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:Bursting through the door, a loud, brash bear of a young Ulfen human, long barely kempt red hair and short braided beard, bright green eyes under a bushy brow smiles broadly finally arriving amongst his new kinsmen. Wearing a course woolen cloak, a ridiculously large claymore crosses over a large great bow across his wide back, his clan themed kilt, reveals a well worn set of masterwork brigadine armor.:
"Aye, by the Great White Stag, it seems I've come to the right place!" eyes wide at the tremendous variety of companions before him and raising a large mug, "I'd give rightful thanks to Old Deadeye but it seems, my mug has gone empty!"
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A tall attractive Ulfen woman moves out of the crowd and goes over to most recent newcomer, smiling, with a jug in her hand, "welcome fellow Ulfen, let me solve that most important problem and fill your tankard, then we can raise a drink to our homeland," with that she fills his tankard and raises hers. "I am Freya, cleric of Sarenrae, from Karlsgard, welcome to the Silver Crusade lodge" she then empties her tankard, "and may you use your skills to spread the light and champion the innocent, love the Claymore by the way," she adds with a smile.
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By all means come join me Miss, Isa is it? And don't let a minor thing like Heritage disuade you from choosing your own path. Is an elf 'overcoming his heritage' when he climbs out of a tree? Is a dwarf always struggling against the urge to go underground and mine something? Is a half-orc 'embracing her human side' when she goes and bathes?
We chose our own path, no matter what others may think we should be doing. The Lady watches over us all.
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A Grubby halfling in beat up armor comes in with a tankard of ale and (halfling sized) greatsword over his shoulder.
He sits down by the fire and takes a long draw, then burps. As he lifts his leg to...pass gas...he sees the halfling woman feeding the raptor, and freezes. He immediately licks his hands and attempts to comb back his matted locks of hair. When satisfied, he grins a toothy smile and says "hey there miss...got any more of that jerky?
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The door opens to admit a male halfling with a shortbow, closely followed by a saint bernard. He removes his cloak to reveal a shirt covered in a patchwork of mis-matched pockets of various sizes, shapes and colors. "Hi! My name's Elvis. Elvis Manypockets. Oh, and that's Horse" he says, as the dog makes himself at home in front of the fireplace. "Wow, there's lots of interesting people here! I bet you all have interesting stories, it's gonna be great fun swapping them with each other."
He then walks over to the nearest barbarian who's hoisting a drink and, with a glint in his eye, says "You know why you're not allowed to fight while you're drinking? Cause then you'd be under-rage." Suddenly everyone within hearing feels a surge of courage which fades after a handful of seconds. Grabbing the mug of ale that's somehow decided to float towards him, Elvis winks at the barbarian and wanders over to investigate the raptor.
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The druid has apparently given up on the light reading of fungus and is struggling through an old tomb varisian runes. "Akklu, verata, neckt..." he looks over the book and eeeps a bit as he sees the halfling approaching the raptor. *Child* he growls in draconic, which earns him a stern look from the beast. *Yes, seriously. They're all friends here. Maybe this one has some jerky for you too* The raptor perks at the thought gives a more or less friendly lick to the halfling.
"Found him in varissia. Some of the ahh uhm.. valleys out there are really hot and have fauna you don't see anywhere else except in the mawangi expanse. Its really fascinating how a little extra heat can form a pocket of air and.. HEY!" the raptor sticks his nose into a random pocket, looking for something.
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The tall Ulfen cleric of Sarenrae puts down her tankard with a sigh and stands, "it is time for me to leave you for a while. The society has asked me to go to Sandpoint and check up on the rumours of Goblin activity in the Brinestump Marsh, they have terrorized the small town before, hopefully they do not have have plans to do this again. Perhaps I will have stories to tell when I return. May the light of Sarenrae protect you." With that she collects her belongings and with a smile and wave she leaves the lodge.
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"Well met, Lady Freya of Karlsgard!" :he smiles and winks at the fine speciman of Northern breeding and finishes his mug with several strong gulps: Wiping the foam off his bristles with his sleeve, he motions over and chuckles at the gathering of the halflings with the greatswords, dinosaurs and huge dogs.
"Have you ever seen such a...." looking back, he sees the priestess heading for the door and strides quickly over to her. "Would ye leave so quickly, lass?"
:seeing the steely resolve glinting in her eyes:
"A word then before you leave?"
"I, myself, just returned from Isgar to deal with hobgoblins plaguing the Chitterwood and by Torag's beard, goblin hunting is a nasty and thirsty business..."
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A young osirani man with stark white hair and deep purple eyes enters the room, a helmet tucked up under his arm, a large multi headed flail at his belt, and a moon shaped pendant with a skull face dangling from his neck,
"Hello all I am Akram Alhazrad, Guardian of the Gate, Key to the End. It is a pleasure to meet more who seek to stave off that bleak night for one more day and seek to bring the joys of this world to others as I do."
He turns and stares at the goblin, "Ohh you must be one of the new recruits I have heard so much about, I remember hearing of an incident in the north on the frontier that ended with almost three dozen goblins joining the society but I never thought I would run into one in the flesh."
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A relatively tall human woman of Kelishite descent, a slender but muscular build with long blond hair, bright blue eyes and very tanned skin. Wearing the robes of a monk and the Holy Symbol of Andoletta dangling from her neck. Walks into the room, She quietly walks over to the bar and hands a parchment to the server. The server reads the parchment and hands her a mug of wine. She then seems to glide to a spot near the couch. Smiles at those that are seated and takes the nearest open chair.
She props her quarterstaff up against the wall and then draws her cloak over the back of the chair to reveal a cold iron Temple Sword. She sits back and quietly drinks her wine will contemplating those that are around her.
She makes eye contact with everyone, nods and smiles but doesn't say a word.
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You see a male tiefling with modest horns, a tail, and small red-tufted wings enter the room. He is dressed all in white, even his chainshirt bears a white hue. On closer observation, however, he seems to bear no holy symbol. He has a scimitar belted at his waist.
"Greetings all," he says in excellent Common. "I am known as Aranu Fieldflax, magus of the Order of Light. We are an order that dedicates itself to providing support to those with the divine mandate against evil."
After ordering ale Aranu picks it up with his tail so that he can continue to gesture with his hands. "Not all of those that follow divine ways find themselves tapped directly by the gods. Those of us who are not find other ways to serve. I found mine in combining spell and sword in ways few divine warriors can duplicate.
Aranu sits, transferring the mug to his hand as he does so. “My Order has asked me to join the Pathfinders as a way of not only helping guide the organization into more righteous paths, but also as a means of spreading word of my Order to others.”
Aranu nods to the group. “I hope we find common cause and work well together for the common good.”
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Gillian looks at the new comer and lifts her mug of wine to him in a welcome gesture. She brings it to her lips and drinks a good swallow. It is noticeable that the bottom of her face from ear to ear and nose under her chin and the top of her neck is snow white. When she opens her mouth a very faint puff of misty air comes from her mouth. It seems to leave a thin layer of frozen wine after she drinks, Which melts quickly. The look on her face when it happens gives everyone that see's it, an idea that she hasn't been having this problem for long and she is frustrated with it.
She gestures to the serving wench and orders a meal....
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Walking into the room is what appears to be a human with blond hair and blue eyes. Those who are observant notice several otherworldly qualities about him. He is always well illuminated, as if light shines a little brighter on Jander. He has a winged shadow (although Jander himself does not have wings).
Jander normally wears mithril full plate armor and a traveller's outfit. An adamantine heavy mace (inscribed with the word "Redemption" in celestial) is attached to a weapon cord and worn on his belt. A small silver mace is also worn on his belt. He carries a large darkwood shield that displays the symbol of Sarenrae.
Jander smiles as he sees the gathering of heroes devoted to the cause of good. "Well met, comrades. I am Jander, a cleric devoted to Sarenrae, and a member of the temple here. It is reassuring to see so many members of the Silver Crusade, as I have only met only one other when on an assignment."
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Gillian sees the new comers and nods to them. She continues to eat and drink. But not over indulging. If anyone is watching her, every move that she does is a deliberate movement. As if she is practicing a new Kata or ceremony. Her prayer book is open on the table, She refers to it every so often. Then corrects her movements. Her lithe body while sitting in the chair moves in ever so subtle ways. Her long blonde hair done up in a braid, with what looks like a wooden ball tied to the end of it. when ever she finishes a routine, she exhales a faint cold mist from her mouth. She shivers every time it happens.
Every time someone calls out a toast she also raises her glass.
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Another youth steps forward, a banner emblazoned with two black shields flanking the glyph of the open road in one hand and a shield similarly emblazoned in the other.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Silver Crusader Arden Verathorn of Lastwall, Knight of the Order of the Dragon, Honor Guard of the Pathfinder Society, Tacticial Studies Graduate of the Crusader War College in Vigil, Savior of the Minotaur Prince of Absalom, Harvestman’s Bane, Slayer of Aralantryx the White Dragon of the Shadow Lodge, Exemplar of Falcon’s Hollow and Hero of the Fey, Foe of That Which Lies Between the Stars, befriender of the Sewer Dragons of Absalom, Benefactor of Greenheart’s Blessing, Protector of Whistledown, and Hero of Sothis.”
A man of early middle age enters after the herald has finished addressing the crowd; the snap of booted heels on marble flooring accentuates the ringing of his spurred rowels and gives an audible account to the measured steps of the approaching figure. Dressed in pristine silvery plate mail one hand holding an armet, the other resting on the equine hilt of his sheathed falcata. He stops at the assembled group and quickly glances at everyone present, green eyes quickly assessing the Pathfinders before him. A sharp and crisp voice echoes forth.
“Greetings unto you, Silver Crusaders. Some of you I have met before,” he nods in the direction of Lady Ophelia and Ollysta Zadrian, “Others, I have yet to have the pleasure.”
Adopting a more rigid militaristic stance he again speaks.
“Should any of you have need of a shield, I will be your armor. Should you remain loyal to the Pathfinder Society, I will remain loyal to you. Should it become necessary to defend your honor, have no doubt that I will standfast at your side. This I swear. For the honor of your company, I ask only that you venture forth and leave this world better than we found it.”
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A tall Taldan man enters, announced by the distinctive clopping of his wooden shoes. Dressed in a simple outfit of undyed wool, his powerful arms and broad shoulders give him an imposing presence. His face is remarkably unpleasant, though it might be generously described as "plain" were it not marred by an ugly scar running the length of the right cheek and a nose that looks to have been broken a few too many times. Nevertheless, his fearsome mein is offset by a small but genuine smile and the obvious care with which he has seen to his personal grooming.
Glancing around the room, his smile widens. "My but it's good to see so many friendly faces, an' many more I ne'er seen before. Name's Jules, formerly a' Isarn, humble servant a' Shelyn an' sometime muscle fer the Society."
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"Greetings, Crusaders. I may be new around here, but it appears we all share the same goals. I'm glad to find a group of like-minded individuals along the path of righteousness who also don't pull punches. My name is Treizen Te'Manre and I grew up in Vigil. I'm no strange witness to pain and suffering and I've come as an unpleasant surprise to those that would cause it. Me and my friend 'Scythie' here have a fondness for simply returning to Evil what is their due. I am an Angel of Reciprocity and my Inquisition is my faith. Oh, and I like to show off at archery competitions."
Spins his scythe and hurls it towards a bullseye target, severing it in half. Magically enchanted, the scythe returns to it's master.
"It's all fun and games until Scythie gets frustrated! Ahahahah!"
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" greetings one and all, my name is Oliver Ovid Shane, i see that we are all together" he places his hat down and bows to the rest of the group, my older brother told me that since he and i are different factions i figure we might as well look to my faction as a support you know since Andorran having issues and what not" but thats besides the point i hope you under stand brothers and sister that i haven't been adventure long but i hope to understand the ways of a great adventurers"
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A young woman clad in plate mail enters the hall with a cold iron great sword strapped to her back, and a clawed gauntlet on her right hand. She removes her helmet to reveal a flock of raven black hair, and a stern look on her face. "Greetings, I am Tal'yn, a Paladin of Iomadea. I have pledged my sword to the Silver Crusade, and I dare anyone to take it from me". Those close enough notice her wink as she says the last words....
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A homely and heavily armed Dwarf, after having remained mostly silent for a long while, takes a long drag of his pipe, and after blowing a few smoke rings, looks to those around him: Francisco, Ta'lyn, Oliver, and Treizen. Then he looks to Ladies Ophelia and Ollysta. He strokes his long brown beard -- braids, iron ties, and all. In a thick Dwarven accent he says:
"Morgrym Anvilstrike, and I'll not be absent should ye count yer number. I'm a humble servant and tool fer the Great Forge Master himself. I walk with the society so that I might gain power, prestige, and resources. I walk with the crusade so that I might put those tools to the most holy of purposes: Easin' sufferin', forgin' the greatest arms the land has ever seen, and vanquishin' evil."
You see Morgrym get a tiny smile as he puts emphasis on the "vanquishing evil" part. He then takes another heavy drag from his long stem pipe and blows a few more rings.
"The Forge Master walks with me, and so he walks with the crusade. May he bless our cause, now and always."
"Sorry I'm late!" the half-elf mumbles as he enters and moves to a back table. He wears simple traveling clothes, with a several pouches and cases tucked here and there. He sits down and opens a book filled with small, precise writing and pretends to study it while awkwardly trying NOT to stare at Gillian...
When the crowd calls for the newcomer's name, he stands and announces "My name is Rhanloi Ehlyss. I'm a bookseller - well, more like a seeker of arcane knowledge who helps pay the bills by selling books, you get the picture...In my travels I've seen good and evil - but more evil. So, while I'm neither cleric nor paladin, I stand for goodness the best I can wherever I am, and I am pleased to be part of this esteemed group!"
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"By the Goddess' Blessed Acts!" The door opens a little more quietly than some times before. The Chelaxian woman in a breastplate with a sword and bow bigger than she is strides in. A last glance back out the door, and she looks about the room. "It's good to be back in civilization. The River Kingdoms don't count."
Her wide smile flashes all around the room. "Well met, Crusaders!"
She notices Rhanloi, and extends a finger. "Books? I've seen the value, though I'm not much of a reader. But, anyways, you got stuff about the WorldWound? I'm bound there, if not sooner, than later. Tryin' to get competent right now."
this thread has been dead for awhile, which makes me sad because it was a pretty neat thing, i think im going to make some efforts to revive it. ah but let me find some way to introduce myself... how about a story?
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The Headquarters of the Silver Crusade is a bustle of activity, as always. The common room has been co-opted by several clerics and paladins who have aides continuously rushing patients back and forth in the impromptu hospital. The squall that hit last night had hit hard, and out of the clear blue sky, there was even rumor that it was no natural storm, and instead caused by some rampaging elemental or some other fiends. Ollysta Zadrian frantically tries to coordinate things all while running about laying hands on the most seriously injured of the patients.
Suddenly a large bird, wingspan easily 40 hands wide, lands awkwardly with a bundle grasped in its talons. It squaks loudly and says through its beak to Ollysta "I's one o' your's ain't I'?" each syllable producing a strange clicking sound. Without waiting for an answer he squaks loudly again and takes flight, wheeling off to the north toward where the storm had struck.
"Charming as always, Osprey." Ollysta mutters alout as she bends to unwrap the bundle. "SARENRAE'S FLAME you five get OVER here!" she yells as soon as she see's whats inside. Not being one of the five she called for you don't rush over immediately, but eventually curiosity wins out and you move slowly in her direction, craning your neck in order to see. As you approach Ollysta begins speaking swiftly, and you manage only to catch a few words here and there, but one phrase is repeated enough for you to piece together. "... Sarenrae heed our prayer..." Suddenly the room is filled with a bright holy light, powerful at first the glow slowly recedes until it is barely perceptible.
"YOU CANNOT HAVE IT, FIEND!" then a loud hacking cough and finally in a lower voice "I... Where? Damn it ALL!" the bundle, which you now know to be a man, carefully rises and you finally get a clear view. Wearing no armor except for a simple handmade Nagaleather vest over a pure white shirt and what may have once been very fine mithral chainmail, he is a tall man with shoulder length brown hair that parts above the forehead and shines in the soft afterglow of the resurrection. His sharp features might have been handsome were he not scowling so fiercely. His eyes meet yours and you feel him staring as if into your very soul, his eyes shift slowly from blue to green and back, and you feel as though no darkness, not even your own shadow, could ever hide from this gaze. You feel yourself unconsciously reaching for your holy symbol, unsure as to whether you aim to prove to him you're no demon... or to yourself. Abruptly he smiles, and his entire face seems to light up. The gaze that was once so unsettling instead makes you want to smile as well, and you soon find yourself grinning from ear to ear. The man reaches down to pick up his weapon, a once majestic longbow that now lies dented scratched and frail looking at his feet. At his touch the bow comes to life, limbs thickening and lengthening until you wonder as to how he can hold it, let alone draw it. vines appear and slowly spread out from around the handle, and the wood takes on a bone-like appearance. The bow gives out an aura that even from this distance you can feel, and the air around it bends and distorts with a soft green tint that looks almost like... green fire. Suddenly it stops, and the bow appears to be a normal, while still massive, longbow.
He turns to Ollysta and says "I thank you, Ollysta, be sure to thank Sarenrae for me..." his sighs mournfully "sadly it is not yet time for me to join the Eternal Hunt..."
"In due time you will indeed hunt the lush Meadows and rolling woods of The Deadeye, Zervania son of none."
"Ollysta, you know there is no need for formality with me, please call me Zee, and i'm not the son of none, my family was murdered. You know this."
"you know i will not do that, Zervania son of none." she replies curtly.
"Tis a shame... would sound absolutely majestic on your tongue." he jests "It was a half-fiend Elder water elemental what done it, by the way how did i get... Osprey?" without waiting for an answer "I'll have a feather or two from that damnable bird if he's late again..." he suddenly stops and reaches toward his head "speaking of feathers where is my hat?!" Ollysta calmly hands him a large wide brimmed had with one hand and an absolutely enormous raven's feather with the other. As he replaces the feather and shoves the hat onto his head she says, in the same airy voice as usual, "would you kindly watch your tongue, Zervania son of none? I did NOT ask Sarenrae to bring you back just so that you could foul up the air. The Decimvirate will have need of you again... or in the very near future at least." Zee grunts and pushes his way out of the circle, stopping only to bow to Ollysta as an afterthought. As he passes you on the way out you hear him muttering under his breath "Well... at least the damn thing didn't eat me alive this time..."
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Hey.
I'm thinking that those idiots that go into a situation and try to kill everything in sight classify as evil. And being evil, they are not a part of our society. Opinions?
"I don't think we are to judge who is in the Society, and who isn't. I've met some agents that need a lesson (not a beating) on things we should do and things we shouldn't. Some just don't know any better, but some explaining helps." The armored woman stops, and fingers the holy symbol of Iomedae around her neck. "I have to watch what standards I might impose on others, myself. Not everyone has My calling."
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Ollysta Zadrian calmly walks into the room leading a very young girl (a dc 10 Knowledge Local identifies her as Taldan) with her eyes closed by the hand. Ollysta says aloud "Fellow Crusaders! please take a moment to welcome our newest member recently returned from her first mission!" and softly squeezes the girl's hand. The girl opens her Milky blueish-white eyes and smiles softly as a large group of people smile and wave. She places her lantern, burning with an ever burning flame (i dont care if you cant have one, its flavor text) on the ground and withdraws a medium sized wizards spellbook from her coat and scribbles furiously for a second, handing the completed, and recently torn out, page to Ollysta, who reads aloud: "thank you all for your kind welcome... i am not sure if i really belong here, but your reception has been reassuring. (the girl blushes as Ollysta begins to read and picks up her lantern again, clutching it close to her chest.) My name is Selena, and I was born in Taldor to a family in the lower nobility both Deaf and nearly blind. I can see well, but only for very short distances. As a result of my deafness i cannot speak, but i can read lips and have become very adept at communicating through my notebook. I have not decided whether the gods have blessed me... (ollysta begins reading on a second page that Selena had written while the first was being read) or cursed me, but i hope that through you all and through the Society i can find some direction and meaning to my life... and some peace for those of my family who died to get me out of Taldor..."
A tear runs down Ollysta's face as she crumples the papers in one hand and turns to hug the small girl, only to find that Selena has moved into the room and begun conversing, with a flurry of scribbles and a few intent stares, with several people all at once.
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A nondescript young man wearing slightly damp and muddy clothes sits in the corner, sharpening a longsword. He straightens up as Ollysta Zadrian enters the room, expecting a speech or a mission for someone present. Once she starts speaking, though, his eyebrow raises in disbelief. 'Really?' it seems to say. 'She came here to say that?' He snorts and returns to his task. All the connections, all the sob stories in the world are powerless against Them, he thinks. All that matters is your skill at arms or magic. He grinds stone against steel fiercely, as if trying to hone not only the sword, but himself. Neither She nor They care whether one is old or young, beautiful or ugly, and neither will I.
Later, however, he awkwardly approaches Selena and passes her a note that says, "You wish peace for your dead? The clergy of Pharasma may help you."
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Bree-Bran raises a brow and waits her turn to talk to the new dual-cursed Oracle. Having some knowledge of religious issues due to her own upbringing, she thinks on the capriciousness of some of the gods.
Once Selena is looking her way, she speaks strongly and clearly, hoping her own mild Chellish accent doesn't misshape her lips. "Greetings Selena. If you are here to help those in need, and oppose the forces of Evil, then you really belong here. Is there anything you need, any help you require?"
The paladin's inner fire is damped low, here in the headquarters of the Crusade, but still there is a hint of her drive, an energy to be out and vanquishing the foes of all that is good.
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((a quick word out of character, i have only played the poor girl once, and as fun and quirky as she is just from her background i feel that character development doesn't really begin until you are able to have more than one scenario to draw from. As such i havent really developed much depth in Selena, yet. just a warning if she seems a little... transparent... as a character.))
Feeling slightly overwhelmed at the reception, but confident that she can handle herself in a group of people Selena places her lantern on the nearest table and tries to put it out of mind for a time. Approached by several people at once she scribbles furiously, always maintaining a neat and readable script of course.
A young man, older than she is all she can tell, approaches her with a note awkwardly held outstretched for her to take. She quickly jots down "i can indeed read your lips, as long as you speak some variant of Taldane, i am well studied in different accents and indeed a few mangleings of the Common tongue of the Inner Sea." but before she gets a chance to hand it to him he drops the note in her book and quickly walks away, tracking mud across a nice Tian rug in the process. She reads the note and shivers slightly, unsure of what he means. She had been referring to her family in Taldor who were suffering who knows what while awaiting the noose, they had accepted their fate and encouraged Selena to accept it as well... but even so there was nothing as could be done for them.
lost in thought for a moment she almost hadn't noticed the tall woman in brilliant armor coming up to her, almost. The woman spoke plainly, but very precisely and seemed to draw out syllables more than they needed to be drawn out. she recognized a hint of Chellish, and wondered about this woman's story, for it must be much more interesting than her own. with a start she realized the woman was looking at her with anticipation clear on her face. she recalled what the woman had said to her, reviewing her words quickly as she had taught herself to do and set to writing a reply. "I thank you for your assurances, and while i do not fully understand the gods i do understand the feeling i get when a recently healed child looks up bright and smiling, so i can assure you that my... powers... will always be used to their fullest extent. (on another piece of paper) as for needing anything, my Auntie and uncle have seen to my living quarters, and i have more gold than ive ever even seen before left over from my pay from my last mission... do all missions pay so well? i hardly know what i shall do with it all, as i do not need much..."
soon after she hands the note over the door opens again and a large man steps through. he introduces himself with a flurry of lip movements and she misses several words, going back and filling them in mentally. completed introduction in her mind her heart skips a beat... a Taldane exploration, he said, and one she had never heard of? she snatches her lantern and steps behind the woman she had just been talking to trying to appear small and avoid his gaze.
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A small, blue skinned gnome with wild green hair looks back and forth between Kuro Poe and Selena, then approaches and tells the tengu.
"So the deaf girl can read lips, but I doubt if she can read beaks", he chuckles. "You'll probably have to stick to paper and pen if you want to talk to her."
Wizzlefarb waves to Doyle and Conan, and greets them in Draconic, "Hello, friends!" He points to the raptor's feet and says "Your shoelaces are untied", and waits to see if either of them looks to see what he's talking about.
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LOL "Good answer! Obviously, I'm just messing around."
But then he thinks for a second and continues, "Well, the draconic language has words for 'shoe' and 'lace' that are used to describe things worn by other species, since dragons rarely wear such things. Though it's pretty funny to think about a big ol' dragon trying to put shoes on!"
Wizzlefarb starts laughing at the thought of it.
"I thought they used the same word as "peel", like banana peel for all clothes. Which is a bad sign now that I think about it... "
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"I thought they used the same word as "peel", like banana peel for all clothes. Which is a bad sign now that I think about it... "
"Well, their word for 'shoe' does literally translate as 'foot peel'. But remember, there are smaller, clothes wearing species that speak Draconic, as well, such as kobolds. So the words for these things are a necessary part of the language."
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"Welcome, Selena, and I am glad to hear you are well-situated. If you find there are Evils to be slain, much as Lord Neil is talking about, please find me, so my swords can aid in such holy work. I am preparing for a journey to the World-Wound, and I need all the practice I can get."
Only peripherally does the Iomedaean look to the discussion on the subtleties of alien linguistics. Her hopes seem raised in the slaying of undead disguised as a dragon, and the inner fire burns just a tad brighter.
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His earlier conversation concluded, Wizzlefarb looks around at the assembled Crusaders.
"All the holy warrior types talking about swords and smiting things is kinda boring. Sure, it's great that you do that stuff. I'm all for making the world a safer place. But you don't have to be obsessive about talking about it all the time. Lighten up!"
"This place is getting dull. Time to go tease the Lantern Lodge and Shadow Lodge members about their lodges closing, and see if any of them want to come over here."