The Faceless GM's Irrisen: The Realm of Winter Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master kamenhero25


1 to 50 of 2,189 << first < prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | next > last >>

Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

The small village of Heldren sits just north of the Border Woods near Qadira. The sleepy village has never seen much excitement, even with an enemy nation in walking distance to the south. The people have gone about their days in relative peace, with a handful of travelers of all sorts occasionally passing through their village on their way to bigger and better things south in Qadira or north and west to Oppara, Cassomir, and beyond.

The recently, an unseasonable chill has settled over the area. Complaints of lost crops and sick animals in the nearby farms have begun to circulate through the town's gossip circles and the villagers have begun to wonder if there isn't something more to these strange stories. But life continues just as it always has regardless. Whether in the small village market or the warm comfort of the Silver Stoat tavern, travelers, locals and strange outsiders have continued their journeys through the region.


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

What time of day is it? :)


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

Mid morning.


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

Following the road into Heldren from the west is a pair of women.

The left of the two, slightly shorter, is what appears to be a Tian woman at a distance, clearly there is a mixture of genetics, though, as her lips are far too full to be an accurate comparison, and perhaps more obvious is the slightly pointed ears. Her hair is a deep shade of black, that cascades down to just beneath her shoulders in straight, dark lines. What would be bangs are also long, and tucked behind her ears, accentuating them.

The full lips are drawn up into a smile, and she seems to be having a quiet conversation with her traveling partner. Her voice, like her body, has a touch of silk to it, flowing easily from word to word, tone and pitch as animated as her tiny frame. She seems to be gesturing to the buildings around them, as they head forward, talking with her hands.

Perhaps as a counterpoint to her animated appearance and expressive nature is her clothing. The dull muddy-gray armor blends well with dirt roads, and the green of her tunic is certainly in season amidst the weather. She's wearing a pair of boots that have only been worn for perhaps a week, given how little weathering they have seen.

Standing in extreme contrast to her friendly nature and clothing choices, however, is the large scabbard that hangs from her side at an angle that places the pommel roughly in line with her navel. The scabbard is the same muddy brown, but the hilt is more of a crimson hue, interwoven with a few black strands.

On her back appears to be a backpack, mostly empty, though with one solid piece of weight within and another on the side in the form of a waterskin. At her waist is a belt pouch that seems nearly as empty as the other bag.

As they pass by each individual on the street, she offers them a friendly smile, and those too far away to recognize a smile, get a small wave, her hand twisting slightly with the movement, so that the fingers flare individually.

Conversation:
"You know, I've honestly never seen buildings quite this small. In Absalom, anything that isn't the size of all of these places put together is just sort of 'in the way'. Using vertical space would really help everyone here, but I guess that's just how small towns start off.

"It seems so strange that they can be right on the border with Qadira and have nothing to worry about, though. It seems very... peaceful. Almost idyllic in a way."


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

Nathara took the last steps to the village slowly, her right hand wrapped around her left wrist, so no one would think she was about to reach for her sword. If the villagers chased her away with pitchforks she would have to camp outside and that was about the last thing she wanted.

The rumors she had picked up did not bode well. Hopefully she was not held responsible. But if was something to those stories than just a quirk of weather and an animal epidemic she might actually be able to do something about it.

Strangely hardly anyone took notice of her and once she reached the central crossing of the village she found out why. A human woman, tall and powerful built, but yet of almost unearthly grace stood at the center and told a little girl the story of her tribe. An aasimar... blessed by Tolc... Nathara found herself caught in the story and smiling about it. Some people had the gift to make the sun shine just a little brighter. She had to find out more about that woman - in part that was because she hoped there would be less trouble with the villagers if someone who was born with blessing of a Lord amongst the angels accepted her and Tiferet was far more likely to do so than anyone else. In part because opposites attract.

To slip through a crowd of humans was little a challenge to Nathara and she reached her. Her motions had something of a dance. "Miss Tiferet? The Dawnflower bless you. I heard your presentation of your people's story... I would very much like to hear more about it." All right, let's be honest. "And the company of someone who understands better than the villagers that both light and darkness are our own choices; because my heritage is not one of valour, but I still would gladly share its story. Would you allow me to invite me you to the tavern? I am Nathara Darkblade." She curtseyed and her smile seemed honest - for someone with a demonic red glow in her eyes, anyway.

As the strange Tien woman passes by them she offers a greeting in elven... for a moment Nathara wonders herself why she did that, as it occurs to her that she must be a half-human. But as far as Nathara is concerned - the woman had elven ancestors, so she was a fellow elf, regardless of that was not her only ancestry.

Elven:
"May the light shine on your path."


Male Skinwalker (Witchwolf) Lunar Oracle 3/Guardian 1 HP: 37 AC: 15 CMD: 15 Initiative: +1

Eirikr had left the company of the caravan a few days ago; the Varisians had decided to head west, while Eirikr had found his dreams leading him steadily south, towards the village of Heldren.

This seemed to be the place that he had dreamed of; there was no snow but it was colder here than the rest of the countryside and as he walked through the village he kept feeling pangs of familiarity, however fleeting they were. It seemed to be a rather ordinary village; it honestly reminded him a little of his home back in Ustalav, though everyone seemed to be a bit darker and much shorter than back home, other than a few stranger faces in the crowd. Eirikr himself is clearly of Ulfen heritage, with a few characteristics easily dismissed as elven ancestry. More notable is his clothing, which is a rather ragged mix of leather and fur, and the fact that he is being closely followed by a large black wolf.

First food. Then dream, and then snow. said Eirikr, apparently talking to the wolf, speaking in between bites of an apple he was juggling in his hands; more strangely, the wolf barks back as if in response. What do you mean those are the same thing? I can't eat a dream. Oh. Snow. Right.

The tavern seemed to be the best place to accomplish all of these tasks, so Eirikr wanders in it's general direction, whistling as he walks, the wolf stalking close behind him.


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

Mouse paused as she saw a gathered crowd up ahead. "It's not festival season, is it? I would think that would be months away." she said, passing near enough to rubberneck, and then someone spoke in Elven to her, seemingly at random. It took her a moment to translate, elven not being a language she was born into, but rather one she had been taught structurally. She looked down to the street, wondering if it were some sort of code, but failing that, looked to the voice, only just noticing the...

"Drow?" passes her lips before she can catch it, head tilted slightly. Certainly the strangest drow she had ever heard of. Not that she expected to know exactly what a drow looked like from a basic opportunity to learn about them. No, probably not drow. Do drow have horns... or scales? Her brow scrunched up slightly, as she finished piecing together what had been said. "Sorry. Um. Same to you." she said, trying to ratchet her head back to being on straight, rather than askance, as she took in the garb. This woman was a very clear opposite of Mouse, working to stand out against her surroundings while Mouse blended in... aside from showing that she was a creature of two worlds.

From the crowd, she could gather that she had just missed a story, which brought a small twist to her lips that created a rather unhappy portrait on her expressive face. Maybe, with luck, the woman would tell more stories later at the tavern. With Mouse's luck, she was on her way out of town, not in, though.

As she stood there, dumbly trying to piece together everything that had happened and that she had missed... she spotted the man traveling towards them with a huge shaggy... not-dog. That was most assuredly a wolf. She would have felt perfectly at home if all of these things had been occurring back in the Grand Lodge... but they were occurring in a small village in the middle of nowhere, and that didn't feel right. At least, not in the sense of an ordinary affair. Slowly, her smile crept back in, as she moved through the mental motions, not speaking about what she was thinking. 'Maybe they're adventurers, and we'll wind up with a good story or two!'


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Skald 3 / Marshal 1 | HP 34/34 {conditions: none} | MP 4/5 | AC 17 (Tch 11 FF 16) | F +5, R +3, W +5 | Init +3 | Perc +6, darkvision

"A story for a story. Seems fair, Nathara" Tiferet replies to the ash-skinned elven woman standing in front of her. Even before turning to face her, she has felt her presence maneuvering through the crowd, her Celestial blood tingling and stirring in reaction to her approach. And now, watching the row of pointed teeth peeking out of her interlocutor's smile, she's intrigued.

Probably a demonic lineage of some sort... A succubus? Would surely match her curves...

For a moment, the Ulfen warrioress wonders what has brought her to approach a complete stranger in the middle of a remote Taldane village. Protection? She suspects that's not the case – unless it's the villagers she means to protect, from herself. The heavy longsword strapped to her hip, the way she moves, bold and confident... Tiferet remembers what she has heard about elves, how their slender physiques can be highly misleading indicators of their real strength – and Nathara indeed looks strong even for human standards.

A manifestation of her fiendish blood, most likely.

No. Her reason for introducing herself must have been neither more nor less than what she has just stated: her refusal to waste the gift fate has given her, a random encounter with a kindred spirit. For the very same reason, Tiferet is now feeling more and more drawn toward her dark counterpart as she follows her into the nearby tavern.

Without even realizing it, she starts scanning the surrounding faces for signs of trouble, as if instinctively assuming a protecting stance toward her newfound companion.

Knowledge (planes): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

*************************************************************************** ****

"...and so, even though the Frozen King had him in a deathly grip, Azrael Guðmundarson found the strength to break the hand holding him and slash his demonic foe's throat open in one single blow." Tiferet is in high moods, her legs stretched on the table, a pint of ale in her hand – and not only because she can finally indulge in the gorier details she had to omit before. "But as he triumphantly turned to face his twin sister, who had fought alongside him in his day-long battle, there he saw her... cloven in half by the fiendish Giant's mighty axe, having put herself between him and their foe's final blow. He cried deeply, his victory turning sour, and declared her the true heroine of that day. It is told her funeral rites lasted for ten days and ten nights, and to this day, no woman is more admired among the Heaven-talkers than Keter Guðmundardottir."

"So. I withheld my part of the bargain" she jokingly claims. "What's your story, Nathara? I'm sure it's going to be more... interesting than a plain old blessing befalling over a tribe – even though I've always felt that was but an euphemism. Still, the Lower Planes always had an edge on that sort of things." She leans closer to the Tiefling Swordswoman, her expression betraying her curiosity. Deep inside, though, she's using her quips and jests to mask her apprehension. If there's one thing her studies have taught her, is that once Demons get involved, stories tend to always end in tragedy and loss.


Female Human Mesmerist 3, AC/FF/T 16/13/13, Initiative +3, HP 23/33 CMD: 14

Following the road into Heldren from the west is a pair of women.

The right of the two, slightly taller, is what appears to be a Varisian woman excluding her outfit. Every inch of her attire seems planned; her dark clothing highlights her pale skin while the smooth lines of the fabric leads any views up into her face, even her short hair has a red streak that seems to point towards her face. A dagger and sap are practically on display along her waist while her hands seem to be holding a walking cane decorated with carved letters. ( DC 20 perception to tell cane is a sword cane )

Unlike Mouse she watches each passerby with suspicion, she doubted such a small town had pick pockets but either way she kept her guard up as she listened to Mouse.

"Small towns expand pretty quickly if they get the right support they might be like your Absalom within ten years or so." She shrugged and went quiet again until her friend mentions the crowd. "I doubt it's a celebration but drawing a crowd isn't hard, watch your coin if we get near."


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

"I... don't really think so." Mouse responds to the Varisian. "It's taken centuries for Absalom to become what it is. I suppose it's possible, though." she says, skeptically.

Mouse, like the others, heads for the tavern. In her case, it's simply because she wants a more familiar atmosphere. A dimly lit room, with hushed and boisterous conversations, with the scents of men and women, of wood and smoke, permeating. When they arrive, she tilts her head slightly, face showing clearly the confusion she was feeling. "I... expected it to be bigger." she said after a small delay, then ignoring her own slight disappointment, she headed inside.

Moving quickly, she found a corner she could disappear into without explaining what she was doing. She liked to be out of the way, after all. Once there, she pulled out her notebook, and using the room's illumination alongside her elfsight, she began to transcribe the little tidbits of travel they'd already done within the small town. It seemed unlikely she'd even get a gazetteer unless she dove in. She didn't keep her eyes on the paper for long, occasionally glancing up to see who had made their way into the Tavern.

It wasn't long before the woman and not-drow arrived, the woman making herself at home. Probably a local, then. If not... an extremely boisterous adventure. Either way, she'd soon know, and it would pique her interest to investigate. She listened to the story at length, jotting it down quickly. She wasn't a terribly interesting conversation partner when she got this way... and she knew it.

But luckily, Evelyn had things to do of her own while they were here.


Male Skinwalker (Witchwolf) Lunar Oracle 3/Guardian 1 HP: 37 AC: 15 CMD: 15 Initiative: +1

Eirikr wanders into the tavern a little while later, his wolf still following closely behind him. This placed smelled of food, which was priority one, and there seemed to be a lot of people here--probably somebody here would know about snow, or why it was so cold, or whatever the reason he was supposed to be here was. He wasn't entirely sure on that matter.

Not really sure who he should be asking, he says to no one in particular, "Is this where you all have food? The wolf accompanying him barks at him; Eirikr looks down at him and rolls his eyes before adding "And has anyone seen any snow around here? I'm suppose to be looking for snow. But food first. But then snow."


HPs: 35; AC: 13 |Touch 11, FF 12; CMD: 12; Init: +1

Morgraine glances up from her food as the white-furred fox at her side suddenly whined and darted beneath her chair, peeking out from between her legs. Moments later, the door opened and in came the man with a wolf at his heels.

She rolled her eyes and reached down with a delicately shaped hand to give her companion a pat on the head. Not that I blame you exactly. That beast is triple your size, after all.

She reached out and took a coarse mug and raised it to her lips, tried not to grimace at the taste of the wine. It was far from what she would consider quality, yet after the past weeks on the road, and given her alarmingly dwindling supply of coin, it would do.


Female Human Mesmerist 3, AC/FF/T 16/13/13, Initiative +3, HP 23/33 CMD: 14

"Maybe not but you'd be surprised how quickly some civilizations change." Evelyn follows after Mouse into the tavern, she needed to deliver the package like she promised the caravan she would. "Yea I've had that complaint more than I should admit." as Mouse scurried off to her corner Eve went in search of the tavern's owner.


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

The only employee in the tavern is the barkeeper, a pretty brown haired woman. She pours drinks and passes them out to anyone who ordered one with speed that can only come from practice, occasionally serving up bowls of steaming stew and plates of bread and cheese to hungry travelers. She looks up for a moment as the fur dressed young man enters and glares at the wolf searchingly for a moment. "Keep him well behaved, she warns over the constant murmur of voices. "I don't mind pets, but if they start causing trouble in my place, they get the boot, along with their owner."


Male Skinwalker (Witchwolf) Lunar Oracle 3/Guardian 1 HP: 37 AC: 15 CMD: 15 Initiative: +1

"He's not a pet, he just insists on following me everywhere," protests Eirikr; he then remembers why he came to the tavern in the first place. "Say, it seems awfully cold around here. Especially being so far south. Rather strange, isn't it? Also, do you have anything to eat?"


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

The bartender shrugs. "Pet, friend, stray, makes no difference to me. Just don't cause trouble." She hands out two foaming mugs to a local. "Weather's been unpleasant recently. Frost every night too. But it's annoying more than strange. And a meal is two silver."


Female Human Mesmerist 3, AC/FF/T 16/13/13, Initiative +3, HP 23/33 CMD: 14

Evelyn waits for the wolf and his boy to finish their conversation then places the package on the bar and slides it over to the employee."Package for the owner from the Rose Caravan courtesy of Emily Starr."


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

The bartender catches the package. "That would be my husband. Thank ya miss." She tucks the package under the counter, not wanting to leave while they're still busy. "How about a mug of Three Devil Ale? On the house." She draws another mug and slides it across to Evelyn.


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

Nathara took an occasional spoon from her soup as she was talking to Tiferet, but eventually pushed the bowl away when it finally became cold. The position she had picked seemed to be the chair at which she would draw less attention and anyone approaching them would inevitably be caught by Tiferet's presence first. Even though Nathara was a warrior herself and given her peculiar traits hardly damsel in distress, she seemed to enjoy and take comfort in Tiferet's protective attitude.

"I don't have that much of a story to tell of my own yet, but..." She glanced around and lowered her voice. "The story of my unusual heritage is that of my parents..."

She told the unrevised version of her own history and that of her upbringing, carefuly that only Tiferet got to hear the most critical parts.

"... do, even though my demonic heritage may be more apparant than with most tieflings, my ancestors are all elves. I am pretty sure of it back until my people's return from Sovyrian and during our almost ten thousand years of exile to avoid the earthfall it seems a given. I don't know what the succubus was doing there and it seems unlikely that it was limited to 'being present'... but I am my parents' daughter."

She took the armoured glove, which covered her right except for the talons, off. "My engagement ring. I would not be surprised if you liked Celindril - he's a bard, master of fine arts, but good with both rapier and lute - and would very much like to introduce the two of you. Personally, I prefer to dance to his tunes - dancing and magic is the same to me." Directing the attention at her fiancé and her engagement felt a little cheap in retrospect and she was a little embarrassed.

She noticed the wolf and the fox reacting to each other and smiled. She was not so sure about the wolf, but the white fox was really amazingly cute. There was quite a collection of unlikely travellers around; Nathara hope they would not bother their hosts all too much. As the bar keeper came around Nathara addressed her: "Erm... Good woman... if it was not too much trouble... would it be possible get some unprepared meat? I shall gladly buy a chicken or a bunny. And... if it was possible it would be nice if you could give something to the dog and that fox, too."


Female Human Mesmerist 3, AC/FF/T 16/13/13, Initiative +3, HP 23/33 CMD: 14

Evelyn smiled and gave the bartender a polite bow as she accepted the drink."Thank you for the kindness." She swiftly returned to Mouse and offered her the drink. "Bartender is the owners wife and I don't think he's here, got anything on the others?"


1 person marked this as a favorite.
Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Skald 3 / Marshal 1 | HP 34/34 {conditions: none} | MP 4/5 | AC 17 (Tch 11 FF 16) | F +5, R +3, W +5 | Init +3 | Perc +6, darkvision

Tiferet smiles softly as she gently holds Nathara's naked hand in hers, examining the white-and-black ring adorning her finger. A small yet exquisite thing, a token of love, yet a reminder of the Tiefling's indissoluble duality.

"I would love to meet him one day. He sounds like a kind yet ancient spirit. Though I'm afraid my songs might sound crude to his elven ears" she merrily says, and even though she knows how slim the chances of such a thing are, she speaks those words as if she means them – as if she's talking to an old friend, rather than a freshly-met acquaintance.

She doesn't flinch at her companion's exotic request – after all, it's pretty clear those teeth aren't made for eating soups. A kind soul in a demonic body she thinks, realizing her newfound friend is not the only one who's playing for time; indeed, she's still busy processing Nathara's story, from its depraved beginnings to her acceptance of Sarenrae's redeeming embrace.

She speaks the truth about the succubus. As strong as her lineage is, she's clearly no Alu-demon. In the end, she's just the offspring of mortal flesh.

A thought then crawls its way into Tiferet's mind, one that makes her smile at first, and erupt into a crystalline laughter soon after. "It's ironic, isn't it?" she eventually states, a delighted expression on her face. Now sitting properly, she leans toward Nathara, whispering in a conspiratorial tone. "The Lady of Lust and the Lord of Rape" she says, her voice noticeably dimming as she pronounces the Demon Lords' titles, "mighty pillars of the multiverse, they've poured unspeakable energies in a ritual that would have made a Calistrian blush... only for the sword they've crafted to willingly put herself in the hand of the Queen of Angels. Sarenrae should thank Nocticula for such a precious gift."

One last gulp, and her ale is finished as she signals the very busy barmaid for another round. "It's actually tragic, in its own, twisted way of course. The Abyss that has vomited them is both their strength and weakness. Shaped from the very stuff evil is made of, they're shackled in their views, unable to contemplate anything beyond their own turpitude. Truth be told, the Higher Planes aren't any better in that regard" she muses, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. "And people, sometimes they're the worst. You would think they'd understand your nature and your great-grandmother being into horns and tails – or feathery wings, for that matter – are two separate things. But no: they smell sulfur, they cry devil. They see halos, they ask when are you joining the Mendevian Crusades."


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

"I don't think the white-haired one is a drow. But I've never met one, so I can't be sure. The fox is scared of the wolf... or wants to play. I'm not good with animals. Or people, really." she says as she accepts the drink and sucks off the foam on top, before placing it away from the book where she's scribbled down the bits of story. "I'm curious about the man with the wolf. He seems more out of place than I feel." She speaks slowly, as if thinking about a different topic, and she is; she's busily eavesdropping on the other conversation, but she's missing bits and pieces of it. Finally, the not-drow asks the owner for some meat. How sweet! She's going to give the dog and fox a treat!

"Wait, what?" she says, low, furrowing her brow, as Nathara says she'd like them to be fed, too. Realizing she'd asked the question out loud, in tandem with the woman's question, she buried herself in her drink, taking a long pull, and wincing. She was not a drinker and had the constitution to show for it.

She patently pretends to ignore the other conversation for a moment, and misses the whispered lines, which leaves her completely lost as to what the topic at hand is once she picks the conversation back up to hearing level. As the woman speaks of horns, tails, and wings, her fingers twist in her long, dark hair hair subconsciously.


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

For a moment Nathara was a bit puzzled as Tiferet mentioned a sword. She could not recall a story of any particular sword Nocticula and Socothbenoth had ever crafted. The she had to laugh heartily. "That's amongst the nicest things anyone has ever told me, but I whether I am such a useful sword in the Dawnflower's hands remains to be proven."

She leans back and relaxes visibly. "To be honest, I've thought about joining the crusades myself, but it seemed foolhardy. Before I test myself against the greatest of all temptations I should learn to resist the more worldly ones. Besides that I would run the risk of being treated like someone who would inevitably become a traitor and the Hell Knights serving in the crusades will not look fondly upon me. Cheliax may not be a friend of Mendev, but when it comes to fighting demons, they are willing to devote an entire order of Hell Knights to assist them." Despite their name, Hell Knights were not really devils, of course. Excessively rigid, but not really evil.

"I believe thinking in categories is simply what we - elves and humans alike do. Even though those of elves may be less obvious. To simplify that which is beyond the understanding of most, which is from beyond mundane existence, is a natural reaction and thus the alien imprint comes with a burden to prove ourselves. But... I would not want it any other way." She watched Tiferet closely. "What about you? What means being blessed by Tolc to you personally? I must confess I know little about him. I spent some time reflecting on Ragathiel, the son of the archdevil who became an angel, and since am engaged I pray to Falayna sometimes. Do you try to live by Tolc's image in any way?"


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

Sorry, I just removed my last post again... I confused something, the fox is not your fox after all... I was just thinking about writing somthing new... Ugh... I suppose I just put it back in.

Nathara twitched visibly on the Tien half-human's comment. She tried an insecure smile and a calming gesture, but realized that she only presented her claws and snarled her fangs this way.

"I am very sorry, miss, I did not mean to impose..."


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

Deleting old post and merging new ones to keep continuity in check :)

When Nathara turns around, Mouse is already a fourth of the way through the mug, very poorly pretending she had no idea what she was talking about... and then promptly buried herself in her book. The tint of her cheeks could easily be either from the drink, or embarassment. Or both.

Mouse looked up to her, a hint of minor panic as the woman pressed the situation, she shook her head no, as she continued, pointing to her book, and starting to say words that simply didn't come out. "I didn't..." she offers, then corrects in a low, slightly squeaky voice, "You didn't."


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

Nathara felt a little hurt that the woman seemed so afraid of her, but she had to admit she had it coming. For a moment she considered to try and make friends with her, but to be left alone was her privilege and she would not be an elf she ignored that.

Nathara turned back to Tiferet in hopes that the cordial woman would continue.


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Skald 3 / Marshal 1 | HP 34/34 {conditions: none} | MP 4/5 | AC 17 (Tch 11 FF 16) | F +5, R +3, W +5 | Init +3 | Perc +6, darkvision

"Daily. In my dreams and prayers, at least" Tiferet replies with a nostalgic smile. "He is the Lord of the Frozen Wastes, a beacon shining on those lost among the ices, the promise of hospitality in a long, winter night. All things one would be hard-pressed to find in Southern Taldor" she bitterly adds. Though it has been unseasonably cold around here, truth be told.

"To us, He is a both symbol and a vow. The hope we can one day reclaim our ancestral lands and wander under the Northern Lights once again. My mother used to tell me that as long as we cling to His faith, He will one day lead us in a glorious march to recapture our birthright." A short pause, as if contemplating the meaning of what she has just said, before resuming her speech. "Still, it's been more than one thousand years, and our numbers wane just as the witches' hold over Irrisen is stronger than ever" she pessimistically concludes.

"Enough of that, though." As a rapidly passing cloud, her ill humor dissipates quickly. "I also ask for the Many-ringed Goddess' blessing from time to time, though usually in matters of war rather than love. If you plan on joining the Crusades one day, it'll be an honour..."

She stops as she hears Nathara addressing a woman behind her. She turns to see a petite half-elven woman with Tien features swiftly lowering her gaze. On her hip, in stark contrast to her willowy physique, a large yet slender sword easily as long as Tiferet's own Greataxe.

"Is someone bothering you, Nathara?"

Don't feel bad, Mouse. You've just prevented this AP from turning into Wrath of the Righteous.

EDIT: Ah, the flurry of post. I technique I've never quite managed to master...


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

A direct question deemed a direct answer. "I am afraid my conduct and the way I present my otherworldly heritage may have unsettled... her. Which was certainly not what I desired." she wanted to say 'someone' as well, but that would be winding around it.

The images that Tiferet had used lingered in Nathara's mind. A cold wasteland of what once was the vivid home of proud warriors. Northern Lights. A glorious march. The fallen. Obviously the topic was painful to Tiferet, but there was a beautiful thought on Nathara's mind. Nathara would very much like to hear hear Tiferet sing, but given her own dumb approach on the topic she just made a mental not to ask her for a song about Valkyries on occasion.


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

Mouse withdrew still more under the significantly larger woman's gaze. She looked to one, then the other, and back in unmeasured motions, before snatching the drink with two hands again and gulping down some more of it. She had been wrong about the tavern being something she was used to. It wasn't nearly as crowded, and she stood out a great deal more than she had intended. She hated that her words and mouth tended to work a lot faster than her brain, but there was next to nothing that she could do about it.

Worse still, her plan to tuck herself away in the corner where she would be easily forgotten had quickly become a trap instead.

As she remembered to stop drinking and breathe, she coughed into her glass, the eyes on her causing her to feel the need to react in some way. Her eyes darted from drink to notebook to charcoal to table to Evelyn, looking for a way out. Realizing that she was going to need to learn to deal with these things on her own, she focused on a fixed point in space as she stammered out "S-sorry." which once more came out in a squeak.

Then she realized that what she was staring at was the calm and friendly-looking wolf across the room. She'd known a lot of men with wolves in the society. They tended to fancy themselves as loners... despite literally having a pack. Her eyes wandered up to the owner thereof, wondering if he was of like mind.

She vaguely remembered him asking about snow when he'd entered, and latched on to that, trying to dig her way out of the hole by being helpful and maybe splitting the attention of the others.

"Snow is crystallized water... it's like ice, but in really tiny amounts. It can be really hard if it's in a ball shape, or really soft if it's just a sheet. It's white, and falls from the sky in the northlands like Irrisen and the Land of the Linnorm Kings. Unlike water, it mostly stays where it is, til Sarenrae makes it retreat into the earth."


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

Now, she's an odd one. thinks Nathara. That is a highly unusual amount of fear.

"It is indeed", she adds to the shaken woman's explanation as though that was the most natural thing in the world. "Every single crystal of fine structure with the beauty of a poem, fading to hardly noticeable trace of water as they touch you. And when the fall they seem to dance. But their number is so enormous that they may quench the life out of the land. An abundance of beauty, turning into cruelty."

As she stands up she quotes lines of a Taldan song without actually daring to sing them, but the melody resonates in the words as she speaks them and very small steps carry her to the table.

"She covers the earth with a breath taking cloak,
The sun awakes and melts it away,
The world now opens its eyes and sees,
The dawning of a new day!"
*

She performs a deep, artistic curtsey as she arrived on the table, her arms spreading off like a misplaced angel spreading her wings. She smiles friendly, if irritated, but without showing her teeth. "My name is Nathara Darkblade - I am a faithful believer in Sarenrae myself and despite my appearance of Calistria's people. I just wanted to let you know that there is no reason to be afraid of me, if that's what's bothering you."

Nathara nods to the other women at the table as well as the only one man in the room. She looks over to Tiferet to see whether it would be alright with her before she asked: "Would you mind if we joined you? I would very much like to hear where you're coming from - is there no snow in that land?" She really prefers to have graceful warrior maiden for herself, but such thoughts are sinful to start with.

___________________________
* Within Temptation, Ice Queen [YouTube]


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

I love coming back to a ton of new posts.

The bartender nods to the tiefling woman. "I think we can manage that. There's a haunch of beef in the back that we use for the stew that we haven't cooked all a' yet. One sec." She walks back to the kitchen door and calls out. "Menander! I need two two plates of raw beef."

A few moments later, a dark haired man in an apron appears from the door with two plates of red meat. "Here you are dear." He looks at the slightly odd collection of guests that he's acquired today. "A lot of travelers passing through this week." He sets one plate down on the floor for the wolf and fox and sets the other on the table next to Nathara. "If any of you folks need a place to spend the night, just let us know and we'll find a place for you to sleep."


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

Do I understand this correctly that she does not bring meat for Nathara herself?


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

Whoops. I need to make a small edit.


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Skald 3 / Marshal 1 | HP 34/34 {conditions: none} | MP 4/5 | AC 17 (Tch 11 FF 16) | F +5, R +3, W +5 | Init +3 | Perc +6, darkvision

As the barkeeper comes delivering Nathara's order, Tiferet hands him one gold piece from her pouch. "I believe this should suffice for the meat as well as the soup and and the mugs of ale. If not, let me know" she says nodding courteously.

"And I'd love to spend the night with a roof over my head, for a change" she hastens to add. Turning around to better examine the source of Nathara's aggravation, she sees the ash-skinned Sarenraenite has already taken the matter in her own hands, flamboyantly walking toward the half-elf and her companion – a pretty Varisian girl with the most intense stare Tiferet has ever seen.

As in response to the Tiefling's interrogative look, the white-haired Ulfen mercenary pulls her drums out of her backpack and starts pounding on them, a deep, resounding rhythm soon followed by a melancholic tune, as if to continue Nathara's own song.

 A deeper day is yet to dawn
   when darkest sun lits brightest night
 under the shifting stars' fair dance
   above the endless summer snows

 a maiden comes with icy hair
   on her lips a song of life
 in her hand a sword of death
   the night-sky thundering as she speaks.
   
It is a passage taken from the Fall of Winter describing Keter Guðmundardottir entering the battle against the Frozen King, but as she sings Tiferet realizes how aptly those verses fit Nathara as well.

Perform (sing): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

Perform (percussions), aid... myself I guess?: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

The owner picks up the coin and turns it over in his hands once. He tucks the coin away in his apron and nods. "Thank you miss. That should do just fine. I've got stew for everyone ready in the back." He disappears back into the kitchen and returns a moment later, balancing bowls for everyone in his arms. "Enjoy your dinner everyone." He sets them out for everyone and gives Tiferet a small smile before heading back to the kitchen to keep cooking.

He hesitates at the door as the Ulfen pulls the drums from her pack. The room quiets as her voice fills the air and the melancholy beat of drums echoes off the hard wood walls. As she finishes her verse, scattered applause quickly replace the drum beat, including both of the owners.


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

At first the not-drow Nathara adds quite a lot of eloquence to her description of snow. Where Mouse had taken a slightly poetic approach, Nathara went much further. Then she started speaking a song, which, while not something she was fond of, helped the woman to approach normal. Then came the curtsey and posing.

Okay, so maybe she wasn't so...

Then came the raw meat, placed on the table, across from Mouse. She scrunched her nose, and the woman's slow advance seems to have only cemented Mouse's extended stay in the corner.

She looks away from the meat and Nathara, and instead focuses on the exchange of coin. Which brings the northern woman back into the forefront of her mind. And so began the other woman's march towards the pair, playing her music, and for a moment, she was caught up in it all. Then everyone was applauding, including mouse, albeit sheepishly. After a moment, she cleared her throat. Considerably more normal than she was used to.

She is broken from the distraction by the man returning with food. She doublechecks her belt pouch for her coins, and then pulls out a gold piece. "How much for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a room for the two of us?" She motioned to Evelyn and herself, grabbing hold of the considerably more mundane for now.


Female Human Mesmerist 3, AC/FF/T 16/13/13, Initiative +3, HP 23/33 CMD: 14

Evelyn watched with interest as the frightened Mouse disappeared into her glass. "Careful, I think the drink is more likely to hurt you than she is." she turned her gaze to the wolfman as everyone began to explain snow to him and settles for simple directions for him."Heading further north should help you find more of it."

Evelyn seemed a little taken back by the elven singalong but tried not to comment on it, she wanted to let things play out for now but returned the introduction."Evelyn Starr and I'm fine with any company as long as my friend is." Evelyn tilted her head at Mouse when she offered to pay knowing she was nearly broke she made a mental note to slip a coin back to Mouse later.


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

The barkeep looks at the mousy half-elf. "Five silver total for dinner and the night. Breakfast and lunch tomorrow can be paid for when you eat." Two more bowls of stew are brought out for the pair and the barkeep hands Mouse a mug of Three Devil.


[img] [sheet] Female Elven Tiefling Spelldancer 3 / Mythic Champion 1 HP: 32 AC: 17 Touch: 13 FF: 14 CMD: 18 INI: +3

Hm... three new posts while I formulated this. The last post taken into account was by The Faceless GM "The owner picks up the coin..."

"Thank you." returns Nathara when the bartender brings the meat, takes the plate and sits down at Tiferet's side, because it would be a bit obtrusive to sit down at the table of the strangers (Tiferet did not count as stranger, somehow) without being invited.

"Thank you!" comments Nathara when Tiferet pays for everything and her eyes linger on her for a moment before she continues to the bartender. "I would gladly be willing to share a room." she nods to Tiferet. "If there is no room... well a sack of fresh straw would be nice, but the parlour will do."

Despite her raging lust for the piece of meat, starts to pester the food with fork and knife. Given that it isn't a steak knife that proves difficult with raw meat.

When Tiferet starts to play, Nathara beams thankfully at her. "Hold that for a moment, I need to get out of my armour." she whispers to not disturb her. To a song like that a long, light silk dress and silk scarf as prop would be nice, unfortunately she has neither. She slips around a corner, and when she comes back she has undone the armoured glove and the chain shirt and wears her tunic over a simple sheep wool blouse. Unfortunately, Tiferet's song seems done by now.

Innerly she scolded herself for making things so complicated. "That was beautiful..." she says, seems to be at a loss of word, and tries to give Tiferet a kiss on the cheek (unless Tiferet retreats from her attempt). "I... like you."


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

Mouse is thankful for the retreat... and for taking the not-food away. She nods to the man and offers the coin. "If you can break that. Otherwise, I can work for the food or room. I can s-" She looks to Tiferet and doesn't finish the suggestion. "I'm sure I'll be useful for something." Opposite Tiferet, Mouse can't help but imagine Nathara digging into the raw meat greedily with her fingers... and is surprised when she stands and leaves the room for a moment.

Drawn from her reverie, she goes back to jotting things down, as they come to her. As her mind catches up, she nods to Evelyn, and moves the delivered drink her way. As the not-drow returns and offers a kiss to the other woman, Mouse decides to hold her tongue for once, having meant to correct not sharing her name. She buried herself in her book again for a moment.


Universal Buffs: Nothing right now

The man picks up the coin and tucks it away with the other, then pulls out five small silver coins and piles them neatly on the table. "Course I can break it. Pleasure to do business with you."


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

"Thank you very much." She said, adding a small note to her book. After a moment, she focused on the soup and Evelyn."Any idea what was in the package?" Now that it was delivered she was much more curious. She'd chosen not to ask when taking offense was a possibility. Now it was behind both of them.


Male Skinwalker (Witchwolf) Lunar Oracle 3/Guardian 1 HP: 37 AC: 15 CMD: 15 Initiative: +1

"I know what snow is," says Eirikr, eying the meat that Ashen and the fox were now eating. "It snows where I'm from. In the winter. When it's suppose to snow. I'm looking for snow here. Because it shouldn't be here. It's suppose to be warmer here, right? But it's not. Not here. Here specifically.

The wolf looks up its meal and barks at Eirikr; he shoots him a look before continuing. "Ashen says I'm not doing a good job of explaining this. I've been dreaming about snow. Snow falling on spring flowers. Snow falling where it shouldn't. And that's why I'm here. I don't really know why, other than that."

Eirikr then bends down on his knees and whispers something into the wolf's ear. It growls slightly but then picks up some of the meat in its mouth and gives it to Eirikr, which he attempts to eat as surreptitiously as he can. The lectures about snow had reminded him of how literally city folk seemed to take everything.

Eirikr watches Tiferet sing and play the drums; he is quiet but his gaze doesn't leave her until she finishes.

"Where did you learn to play? My mother wanted to send me to a bard's college. Are you a bard?" he asks her, though he stays seated next to Ashen on the floor.


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

Mouse shudders slightly, as she catches sight of the man eating the raw meat.. from his wolf's mouth, no less. She pushes the stew away, for now. She didn't really have much to say for dreams, having little knowledge of them and various portents. Besides... it snowing during the spring didn't really sound all that fantastic to her.

After a moment, she nodded to him, though. "All the books I read suggested it would get colder as I went north... not as I went east. But it's very different from a cold snap." she said, mulling it over for a moment.

Then, in a lower voice, she spoke to Evelyn "No one has ever mentioned it being so... commonplace for people to eat raw meat." she said, face pulled into a slight grimace.


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Skald 3 / Marshal 1 | HP 34/34 {conditions: none} | MP 4/5 | AC 17 (Tch 11 FF 16) | F +5, R +3, W +5 | Init +3 | Perc +6, darkvision

No sooner has Tiferet's song faded, that she feels the warm sensation of lips on her cheek; a declaration of friendship, a chord struck in the Tiefling's soul.

Elves are creatures of raw passions she reminds herself. Elves conceived under the auspices of the Succubus Queen... probably even more so.

She laughs heartily, her expression turning soft. "My song is but a poor mockery of the masterpiece Celindril's writing even now to celebrate your return. But if you indeed take solace in my company, I'm leaving for the Qadiran border tomorrow, see if I can find any mercenary work. We could share the road, if you wish."

Her planning is cut short by the young man with the wolf the Tien-looking half-elf was addressing earlier, a lanky guy barely out of his teenage years who, as long as he was standing, was nonetheless towering over most of the Silver Stoat's patrons, Tiferet included.

"You might very well call me one" she courteously replies, "though there are some among my family who might take offense at the sobriquet. Not me, though. 'Bards are but glorified minstrels only fit to play among the decadent southern courts' they'd say. 'We are Northeners! Our stage is the battlefield! Our song is the lament of our foes!'" She laughs at her own impersonation, before realizing she hasn't yet given a straight answer. "But if you want to give a name to what I am, a Skald is what they'd probably call me, if we were in the Land of the Linnorn Kings."


1 person marked this as a favorite.
Female Human Mesmerist 3, AC/FF/T 16/13/13, Initiative +3, HP 23/33 CMD: 14

"Different people have different diets, she might have to eat raw meat. It's nothing to worry about unless she's near you and hungry." it was going to be odd traveling with someone that had been in one area for so long.


HPs: 35; AC: 13 |Touch 11, FF 12; CMD: 12; Init: +1

Morgraine smiled to herself with bemusement as some of the other patrons began to wax eloquently on the various attributes and qualities of the common snowflake for the newcomer. She shook her head. It had been a long, long journey and the exhaustion was catching up to her. It felt good to simply sit, eat, and observe for a change, and she was definitely looking forward to her bed.

Stifling a yawn, the woman glanced once more curiously over at the man with the wolf at his heels as the room erupted into song. Did he truly not know what snow was? Morgraine was not so naïve to think that everyone across the world had the same over-familiarity with the wintry phenomenon as she had, but still! Besides, while he might appear oddly enough, he did not have the look of a southerner to her.

But no, she caught snippets of his response. He is here because he dreamt of 'wrong snow'? Perhaps I am not the only one who has heard the whispers in the wind... She tilted her head and glanced down at her feet as if listening to something. The fox practically sitting on her toes had its eyes glued to the wolf still.

She gave it a pat on the head and rose, ostensibly to order a refill of her wine, but also to ask regarding these dreams. The conversation shifted yet again however, so she waited patiently before asking, "You sing beautifully, miss. Is that where you are from, the Land of the Linnorn Kings?"


R20 Half-elven Rogue/Bard 3 (VMC)//Trickster 1 HP (31/31) IP (1/1) MP (5/5)
Stats:
AC/Touch/Flat/CMD 21/15/16/16 | Fort/Ref/Will +04/09e/02 | Init +05
Skills:
+14: DD; +11: Stealth, Acrobatics; +8: Perception, K(Dun, Loc), L(Heroes); +7: P(Oratory), Linguistics, A(Stories); 5: K(History, Geo)

Mouse's frown doesn't go away from that explanation. She's quite surprised that eating raw flesh is normal; she'd sort of expected for people who did things like that to sort of... die off. She nods after a moment. She's fairly certain the last part is a joke, so she just nods, "Thank you." and then slips back into writing in her journal.


Female Human Mesmerist 3, AC/FF/T 16/13/13, Initiative +3, HP 23/33 CMD: 14

Evelyn frowned at the dullness of her traveling partner which she likely doesn't see since she writing."And No I didn't know what was in the package, they didn't tell me so I didn't ask that's normally how it work'd with us."

1 to 50 of 2,189 << first < prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | next > last >>
Community / Forums / Online Campaigns / Play-by-Post / The Faceless GM's Irrisen: The Realm of Winter Gameplay All Messageboards

Want to post a reply? Sign in.