After his work completed from harvesting the tools necessary that he wanted, Funderburk made his way back to his friends, and their camp. Upon arrival, he noticed Eku, still slumped from where she had previously taken her anger out upon him.
He said nothing. Instead he just looked at her and then continued onward. He knew she would want to hear from him at the moment nor listen to him if he said anything- if there was something to say. Instead he found a place to rest, and looked in the distance of the setting sun. It made him think of home and how far they have gotten now as a group. Funderburk made sure to stay some feet away from everybody. He kind of figured today was not the best day to be around one another. "I shall be over here if you call upon me or if my assistance is needed."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Sthara says nothing on the subject of the beast they've slain, and instead turns her attention to the jungle around them. In the same way that the beast noticed the spells, the noise created during their onslaught and its charging might've attracted the attention of other creatures (Perception: 8).
"Boosey, your tiny hut would be most appreciated."
Allister walks to Vardach after Nenne goes to Eku and puts a hand on the ranger´s shoulder. „You have no idea what she is talking about, right? You see a threat, you kill the threat, that’s your way and the way of your people. Just try to understand the concept of some civilized races,“ using air-quotes to emphasize cilvilized, „that eliminating a threat doesn’t necessarily mean killing it. That’s what I try to learn anew. Just like wasting the food this carcass will provide. Don´t accept it, just understand it.“
Nenne watches the wizard filet the beast for his own gain for a few minutes before taking out some incense and prayer book and quietly starting a ritual that Boosey and Allister would recognize as the same one she'd done for Merric. After ten minutes, she seals the magic by invoking Kelemvor's name, and places a hand on the stricken animal to cast Gentle Repose. Whatever Funderburk had removed from the creature prior to this would not be affected, but if he harvests anything after, it would not rot or begin to show signs of deterioration for ten days.
Finished with her spell, she silently puts her equipment away and goes to stand beside the wizard. "You like stories," she says, voice cool and a little flat. She doesn't look at him. "I have not forgotten that I owe one to you. I will share it now.
"Centuries ago, there was a war in my homeland. Rival factions vying for a scrap of land hardly bigger than Fort Beluarian, yet it held economic and political value beyond imagining for its mithral deposits. The fighting dragged on for months until the battlefield swallowed whole towns. Winter came, and only one village remained. It was poor, devoid of many natural resources, and nearly inaccessible except through treacherous mountain passes. The rival factions had ignored it while the war was young, but as the ice devoured the countryside and conquest became the symbol of power, the factions came to view the village as the final prize that would determine victory.
"Soldiers poured into the mountain passes from three sides in an attempt to claim the village for their cause. The mountains' fury destroyed them, and so they sent more. Countless souls were lost as greed and callousness dyed the snows red. The villagers, untouched, began to lament the war. Not only were they starving from halted supply lines, but they had to live surrounded by the screams and torment of murdered men.
"Then the snows thawed. The rival factions had long since run out of troops, and the troops, long since run out of will. Or so the villagers thought. For one day, a small and battered platoon of survivors from the mountains came. The villagers were prepared. Some soldiers died immediately. Some surrendered. And two attempted to retreat. One villager, afraid of what they might do, ran after them and slew them - and learned with their dying breaths that they had intended to recover their injured commander in the mountains and defect to the village when the skirmish was done. Once they had seen the resolve and strength of the villagers, and that surrender was an option, they found hope that their friend could be saved.
"The villager sought out this commander, but it was too late. Convinced of the villager's hawkishness and dishonor, he fled to rendezvous with other survivors. He eventually returned to lead a raid that killed thirteen people."
Nenne glances down at Funderburk, her expression frosty. "A coward is not the person who retreats when a situation is disadvantageous. A coward is a person who will not even consider peace if violence is more convenient."
Even as Nenne began to walk away, Funderburk spoke. Even as she left, and even if she could not hear, he intended to finish his tale. “That is an amazing tale. One that teaches many lessons. However, cowardliness is a person who lacks the courage to do dangerous or unpleasant tidings.” Funderburk, sat down, straightened his back, and held his chin in the air. “My people are simple perfectionists. A race striving to perfect themselves in whatever they do.”
“I was born with imperfections just as everyone else. For 40 years I have striven along with my brethren to become as perfect as I could be. I only learned some years ago that my race in ancient times tried to perfect the world instead of themselves. For the first time I realized the selfishness of my people. I decided to leave my land to make my own story. Be an ancestor one may look upon. My family, members of the Simic Combine and leaders of our library disapproved about my actions, and left me to be alone. I found you all, family and friends, and seek to be perfect so that I may become the best I can in order to help each of you when time becomes necessary.” Funderburk leaned back and closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky, “We show little emotion. We often at times carry little of it.” A cold, almost glacial, expression came upon his face as he looked in the direction of Nenne. “I care not for good or evil. Who is to judge? Creatures all alike come down on this world claiming to be the judge or representing the one who does. My people? We claim none of that and instead beg the question on why yourself? How are so so different to receive different treatment for the gods of judgment who are supposed to rule fairly? So my people take judgement in our own hands.”
“You start a fight- finish it. It was your choice to start it, and the only way one race may learn from their mistakes is not by getting away from punishments from pure sympathy, but by the fair judgment of their actions. Morals cloud judgement. Therefore, if you want to be the perfect judge, just like ‘gods’,” he lets the last word hang in the air, “you must not have anything to persuade your judgement and mind.” Funderburk finishes his tale and turns to find a tree he may rest upon. Whether it was close or not he did not care. Today was a long day; and he intended to finish it wish rest.
Nenne listens to his tale from a distance and keeps her silence a while after it is done. She removes her amulet and holds it in her palm. "Perfect judgment," she repeats, sad. Her voice does not carry. "It seems you have learned little from history, after all." She replaces her necklace and closes her eyes. She winces, then starts to pray.
Eku watches the exchange between the cleric and ranger, but ultimately says nothing in return. Ready to be gone from this place, Eku suggests camping away from the large carcass as it will attract the attention of scavenger creatures. She guides the party a couple more hours south along the river before settling onto a high spot overlooking the river 20 feet below. She gives a curt, "This area is good for camping. I have used it before." before moving off to sit on the riverbank in silence some hundred feet away from the camp. The night goes on as usual with changing shifts for nightly watch. During the first watch with Allister Eku sits down next to the fighter in silence. She doesn't say anything, but the two exchange a look. She nods to the sailor and gives him a smile out of the side of her mouth.
The night is hot and unpleasant, and the eladrin rouses from her trance with beads of sweat dotting her brow, though the climate has little to do with it. She takes a sip from her waterskin and nods to the party members whose watch she alone is relieving. She waits until they are resting a while before she begins to move, lest she disturb anyone.
Her keen eyes scan the surroundings for danger as she walks a slow perimeter around the campsite, invoking her deity's grace to help her keep quiet. Agitated pacing is not a typical behavior for a woman of her temperament, but she finds herself unable to sit still. As she completes her first circle around her sleeping companions, she sees a sliver of moonlight fall on the resting form of Eku, and she stops.
Putting a gentle hand on her arm, Nenne says so that only she can hear, "You need not continue with such pretenses." Her tone is knowing and respectful. "I should hope I've proven myself worthy of at least some honesty, by this point."
"Come," she rises, "keep vigil with me. There's no honor in self-imposed loneliness."
"I respect you too much to keep pretending not to notice your peculiarities," is the eladrin's simple reply. "Sleep, speed, spell immunities. Lies exhaust me, and I suspect they might exhaust you as well."
She smiles subtly and inclines her head. "You do not owe me any explanations. I merely wish to give you the freedom to rest from pretense while I am on watch. Though, if you are willing, I would hear your story this night, or answer for my own. As I said, loneliness is not a virtue, and I fear we both might be tempted to fashion it so, after the day we had."
Nenne will seat herself with her back to the cliff so she can watch the camp while keeping distance from any sleepers and wait to see if Eku joins her. If not, she will hum to herself until someone else wakes to join her for the next watch.
The Chultan woman tightens her leather armor straps and replaces her dagger in its hip sheath. She makes her way over to where the eladrin is sitting careful not to make any noise. As Eku takes a seat against the cool stone she says, "I just want to start by saying that I have never lied to any of you. I understand there are semantics that could argue against that, but I have been and will always be an honorable companion for as long as I travel with the six of you."
Nenne nods. "In many ways, you have been more honorable than I," she admits, toying with her holy symbol absentmindedly. "Forgive me if I caused offense. And thank you for joining me. Might I ask - what are the source of your powers? Are you not human?"
The woman stares out into the jungle as she speaks her reply, "Do I not look human to you? I suppose there are spells that can change or hide one's true identity...It is true I have unusual heritage, though it is not something I broadcast."
"Fair enough. I will not press you on that further. I am curious, however...You care nothing for coin and it is evident your philosophy and morals do not align with many in our group. You are not from this region, so you are not protecting your homeland. Given your abilities, I wonder whether you can fall ill or die easily, if at all, and I suspect you are capable of defending yourself and others in ways we have not seen. Why then do you sojourn with us, and with such dedication?"
She thinks for a long time before she replies. When she does reply, it comes out in a way that conveys her conviction, "The Death Curse is a blight on this land. Even if I were to discover the source of the malignance, I doubt that it is something that could be stopped alone. I would go to any length to see it sticken from the world. It was my good fortune that I stumbled across your party that seems to hold a fair amount of righteousness...even if that is not immediately evident."
"No one is righteous that isn't made so through bloodshed," Nenne responds quietly. "I find that you cannot truly appreciate righteousness without having seen and understood its opposite."
She falls silent for a while. "I value your companionship, and your strength. Thank you for sharing them with us. And for speaking with me."
The lizardfolk has thought the defeat of the monster a great victory and had been taken by surprise to see the group divided by it. He had, on a verbal level, taken in and understood the words spoken to him though the reasoning had proven elusive to his mind, which simply worked differently than theirs. He had acknowledged Allister.
”Vargach understand maybe. Not need kill just survive?”
he was not intending on letting anything go to waste on this carcass. Granted, he would not be able to carry it all, but he would carry as much as he could. His stomach was one that could tolerate much more abuse than the ones of his soft-skinned fellowship. After short contemplation and calculations involving his claws and feet, he had taken his unnaturally sharp dagger and sliced into the thigh of the dinosaur. About 80 pounds of meat later, he appeared satisfied. Using a mixture of hide, scales, and bone, he fashioned a surprisingly not so crude shield, which fit on his arm very well. He tied off most of the meat between the shield and his travel pack, snacking on about 2-3 pounds in between. When he was done, he walked around the beast, slicing it open so the animals and other beasts of the forest could feed on it.
He had walked quietly, keeping his eyes and ears peeled and focused upon the jungle. His carrying fresh meat and them being a loud and large group was sure to attract more attention. Once they had made camp, he had continued whittling on a large bone he had taken with him, fashioning 4 darts for throwing out of one end. Before too long he should be able to fashion many more, but 4 should suffice for tonight. This was how he planned to replace his spent arrows.
He had fallen into a light sleep later on, when his trained ears had heard whispers. Trying not to wake the others or draw the attention of the guards, he had slithered you into cover behind them and listened in on the conversation.
It was then, that Vargach first had one of his larger revelations about his new friend’s culture. He did not understand why they took so much consideration of one another but he found that this was an unnatural habit many of them exhibited, putting the other first even when it largely inconvenienced themselves or hindered their survival. There was a commitment that he did not quite understand but that was somewhat similar to his prowling the shadows of the jungle to protect his tribe, only that he knew that his tribe would never do the same for him and the matter of survival and assigned roles there was simply a matter of a base form of social standing. A little bit shaken, if that was as of yet possible, the ranger returns to his previous sleeping spot and falls asleep to strange dreams of giant dinosaurs, his shouting companions and a vision of a tribe that was better than reality.
After his work completed from harvesting the tools necessary that he wanted, Funderburk made his way back to his friends, and their camp. Upon arrival, he noticed Eku, still slumped from where she had previously taken her anger out upon him.
He said nothing. Instead he just looked at her and then continued onward. He knew she would want to hear from him at the moment nor listen to him if he said anything- if there was something to say. Instead he found a place to rest, and looked in the distance of the setting sun. It made him think of home and how far they have gotten now as a group. Funderburk made sure to stay some feet away from everybody. He kind of figured today was not the best day to be around one another. "I shall be over here if you call upon me or if my assistance is needed."
Made you look.
Sthara says nothing on the subject of the beast they've slain, and instead turns her attention to the jungle around them. In the same way that the beast noticed the spells, the noise created during their onslaught and its charging might've attracted the attention of other creatures (Perception: 8).
"Boosey, your tiny hut would be most appreciated."
Allister walks to Vardach after Nenne goes to Eku and puts a hand on the ranger´s shoulder. „You have no idea what she is talking about, right? You see a threat, you kill the threat, that’s your way and the way of your people. Just try to understand the concept of some civilized races,“ using air-quotes to emphasize cilvilized, „that eliminating a threat doesn’t necessarily mean killing it. That’s what I try to learn anew. Just like wasting the food this carcass will provide. Don´t accept it, just understand it.“
Nenne watches the wizard filet the beast for his own gain for a few minutes before taking out some incense and prayer book and quietly starting a ritual that Boosey and Allister would recognize as the same one she'd done for Merric. After ten minutes, she seals the magic by invoking Kelemvor's name, and places a hand on the stricken animal to cast Gentle Repose. Whatever Funderburk had removed from the creature prior to this would not be affected, but if he harvests anything after, it would not rot or begin to show signs of deterioration for ten days.
Finished with her spell, she silently puts her equipment away and goes to stand beside the wizard. "You like stories," she says, voice cool and a little flat. She doesn't look at him. "I have not forgotten that I owe one to you. I will share it now.
"Centuries ago, there was a war in my homeland. Rival factions vying for a scrap of land hardly bigger than Fort Beluarian, yet it held economic and political value beyond imagining for its mithral deposits. The fighting dragged on for months until the battlefield swallowed whole towns. Winter came, and only one village remained. It was poor, devoid of many natural resources, and nearly inaccessible except through treacherous mountain passes. The rival factions had ignored it while the war was young, but as the ice devoured the countryside and conquest became the symbol of power, the factions came to view the village as the final prize that would determine victory.
"Soldiers poured into the mountain passes from three sides in an attempt to claim the village for their cause. The mountains' fury destroyed them, and so they sent more. Countless souls were lost as greed and callousness dyed the snows red. The villagers, untouched, began to lament the war. Not only were they starving from halted supply lines, but they had to live surrounded by the screams and torment of murdered men.
"Then the snows thawed. The rival factions had long since run out of troops, and the troops, long since run out of will. Or so the villagers thought. For one day, a small and battered platoon of survivors from the mountains came. The villagers were prepared. Some soldiers died immediately. Some surrendered. And two attempted to retreat. One villager, afraid of what they might do, ran after them and slew them - and learned with their dying breaths that they had intended to recover their injured commander in the mountains and defect to the village when the skirmish was done. Once they had seen the resolve and strength of the villagers, and that surrender was an option, they found hope that their friend could be saved.
"The villager sought out this commander, but it was too late. Convinced of the villager's hawkishness and dishonor, he fled to rendezvous with other survivors. He eventually returned to lead a raid that killed thirteen people."
Nenne glances down at Funderburk, her expression frosty. "A coward is not the person who retreats when a situation is disadvantageous. A coward is a person who will not even consider peace if violence is more convenient."
She walks away in disgust.
Even as Nenne began to walk away, Funderburk spoke. Even as she left, and even if she could not hear, he intended to finish his tale. “That is an amazing tale. One that teaches many lessons. However, cowardliness is a person who lacks the courage to do dangerous or unpleasant tidings.” Funderburk, sat down, straightened his back, and held his chin in the air. “My people are simple perfectionists. A race striving to perfect themselves in whatever they do.”
“I was born with imperfections just as everyone else. For 40 years I have striven along with my brethren to become as perfect as I could be. I only learned some years ago that my race in ancient times tried to perfect the world instead of themselves. For the first time I realized the selfishness of my people. I decided to leave my land to make my own story. Be an ancestor one may look upon. My family, members of the Simic Combine and leaders of our library disapproved about my actions, and left me to be alone. I found you all, family and friends, and seek to be perfect so that I may become the best I can in order to help each of you when time becomes necessary.” Funderburk leaned back and closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky, “We show little emotion. We often at times carry little of it.” A cold, almost glacial, expression came upon his face as he looked in the direction of Nenne. “I care not for good or evil. Who is to judge? Creatures all alike come down on this world claiming to be the judge or representing the one who does. My people? We claim none of that and instead beg the question on why yourself? How are so so different to receive different treatment for the gods of judgment who are supposed to rule fairly? So my people take judgement in our own hands.”
“You start a fight- finish it. It was your choice to start it, and the only way one race may learn from their mistakes is not by getting away from punishments from pure sympathy, but by the fair judgment of their actions. Morals cloud judgement. Therefore, if you want to be the perfect judge, just like ‘gods’,” he lets the last word hang in the air, “you must not have anything to persuade your judgement and mind.” Funderburk finishes his tale and turns to find a tree he may rest upon. Whether it was close or not he did not care. Today was a long day; and he intended to finish it wish rest.
Made you look.
Nenne listens to his tale from a distance and keeps her silence a while after it is done. She removes her amulet and holds it in her palm. "Perfect judgment," she repeats, sad. Her voice does not carry. "It seems you have learned little from history, after all." She replaces her necklace and closes her eyes. She winces, then starts to pray.
Eku watches the exchange between the cleric and ranger, but ultimately says nothing in return. Ready to be gone from this place, Eku suggests camping away from the large carcass as it will attract the attention of scavenger creatures. She guides the party a couple more hours south along the river before settling onto a high spot overlooking the river 20 feet below. She gives a curt, "This area is good for camping. I have used it before." before moving off to sit on the riverbank in silence some hundred feet away from the camp. The night goes on as usual with changing shifts for nightly watch. During the first watch with Allister Eku sits down next to the fighter in silence. She doesn't say anything, but the two exchange a look. She nods to the sailor and gives him a smile out of the side of her mouth.
The night is hot and unpleasant, and the eladrin rouses from her trance with beads of sweat dotting her brow, though the climate has little to do with it. She takes a sip from her waterskin and nods to the party members whose watch she alone is relieving. She waits until they are resting a while before she begins to move, lest she disturb anyone.
Her keen eyes scan the surroundings for danger as she walks a slow perimeter around the campsite, invoking her deity's grace to help her keep quiet. Agitated pacing is not a typical behavior for a woman of her temperament, but she finds herself unable to sit still. As she completes her first circle around her sleeping companions, she sees a sliver of moonlight fall on the resting form of Eku, and she stops.
Putting a gentle hand on her arm, Nenne says so that only she can hear, "You need not continue with such pretenses." Her tone is knowing and respectful. "I should hope I've proven myself worthy of at least some honesty, by this point."
"Come," she rises, "keep vigil with me. There's no honor in self-imposed loneliness."
Eku rolls over and looks around the camp before returning Nenne's gaze. She stands with the cleric and asks, "What is the meaning of this?"
"I respect you too much to keep pretending not to notice your peculiarities," is the eladrin's simple reply. "Sleep, speed, spell immunities. Lies exhaust me, and I suspect they might exhaust you as well."
She smiles subtly and inclines her head. "You do not owe me any explanations. I merely wish to give you the freedom to rest from pretense while I am on watch. Though, if you are willing, I would hear your story this night, or answer for my own. As I said, loneliness is not a virtue, and I fear we both might be tempted to fashion it so, after the day we had."
Nenne will seat herself with her back to the cliff so she can watch the camp while keeping distance from any sleepers and wait to see if Eku joins her. If not, she will hum to herself until someone else wakes to join her for the next watch.
The Chultan woman tightens her leather armor straps and replaces her dagger in its hip sheath. She makes her way over to where the eladrin is sitting careful not to make any noise. As Eku takes a seat against the cool stone she says, "I just want to start by saying that I have never lied to any of you. I understand there are semantics that could argue against that, but I have been and will always be an honorable companion for as long as I travel with the six of you."
Nenne nods. "In many ways, you have been more honorable than I," she admits, toying with her holy symbol absentmindedly. "Forgive me if I caused offense. And thank you for joining me. Might I ask - what are the source of your powers? Are you not human?"
The woman stares out into the jungle as she speaks her reply, "Do I not look human to you? I suppose there are spells that can change or hide one's true identity...It is true I have unusual heritage, though it is not something I broadcast."
"Fair enough. I will not press you on that further. I am curious, however...You care nothing for coin and it is evident your philosophy and morals do not align with many in our group. You are not from this region, so you are not protecting your homeland. Given your abilities, I wonder whether you can fall ill or die easily, if at all, and I suspect you are capable of defending yourself and others in ways we have not seen. Why then do you sojourn with us, and with such dedication?"
She thinks for a long time before she replies. When she does reply, it comes out in a way that conveys her conviction, "The Death Curse is a blight on this land. Even if I were to discover the source of the malignance, I doubt that it is something that could be stopped alone. I would go to any length to see it sticken from the world. It was my good fortune that I stumbled across your party that seems to hold a fair amount of righteousness...even if that is not immediately evident."
"No one is righteous that isn't made so through bloodshed," Nenne responds quietly. "I find that you cannot truly appreciate righteousness without having seen and understood its opposite."
She falls silent for a while. "I value your companionship, and your strength. Thank you for sharing them with us. And for speaking with me."
With that she says that while she may not sleep, she does enjoy the rest and excuses herself to lie down a while longer.
An old soldier's ballad carries slightly on the air for a while, a low and mournful tune, as the night slips ever closer to dawn.
The lizardfolk has thought the defeat of the monster a great victory and had been taken by surprise to see the group divided by it. He had, on a verbal level, taken in and understood the words spoken to him though the reasoning had proven elusive to his mind, which simply worked differently than theirs. He had acknowledged Allister.
”Vargach understand maybe. Not need kill just survive?”
he was not intending on letting anything go to waste on this carcass. Granted, he would not be able to carry it all, but he would carry as much as he could. His stomach was one that could tolerate much more abuse than the ones of his soft-skinned fellowship. After short contemplation and calculations involving his claws and feet, he had taken his unnaturally sharp dagger and sliced into the thigh of the dinosaur. About 80 pounds of meat later, he appeared satisfied. Using a mixture of hide, scales, and bone, he fashioned a surprisingly not so crude shield, which fit on his arm very well. He tied off most of the meat between the shield and his travel pack, snacking on about 2-3 pounds in between. When he was done, he walked around the beast, slicing it open so the animals and other beasts of the forest could feed on it.
He had walked quietly, keeping his eyes and ears peeled and focused upon the jungle. His carrying fresh meat and them being a loud and large group was sure to attract more attention. Once they had made camp, he had continued whittling on a large bone he had taken with him, fashioning 4 darts for throwing out of one end. Before too long he should be able to fashion many more, but 4 should suffice for tonight. This was how he planned to replace his spent arrows.
He had fallen into a light sleep later on, when his trained ears had heard whispers. Trying not to wake the others or draw the attention of the guards, he had slithered you into cover behind them and listened in on the conversation.
It was then, that Vargach first had one of his larger revelations about his new friend’s culture. He did not understand why they took so much consideration of one another but he found that this was an unnatural habit many of them exhibited, putting the other first even when it largely inconvenienced themselves or hindered their survival. There was a commitment that he did not quite understand but that was somewhat similar to his prowling the shadows of the jungle to protect his tribe, only that he knew that his tribe would never do the same for him and the matter of survival and assigned roles there was simply a matter of a base form of social standing.
A little bit shaken, if that was as of yet possible, the ranger returns to his previous sleeping spot and falls asleep to strange dreams of giant dinosaurs, his shouting companions and a vision of a tribe that was better than reality.
When the party is roused in the early morning, Boosey feels as if he has not rested all night and a noticeable lock of hair is missing from his head.
Boosey:
Boosey did not get a long rest and was plagued by terrible nightmares the whole night through.