"I was but a young man when the Wardstone held true," Jens says grimly, face darkening at the memory. "Those demons and their ilk took plenty from me that day." He is seemly dragged from his thoughts by the other Ulfen man's words, though, and clasps him in a brief embrace. "Ah, but it's good to see another Northener this far from home! Another drink sounds like a fine idea!" he exclaims, calling for his fourth.
As Voren reveals himself, he almost visibly recoils, a flash of anger flitting across his face. It is soon gone, however, replaced by the same dark expression as before. As the debate unfolds, he sighs deeply, downing his fourth mug in one long swallow. "I don't like to judge people based on appearances, but you'll forgive me if I don't warm to Demon-kin immediately," he says gruffly. "My life was taken from me when the Storm-King attacked, and that's not the kind of thing you can recover easily." His eyes flash from Aurica, to the cleric, to Voren, to Marleeri. "I'm sure there are men he who've lost more, and I'm fortunate to have all my features and limbs. But I near my fiftieth winter, and I've seen much in that time." He nods to the cleric as he takes a swig of his fifth mug. "Maybe I'll tell you my tale someday. It's a long one, and not the happiest, but with any luck, it nears its end."
Aurica gives the cleric a small nod at his words. She listens to the Ulfen speak as well, and nods at him, in perfect empathy for his position on the matter. She won't press him for more on his story this moment, but she has the sense of respect she always does for any veteran of her city's struggles.
Marleeri nods pensively. "Perhaps I was too aggressive. To suffer at the hands of demons, only to have their children chide you for not being more accepting... I am sorry. If it is any consolation, I respect your strength and dedication. Few people could handle a decade of war, let alone three."
Her expression lightens and she snatches her drink from the bar behind her, raising it. "I'll drink to that."
"You're well-spoken, I'll grant you that," Aurica says of Marleeri.
Applications officially closed! I'll try and make a decision within a few days (maybe even by tomorrow if I'm super keen).
.
tick tock the game is locked
and no one else can get play
and if they do, we’ll steal their shoes
and throw them all away.
See? I can haz poem! Ok, ok, fine, it’s a little rhyme my mother used to sing to us, but it’s the best I got!
Looking forward to the reveal, Alice. Good luck all.
Suddenly a red haired short gnome appears between the tall Ulfen and other-planar blooded group. And if anyone is paying attention, the wall in one booth appears to have moved back about 12 inches.
You all are boring, how am I to have fun with a dour group as yerselves. He turns toward the dwarf. And what happened to yer beard. What horrible disease takes the hair from a dwarf gal's face? He then looks at the two tieflings. And, and, who are you all. What is it like to be part devil? Is it fun? If I touch you are you hot? Do you really shish-kabob children. Then he sees the scorpion and his eyes light up. Ooh, a scorpion. Is it true that their stinger grows back if pulled off? What do they taste like? Where did you get him?
The questions keep coming and coming from Drakra until someone stops him.
Jens nods gravely to Marleeri, raising his fifth mug of the evening. "Three decades. I never thought of it as being that long." He chuckles, shaking his large head as he drinks. "All the days have been blurring together for some time now." He raises his eyebrows as a gnome appears in the midst of the group and immediately begins yammering away.
"You insulted me, creature," he says simply. "I have killed men for less. Does your blade run as fast as your mouth?" Though his tone is serious, there's a twinkle of humour in his eyes - though whether the gnome can see that is a different matter.
Looking up at the tall Ulfen, Drakra responds, perhaps without actually understanding Ulfen:
But why would you kill someone? Then they would not be able to experience all this magical world has to offer.
You think he takes a breath, although the speed he talks and the general lack of pauses between words makes it difficult to determine.
Have you heard that they are going to send a new crusade into the Worldwound? I was there once, it has the most interesting things. Twisted trees, creatures with four arms and no legs. Creatures with snake arms. Creatures with the heads of dragons. It is so cool. I want to sign up and join. It will be so much fun to see what is really hidden behind the Wardstone Wall.
Slowly but steadily selection time is coming. Well, good luck everyone!
As an FYI for everyone who does not care. I changed Drakra's last name, which I forgot would also change the link to his profile. Here is the new link.
The tall and slender elf in the white robes with the metallic hair gracefully and lightly places a hand on the gnomes shoulder.
"Speak a little more slowly and with gentle brushes of your adjectives and adverbs sir. Lest your interest be misunderstood due to your enthusiasm. There are many who come to a place like this to flirt with what haunts or disturbs their minds and can take offense when defenses are peeled back too vigorously or are plunged back into memories better left alone."
The elf smoothly draws a stylus and a small journal from his robe.
"But later, if you have time, I would be quite interested in recording your observations. Along with yours of Ustalav. I can provide a small payment for your time if needed."
Impatiens looked around the bar and sighed.
What is with men and bar fights? At least it's just words right now. And wouldn't you know it, no bouncers are on duty. Just my luck. A fight is going to break out and I'll have to stop it. On my day off. Unpaid.
Impatiens sighed.
Hrm. There aren't any musicians either. Perhaps I can forestall the fight ahead of time. And get some practise in. Yeah!
Decision made, Impatiens strides to the small stage and begins tuning her lute. Looking up for an instant she asks in her booming voice "Anyone have any requests? Because otherwise it will be 'Reuben Clamzo and His Strange Daughter (In the key of A)'"
When the music starts to come from the stage, Drakra turns to listen. It does not take long before the odd sounds begin to give him a headache. He calls out to the player.
What is that song you are playing? I heard something similar in Cheliax once. It was a cow being tortured by two devils.
Oh joy, a heckler. Ignore him Impy. Just play. Remember what Mother Joyeuse always said about hecklers. "Big mouth, small...talent" And she always do that little pause.
The tiefling smiles briefly and continues playing.
The elven ranger shifted in his seat. He was enjoying the music. He had listened to the wizard trying to admonish the little gnome fellow, but apparently his words of wisdom passed through his ears without reaching his brain.
Is he really trying to be that annoying? Or is he just touched in the head. He did say he had been out in the wound. Probably got his companions killed flapping and carrying on like that. . . . Unless they were using him for bait. His mouth would draw demons for leagues.
The ranger had also been hoping that the grizzled human would continue his story. Old ones such as him often imparted invaluable bits of information if one was listening at the right time while sitting around the fire.
"That wizard has the look of a city elf. I wonder what he is doing here? His kind have still sent little to no help to those of us who once made our homes in our forests here. Nothing is as precious as their secrecy and maintaining their distance from the world, even when it involves other elves.
The Ulfen cleric slapped the bar top. "Barkeep! Please tell me you have two flagons of mead behind the bar here for the grey beard and I. We are far from home and he needs a reminder of what it was like to drink a proper northern treat."
Then turning with a smile and tossing a silver to the stage.
" And you there! Do you know how to play Immigrant Song?! Even if you just know the tune, Jens and I can carry the chorus, we've had enough drinks to warm up."
"Oh and here Voren, take Ayne back into your custody. I won't be responsible for having it in my hand if that little man tries to dismembers and eat your friend."
At the dwarf's first statement, Voren shrinks back a bit, his nervousness rendering him silent. He's snapped out by the Ulfen shaking his hand. Voren seems to come off the ground at points. He can't help but smile a small fanged grin at the Ulfen's antics. At his question, though, Voren returns to his quiet state. Sensing his nervousness, Ayne looks in the witch's direction, seemingly concerned. Voren says, "I'm not a poisoner. I do dabble in alchemy. As my profession... I'm a... healer."
Hearing an alluring voice behind him, he turns in his seat... to see another tiefling. He stares at her, raptured by many things. 'She's... just like me. And yet she wanders around in the open.' He can't seem to help staring at her wings, very intrigued. His spaded ended tail unravels from his waist and pokes out of his robes, wagging slightly. Catching himself, he turns back to his tankard, his face red in embarrassment, his tail wrapping around his stool's leg as well. He listens to the back and forth between Aurica and the newcomer. After the fellow tiefling introduces herself, he says, "H-hello, Marleeri. It's a pleasure to meet you." At Aurica's accusation of the tieflings being plants, Voren lets a rare frown take over. "Why would I be an agent of the demons? I don't like demons. They cost me my home."
At the Ulfen's speaking, Voren remains silent, only nodding. After the Ulfen gives his thanks for his drink, Voren smiles and chirps in, his tail wagging excitedly. "Yes! Thank you! It was very kind of you!" At Marleeri's comment about her father, however, the excitement leaves, his tail droops onto the floor. "I'm... sorry to hear that. No one should go through that, tiefling or otherwise. But, remember the good times and they'll always be with you." 'Unlike me, who never knew his parents. Even in Sarkoris.' Seeing Marleeri cross her legs, he looks at where his own legs are and frowns. 'Hmph. D**n goat legs.'
When Voren removed his hood, seeing Jens's reaction almost made the healer put his hood back up. Hearing Jens speak, Voren responds, "It's alright. I understand. The demons took away my home, my country, turning things into what they are now." At Marleeri's raised tankard, Voren silently raises his own mug and drinks.
Hearing a voice behind him, Voren turns to see a red haired gnome chattering on. He tries to answer his questions, but the gnome won't let him. When the newcomer is finished, Voren answers, "Well, I'm Voren and this is Marleeri. As for our heritage, she can tell you hers. As for me, I'm not sure. I'm assuming I'm demonic. But again, I never knew my parents so no one told me. Being a tiefling hasn't been a joy for me. I don't seem to be hot to the touch. And no, we don't shish kebab children." At the gnome's questions about the scorpion, Voren puts his hand over his familiar defensively. "I wouldn't know about a removed stinger growing back because I never removed it. I also wouldn't know what she would taste like. And I met her while I was living in the... S-Shudderwood." At the gnome's dalliances of the Worldwound, a frown takes over Voren's face. "The Worldwound is not 'cool' as you say. I've seen it. Close up. Seeing the demons pouring from the gates. The terror. The chaos. The death. One must be careful with the Worldwound. Remember that."
At the elf wizard's request for observations about Ustalav, Voren becomes quiet (quieter?). He says, "It was scary. Superstitious people all around me. So dark and dreary. I had to be even more careful when trying to sell and buy." Turning to the stage at the voice, Voren is shocked to see another female tiefling. He tilts his head and turns so that he's facing the stage, his flagon in his hands. His tail raises and seems to bob to the beat. When the cleric returns Ayne, Voren nods and Ayne skitters across the bar top, up his elbow and arm, and onto his shoulder. When she gets there, she seems to skitter side by side, adding a little spin every once in a while. It's very obvious from Ayne's 'dancing' and Voren's tail that they enjoy the music. He stares, charmed by the light music.
Impy's eyes widen as she takes in the crowd. Her fingers move automatically, not missing a note, but her heart stops as she recognizes one of the patrons as being a tiefling. A man! And one I haven't met. And then her eyes narrow slightly when she spots the female form next to him. And of course she has wings! Typical. Just once I'd like first shot and good odds. Why can't I just this once fall into a vat of truffle oil with two men? Why am I always on the wrong side of the triangle? Wings.
She really is pretty, isn't she? It must be nice. Maybe she could give pointers. Oooo, I bet she has a brother!
Impatiens beams a smile at the pair or her kind and then at the crowd at large, then continues playing with a will.
At Torvald's request, she changes tune and begins thumping her boot against the stage floor. Impatiens sings just one verse, then decides she likes the people her too much to inflict more than the one verse.
Three tieflings. Three too many for Aurica to be truly at her ease, no matter their smooth words or even their good intentions.
She focuses on the gnome instead, smirking into her mug at the little man's rapid-fire litany of inane statements.
"Well, what about you, eh? Your hair's red. So's mine. The gods must have cursed you, shortstack, to give you colors no more exciting than a dwarf's. Yer practically drab. Tell you what, I'll get some green paint and we'll give you a pity dye, that'll be fun enough for us both."
Seeing the dwarvish woman question him and mention green dye, Drakra's eyes light up:
Green dye, cool. I could make my eyebrows green. And my undergarments. He then proceeds to slip off his shoes and stick his feet up on the counter, which results in the tiny person being almost upside down. See, I already have blue hair on my toes.
You are pretty sure that he takes a breath at this point, but you are unsure.
Does your hair also sparkle when it is a full moon? Mine does.
Suddenly realizing that the tiefling had answered him, Drakra turns about, still upside down.
Chaos and death. What are they like? Is it as bad as the bleaching? His face fades a color or two, but is still more colorful than most, including wealthy merchant's wives with too much makeup. The bleaching is bad, that is when gnomes stop experiencing new things. That is why I am here, to experience the Worldwound. Maybe we will get to go to that place in the middle of the Worldwound. The abs, abelis, abcess. Yeh, thats it, the avcess. Will we be able to go there? I bet there are lots of cool things there. Probably even cooler than death.
Marleeri drains her cup with a contended sigh and rests it on her lap. "Thank you," she responds to Aurica, "I try to speak as clearly as I can. When your blood makes your first impression for you, misunderstandings can be terrible."
"The same to you, Voren," Marleeri responds with a smile.
Her gaze wanders to the motor-mouthed gnome- as if there was any other kind- and she attempts to answer what questions she can, though she finds herself unable to keep up with the sheer volume of his speech. "I'm part demon, not devil. I suppose it's as fun as being any other person, though sometimes the attention it draws is less than pleasant. I'm hot whether you touch me or not. A sentient child, no, but some nice boiled eggs, perhaps."
When the elf interjects she falls silent and blinks a few times, before refocusing on him. "I'm afraid I couldn't tell you much. I was a child in Barstoi, and I've left it behind." Marleeri returns the empty mug to the bar behind her and sits quietly, scanning the room and all its varied inhabitants.
So many tieflings all in one place. I heard Kenabres had a large tiefling population, but I didn't expect anything like this. I should get to know them better, they're my kin after all. And... wow, she is an excellent singer.
"Oi, get your teensy feet away from my beer! Last thing I need is blue-hair lice poppin' over to my mug for a drink," Aurica says, poking the gnome in the soles of his feet.
"My hair don't sparkle, but a lot of the clips and such in it do."
She inclines her head slightly at Marleeri's words to her, but doesn't otherwise respond to them. Her manner is markedly more reserved there, in sharp contrast to the easy joking with the gnome.
As the dwarf pokes his feet, Drakra suddenly pops back upright, somehow managing to put his shoes on all in the same motion.
Hey, that tickles. And tickely things are funny. What makes you laugh? Do you like jokes? How about people tripping over things? Or getting things dropped on their heads? You should try laughing more. It might help keep your beard red. Ooh, when dwarven men spill ale in their beards, do they have to wash them? How do they wash them? Do you ever dye your hair? I bet you would look great with green hair. Where is that dye you were talking about?
"Oh, you know, all the usual things that are funny make me laugh... launchin' gnomes from catapults... seein' if gnomes float... findin' out if gnomes turn blue if you hold their noses long enough..."
Aurica uses her foot to hook a stool closer, and rests her feet up on it while having another mouthful of beer.
"Wash 'em with soap, the way ev'ryone else does, 'cept wizzards and the like I guess. And no thanks to dyin' my hair. This is family-hair, see? We all got red hair. My family wouldn't know who I was if my hair went mossy green, so I'll leave the green hair to you. As for where that dye is, well--"
Aurica leans in conspiratorially. "Y'see that big, big half-orc in the corner? 'm pretty sure what he's drinking is the dye. 'S why he's all green. You better go take it from him."
At Marleeri's smile and greeting, Voren smiles, a slightly larger fanged grin than what you've seen.
Seeing the performer glance into his direction and narrow her eyes at the tiefling next to him, Voren looks between Marleeri and the performer. He thinks: 'Do they know each other? Why would she glare at Marleeri?' The feminine voice interrupts his thoughts. 'Probably because she thinks that you and Marleeri are together. Now, hush, boy. I'm enjoying myself and the music.' He then looks to the performer and shakes his head, pointing to himself and Marleeri, and mouthing out 'No. We're not together'. Feeling bad, he turns to Marleeri and mutters, "Sorry if I offended you. You are pretty. But I just said the truth. Again, sorry." You can obviously tell that social skills are not his forte.
Hearing the gnome ask about Chaos and Death, Voren grows silent. "It is bad as the bleaching you gnomes go through. In someways, worse. It's the end of all experiences. The end of life. Just... nothing." 'Like what I experienced in the fey slumber.' When the gnome mentioned the center of the Worldwound, Voren's eyes go wide. He starts shaking and sweating. Memories start playing in his mind. 'The actual rift. Where it all started. The demons. The screaming. The death. The... blood.' He shakes his head before saying, "The a-actual r-rift. That lies in what's k-known as the... the W-Wounded L-Lands, from what I hear. No... you don't want to go there, gnome. You don't. I-I've s-seen it. Up close and personal. It... it's the stuff of your deepest, darkest nightmares." At this point, the mug in his hands is shaking violently, he is shaking violently.
The wizard stands and tries to stabilize Voren with gentle hands. He speaks with reserve, but you can tell there is an urgency in his voice.
"you've seen it? The actual rift itself? How did you do this? In person or through some sort of remote viewing or scrying device? Can you remember the dimensions of it?"
Drakra's eyes open even wider than they were before:
You've seen it. Wow. Is it really multi-colored. Red and black and blue with flecks of gold and chartreuse and salmon thrown in? Are there really man eating flowers there? What about the purple penguins? I hear they there are little purple birds that cannot fly, they are bright purple and they eat anything that moves. Have you seen them? Are they cute?
At this point, Drakra is all but standing on his stool, hopping on one leg and waving his arms around like he thinks he can fly.
The evening had been quite entertainingly as events continued to unfold the ranger reflected on what he had seen. He was impressed that the group hadn't come to blows or harsh words despite their differences. He wondered if that was due inpart to the fact that there were so few humans participating in the exchange, and the ones that were were an older man and apparently a cleric.
The dwarf behaved in a manner he had come to expect of their race and the gnome was definitely ecentric as to be expected, although on the extreme side of things. He was actually suprised the Ulfen hadn't knocked him in a summersault for sticking his feet in the head of their mead shortly after they were set upon the bar. Luckily for him they were too distracted singing that song that they all seemed to request. He had had the opportunity to hear it several times over the years and this tieflings actually played it quite well.
The subtle communication between the women who had become instinctively competitive over a potential mate, no matter how oblivious he was to it was also a plot worth following.
As things continued to develop he let his guard down a bit more and turned his mind to concerns of his own.
Jens drops a hand to the gnome's head, a little roughly. "Watch your words, little one. As a veteran of the Fourth Crusade, I'll have you know the Worldwound is an accursed place. The very air itself wants to kill you. Nothing is safe to eat. And the most docile animal can harbour a blood-rage, causing it to turn on you when you least expect. No man in his right mind would want to see it for himself."
When he turns back to his fellow Northerner, his face is brighter. "Don't waste your coin, friend; they don't know how to make good mead here. The ale isn't half bad, though!" He grins broadly as he continues his drink. "Say, Brother, I don't think I caught your name earlier?"
He glances sideways at Voren, seeing him shaking violently, and frowns, placing a large hand on his shoulder. "Say, son, you don't seem too good there. Maybe you should stop thinking about it. It can't be good for your head." Despite the scowl on his face, his tone is gentle, almost fatherly.
Marleeri glances at Voren and Impatiens, before giving her a sheepish smile and shrugging. She wasn't interested in competing for Voren's attention. "Not a problem."
Her smile fades into concern and her brow furrows as Voren starts to shake. She reaches out slowly to lay a hand on his arm, to try and stabilize him somehow. "It's alright, friend. You're not in the Worldwound, you're here in Kenabres. Safe, warm, surrounded by warriors who would defend this place with their lives. There's nothing for you to worry about."
Aurica glances over at the tiefling's voice rising and quavering as he describes the horror of the 'Wound.
Poor, sorry wretch. Demon's blood and a cracked head. Hnh.
"Do what all the other Crusaders who've taken scars to the mind do: have another drink or five," she suggests.
Thanks, will probably add 20 years onto Drakra's age since his background has him briefly behind enemy lines in the Third Crusade when he was young and foolish . . . er, younger and more foolish. I figure age 85 or so would be about right for this then.
p.s., I'm sorry for semi-disappearing, was at work today and yesterday I didn't feel too hot and went to bed early. :P I am starting to look over people's apps quite curiously...
Good luck! Lots to navigate through!
Hearing Jens, Marleeri, and the elven wizard snaps Voren out of it. After a few deep breaths, he calms down, smiles, and says, "Thank you all. I really needed that." Hearing Aurica's suggestion, he smiles and says, "No thank you. Like I said, I'm not a drinker. Besides having those memories help me remember why I'm here." He finishes his tankard and places it on the bar top.
Turning to the elven wizard, he says, "Yes, I've seen the rift in person. I really don't know how big it is now due to the fact that back then, I was running for my life along with everyone else. I would have to say that, at the time, it was a mile long. As to how... that's something I'd like to keep to myself... for now."
Turning to the gnome, he says, "It was full of reds, blacks, greens, and purples. There was lightning of all colors. Demons pouring out. And, for some reason, there was primordial goo, just bubbling."
Turning to Jens, he says, "You're right. I just need to calm down and try to put it aside." He takes a few more breaths before returning his focus to the tiefling on stage.
"Are you saying that you have a first hand account of when it opened? For you make it sound that way, but I won't press you on it any further tonight. Perhaps we can make an appointment and you could come by my laboratory. I work with traditional arcane magic, but I also find the magic of chemical and organic compounds fascinating."
The wizard scribbles down a few notes and stows his book and stylus.
The cleric recoils from the first waft off the flagon.
"phew! You are right friend, they managed to get all the alcoholic content right, just without any if the positive aspects of the drink. Ah well, it's paid for so I will drink them and get you an ale to replace yours. Ha, it might slow me down a bit and that could be a good thing I guess."
"I am Hedrick of Winterhaven, son of Ranvir son of Garrick. Known as the Blackshield, I am a Raven of the Black Raven Guard. This sword I carry is Night Eye and is said to have been carried from the rift by its first owner during the time of the Great Black Wave. I have been sent to this place to learn what I can about how the Mendivites organize and defend against the demon incursion. My superiors hope to apply what works against the White Witches who occupy our eastern lands and seek to expand ever westward."
The ever excitable gnome is jumping up and down on his stool now and raising his hand:
I fought in the Third Crusade. Joined with a company from Taldor. They all got wiped out by some cult of Baff-ho-meet. Then the demons came. Best of all. The demons did not touch the supply wagon which was good because it was a day before I was rescued and my rumbling stomach would have attracted more demons. One of the demons had three arms and a horn in its chest. I bet no other gnome from Umok ever saw a demon with three arms and a horn in tis chest. It was a purple and pale yellow demon.
At this point, the gnome misses a step, falls off the stool, and then just as quickly jumps right back up, but the fall does give the others a chance to speak.
Jens ignores the chattering gnome as he topples off his stool, grasping Hedrick's hand firmly in his own. "Well met, Hedrick, son of Ranvir. Hoping to find new techniques to use against the Witches, eh?" He raises one eyebrow as he drinks his mead with a small grimace, ignoring the cleric's offer to drink them both. "That's quite the task. How fare their attempts at expansion? I trust our Brothers are holding them back?"
He glances down at the gnome as he clambers back on his stool, adding, "I'm frankly surprised your mouth didn't give you away."
"Ha! Now there is a kinsman indeed helping me down this swill so that we may chase it with something of better quality."
"The border towns, like mine stubbornly refuse to give up any more land. The eastern kings, with some exceptions, are friendly to our cause, but the witches are up to something. Mark my words. They have been testing the border and we've seen more wolf and hut movement, but the Ravens hold strong and alert for anything."
"To be honest I would rather be there than here, but I was selected to come and so I did as I was oredered. How about you Jens? Sounds as though you've been here for a minute. It seems a good death has escaped you so far, what brought you to this place?"
He glances down at the gnome as he clambers back on his stool, adding, "I'm frankly surprised your mouth didn't give you away."
Hearing Hedrick and Jens's conversation, Voren asks, curious, "Does your land have a problem with witches?"
"Wow, I can't believe you've never heard of it. Yeah we have a hell of a problem. Half of our lands were taken from us by the Great Hag herself Babba Yagga. They paved their Capitol's streets with our skulls, grind our bones into bread and steal the souls of our children. The White Witches are the daughters and granddaughters of The Great Hag. They seek to wipe the rest if our lands and people's from the face of this earth."
"I understand that there is a difference between the wise woman and healer witch, but not all of my people do. The north is a vast place, some inhabitants swear off magic all together. Those of us at the front lines know you need magic to combat magic."
Impatiens moves off the classic rock and moves onto folk standards