The three of you had been on the road for some time, nearly a week at the very least. Despite the deep of winter, today was an especially warm day, and the snow glistened brightly as the sun rose past its zenith. The cart moved along calmly over the partially frozen road. Each of you glad you had all purchased warmer clothing before setting out. Root, steering his horse as it pulled along his carriage. For a while you had all been quiet, not quite feeling like saying much as you took in the beauty of winter. The three of you had heard about a band of orcs, led by a vicious warlord who was heading south near, though not on the Tri-Boar trail. Each of you had your own reasons for being here. Some sought company for reasons unknown. Others wandered, lost after a wreck. And some simply seeking company to join them on a journey filled with danger and combat.
You had each stocked up fairly well, and the road had, thus-far been uneventful. The skies were clear, and the wind almost non-existent except in the distant snowbanks off the trail causing fox-tails of snow to flit about in various directions. The signs that were still legible told you that the town of Phandalin wasn't too far off, in fact, Bell points out that she's fairly sure she can see the roof of the large manor, said to rest atop a hill over the town - And growing ever-closer with every clop of the horses hooves. Suddenly inspired, just a bit, you all begin to talk among yourselves, though you had introduced yourselves before, somehow you felt the urge to do so, one more time, as if to consolidate your troupe, looking each-other over, and memorizing each-others appearances, as each of you spoke to one another about what was to come when you all located this band of orcs, and the rewards you would reap for defending the town, or other similar topics.
Another half-hour would pass before the manor was in plain view.
(Bell, Root, Fallan - Please use this as an opportunity to introduce your characters, both appearance, as well as some light banter between each-other. Allowing you to introduce your characters. When you are all ready to officially start the campaign, and you feel your introductory posts are done... below is the next portion. Don't feel rushed to post, post as much as you all wish, as many times as you both wish before proceeding. The text below this is just so that when you're ready, the next portion is already up.)
After talking with each-other, each of you growing in your own way more eager to get to Phandalin to begin your quest, you notice that time has passed significantly faster than you though, as the Manor is by now beginning to roll directly to the left side of the carriage. You had all heard it was run-down from disuse, however you don't recall any stories about it being burnt, let alone that smoke still rose from its balconies. And odd sense of dark-curiosity rising. The tree's grew thicker around the path, as if feeding you like a funnel towards the town, though the path itself was unblemished, outside of a few small, yet natural bumps. Cresting the corner, where the tree's began to end, the mixed smell of smoke, and long-gone fire mixed in with the crisp cool air.
Eventually breaking the final corner where the path officially led into the town, and the long, winding path to the manor finally ended, allowing a view of the town-proper. There had been an eerie silence.. or rather, the complete lack of noise of activity. The smell of smoldering ashes, and even a bit of burnt bodies lingered in the air. And as the town came into view, it was clear that the place had already been sacked. Nearly every building had been on fire at some point, most burnt down to the frames if those still stood at all. Corpses of orcs lay in a pile near what you assumed was roughly the center of town, though a few lay strewn about the path towards the manor, giving sign of a struggle long over.
To the side of that path, several hand-fulls of lumps lay out of the ground in mostly-neat rows, and every single one looked fresh. Outside the burnt remains of some building, a Leapoardine Tabaxi stood over a Halfling woman, who was being embraced by an elf as they both knelt on the ground, both seeming to shake as they wept in each-others arms.
Driving, Root takes in the natural beauty of the road. Looking up he's glad that the sun is out,"Finally I can takes this heavy coat off!"Taking his coat off and throwing in the back possibly hitting Bell. Root is bare chested having deep red scales, He stands at 6'5 and very lean in build. His body has a few scars on them from battle because of this his scales are thicker than the average Dragonborn. He wares pants that are tight around his waist and his ankles but loose around his legs, like his bare chest Root also doesn't ware sandals or foot ware.
Going in his bag Root pulls out a smoking pipe, as he's enjoying the warmth of the sun. Root lights it and exhaling smoke but it doesn't dissipate instead it swirls around him. The pipe is long and with a small bowl "Hey, what was your name again Halfling? I know we been traveling for a week but humor me once more on this lovely day."
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Felix Windfall (Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA,Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiA
Despite the space in the cart, Fallan consistently appears to be trying to make herself seem even smaller than her halfling frame already is. Enjoying the smoothness of the path, she constantly scans the skies, the deeper, darkness of the treetops where the evergreens still may hide things that the bare deciduous trees would have exposed during their leafless winter days. Wrapped up tightly in her cloak as one would expect during the cold weather, she seems to cling to it and keep herself embraced by the dark cloth. The warm sunshine doesn't seem to encourage her at all to discard or open the cloak. Of course, this makes it hard to tell just what her size actually is, and only the wisps of curly auburn hair that hang below the hood she has up give much to identify her by. Her eyes, however, a very pale blue, are distinctive enough just due to their color, but they take on an uncertain quality, deep-set and darkened. The overall dark black color of her clothes only adds to that sullen and sunken impression.
"Huh, what? Me? Oh, sure, sure, I'm Fallan. Fallan Kettlewhistle, of the Rollinghill Kettlewhistles. Thanks again for letting me join you. Just putting distance behind you has to make you feel more alive - wouldn't you say? Any idea when we'll eat again?"
Exhaling again the swirls grows bigger "Well, we just ate but if your really hungry that chest that you keep hiding behind should have some rations in it."not looking back Root points with his thumb as he keeps his eye in the road. "You said distance behind you, you run from someone?"
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Felix Windfall (Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA,Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiA
"From somebody? Um, no, not really, I um don't think so. Just staying on the move, and looking to stay in the company of the strong and the trustworthy. But... um... hey, whoever told you rations count as FOOD?" The halfling shook her head and gingerly used only the tips of her fingers to see if she could lift the lid of the chest she had been directed toward. One would have thought she expected it to be filled with the foulest of stenches, or the most disgusting of foodstuffs, rather than something that would make a respectable second breakfast. Her eyes, however, seemed drawn more and more toward the manor house to which they were quickly approaching.
Root gauges Fallan words and her tone of voice, does she really trust us?
Root chuckles as she talks about the rations "Hahaha, I can't recall where I heard this but I heard one can train there body to a point where food and water are no longer need. Though I don't now how true that is." Taking another puff of his pipe Root continues to drive the wagon watching out for the roads.
Bellerain stretches, and shivers, the movement caused by the extension of all her muscles rather than the cold, but as she shakes briefly a light, clicking jingle can be heard from the many piercings adorning her ears, nose, and eyebrows. The winter cloak she had bought is tied around her neck and shoulders, but her arms aren't through the armholes, and the bulk of it settles behind her back like a cape. She unstoppers and takes a swig from a bottle that is bound tightly to her forearm for convenience' sake, clearly relying on the heat of her drink to keep her protected against the cold, as the medium armor she wears consists mostly of a minimalist breastplate and heavy pauldrons, but little else. After gulping down a generous swig, she stoppers the bottle back up and exhales deeply.
She then springs up onto her hooves, the keratin clocking loudly against the wooden seat, and gives a playful yelp. "Hoo-ii! I like your thinking Fallan! Yes! A real meal, one with plates and cups and food fresh and crisp as this air!" She drops to her knees and faces the halfling, closing her eyes and patting Fallan on top of the hood, a stupid grin plastered across the Satyr's face. "I knew we'd get along."
Bellerain then turns with a jerk, and hops once on her knees to get closer to Root. She raises a finger and pokes him in the shoulder. "Hey! Hey hey, what are you smoking this time?"
Hearing Bell finally active Root will exhale from his nostrils, a large cloud of smoke added on to the swirl. "Halfling Herbs, want to try it's pretty strong not for the weak. Surely you aren't weak are you?"
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Felix Windfall (Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA,Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiA
Bellerain laughs, and while her tone of voice feigns offense, it's plain on her face that she's taken none. "Look who you're talking to! Back home we had festivals where there was more smoke drifting about the atmosphere than there was breathable air!" Bellerain leans her head back and reminisces briefly of her home before snapping back to reality. "I'll take a puff, if you don't mind me imposing."
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"Mulkrip" -Hobgoblin Barbarian, Path of the Totem Warrior -Libertalia
"Here." Root chuckles as he passes the pipe the smoke begins to swirl around Bell as she takes a puff. It's a cool minty taste like a sweet peppermint then the head rush from the herbs.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
performance 18
Bellerain’s eyes sparkle as she contemplates the flavor. Curls of smoke escape through her nostrils as she exhales. She hums contentedly, and then takes a deeper puff. The Satyr cranes her neck back and attempts to blow a couple of smoke rings.
Bellerain generates a large, nicely formed ring, and then sends a couple of smaller rings darting through it. She ends the display with a short cough as she hands the pipe back. “Achek... still got it,” Bellerain says, pleased with herself.
Fallan watches the exchanges between the Satyr - not a creature she has had any experience with before joining these two - and the Dragonborn - a being she had believed to only be made of myth and storytelling rather than reality. When the Satyr bends down and pats her on her head, Fallan fights every inner urge to pull back in fear, but rather nods quietly when the mention of real food is brought up. Once the discussion of Halfling Herbs has ended (at which Fallan does finally find the edges of her mouth curling up in a smile, if they think THAT brand of smoke weed was strong), she does pipe up to let her two traveling companions know she is paying attention.
"Why would anyone WANT to train themselves to go without the blessings of a good meal? And; while maybe going without water would be ok; to do without a stiff drink of a good mead or ale is an affront to the powers that have turned the makings of our sustenance into the abundance of our enjoyment. The gods gave us vegetables, meats of all types, and the product of the bees to be turned into mead, or hops that will make fine beer. Who would essentially spit in their celestial faces by actually trying to abstain from these pleasures?"
Just as she was warming to the topic of epicurean delights, the many wisps of the pipeweed smoke, swirled and bent and moved with the breeze, the movement of the cart, and who knew what else? Just enough to cause her to pull back from the Dragonborn with the reigns, and to shrink back to her spot glancing over the buckboard rails at the scenery going by.
Rose's heart fluttered when Gwen said yes and she wanted their embrace to never end. At that moment all the recent events of the past few days seemed to melt away as Gwen held her close. However, despite her excitement, a noise still caught Rose's attention. Looking around she saw the cart approaching the town. She looked to Gwen, tears of joy still trickling down her face, and said I think we have company hun, celebrations will have a to wait it seems. Rose kissed and then took a few moments to make herself presentable, wiping away her tears and taking a few moments to calm herself. Once the cart got within site, the halfling woman waved at the approaching strangers to hail them as they entered. Seeing that the group clearly wasn't orcs Rose couldn't help but feel relieved. When and if the cart pulled over Rose approached whoever seemed to be driving it. Rose, a stout halfling in heavy armor over torn black clothing, called out Hey! Yes you all in the cart! If you're hoping for a place to stay tonight I'm afraid you're out of luck, towns seen better days, probably best if you keep moving. Rose looked back at the half burned town as she spoke, the joy of a few minutes ago fading at the sight of all her failures paraded in front of her. Once closer the party could see that Rose looked pretty rough, like someone who hasn't had much rest in the last few days. Her air was just below shoulder length and clearly hadn't been cut in some time. On the halflings back was a large warhammer almost as big as she was, around her neck was a silver amulet depicting seven stars around a pair of silver eyes. Rose turned back to the cart full of new people and looks at them curiously, Well, welcome to Phandalin, for whatever that's worth right now.
Bellerain listens intently to Fallan's discourse, nodding vigorously and grunting in happy agreement with each statement the halfling made until she stopped abruptly, and seemed to recede into herself. The Satyr purses her lips, worried after her new companion's timid behavior, but is distracted from commenting on it by their approach to Phandalin.
Her expression turns blank as the smells and sights of a Phandalin post-raid fill her senses, as if the death itself rises as an aura in the air she can feel. "We're too late," she states morbidly. When the halfling hails them and calls out, Bellerain leaps from the cart before it even stops, landing heavy in the ash-laden mud. She starts towards the small group of people, but slows at the armored halfling's awkward greeting. Bellerain bows her head and offers a slight curtsy. "Thank you for welcoming us... we had heard trouble was on the way, and were hoping to arrive in time to be of aid but..." Bellerain's voice trails off as she looks over the lingering carnage. "I... I'm sorry."
Gwen had been filled with her own brand of joy at the moment, glad that Rose had understood her teasing response merely as play. Cold exhalations of breath wafting quickly from her and fading as ephemerally swiftly as they existed. Gwen was too distracted initially, both by what was happening, what had already happened, and her focus had admittedly been inward. Ja'ree remained silent as he appreciated the sentiment of the moment, as it brought a little spark of happiness amidst the burnt ashes of the town, though he heard the sound of the cart approaching at about the same time as Rose, ears flicking back before his head followed on a swivel.
Initially defensive, raising his clawed hands into a tigers-stance before seeing what Rose saw, and letting down his guard. Ja'ree too, was weary, even if he had been healed, the blood that had been spilled both on, and from him, were still present on his leapoardine fur. He wore only as much as needed to keep himself warm, which, at-least for him, was easier than most. As Rose pulled away from the embrace, it was only then that Gwen was pulled out of her own little world, and saw the new arrivals. Putting on her best smile, and not really having to force it, all things considered. She stood to her full height and waved at the new arrivals, before the smile faded in lieu of the scenery and somberness of it all. Ah, sorry hun, I didn't notice them coming... And celebrations in wait are just like wine, finer the later they're opened. she said in a semi-cheery tune.
Welcome to Phandalin, or, rather, what is left. As my uh.. Fiancee has just said the town has .. seen better days. Several days ago, a bunch of those orcs you all see... attacked this place, and we arrived too late to do more than save what was left. Gwen sighs, as she looks around at all the destruction, there was little that had escaped the fire the Orcish Raiding party had caused. Ja stood stiffly as he somewhat mimicked Gwens gaze, looking around. Do not be so hard on yourself Gwen, dear. You could not have known.. but we have already discussed this. So stop looking back, and start looking forward, there's still the good news, afterall. Ja'ree seemed to not posses the typical accent of the Tabaxi kin. However, Ja does interject and add in, quickly, as he raised index to emphasize. Though there may not be any traditional place to sleep, if you're in dire need of rest... and mean no harm, we could allow you to rest with us in the Inn's cellar, it seemed to survive the flames, and will provide shelter for the nights warmth. Unfortunately, all we have on us are rations, and whats left of some salted pork.
Root however just finds Fallan's behavior to be one of her normal quirks 'Just Fallan acting odd again it seems' is all he's able to glean despite attempting to listen intently. It seemed the job of maintaining the carts path was too distracting to notice more.
Rose was shocked to see a Satyr among the group, having only heard the occasional story about the race back when she was an initiate. Her shock only intensified when she noticed the familiar Aura around the necommer, in fact it was also been around the others in the cart as well. Her smile soon gave way to curiosity about the group, and a smile crossed Roses lips. There's no need to apologize, we've already kicked ourselves enough for not being here in time. No need to get you all feel bad about it too. Anyway, my name is Rosorla Brightmoon, Cleric to our Lady of Silver, Selûne. You can all just call me Rose however, in fact I insist on it. May I ask who you all are and where you came from?
Bellerain rests her hand on the hilt of her rapier (non-threateningly). "Bellerain Wanderfoot, but you can just call me Bell. I'm just traveling about the world... for pleasure, you could say, but as a warrior I try to lend my skills where they're needed. I also can perform a bit of limited healing magic... so if I can be any help, let me know."
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"Mulkrip" -Hobgoblin Barbarian, Path of the Totem Warrior -Libertalia
Root driving the wagon was going to answer Fallan’s question but the smell of burn wood and bodies fills the air. As they get closer the smell begins to grow stronger as Root sees the bodies of Orcs and the destruction of the town. He thinks to himself it must have been an intense battle. If only they had arrived sooner, but Root begins to shake his head. Disregarding those thoughts Root snaps to the present as he sees folks up a head.
Slowing the cart Bell jumps out introducing herself to the folks of Phandalin. Watching Root comes to a full stop, stepping down from the wagon he puffs on his pipe and exhaling. The town folk notice the smoke doesn’t dissipate instead it swirls around Root as if it has a mind of its own. Standing next to Bell “I am Root, I am currently traveling with Bell here.” As he is talking he places his hand on Bell head give her a gentle pat and rub on the top of her head. “I have had the fortune of meeting Bell as I was traveling on a journey of spiritual enlightenment. While I was traveling I saw her fighting folks in a small village. She saw me and challenged me to a duel. Since then we have been traveling together.”
As he talking the smoke begins to form a over Root’s head, moving into shapes that reenact his story. It begins to show how they meet and how they fought each but before it shows the final strikes the smoke dissipates.
Once the jostling and bouncing rhythm of the cart had ceased, coming to a stop, with its other occupants disembarking, Fallan decided that decorum called for her to also introduce herself to the newly met folk. She clambered up the sides of the cart, rolled over the top, and slowly lowered herself until hanging from her fingertips. A quick drop to the ground that made almost no sound, and she found herself walking over to the gathering group.
"Hi. I'm Fallan Kettlewhistle, and you can call me just about anything, as long as you don't call me late for dinner. (heh heh he) Though salt pork and rations are hardly dinner, it is better than just rations, I suppose."During her introduction, as Root's smoke re-enactment gets more "heated", Fallan edges further and futher away from the Dragonborn until she bumps into Bell accidentally. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to... oh.."and she recoils away from the Satyr and moves a step or two back toward the cart, while nodding and giving what looks to be a somewhat pained smile to the Rose and the others just being met.
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Of Endings and Beginnings, First step to Eternity
The three of you had been on the road for some time, nearly a week at the very least. Despite the deep of winter, today was an especially warm day, and the snow glistened brightly as the sun rose past its zenith. The cart moved along calmly over the partially frozen road. Each of you glad you had all purchased warmer clothing before setting out. Root, steering his horse as it pulled along his carriage. For a while you had all been quiet, not quite feeling like saying much as you took in the beauty of winter. The three of you had heard about a band of orcs, led by a vicious warlord who was heading south near, though not on the Tri-Boar trail. Each of you had your own reasons for being here. Some sought company for reasons unknown. Others wandered, lost after a wreck. And some simply seeking company to join them on a journey filled with danger and combat.
You had each stocked up fairly well, and the road had, thus-far been uneventful. The skies were clear, and the wind almost non-existent except in the distant snowbanks off the trail causing fox-tails of snow to flit about in various directions. The signs that were still legible told you that the town of Phandalin wasn't too far off, in fact, Bell points out that she's fairly sure she can see the roof of the large manor, said to rest atop a hill over the town - And growing ever-closer with every clop of the horses hooves. Suddenly inspired, just a bit, you all begin to talk among yourselves, though you had introduced yourselves before, somehow you felt the urge to do so, one more time, as if to consolidate your troupe, looking each-other over, and memorizing each-others appearances, as each of you spoke to one another about what was to come when you all located this band of orcs, and the rewards you would reap for defending the town, or other similar topics.
Another half-hour would pass before the manor was in plain view.
(Bell, Root, Fallan - Please use this as an opportunity to introduce your characters, both appearance, as well as some light banter between each-other. Allowing you to introduce your characters. When you are all ready to officially start the campaign, and you feel your introductory posts are done... below is the next portion. Don't feel rushed to post, post as much as you all wish, as many times as you both wish before proceeding. The text below this is just so that when you're ready, the next portion is already up.)
After talking with each-other, each of you growing in your own way more eager to get to Phandalin to begin your quest, you notice that time has passed significantly faster than you though, as the Manor is by now beginning to roll directly to the left side of the carriage. You had all heard it was run-down from disuse, however you don't recall any stories about it being burnt, let alone that smoke still rose from its balconies. And odd sense of dark-curiosity rising. The tree's grew thicker around the path, as if feeding you like a funnel towards the town, though the path itself was unblemished, outside of a few small, yet natural bumps. Cresting the corner, where the tree's began to end, the mixed smell of smoke, and long-gone fire mixed in with the crisp cool air.
Eventually breaking the final corner where the path officially led into the town, and the long, winding path to the manor finally ended, allowing a view of the town-proper. There had been an eerie silence.. or rather, the complete lack of noise of activity. The smell of smoldering ashes, and even a bit of burnt bodies lingered in the air. And as the town came into view, it was clear that the place had already been sacked. Nearly every building had been on fire at some point, most burnt down to the frames if those still stood at all. Corpses of orcs lay in a pile near what you assumed was roughly the center of town, though a few lay strewn about the path towards the manor, giving sign of a struggle long over.
To the side of that path, several hand-fulls of lumps lay out of the ground in mostly-neat rows, and every single one looked fresh. Outside the burnt remains of some building, a Leapoardine Tabaxi stood over a Halfling woman, who was being embraced by an elf as they both knelt on the ground, both seeming to shake as they wept in each-others arms.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Driving, Root takes in the natural beauty of the road. Looking up he's glad that the sun is out, "Finally I can takes this heavy coat off!" Taking his coat off and throwing in the back possibly hitting Bell. Root is bare chested having deep red scales, He stands at 6'5 and very lean in build. His body has a few scars on them from battle because of this his scales are thicker than the average Dragonborn. He wares pants that are tight around his waist and his ankles but loose around his legs, like his bare chest Root also doesn't ware sandals or foot ware.
Going in his bag Root pulls out a smoking pipe, as he's enjoying the warmth of the sun. Root lights it and exhaling smoke but it doesn't dissipate instead it swirls around him. The pipe is long and with a small bowl "Hey, what was your name again Halfling? I know we been traveling for a week but humor me once more on this lovely day."
Felix Windfall(Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA, Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiADespite the space in the cart, Fallan consistently appears to be trying to make herself seem even smaller than her halfling frame already is. Enjoying the smoothness of the path, she constantly scans the skies, the deeper, darkness of the treetops where the evergreens still may hide things that the bare deciduous trees would have exposed during their leafless winter days. Wrapped up tightly in her cloak as one would expect during the cold weather, she seems to cling to it and keep herself embraced by the dark cloth. The warm sunshine doesn't seem to encourage her at all to discard or open the cloak. Of course, this makes it hard to tell just what her size actually is, and only the wisps of curly auburn hair that hang below the hood she has up give much to identify her by. Her eyes, however, a very pale blue, are distinctive enough just due to their color, but they take on an uncertain quality, deep-set and darkened. The overall dark black color of her clothes only adds to that sullen and sunken impression.
"Huh, what? Me? Oh, sure, sure, I'm Fallan. Fallan Kettlewhistle, of the Rollinghill Kettlewhistles. Thanks again for letting me join you. Just putting distance behind you has to make you feel more alive - wouldn't you say? Any idea when we'll eat again?"
Exhaling again the swirls grows bigger "Well, we just ate but if your really hungry that chest that you keep hiding behind should have some rations in it." not looking back Root points with his thumb as he keeps his eye in the road. "You said distance behind you, you run from someone?"
Felix Windfall(Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA, Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiA"From somebody? Um, no, not really, I um don't think so. Just staying on the move, and looking to stay in the company of the strong and the trustworthy. But... um... hey, whoever told you rations count as FOOD?" The halfling shook her head and gingerly used only the tips of her fingers to see if she could lift the lid of the chest she had been directed toward. One would have thought she expected it to be filled with the foulest of stenches, or the most disgusting of foodstuffs, rather than something that would make a respectable second breakfast. Her eyes, however, seemed drawn more and more toward the manor house to which they were quickly approaching.
Insight vs Fallan: 18
Root gauges Fallan words and her tone of voice, does she really trust us?
Root chuckles as she talks about the rations "Hahaha, I can't recall where I heard this but I heard one can train there body to a point where food and water are no longer need. Though I don't now how true that is." Taking another puff of his pipe Root continues to drive the wagon watching out for the roads.
Felix Windfall(Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA, Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiA(Just posting so I get notifications)
Bellerain stretches, and shivers, the movement caused by the extension of all her muscles rather than the cold, but as she shakes briefly a light, clicking jingle can be heard from the many piercings adorning her ears, nose, and eyebrows. The winter cloak she had bought is tied around her neck and shoulders, but her arms aren't through the armholes, and the bulk of it settles behind her back like a cape. She unstoppers and takes a swig from a bottle that is bound tightly to her forearm for convenience' sake, clearly relying on the heat of her drink to keep her protected against the cold, as the medium armor she wears consists mostly of a minimalist breastplate and heavy pauldrons, but little else. After gulping down a generous swig, she stoppers the bottle back up and exhales deeply.
She then springs up onto her hooves, the keratin clocking loudly against the wooden seat, and gives a playful yelp. "Hoo-ii! I like your thinking Fallan! Yes! A real meal, one with plates and cups and food fresh and crisp as this air!" She drops to her knees and faces the halfling, closing her eyes and patting Fallan on top of the hood, a stupid grin plastered across the Satyr's face. "I knew we'd get along."
Bellerain then turns with a jerk, and hops once on her knees to get closer to Root. She raises a finger and pokes him in the shoulder. "Hey! Hey hey, what are you smoking this time?"
Hearing Bell finally active Root will exhale from his nostrils, a large cloud of smoke added on to the swirl. "Halfling Herbs, want to try it's pretty strong not for the weak. Surely you aren't weak are you?"
Felix Windfall(Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA, Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiABellerain laughs, and while her tone of voice feigns offense, it's plain on her face that she's taken none. "Look who you're talking to! Back home we had festivals where there was more smoke drifting about the atmosphere than there was breathable air!" Bellerain leans her head back and reminisces briefly of her home before snapping back to reality. "I'll take a puff, if you don't mind me imposing."
"Here." Root chuckles as he passes the pipe the smoke begins to swirl around Bell as she takes a puff. It's a cool minty taste like a sweet peppermint then the head rush from the herbs.
(Basically like a sweet menthol taste)
Felix Windfall(Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA, Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiAperformance 18
Bellerain’s eyes sparkle as she contemplates the flavor. Curls of smoke escape through her nostrils as she exhales. She hums contentedly, and then takes a deeper puff. The Satyr cranes her neck back and attempts to blow a couple of smoke rings.
Bellerain generates a large, nicely formed ring, and then sends a couple of smaller rings darting through it. She ends the display with a short cough as she hands the pipe back. “Achek... still got it,” Bellerain says, pleased with herself.
Fallan watches the exchanges between the Satyr - not a creature she has had any experience with before joining these two - and the Dragonborn - a being she had believed to only be made of myth and storytelling rather than reality. When the Satyr bends down and pats her on her head, Fallan fights every inner urge to pull back in fear, but rather nods quietly when the mention of real food is brought up. Once the discussion of Halfling Herbs has ended (at which Fallan does finally find the edges of her mouth curling up in a smile, if they think THAT brand of smoke weed was strong), she does pipe up to let her two traveling companions know she is paying attention.
"Why would anyone WANT to train themselves to go without the blessings of a good meal? And; while maybe going without water would be ok; to do without a stiff drink of a good mead or ale is an affront to the powers that have turned the makings of our sustenance into the abundance of our enjoyment. The gods gave us vegetables, meats of all types, and the product of the bees to be turned into mead, or hops that will make fine beer. Who would essentially spit in their celestial faces by actually trying to abstain from these pleasures?"
Just as she was warming to the topic of epicurean delights, the many wisps of the pipeweed smoke, swirled and bent and moved with the breeze, the movement of the cart, and who knew what else? Just enough to cause her to pull back from the Dragonborn with the reigns, and to shrink back to her spot glancing over the buckboard rails at the scenery going by.
Rose's heart fluttered when Gwen said yes and she wanted their embrace to never end. At that moment all the recent events of the past few days seemed to melt away as Gwen held her close. However, despite her excitement, a noise still caught Rose's attention. Looking around she saw the cart approaching the town. She looked to Gwen, tears of joy still trickling down her face, and said I think we have company hun, celebrations will have a to wait it seems. Rose kissed and then took a few moments to make herself presentable, wiping away her tears and taking a few moments to calm herself. Once the cart got within site, the halfling woman waved at the approaching strangers to hail them as they entered. Seeing that the group clearly wasn't orcs Rose couldn't help but feel relieved. When and if the cart pulled over Rose approached whoever seemed to be driving it. Rose, a stout halfling in heavy armor over torn black clothing, called out Hey! Yes you all in the cart! If you're hoping for a place to stay tonight I'm afraid you're out of luck, towns seen better days, probably best if you keep moving. Rose looked back at the half burned town as she spoke, the joy of a few minutes ago fading at the sight of all her failures paraded in front of her. Once closer the party could see that Rose looked pretty rough, like someone who hasn't had much rest in the last few days. Her air was just below shoulder length and clearly hadn't been cut in some time. On the halflings back was a large warhammer almost as big as she was, around her neck was a silver amulet depicting seven stars around a pair of silver eyes. Rose turned back to the cart full of new people and looks at them curiously, Well, welcome to Phandalin, for whatever that's worth right now.
Bellerain listens intently to Fallan's discourse, nodding vigorously and grunting in happy agreement with each statement the halfling made until she stopped abruptly, and seemed to recede into herself. The Satyr purses her lips, worried after her new companion's timid behavior, but is distracted from commenting on it by their approach to Phandalin.
Her expression turns blank as the smells and sights of a Phandalin post-raid fill her senses, as if the death itself rises as an aura in the air she can feel. "We're too late," she states morbidly. When the halfling hails them and calls out, Bellerain leaps from the cart before it even stops, landing heavy in the ash-laden mud. She starts towards the small group of people, but slows at the armored halfling's awkward greeting. Bellerain bows her head and offers a slight curtsy. "Thank you for welcoming us... we had heard trouble was on the way, and were hoping to arrive in time to be of aid but..." Bellerain's voice trails off as she looks over the lingering carnage. "I... I'm sorry."
Gwen had been filled with her own brand of joy at the moment, glad that Rose had understood her teasing response merely as play. Cold exhalations of breath wafting quickly from her and fading as ephemerally swiftly as they existed. Gwen was too distracted initially, both by what was happening, what had already happened, and her focus had admittedly been inward. Ja'ree remained silent as he appreciated the sentiment of the moment, as it brought a little spark of happiness amidst the burnt ashes of the town, though he heard the sound of the cart approaching at about the same time as Rose, ears flicking back before his head followed on a swivel.
Initially defensive, raising his clawed hands into a tigers-stance before seeing what Rose saw, and letting down his guard. Ja'ree too, was weary, even if he had been healed, the blood that had been spilled both on, and from him, were still present on his leapoardine fur. He wore only as much as needed to keep himself warm, which, at-least for him, was easier than most. As Rose pulled away from the embrace, it was only then that Gwen was pulled out of her own little world, and saw the new arrivals. Putting on her best smile, and not really having to force it, all things considered. She stood to her full height and waved at the new arrivals, before the smile faded in lieu of the scenery and somberness of it all. Ah, sorry hun, I didn't notice them coming... And celebrations in wait are just like wine, finer the later they're opened. she said in a semi-cheery tune.
Welcome to Phandalin, or, rather, what is left. As my uh.. Fiancee has just said the town has .. seen better days. Several days ago, a bunch of those orcs you all see... attacked this place, and we arrived too late to do more than save what was left. Gwen sighs, as she looks around at all the destruction, there was little that had escaped the fire the Orcish Raiding party had caused. Ja stood stiffly as he somewhat mimicked Gwens gaze, looking around. Do not be so hard on yourself Gwen, dear. You could not have known.. but we have already discussed this. So stop looking back, and start looking forward, there's still the good news, afterall. Ja'ree seemed to not posses the typical accent of the Tabaxi kin. However, Ja does interject and add in, quickly, as he raised index to emphasize. Though there may not be any traditional place to sleep, if you're in dire need of rest... and mean no harm, we could allow you to rest with us in the Inn's cellar, it seemed to survive the flames, and will provide shelter for the nights warmth. Unfortunately, all we have on us are rations, and whats left of some salted pork.
Root however just finds Fallan's behavior to be one of her normal quirks 'Just Fallan acting odd again it seems' is all he's able to glean despite attempting to listen intently. It seemed the job of maintaining the carts path was too distracting to notice more.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Rose was shocked to see a Satyr among the group, having only heard the occasional story about the race back when she was an initiate. Her shock only intensified when she noticed the familiar Aura around the necommer, in fact it was also been around the others in the cart as well. Her smile soon gave way to curiosity about the group, and a smile crossed Roses lips. There's no need to apologize, we've already kicked ourselves enough for not being here in time. No need to get you all feel bad about it too. Anyway, my name is Rosorla Brightmoon, Cleric to our Lady of Silver, Selûne. You can all just call me Rose however, in fact I insist on it. May I ask who you all are and where you came from?
Bellerain rests her hand on the hilt of her rapier (non-threateningly). "Bellerain Wanderfoot, but you can just call me Bell. I'm just traveling about the world... for pleasure, you could say, but as a warrior I try to lend my skills where they're needed. I also can perform a bit of limited healing magic... so if I can be any help, let me know."
Root driving the wagon was going to answer Fallan’s question but the smell of burn wood and bodies fills the air. As they get closer the smell begins to grow stronger as Root sees the bodies of Orcs and the destruction of the town. He thinks to himself it must have been an intense battle. If only they had arrived sooner, but Root begins to shake his head. Disregarding those thoughts Root snaps to the present as he sees folks up a head.
Slowing the cart Bell jumps out introducing herself to the folks of Phandalin. Watching Root comes to a full stop, stepping down from the wagon he puffs on his pipe and exhaling. The town folk notice the smoke doesn’t dissipate instead it swirls around Root as if it has a mind of its own. Standing next to Bell “I am Root, I am currently traveling with Bell here.” As he is talking he places his hand on Bell head give her a gentle pat and rub on the top of her head. “I have had the fortune of meeting Bell as I was traveling on a journey of spiritual enlightenment. While I was traveling I saw her fighting folks in a small village. She saw me and challenged me to a duel. Since then we have been traveling together.”
As he talking the smoke begins to form a over Root’s head, moving into shapes that reenact his story. It begins to show how they meet and how they fought each but before it shows the final strikes the smoke dissipates.
Felix Windfall(Human-V Lv.7 Rogue) killed in ToA, Vallan Houndstrider (Halfling Ghostwise Lv.1 Fighter) in DiAOnce the jostling and bouncing rhythm of the cart had ceased, coming to a stop, with its other occupants disembarking, Fallan decided that decorum called for her to also introduce herself to the newly met folk. She clambered up the sides of the cart, rolled over the top, and slowly lowered herself until hanging from her fingertips. A quick drop to the ground that made almost no sound, and she found herself walking over to the gathering group.
"Hi. I'm Fallan Kettlewhistle, and you can call me just about anything, as long as you don't call me late for dinner. (heh heh he) Though salt pork and rations are hardly dinner, it is better than just rations, I suppose." During her introduction, as Root's smoke re-enactment gets more "heated", Fallan edges further and futher away from the Dragonborn until she bumps into Bell accidentally. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to... oh.." and she recoils away from the Satyr and moves a step or two back toward the cart, while nodding and giving what looks to be a somewhat pained smile to the Rose and the others just being met.