Lewin, a tall, rail-thin firbolg with chalky pale skin and black hair, steps into the room. Seeing the prisoners, the normally unreactive druid appears to weather an invisible gut punch. He staggers forward and attempts to help Ebele untie the prisoners, muttering to himself “not more, not again, these monsters…”
His hands have long spider-like fingers, and they move quickly at the bonds. His presence is at once invisible and palpable, like some huge, possibly terrifying being you forgot you saw in a dream. But his expression and gestures are caring and gentle with the prisoners. His wrists still bear wounds from his own bonds he escaped yesterday. He doesn’t introduce himself yet, but when it is time for that he will.
"Thankee, I was thinkin that this was the end o' me an I dinna want teh be goin out as a dammed prisoner. Names Hersandoral at yer service an to yer family"
Before you sits a red haired dwarf. Tanned skin (covered in more dirt) covered with a dirty shirt and leggings. His red beard a bit tangled and goes halfway down his chest and his hair is fashoned into a bit of an unkempt mohawk. One thing noticeable tho is that his.arms are criss crossed in scars.
"None o' ye happen to find me armor an axe ha' ye?"
An imposing and brightly armored elven warrior strides into the room, looking down at the freed prisoners. Seeing a Dwarven warrior, he extends his arm and offers to help him up, saying, “Are you part of the missing Dwarven Delegation? We have been seeking to rescue that group as we work our way through the evil elemental cultists that seem to infest this area?”
At the request for his weapon and armor, Kerric says, “Greetings Hersandoral, my name is Kerric Brightblade. I have not seen your possessions, but you are welcome to use my spare sword if you wish to help us fight the cultists,” as he holds out a two-handed slightly curved Elven blade, hilt-first.
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Gerrard Feldren - Human Noble in Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Kerric Brightblade - Elven Warrior in "Apocalypse"
"Mirabar? Ha surprised tha' they left the comfort o' their mines" I guess I'll tag along and rescue that kittens" another deep laugh while he examines the sword.
"A wee bit longer than I'm used too but tha craftsmanship is.decent enough. Not dwarf make.but it'll do"
Sitting by the cold stone wall beside the unkempt red-haired Dwarf is a fair half-elven maiden, her long hair of the purest white, as is her thin white garments. She has a sincere look of relief as her clear blue eyes curiously studies her rescuers, smiling warmly up at them in turn. She had lost track of how long she had been locked away in this dark and quite smelly dungeon now and had even begun to despair, the sole company of the Dwarf being something quite different than being among the certainly more refined courtiers of Silverymoon. She had silently cursed herself for accepting to travel westwards on this diplomatic mission to restore the disrupted trade through the Dessarin valley where she had barely arrived before evil men had come in the night to take her to this stinking dungeon.
"Thank you..."She says in a soft gentle voice as the platinum-blonde Half-Elf removes her restraints. She slowly and gracefully stands up, seeming to assess the situation as she uses magic to clean herself and her garments. "...thank you all for coming to my rescue. I am Sabynn Fairmeadows, a diplomat sent from the Gem of the North. The courts of Silverymoon owes you their gratitude." She says with a polite bow of her head. "Now, what can you tell me about this place and the evil elemental cultists that took me here?" She continues in a firm no-nonsense tone.
(OOC: Treasurer Flux is on the case! Might take a hot minute and a half, but gradually going through the process of looking back at previous acquistions, and at the very least notate treasure found since Flux' & Lewin's initial introduction to the group. Anything prior to that might far longer. >.>;;)
"They certainly be possesseth of a fine taste in prisoners, for starters!" Joked Flux from the hallway, sounding to be just out of sight from the doorway. But with his curiosity having been more than piqued by the earlier exchanges, soon enough the chubby cheeked dwarf could be seen peeking into the chamber. That is to say, at least he bore a strong resemblance of some of the northern born stoutfolk, but was either plane-touched (for those in the know) or horrifically cursed by a hag no doubt! As his skin appeared clammy and turquoise, the edge of his ears were jagged and fin-like, long, blue-black hair on his head draped and clung as if recently submerged, and his beard... oh dear! It couldn't even be called a proper beard anymore! Just a butchered mess being worn by one either too proud or too lacking in concern for self-care as to just trim and remove the mess.
The rest of his garments, a simple traveler's affair beneath a set of chainmail and some additional leather guards, appear well-worn and somewhat snug on his rotund figure. Still, he carried himself with the easy confidence of a merchant or nobleman, with a hammer hanging from his belt and a shield bearing the emblem of a storm cloud with three lightning bolts striking a singular point.
"A pleasure to make both of your aquiantance. I'll save you the trouble, and say you can call me Flux of Clan Thunderbrow. Another recent rescuee much like yerselves -- tho' from a different branch of the cult, uh... coalition! And long story short, they be in the business of late to capture folk. But to what ends? ... eh."He gives a hapless shrug as he went to lean against the door frame.
Flux grimaces and briefly bows his head. "That is, eh... that be a bit of a complicated question to answer."He admits. "B-but one I'd be more than happy to answer once we, uh, have this whole cult situation and, uh... ongoing rescue options settled. For truth be told, among, eh, other reasons, uhm.... we were currently seeking out the rest of a dwarven delegation that got taken as well! Which, eh, I myself was apart of -- n-not the kidnapping part, but uh, guarding, eh-...."He trails off into a sigh.
"Guarding them.... heh.... For fortunately or unfortunately, my, eh, unique, uh... appearance and magical, er... connections to the primordial waters made me a potential, uh -- Eh! Long story short, we got separated. But thanks to these two and some of the other members of their party scattered about-"He gestures to Ebele and Kerric. "--me and Gloomy gus over there-" He next gestured to Lewin. "Were recently freed, and given the chance to help in recovering the delegation. Which, at least according to some cultist that had the pleasure of, uh, the tables turned on them for a bit, we learned they traded them off a ways back apparently to the dusk howlers, er... Blow hards? No, uhm... some pretentious air elemental oriented name. And whose territory we are currently in!"
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When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Hersandoral wouldn't find any fey fiends or undead here. Flux was simply a voluptuous water genasi doing his best to summarize the situation since his time with the group.
Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, Ebele speaks up to add to the summary. "Kerric, Xalkas and I are from an original group that have been seeking out an important Delegation from the city of Mirabar which disappeared in the Sumber Hills. What we've been able to surmise from our travels regarding the delegation, is that they traveled overland from Westbridge to Beliard, crossing the Stone Bridge. From Beliard they headed south into the Sumber Hills, bound for Summit Hall. However, cultists attacked the group a few miles from Summit Hall. The cultists took prisoners back to their Monastery, paying water cultists for the use of their riverboats to cross the Dessarin River, which is how the delegation’s valuables end up in Womford."
Peeling herself away from the wall, the blind folded monk would sweep the next area as they talked. "We essentially picked up the missing Delegation's trail when we came across the valuables in Womford. From that point we seized a boat bound for the Crushing Wave (water) Cultist's Monastery, which we proceeded to siege. Finding a secret passage, further into the Water Cultist's layer we went. Through a deep dark tunnel we emerged inside their Temple. We fought our way through giant crabs, Reavers, cultists, and some of us, squid like creatures." She shudders remembering almost suffocating. The monk sports round like bruises around her neck and face that are about a day or so old. "We befriended trolls, fought lizardfolk and freed Lewin and Flux. Eventually, we vanquished the Crushing Wave's Prophet.
From there, we escaped, further into the depths. Coming face to face with a King Lizardfolk himself, Flux negotiated a believable truth to avoid further skirmish with the Lizardfolk. Resting in a pit prior to moving on further, we climbed bones of a giant worm to find ourselves here. First Kenku, then a room of the Cultists who dwell here." Ebele would drum her fingers along her staff as if suppressing emotion. Fresh pattern of bruising traces along her veins, evidence of recent electrocution which rocked her whole body. "We, my dear Sabynn and Hersandoral," She pushes open a door with her staff. Behind the door was a space the size of a closet. Inside would appear to contain the two captives belongings rudely tossed about and rummaged through. "Find ourselves within the Temple of the Howling Hatred, home to the followers of elemental air who call themselves the Cult of the Howling Hatred."
"They worship the destructive power of wind and storms, believing that those who venerate elemental air gain the power to punish those who have wronged them. More so than the members of the other cults, air cultists see their beliefs as a means to an end. Destruction for its own sake isn't particularly interesting, but destruction as an expression of personal freedom or to earn things wrongfully denied?" She motions. "That's a different story."
"The Cult of the Howling Hatred appeals to those who deal in perceptions over facts: illusionists, spies, and assassins, for example. Predatory or fierce winged creatures of any kind, even non-sentient monsters that would otherwise resist training, perceive the air cultists as allies and cooperate with them." Ebele explains. "I hope that answers your questions, miss Sabynn." With a twitch of her ears, her head turns her way. "And that these are what you're looking forHersandoral." She's speaking of the belongings unearthed.
Listening with rapt attention Hersandoral shakes his head
"Well at least I havna missed all the fun. Ahhh my.stuff. here pointy ears." He gives the sword back to Kerrik "nae this be a proper weapon" hefting his axe.
Quickly.donning his armor. Which is a dull iron color. One can't tell if it's just old or dirty he looks at the monk. " I'm ready"
(OOC: Here's a link of a rough account of relatively recent acquisitions.)
Flux attention wavers ever now and then, as he seemed somewhat preoccupied catching glimpses Sabynn. "Hm? Ah! Aye! Best we be setting on our course! Though if you two be more of a mind to head on your way out at the first promise of freedom, we not be begrudging ya. But the aid be most appreciated, and I'd wager even reciprocated in due time! Beyond of course just the freeing of yer bonds!"He said before trailing off into a bout of laughter.
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When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The white-haired half-elven courtier listens attentively as Ebele recounts for her why she and her other rescuers where here in this Temple of Howling Hatred, nodding as she processed the information given. While she wouldn't mind being back in the safety and comfort of her home in Silverymoon she had still a mission to complete and it seemed as her capture had brought her together with some quite powerful individuals whose objectives seemed to align with her own. "Yes, thank you Ebele..." Sabynn says to the platinum-blonde Half-Elf, and while the other could not see her warm smile it is still heard through her warm tone. "...and again, thank you all for coming to my rescue." She says, also nodding politely to the elven warrior, the rail-thin Firbolg and the bearded Genasi.
"If you don't mind Flux, I would prefer to follow along with your fine team here. I believe it would be safer for me than trying to find my own way back to civilization, but if I can assist you in any way I will certainly do so. I wouldn't claim to be a battle-hardened adventurer such as yourself, but I have some training in casting magic from the weave." Sabynn says with a warm smile to the bearded Genasi. As the unkempt dwarf has gathered up his gear, the white-haired half-elven courtier collects the only remaining item in closet-sized space, a moon crystal in a thin silver chain that she places around her delicate neck, then standing fully ready to follow the others on through the Temple of Howling Hatred to find the lost dwarven delegation and put an end to the evil designs of the Cult of Howling Hatred.
Lewin's concern eases as the captives respond well to being freed. "I am Lewin. I was also taken, and then freed by these folks, what seems like months ago but was only a day. I would very much like to see the sky again. Shall we proceed?" he says to the assembled group.
Peering out into the hallway through an eastern door, several streets converge on a plaza only about 20ft away to the south. In the center of which stands a thirty-foot-tall granite statue of Moradin grasping a great stone lantern in an outstretched fist. A bright light emanates from the lantern, revealing more ruined shops around the plaza, their inner chambers extending into the rock of the vast chasm. To the north is well, a tunnel leading to the north.
(Can update with a map this weekend based on PCs actions.)
As the group gets ready to move out Xalkas, remembers his manners and introduces himself to the latest rescuees. Standing a touch over three feet, he is clad in simple clothes with muted drab colors. Short black hair, green eyes and a rather bulbous nose. (Rather like the picture I chose for the character sheet). He does his best to stay a few feet behind Kerric as the group continues exploring.
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Lewin, a tall, rail-thin firbolg with chalky pale skin and black hair, steps into the room. Seeing the prisoners, the normally unreactive druid appears to weather an invisible gut punch. He staggers forward and attempts to help Ebele untie the prisoners, muttering to himself “not more, not again, these monsters…”
His hands have long spider-like fingers, and they move quickly at the bonds. His presence is at once invisible and palpable, like some huge, possibly terrifying being you forgot you saw in a dream. But his expression and gestures are caring and gentle with the prisoners. His wrists still bear wounds from his own bonds he escaped yesterday. He doesn’t introduce himself yet, but when it is time for that he will.
"Thankee, I was thinkin that this was the end o' me an I dinna want teh be goin out as a dammed prisoner. Names Hersandoral at yer service an to yer family"
Before you sits a red haired dwarf. Tanned skin (covered in more dirt) covered with a dirty shirt and leggings. His red beard a bit tangled and goes halfway down his chest and his hair is fashoned into a bit of an unkempt mohawk. One thing noticeable tho is that his.arms are criss crossed in scars.
"None o' ye happen to find me armor an axe ha' ye?"
Laissez les bons temps rouler
Kerric:
An imposing and brightly armored elven warrior strides into the room, looking down at the freed prisoners. Seeing a Dwarven warrior, he extends his arm and offers to help him up, saying, “Are you part of the missing Dwarven Delegation? We have been seeking to rescue that group as we work our way through the evil elemental cultists that seem to infest this area?”
At the request for his weapon and armor, Kerric says, “Greetings Hersandoral, my name is Kerric Brightblade. I have not seen your possessions, but you are welcome to use my spare sword if you wish to help us fight the cultists,” as he holds out a two-handed slightly curved Elven blade, hilt-first.
Gerrard Feldren - Human Noble in Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Kerric Brightblade - Elven Warrior in "Apocalypse"
"Ooooh. Look at you pointy ears all brigh' n shiny." Hersandoral let's out a hearty deep laugh.
"Ah guess I Ken borrow your trinket till I find me a proper weapon" he takes the blade sizing it up laughs again. Then suddenly turns serious
"Delegation ye say? Nae I'm nah part of any delegation nor ha' I seen any dwarf folk. Where Mae they be from I'm wonderin"
Laissez les bons temps rouler
Kerric:
"Mirabar," says Kerric simply, "They were kidnapped by the evil elemental cultists."
The weapon he hands over is a silvered greatsword.
Gerrard Feldren - Human Noble in Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Kerric Brightblade - Elven Warrior in "Apocalypse"
"Mirabar? Ha surprised tha' they left the comfort o' their mines" I guess I'll tag along and rescue that kittens" another deep laugh while he examines the sword.
"A wee bit longer than I'm used too but tha craftsmanship is.decent enough. Not dwarf make.but it'll do"
Laissez les bons temps rouler
Sitting by the cold stone wall beside the unkempt red-haired Dwarf is a fair half-elven maiden, her long hair of the purest white, as is her thin white garments. She has a sincere look of relief as her clear blue eyes curiously studies her rescuers, smiling warmly up at them in turn. She had lost track of how long she had been locked away in this dark and quite smelly dungeon now and had even begun to despair, the sole company of the Dwarf being something quite different than being among the certainly more refined courtiers of Silverymoon. She had silently cursed herself for accepting to travel westwards on this diplomatic mission to restore the disrupted trade through the Dessarin valley where she had barely arrived before evil men had come in the night to take her to this stinking dungeon.
"Thank you..." She says in a soft gentle voice as the platinum-blonde Half-Elf removes her restraints. She slowly and gracefully stands up, seeming to assess the situation as she uses magic to clean herself and her garments. "...thank you all for coming to my rescue. I am Sabynn Fairmeadows, a diplomat sent from the Gem of the North. The courts of Silverymoon owes you their gratitude." She says with a polite bow of her head. "Now, what can you tell me about this place and the evil elemental cultists that took me here?" She continues in a firm no-nonsense tone.
(OOC: Treasurer Flux is on the case! Might take a hot minute and a half, but gradually going through the process of looking back at previous acquistions, and at the very least notate treasure found since Flux' & Lewin's initial introduction to the group. Anything prior to that might far longer. >.>;;)
"They certainly be possesseth of a fine taste in prisoners, for starters!" Joked Flux from the hallway, sounding to be just out of sight from the doorway. But with his curiosity having been more than piqued by the earlier exchanges, soon enough the chubby cheeked dwarf could be seen peeking into the chamber. That is to say, at least he bore a strong resemblance of some of the northern born stoutfolk, but was either plane-touched (for those in the know) or horrifically cursed by a hag no doubt! As his skin appeared clammy and turquoise, the edge of his ears were jagged and fin-like, long, blue-black hair on his head draped and clung as if recently submerged, and his beard... oh dear! It couldn't even be called a proper beard anymore! Just a butchered mess being worn by one either too proud or too lacking in concern for self-care as to just trim and remove the mess.
The rest of his garments, a simple traveler's affair beneath a set of chainmail and some additional leather guards, appear well-worn and somewhat snug on his rotund figure. Still, he carried himself with the easy confidence of a merchant or nobleman, with a hammer hanging from his belt and a shield bearing the emblem of a storm cloud with three lightning bolts striking a singular point.
"A pleasure to make both of your aquiantance. I'll save you the trouble, and say you can call me Flux of Clan Thunderbrow. Another recent rescuee much like yerselves -- tho' from a different branch of the cult, uh... coalition! And long story short, they be in the business of late to capture folk. But to what ends? ... eh." He gives a hapless shrug as he went to lean against the door frame.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Hersandoral looks at the new voice. "Thunderbrow? Nae sure I e'er heard o ye. What hall ye from?"
Scanning the dwarfs strange appearance he quickly.and quietly uses Hunters bane checking for fey fiends or undead (with advantage)
Survival: 17
Laissez les bons temps rouler
Flux grimaces and briefly bows his head. "That is, eh... that be a bit of a complicated question to answer." He admits. "B-but one I'd be more than happy to answer once we, uh, have this whole cult situation and, uh... ongoing rescue options settled. For truth be told, among, eh, other reasons, uhm.... we were currently seeking out the rest of a dwarven delegation that got taken as well! Which, eh, I myself was apart of -- n-not the kidnapping part, but uh, guarding, eh-...." He trails off into a sigh.
"Guarding them.... heh.... For fortunately or unfortunately, my, eh, unique, uh... appearance and magical, er... connections to the primordial waters made me a potential, uh -- Eh! Long story short, we got separated. But thanks to these two and some of the other members of their party scattered about-" He gestures to Ebele and Kerric. "--me and Gloomy gus over there-" He next gestured to Lewin. "Were recently freed, and given the chance to help in recovering the delegation. Which, at least according to some cultist that had the pleasure of, uh, the tables turned on them for a bit, we learned they traded them off a ways back apparently to the dusk howlers, er... Blow hards? No, uhm... some pretentious air elemental oriented name. And whose territory we are currently in!"
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
"Well then. No time for dawdlin. D'ye ha' any leads?"
Hersandoral keeps.fiddling with the sword
Laissez les bons temps rouler
Hersandoral wouldn't find any fey fiends or undead here. Flux was simply a voluptuous water genasi doing his best to summarize the situation since his time with the group.
Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, Ebele speaks up to add to the summary. "Kerric, Xalkas and I are from an original group that have been seeking out an important Delegation from the city of Mirabar which disappeared in the Sumber Hills. What we've been able to surmise from our travels regarding the delegation, is that they traveled overland from Westbridge to Beliard, crossing the Stone Bridge. From Beliard they headed south into the Sumber Hills, bound for Summit Hall. However, cultists attacked the group a few miles from Summit Hall. The cultists took prisoners back to their Monastery, paying water cultists for the use of their riverboats to cross the Dessarin River, which is how the delegation’s valuables end up in Womford."
Peeling herself away from the wall, the blind folded monk would sweep the next area as they talked. "We essentially picked up the missing Delegation's trail when we came across the valuables in Womford. From that point we seized a boat bound for the Crushing Wave (water) Cultist's Monastery, which we proceeded to siege. Finding a secret passage, further into the Water Cultist's layer we went. Through a deep dark tunnel we emerged inside their Temple. We fought our way through giant crabs, Reavers, cultists, and some of us, squid like creatures." She shudders remembering almost suffocating. The monk sports round like bruises around her neck and face that are about a day or so old. "We befriended trolls, fought lizardfolk and freed Lewin and Flux. Eventually, we vanquished the Crushing Wave's Prophet.
From there, we escaped, further into the depths. Coming face to face with a King Lizardfolk himself, Flux negotiated a believable truth to avoid further skirmish with the Lizardfolk. Resting in a pit prior to moving on further, we climbed bones of a giant worm to find ourselves here. First Kenku, then a room of the Cultists who dwell here." Ebele would drum her fingers along her staff as if suppressing emotion. Fresh pattern of bruising traces along her veins, evidence of recent electrocution which rocked her whole body. "We, my dear Sabynn and Hersandoral," She pushes open a door with her staff. Behind the door was a space the size of a closet. Inside would appear to contain the two captives belongings rudely tossed about and rummaged through. "Find ourselves within the Temple of the Howling Hatred, home to the followers of elemental air who call themselves the Cult of the Howling Hatred."
"They worship the destructive power of wind and storms, believing that those who venerate elemental air gain the power to punish those who have wronged them. More so than the members of the other cults, air cultists see their beliefs as a means to an end. Destruction for its own sake isn't particularly interesting, but destruction as an expression of personal freedom or to earn things wrongfully denied?" She motions. "That's a different story."
"The Cult of the Howling Hatred appeals to those who deal in perceptions over facts: illusionists, spies, and assassins, for example. Predatory or fierce winged creatures of any kind, even non-sentient monsters that would otherwise resist training, perceive the air cultists as allies and cooperate with them." Ebele explains. "I hope that answers your questions, miss Sabynn." With a twitch of her ears, her head turns her way. "And that these are what you're looking for Hersandoral." She's speaking of the belongings unearthed.
just an unstable unicorn.
Listening with rapt attention Hersandoral shakes his head
"Well at least I havna missed all the fun. Ahhh my.stuff. here pointy ears." He gives the sword back to Kerrik "nae this be a proper weapon" hefting his axe.
Quickly.donning his armor. Which is a dull iron color. One can't tell if it's just old or dirty he looks at the monk. " I'm ready"
Laissez les bons temps rouler
(OOC: Here's a link of a rough account of relatively recent acquisitions.)
Flux attention wavers ever now and then, as he seemed somewhat preoccupied catching glimpses Sabynn. "Hm? Ah! Aye! Best we be setting on our course! Though if you two be more of a mind to head on your way out at the first promise of freedom, we not be begrudging ya. But the aid be most appreciated, and I'd wager even reciprocated in due time! Beyond of course just the freeing of yer bonds!" He said before trailing off into a bout of laughter.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
The white-haired half-elven courtier listens attentively as Ebele recounts for her why she and her other rescuers where here in this Temple of Howling Hatred, nodding as she processed the information given. While she wouldn't mind being back in the safety and comfort of her home in Silverymoon she had still a mission to complete and it seemed as her capture had brought her together with some quite powerful individuals whose objectives seemed to align with her own. "Yes, thank you Ebele..." Sabynn says to the platinum-blonde Half-Elf, and while the other could not see her warm smile it is still heard through her warm tone. "...and again, thank you all for coming to my rescue." She says, also nodding politely to the elven warrior, the rail-thin Firbolg and the bearded Genasi.
"If you don't mind Flux, I would prefer to follow along with your fine team here. I believe it would be safer for me than trying to find my own way back to civilization, but if I can assist you in any way I will certainly do so. I wouldn't claim to be a battle-hardened adventurer such as yourself, but I have some training in casting magic from the weave." Sabynn says with a warm smile to the bearded Genasi. As the unkempt dwarf has gathered up his gear, the white-haired half-elven courtier collects the only remaining item in closet-sized space, a moon crystal in a thin silver chain that she places around her delicate neck, then standing fully ready to follow the others on through the Temple of Howling Hatred to find the lost dwarven delegation and put an end to the evil designs of the Cult of Howling Hatred.
Stealth: 18
Perception: 18
Lewin's concern eases as the captives respond well to being freed. "I am Lewin. I was also taken, and then freed by these folks, what seems like months ago but was only a day. I would very much like to see the sky again. Shall we proceed?" he says to the assembled group.
Peering out into the hallway through an eastern door, several streets converge on a plaza only about 20ft away to the south. In the center of which stands a thirty-foot-tall granite statue of Moradin grasping a great stone lantern in an outstretched fist. A bright light emanates from the lantern, revealing more ruined shops around the plaza, their inner chambers extending into the rock of the vast chasm. To the north is well, a tunnel leading to the north.
(Can update with a map this weekend based on PCs actions.)
just an unstable unicorn.
Kerric:
”Very interesting,” says Kerric, trying to make sense of this architecture. “Let us investigate,” he says, carefully moving forward.
Gerrard Feldren - Human Noble in Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Kerric Brightblade - Elven Warrior in "Apocalypse"
Hersandoral follows along behind Kerric eyes darting this a way and that trying to take everything in
Laissez les bons temps rouler
As the group gets ready to move out Xalkas, remembers his manners and introduces himself to the latest rescuees. Standing a touch over three feet, he is clad in simple clothes with muted drab colors. Short black hair, green eyes and a rather bulbous nose. (Rather like the picture I chose for the character sheet). He does his best to stay a few feet behind Kerric as the group continues exploring.