of her. Having spent the last few weeks with her, you know that is far from the truth; learning that she is quick to step in if things "aren't being done right".
There are several others around, but let's learn a bit about each of you. First off; what is something that everyone knows about your characters the first time they meet them, and what is something that they'd learn since then?
Hank is a fire plug of a man. 5’8 200 lbs, black hair w a short but unkept beard. From his wide build, bulbous nose, and sometimes grumpiness you may think he has some dwarf in him :) He is a blacksmith by trade and has been good at fixing things along the journey. He also is ‘ok’ at masonry (his words) but that’s less helpful on the road. He carries a long sword on one hip and a warhammer on the other. He wears chainmail (which he maintains religiously), but keeps talking about crafting himself some full plate when he gets enough money for the supplies.
He’s not much of a conversationalist, but during the journey it seems like he has mentioned a few things about himself. His wife left him some time ago along with his two daughters, his town was attacked by some orcs that he helped fight off, and he has taken to adventuring since he is good at fighting, the pay is better, and he has no one to nag him to come home.
Volkher stands at 5'10" and around 150 lbs, with Auburn hair and blue eyes. She wears a shield with a Dark cloud shooting three bolts of lightning, on her hip a warhammer and she as well wears chainmail. All of this equipment seems quite new. While Hank has not talked much Volkher as helped fill the quiet parts talking about her life in the temple before being sent on this adventure.
Perrin "The Boar" Goodbarrel would be one of the oddest halflings you'd see. He stands at a mighty three-feet one-inch, but, unlike the reputation that precedes the small, stout folk, he is incredibly lean. He wears no armor, just his standard travel clothes. Upon closer inspection, it's obvious that they've had to be fixed multiple times as if they've been repeatedly cut or torn. Given that he, too, carries the scars of battle all over his body, it's easy to assume that he's had many a battle. Perrin carries a shield on his back, along with a rapier that is almost as long as he is tall.
He's a gregarious sort with small rural town manners and sensibilities. Throughout the travels he's always offered to help when he can, knowing his way with animals and the carts and wagons they pull.
He talks fondly of his hometown and of his ancestors, of which he seems unusually bonded to. He tells the story of how he and some townsfolk were able to fight back a raid of sorts. He can't really provide much details because it seems he entered a blind rage during the fight and can't seem to piece it all together. However, they won the day and that's all that matters.
Arldane is a slender man, standing as tall as Hank, but wiry and lean with acute features. His features are not overly attractive in the first instance but are made worse by a frequent scowl that he carries on his face, and an air of disdain that wards off others like a bad smell. Next to his scowl, quite literally, are his cold eyes that seem to be permanently analysing anyone or thing around him; to what ends no-one has cared to ask.
He has talked little to most of the caravan, but that is not because he is quiet, no, it has mostly been his obnoxious and succinct dismissal of other people's opinions on any subject that he weighs in on; Arldane, it appears, is not an agreeable travelling companion. The lone exception to this has been his debating with Sikhil on the matter of various magical concerns, which has shown the others that he can actually smile, and hides a guffawing laugh somewhere in his verbal repertoire. A few may have overheard short tales of Arldane's time under the tutelage of a demanding master, or his initial failures in his craft that drove him to study endlessly and constantly seek more knowledge on his subject.
Zeltaebar Mristar sits near Hank, their dark skin contrasted by their yellow dyed monastery robes; with dark red colored cloth wrapped around the wrist, waist, and knees to improve mobility. Their head shaved bald, strong build, and general lack of conversation make you unsure on which gender they may be.
They are often found sitting with their back to a tree or other object; looking ready for a fight. The looks on Zeltaebar and Hank's faces are surprisingly similar.
"Are we still running to time today? This unwaveringly dull road is indistinguishable one mile from the next!" Arldane pipes up with a common note of irritation in his voice. "The tedium of this sojourn wears on me." The comment is not directed at anyone in particular.
Perrin, walking alongside Aldrane quips, "You used a lot of words to say, 'I'm bored.'" Smiling, he continues, "Dad always said, 'Why say three words when two will do?'"
Perrin moves in a little closer to Aldrane and asks in a hushed voice, "Any idea who those bandaged individuals next to Hank are? They sure keep quiet."
Hank looks at his new friend. There are quiet folk and the there are creepy silent folk. He thinks of himself of the former but is starting to wonder if Zeltaebar is the latter. “Well, Z (his new nickname from Hank) why are you on this journey? You excited to get to where we are going?”
((Took me a couple reads but I think this is one person and you are using ‘their’ as a gender neutral description vs. he or she?))
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Did your father also question why you hammer more than once when forging? We can use words to exercise our minds Perrin, like you exercise your muscles."
Does Arldane know anything about the monastic order that Zeltaebar would be part of? History: 23 Religion: 8
He will haughtily relay anything he knows in answer to Perrin's question.
Aoth Anskuld, pulls a book from his black jacket and hands it over to Arldane, it has no title or cover art; just a dark leather cover and well bound pages. The writing inside is precise and well structured. "Just return it when you're done; it belongs to the library."
You find yourself surprised that a man, whom covers his face constantly, and wears a dragon skull and crossbones pirate flag as a cape; would even be familiar with a library.
"Prepared for what we shall face." Is all Zeltaebar replies. They begin to pick up speed, attempting to avoid further conversation.
"Actually," replies Perrin, "my Dad did say that you should never hammer more than you need or you could ruin your work. Besides, sometimes it takes more to say less."
Perrin pauses for a brief moment before saying, "Like a haiku."
"The monastery that Zeltaebar came from has a tragic past, a dragon chose their temple as it's home for a number of years." Arldane explains in equally hushed tones, "Not everyone made it through the prolonged encounter; those that did were rumoured to have come through it as changed beings, something eerie and most alien about their behaviour"
Back to his normal tone, Arldane continues "All are different flavourings of the same recipe. We don't spoil by adding more than we deam necessary, but through adding a few exotic spices we broaden the experience of our palette but risk that others may not appreciate what they have been served. Then of course there are those that know of the spice, but do not understand it, and use it incorrectly."
"Aoth was it?" Arldane eyes light up at the receipt of the time and eagerly leafs through the book, careful with the quality parchment, "What have we here?"
<<Arldane will try to figure out the contents of the book whilst paying slight attention to any answer. Can he determine the language or contents?>>
A loud squeal interrupts the conversation. Gloom, the trained boar of Taak Mbar'ost, pushes it's way through; while held back by the large chain by his hobgoblin master. "What's a Hi-Q?" Taak asks Perrin.
The book is written in common, but definitely at an educated level. You feel that most of the people here even capable of reading; would not be able to understand this book.
Back to his normal tone, Arldane continues "All are different flavourings of the same recipe. We don't spoil by adding more than we deam necessary, but through adding a few exotic spices we broaden the experience of our palette but risk that others may not appreciate what they have been served. Then of course there are those that know of the spice, but do not understand it, and use it incorrectly."
"Dad also said to take care to not over salt the camp site stew," Perrin replies with a wink.
A loud squeal interrupts the conversation. Gloom, the trained boar of Taak Mbar'ost, pushes it's way through; while held back by the large chain by his hobgoblin master. "What's a Hi-Q?" Taak asks Perrin.
"Well, hey there Gloom. You're bigger than me! Hullo, Taak - good to see you and your boar. You have to let me ride him one day. Our clan has many stories of brave boar-riders from ages past," Perrin says as he reaches out to pet Gloom.
"Well," Perrin replies as thoughtfully as he can, "a haiku is a special type of tiny story - very old style. Three lines of 5 beats, 7 beats and 5 beats, like, ummm....."
"Breakfast sausage cooks, / it's sound and smell reaches out. / Halfling children smile."
Gloom arches his head, to direct you to the best scratching spots. Taak nods, pleased by the haiku; "Nice, pretty even." He smiles his sharp crooked teeth and then looks around and then back at you. "But I don't smell sausage."
"Anything can become sausage after you grind it." Bareris Hahpet creepily says from behind. You turn and are surprised to find him holding a portable grinder, moments before it is tucked into his multitude of robes. Bareris definitely has a creep factor, as noone has seen his face beneath the several gray hoods, and he is always sneaking... Like, always.
“So Bareis, what exactly is it that you were hired to do on this trip? I know what you all can depend on me for,” says Hank patting his sword and warhammer with each hand, “But for the life of me I do not know what we can count on you for. Why don’t you educate me on what exactly that is.” The burly man sits back and crosses his arms over his belly waiting to hear a reply.
"My purpose is the same as yours, to be a body on this quest; and to make bodies." He says. You briefly see a flash of a blade swing out of a cloak for a second, before vanishing back into the folds. "And for my cut of the treasure of course." He adds.
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You have been travelling down this road for a while; the gray dirt long packed down, stirred up by fresh travel. Your company is large; even as adventuring parties go, with some twenty plus hired hands.
You may not have known all your companions before this journey, but the last several weeks have given you plenty of time to learn about them.
The caravan is comprised of two geared up wagons, your guide Sikhil Datharathi, the patron Kethra Helder, and a variety of "adventurers" ranging from powerful wizards to common bandits.
What you've learned about Sikhil so far is that even as an arcane caster, he always feels better in and around nature; having a general dislike of cities. He had been captured by the lizardfolk of the temple in his youth; until he escaped and made a makeshift map. He's spent the rest of his days learning magic and finding someone willing and able to aid in his revenge. Doesn't hurt that the temple is loaded with treasure.
Mrs. Helder, as she prefers to be called, is very different; a professional merchant by trade, and not a woman to get her hands dirty by the looks of her. Having spent the last few weeks with her, you know that is far from the truth; learning that she is quick to step in if things "aren't being done right".
There are several others around, but let's learn a bit about each of you. First off; what is something that everyone knows about your characters the first time they meet them, and what is something that they'd learn since then?
Hank is a fire plug of a man. 5’8 200 lbs, black hair w a short but unkept beard. From his wide build, bulbous nose, and sometimes grumpiness you may think he has some dwarf in him :) He is a blacksmith by trade and has been good at fixing things along the journey. He also is ‘ok’ at masonry (his words) but that’s less helpful on the road. He carries a long sword on one hip and a warhammer on the other. He wears chainmail (which he maintains religiously), but keeps talking about crafting himself some full plate when he gets enough money for the supplies.
He’s not much of a conversationalist, but during the journey it seems like he has mentioned a few things about himself. His wife left him some time ago along with his two daughters, his town was attacked by some orcs that he helped fight off, and he has taken to adventuring since he is good at fighting, the pay is better, and he has no one to nag him to come home.
Volkher stands at 5'10" and around 150 lbs, with Auburn hair and blue eyes. She wears a shield with a Dark cloud shooting three bolts of lightning, on her hip a warhammer and she as well wears chainmail. All of this equipment seems quite new. While Hank has not talked much Volkher as helped fill the quiet parts talking about her life in the temple before being sent on this adventure.
Perrin "The Boar" Goodbarrel would be one of the oddest halflings you'd see. He stands at a mighty three-feet one-inch, but, unlike the reputation that precedes the small, stout folk, he is incredibly lean. He wears no armor, just his standard travel clothes. Upon closer inspection, it's obvious that they've had to be fixed multiple times as if they've been repeatedly cut or torn. Given that he, too, carries the scars of battle all over his body, it's easy to assume that he's had many a battle. Perrin carries a shield on his back, along with a rapier that is almost as long as he is tall.
He's a gregarious sort with small rural town manners and sensibilities. Throughout the travels he's always offered to help when he can, knowing his way with animals and the carts and wagons they pull.
He talks fondly of his hometown and of his ancestors, of which he seems unusually bonded to. He tells the story of how he and some townsfolk were able to fight back a raid of sorts. He can't really provide much details because it seems he entered a blind rage during the fight and can't seem to piece it all together. However, they won the day and that's all that matters.
Storm King's Thunder - Ink, Elven Bladesinging Wizard
Core City: APbPA - Ormond, Human Twilight Cleric
The Inferno - BG:Dia - DM
They keep me rollin'
Arldane is a slender man, standing as tall as Hank, but wiry and lean with acute features. His features are not overly attractive in the first instance but are made worse by a frequent scowl that he carries on his face, and an air of disdain that wards off others like a bad smell. Next to his scowl, quite literally, are his cold eyes that seem to be permanently analysing anyone or thing around him; to what ends no-one has cared to ask.
He has talked little to most of the caravan, but that is not because he is quiet, no, it has mostly been his obnoxious and succinct dismissal of other people's opinions on any subject that he weighs in on; Arldane, it appears, is not an agreeable travelling companion. The lone exception to this has been his debating with Sikhil on the matter of various magical concerns, which has shown the others that he can actually smile, and hides a guffawing laugh somewhere in his verbal repertoire. A few may have overheard short tales of Arldane's time under the tutelage of a demanding master, or his initial failures in his craft that drove him to study endlessly and constantly seek more knowledge on his subject.
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Zeltaebar Mristar sits near Hank, their dark skin contrasted by their yellow dyed monastery robes; with dark red colored cloth wrapped around the wrist, waist, and knees to improve mobility. Their head shaved bald, strong build, and general lack of conversation make you unsure on which gender they may be.
They are often found sitting with their back to a tree or other object; looking ready for a fight. The looks on Zeltaebar and Hank's faces are surprisingly similar.
"Are we still running to time today? This unwaveringly dull road is indistinguishable one mile from the next!" Arldane pipes up with a common note of irritation in his voice. "The tedium of this sojourn wears on me." The comment is not directed at anyone in particular.
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Perrin, walking alongside Aldrane quips, "You used a lot of words to say, 'I'm bored.'" Smiling, he continues, "Dad always said, 'Why say three words when two will do?'"
Perrin moves in a little closer to Aldrane and asks in a hushed voice, "Any idea who those bandaged individuals next to Hank are? They sure keep quiet."
Storm King's Thunder - Ink, Elven Bladesinging Wizard
Core City: APbPA - Ormond, Human Twilight Cleric
The Inferno - BG:Dia - DM
They keep me rollin'
Hank looks at his new friend. There are quiet folk and the there are creepy silent folk. He thinks of himself of the former but is starting to wonder if Zeltaebar is the latter. “Well, Z (his new nickname from Hank) why are you on this journey? You excited to get to where we are going?”
((Took me a couple reads but I think this is one person and you are using ‘their’ as a gender neutral description vs. he or she?))
(Correct. Their gender is unknown.)
(Will update more soon, sorry for the delay.)
"Did your father also question why you hammer more than once when forging? We can use words to exercise our minds Perrin, like you exercise your muscles."
Does Arldane know anything about the monastic order that Zeltaebar would be part of? History: 23 Religion: 8
He will haughtily relay anything he knows in answer to Perrin's question.
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Aoth Anskuld, pulls a book from his black jacket and hands it over to Arldane, it has no title or cover art; just a dark leather cover and well bound pages. The writing inside is precise and well structured. "Just return it when you're done; it belongs to the library."
You find yourself surprised that a man, whom covers his face constantly, and wears a dragon skull and crossbones pirate flag as a cape; would even be familiar with a library.
"Prepared for what we shall face." Is all Zeltaebar replies. They begin to pick up speed, attempting to avoid further conversation.
"Actually," replies Perrin, "my Dad did say that you should never hammer more than you need or you could ruin your work. Besides, sometimes it takes more to say less."
Perrin pauses for a brief moment before saying, "Like a haiku."
Storm King's Thunder - Ink, Elven Bladesinging Wizard
Core City: APbPA - Ormond, Human Twilight Cleric
The Inferno - BG:Dia - DM
They keep me rollin'
"The monastery that Zeltaebar came from has a tragic past, a dragon chose their temple as it's home for a number of years." Arldane explains in equally hushed tones, "Not everyone made it through the prolonged encounter; those that did were rumoured to have come through it as changed beings, something eerie and most alien about their behaviour"
Back to his normal tone, Arldane continues "All are different flavourings of the same recipe. We don't spoil by adding more than we deam necessary, but through adding a few exotic spices we broaden the experience of our palette but risk that others may not appreciate what they have been served. Then of course there are those that know of the spice, but do not understand it, and use it incorrectly."
"Aoth was it?" Arldane eyes light up at the receipt of the time and eagerly leafs through the book, careful with the quality parchment, "What have we here?"
<<Arldane will try to figure out the contents of the book whilst paying slight attention to any answer. Can he determine the language or contents?>>
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
A loud squeal interrupts the conversation. Gloom, the trained boar of Taak Mbar'ost, pushes it's way through; while held back by the large chain by his hobgoblin master. "What's a Hi-Q?" Taak asks Perrin.
The book is written in common, but definitely at an educated level. You feel that most of the people here even capable of reading; would not be able to understand this book.
"Dad also said to take care to not over salt the camp site stew," Perrin replies with a wink.
"Well, hey there Gloom. You're bigger than me! Hullo, Taak - good to see you and your boar. You have to let me ride him one day. Our clan has many stories of brave boar-riders from ages past," Perrin says as he reaches out to pet Gloom.
"Well," Perrin replies as thoughtfully as he can, "a haiku is a special type of tiny story - very old style. Three lines of 5 beats, 7 beats and 5 beats, like, ummm....."
"Breakfast sausage cooks, / it's sound and smell reaches out. / Halfling children smile."
Perrin smiles, proud of his rudimentary poem.
Storm King's Thunder - Ink, Elven Bladesinging Wizard
Core City: APbPA - Ormond, Human Twilight Cleric
The Inferno - BG:Dia - DM
They keep me rollin'
Gloom arches his head, to direct you to the best scratching spots. Taak nods, pleased by the haiku; "Nice, pretty even." He smiles his sharp crooked teeth and then looks around and then back at you. "But I don't smell sausage."
"Anything can become sausage after you grind it." Bareris Hahpet creepily says from behind. You turn and are surprised to find him holding a portable grinder, moments before it is tucked into his multitude of robes. Bareris definitely has a creep factor, as noone has seen his face beneath the several gray hoods, and he is always sneaking... Like, always.
“So Bareis, what exactly is it that you were hired to do on this trip? I know what you all can depend on me for,” says Hank patting his sword and warhammer with each hand, “But for the life of me I do not know what we can count on you for. Why don’t you educate me on what exactly that is.” The burly man sits back and crosses his arms over his belly waiting to hear a reply.
"My purpose is the same as yours, to be a body on this quest; and to make bodies." He says. You briefly see a flash of a blade swing out of a cloak for a second, before vanishing back into the folds. "And for my cut of the treasure of course." He adds.