@Gavmania: Forgot Filios!
So I did, sorry!
BEar in mind anyone with Survival and Know NAture as class skills can be considered "wilderness types". :)So, we got:
Combat:
Anders Trelassion
Gansukh Omae
Quiahar Chrilos
Sagaxus
TyldricSkill Monkey:
Algar Lysandris
DergoDivine:
Dristen Dagger
Tasha Del MarArcane:
Haggin Goodfey
Morphet
ZokovarThat's a lot of Combat, and no wilderness types!
That reminds me, I really should have Survival considering how much wilderness travel my wandering monk's done. So splitting the ranks from diplomacy between diplomacy and survival. Character profile updated.
So, we got:
Combat:
Anders Trelassion
Gansukh Omae
Quiahar Chrilos
Sagaxus
TyldricSkill Monkey:
Algar Lysandris
Dergo
FiliosDivine:
Dristen Dagger
Tasha Del MarArcane:
Haggin Goodfey
Morphet
Zokovar
Here you go Filios. Dristen knows what it's like to left out so he's glad to help.
Thanks bud!
Finished! Took me a while, but he's done and ready for scrutiny.
Ariston: Thanks!
1 1/2 days remain, but if nobody else expresses interest by the end of tonight, I will move us on to phase 2 as I believe everyone expressing interest currently has applied.
Thanks...sounds good.
I'm still working on my character so I should have soemthing tonight.
The suspense is killing me!
I'm going to save you some time and drop out. It seems I got invited to another game by surprise so I'll give one less app that I have to fill adn for the gm to read. :)
I'll release the list of those progressing to phase 2 this morning and what that entails!
And that queer sort of ship that appeared - green and black sails with strange decorations - carried strangers from a land unknown to us. - Watcher Gi
Phase 1 is over. Instead of the usual announcements regarding those which made the cut, I will mention those which didn't and provide some feedback as to why. I know this process can be frustrating, so I'd like to give you some more reason than "just because." They are:
Anders: The explanation of paladinhood was danced around, really. He does seem like a warrior with a righteous mindset, but that does not a disciplined defender of the faith make necessarily. Coupled with the lack of detail on how he game into control his sorcerous power and rashness, other candidates stood-out more.
Morphet: A sorcerer's power is inborn, so it's not the grandmother teaching Morphet her spells. In addition, I think we would have a fair number of conventional misunderstandings.
Tyldric: Simple is fine, but I didn't get a feel for Tyldric's personality. All I know is he had a hard life and guards things.
Zokavar: The story doesn't indicate why he is where he is, and the background is almost more about the Unseelie Court than he.
*****************
For those remaining:
You're aboard the Mist Lady, the vessel spoken of in the introduction. Having left Absalom last night, it is evening again. The temperature is warm, the skies are clear, and the stars are twinkling. Besides your group, there are 33 crew members aboard (for those bothering to count). A majority of them are human. The exceptions are:
- Captain Onaar, a middle-aged elf with a quick tongue, a quicker swordarm, and a wit sharper than the rapier at his side. He chats frequently with the first mate, but little with others, in fact stopping conversations with said crew member with others pass near.
- First Mate Wald, a wizened halfing which dresses the part of a wizard. He may in fact be as much as he does carry aroud a rather thick tome hanging on a chain by his side, but no magic has been seem from him.
- Lookout Sellas, a fetchling of nimble steps and towering height. His 6'3 stature makes him tower over most, and he adds to this height by spending most of his time up in an elaborate crow's nest. When walking amongst the crew though, the men and women give him wide passage.
- Lady Plumwhisper, a half-elf who's less lady and more lusty, she apparently serves as the pleasure mistress, given by the sounds from her cabin at most hours of the day (or night).
Your quarters are not private, but rather consist of bunked hammocks in storerooms of sorts with the other crew. There is plenty of room for your belongings to sit but no vault available to you there. I say "rooms" because they are separated by sex, the mens' much larger than the womens'. Sailors come and go throughout the day, though most return simply to rest and are quiet there. The common areas above and below deck are another story, however, with much dicing and drinking to be had.
This is phase 2. What do your characters do aboard the ship? How do they interacts with the crew and themsleves? Which of you can manage to avoid scurvy? Play-out this portion in character as if it were the start of the campaign because it's the prologue to it. I will close phase 2 on Monday at the latest. From time to time during this interval, I'll interject with responses from the crew, happenings aboard the ship, and details as to how sharp Plumwhisper's nails are.
Congratulations, good luck, and happy sailing!
Quiahar began his morning meditations as soon as the first sliver of sunlight could be seen on the horizon. The crew of the ship were already hard at work, but Captain Onaar had graciously cleared part of the foredeck for him when it wasn't needed by the crew. Quiahar's meditations relied on movements. Circles of dance, finding ki energy and moving it within the self, around the self through the colored scarves he wore threaded through golden armbands. It made for quite a spectacle, or so it seemed, as when he first began such meditations, the crew had halted their work until First Mate Wald informed them in no uncertain terms what would happen to them if they didn't get back to work.
Quiahar closed his eyes to continue the meditations of movement, feeling the sun's warmth on his face and learning to use that to focus his movement. He also began to feel the spell dance come over him, something from the traces of elven blood that flowed through his veins; for a time, he allowed the magic to drift around him, manifesting as small colored lights that emphasized the colors of the silk scarves. He still whirled, flipped, high-kicked, braced, and spun in a state of suspended awareness.
When the meditation was complete, he felt the scarves wrap around his arms once again, and he reached down and gently tied the ends around his wrist. The floating lights he blinked out by merely glancing at them. The second part of his daily routine was weapons practice with the nine-section-whips, exotic weapons of color and circular movement that required a large berth to use successfully. This was almost as exotic-looking and entertaining as his dance meditations, the fast moving chains whipping past his head with quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) whooshes. It required a great deal of concentration, one wrong move, one interruption, and he could seriously injure someone with the weights on the ends of the chains, potentially even himself.
As the circle of the sun finally emerged completely from the waters, Quiahar ended his daily ritual. The circle was complete. He bowed once to the sun as he folded his chains and slipped them back beneath his belt.
He heard the applause behind him before he even turned around. The giant pale-skinned fetchling leaned against the railing watching him. "Sellas, I didn't sense you there. You should be careful not to creep up on someone like that. Especially in the midst of such violent training." Quiahar's voice lilted with exotic eastern accents, but the fetchling paid little mind to it.
Indeed, Sellas arrived without a sound, and he made few in response. "Yes, violent." His voice was firm, soft, and unnerving, about as absnet of life as his skin tone. Perhaps the twinges of a smile were seen on his face as he turned away, heading beneath deck, but they disappeared as quickly as they came.
Quiahar shrugs, not really certain what to make of the fetchling, and goes to find what he can to break the fast, now that his daily morning ritual is ended. He would do it again in the evening, time and space permitting, as the circle of the sun first touched the horizon and finally sank beneath it.
The mess is a little loud and boisterous, as usual. It wasn't something he had much of a problem with unlike many of those he once trained with. They seemed to require silence almost always, or at least a quiet environment. Quiahar knew life wasn't like that. It was usually very messy, and it was a mess he had grown comfortable with.
He looked around to see who else might be eating.
Anders: The explanation of paladinhood was danced around, really. He does seem like a warrior with a righteous mindset, but that does not a disciplined defender of the faith make necessarily. Coupled with the lack of detail on how he game into control his sorcerous power and rashness, other candidates stood-out more.
Thankyou for the feedback. It would be helpful if you could elucidate a little, if you don't mind. Particularly:
(1) I take your point about the lack of detail on his paladinhood. It reads almost as if he entered it because he had nothing else to do - not my intention at all. I will pad that part our for future applications.
(2) The lack of detail on his sorcerous power is deliberate, since Anders does not know. As I mentioned, he believed it a gift from the Goddess; whether that is his naive assumption or not I felt to be irrelevant. What is true is that he has received it for what it is
(3) Point taken about the rashness. I originally used WIS and INT as a dump stat, (I felt it necessary with a MAD character) meaning that he would not be able to cast Paladin spells at a higher level and necessitating a change of career. I have regretted it ever since, as the character is probably too rash and stupid to be useful, so if I remade this character I would boost them to average (probably lowering STR).
With (3), not too much so of his own accord, but as a paladin, yes. Regarding (2), the lack of detail of knowing the power's [i]source, is fine, but to actually have a class level with which to wield magical energy, it's implied he has some mode of trail-and-error to find what works and what doesn't. Having been the religious type, if he'd met any priests along the way and saw them work any magic, he would know he wasn't really like them.[/i]
Not too far out from port, you see the cook is putting the perishables to use: well-seasoned (judging by the smell) beef stew is being mopped-up by hunks of not-quite-stale bread by a dozen or so crewmates as a tale about some runaway horse is being told.
|
Zandar was rather happy to a certain extent, he had promised Arstil he wouldn't stay more than a month in Sargava before returning to absalom, but this morning he was getting sea sick. Zandar had been on a few boat trips , but it always took him a few days to adjust, and the first morning was always the worst, and this morning was of no exception. Having spent much of it in his cabin he eventually made his way outside his stomach still aching. The fresh air felt nice on his face but the dizziness of his stomach wouldn't go away. And so he just stood there for the afternoon just gazing at the horizon wanting to throw up periodically but having nothing left inside of him to do so.
Dristen rises an hour before his very work shift and walk to the front of the ship, his Ioun torch following behind him. He meditates on his spells for the hour, looking into the flames. As his mind enters the flames, the personalities melt away and it is pure Dristen who thinks his thoughts. Drysten's memories and Dristen's memories from the day before merge and combine, giving either Dristen full knowledge of his own life. Dristen (the default personality) does not realize this is happening.
After his meditation is complete he will work his crew shift, as he was hired too.
Dristen completes his task quickly and effectively, earning positive looks from the other crew members. When his break finally comes (or his shift ends) Dristen will see to his other duties. He will take up his parchment and inkpen and interview the other members of the crew and any passengers. He will lead with the following phrase:
"As the preist aboard this vessel, I am in charge of all last right traditions. Could you please provide me with your deity and what you would like your last rights to be?"
Dristen on a ship wears his leather armor and has his 2 shields strapped to his adventurer's sash. His breastplate is kept on his bunk.
A particular confrontation: Dristen stands at the bottom of the main mast and looks up to the crow's nest. He shouts:" Excuse me, Mr Sellas? Can I come up to the nest to ask a few questions related to your last rights observations?"
Saladraxis stares out at the rushing waves, her mind harkens back to the underground lake she use to love so much. It was a place of peace where her clutchmates wouldn't go. She remembered tossing stones a crossed trying to hit the other side. These memories retreat as another wave of illness washed over Her.
Vomiting over the side for the thousandth time this trip, Sal regains her composure and glare's out at the collected crew. The noise and the spectacle of so many bodies stuffed into so small a space made her nervous. They are so loud, why are they not afraid of attracting attention to themselves. Such angry waters must hold creatures larger than she had ever seen before.
For the fourth time this day she had to remind herself she was not allowed to hit anyone as she stumbled forward and tripped headfirst into the midst of a crowd. She was seriously rethinking the whole take a boat plan, maybe she could have managed to walk it. She had the years right?
Hate screamed up at her as she bit back on her sour tongue to spit forth "I apologize, it was an accident." This did not seem to do anything to assuage the anger of the crew members who's game she had interrupted and who's cards she had just spilled a crossed the deck. She yipped a small Kobold yip as she backed away from the angriest, reaching for her crossbow before remembering it still nestled with her pack on her bed. She prayed to Abadar she would not be forced to hit one of them again, the captain said he would throw her overboard payed passage or no.
In response to Dristen's question.
"In truth, I care not. If I should die, this body will be vacant, as my soul will no longer be present. Dispose of the body in an appropriate manner that disease does not spread."
Ariston rises early, though not of his own volition. The tramping of the crew and the hollering of the Captain and First Mate make sleep nigh impossible. His first reaction is a deep, directionless anger at being awoken. He lets himself stew in this for a while, before shaking off the anger and settling for simple irritation. He rises and heads to the mess, where he finds the most secluded area possible and sets to the task of eating. Ariston grudgingly enjoys the stew, and gives his compliments and thanks to the cook on his way out.
He returns to the area of his hammock in the men's room. It's empty now, the crew and passengers having filtered out to the deck and the mess. Ariston prepares his alchemical items for the day, more out of habit than anything. It was good to be prepared, but he expected no trouble on such a simple passage.
When Ariston returns to the deck, the sun is only an hour or two from being directly overhead. He had no particular reason for coming here, but the fresh air was in a way calming. The view, if identical in every direction, was also impressive. The scene was slightly marred by the vomiting of a strange looking gnome, but Ariston supposed this was just the way of things on a ship. It was then that he was accosted by a halfling, who introduced himself as the priest of the ship. Ariston answers his questions with respect, though he himself did not attend to any one god. "I have no need for any soul-saving, though I do appreciate your offer. However, if you could, make sure my body gets returned to Nous' Alchemical Emporium in the Tarheel Promenade district of Kaer Maga? My mother would want to see it honored in her own way."
Filios quietly approaches Dristen.
Hello, my friend, you can commit my soul to Erastil, but as for my body, do with it whatever you wish. I thank you for the forethought to address such uncomfortable concerns.
He turns with a smile and heads to the mess hall in order grab breakfast.
Note to self - I need to check on that Lady Plumbwhisper before the day ends.
Upon arriving at breakfast, he turns his nose up at the slop offered. He grabs a seat next to Quiahar.
Good morning, quite a display up there this morning. Where did you learn all of that fancy dancing?
"A long way from here, in the far east." Quiahar tells Filios quietly, alert and clear-minded despite the ship's rocking and their loud environment. "One must keep in movement to master the weapons I wield, but it is as much a meditation on the nature of the Universe as a method of practicing movement."
There was black-silver ocean in every direction as far as she could see, and Tasha breathed it in deeply. She looked out at the clouds in the distance, and felt very at peace now that they had left Absolom. Docking for too long made her uneasy. It was just reaching the point where she was beginning to forget how long it had been since she'd last been on land, and that was the way she liked it. The ocean could be considered violent and unpredictable to some, but then, so were people. More than anything else, though, this was home.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Sellas sliding quietly across the ship, and she instinctively felt herself shrinking somewhat. Despite how long she'd been on board the Mist Lady, he had not warmed up to her at all, and the two butted heads far more than she would have liked. It was true that his eyes, glowing and without pupils, gave him better vision than most, but he didn't seem to understand that there was more to the world than what could be seen. Tasha wondered what she would have to do to convince him of her talents, if she even could.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a sound from behind her, but turning, found nothing. Tasha frowned, turning back to the sea. The sun was beginning to rise, and rays stretched across the waves. She smiled and walked across the deck in search of the First Mate. She passes by Dristen and gives a smile and slight wave to the small priest. She often wondered how he felt about being on board a ship with such vagabonds, but had never asked. Between people like Sellas and the...evocative Lady Pumwhisper, Tasha wasn't sure how much he felt he belonged.
Commotion from up ahead brought Tasha into a slight jog. She saw one of the larger crew members looking ready to crush a sick-looking gnome. 'Too many passengers,' she thought. It's only the first day and they're fighting already. And that poor little thing doesn't stand a chance.' Pausing only to mutter a quick prayer, she got between the two of them. Speaking to large man she exclaimed loudly, "You know enough to know how the Captain reacts to fighting.' Glossing over what could clearly be seen as a threat, she smiled widely, her dark eyes searching the man's face, and in a whisper she continued. "Consider the interruption a needed distraction, so your friends don't realise how much money you've won off them." she paused. "Besides, a far more satisfying way to get out your frustrations is with the Lady Plumwhisper. Your first round's on me tonight, yeah?" she finished with a wink.
In response to Dristen's question.
"In truth, I care not. If I should die, this body will be vacant, as my soul will no longer be present. Dispose of the body in an appropriate manner that disease does not spread."
Dristen flips his shield upside-down on his left arm and writes on the parchment. "I am glad you care for the health of others in the future as strongly as you care for your own health now.
In response to Dristen's question:If at all possible i want my body to be returned to Absalom.
Dristen: "Returning to Absalom should not be a problem. Are you concerned for your body remaining intact in the after life, or would you like it turned to ash?"
"I have no need for any soul-saving, though I do appreciate your offer. However, if you could, make sure my body gets returned to Nous' Alchemical Emporium in the Tarheel Promenade district of Kaer Maga? My mother would want to see it honored in her own way."
Dristen mumbles as he writes: "News Alchemical Emporiam in the Tarheel Prominade of Cayer Maga. Does that mean you are an alchemist? Do you have a potion that will make me as big and strong as Quiahar?" He points to the human.
Filios quietly approaches Dristen.
Hello, my friend, you can commit my soul to Erastil, but as for my body, do with it whatever you wish. I thank you for the forethought to address such uncomfortable concerns.
Dristen: "I know little of Erastil, though I hope you are served well under his favor. I'm merely doing the duty of a priest serving on a ship, no need for thanks. I just hope my list is not needed."
I am Filios, and I am a bit of a practiced swordarm myself. However, I learned my trade from the Elven Rangers of the deep forest, not in the far east. My type of swordplay requires concentration and quickness, but no meditation is necessary. I do appreciate the display though - very interesting. What are you called?
Ariston smiles. "Yes, I could grow you to that size, if you wished it. Though you shouldn't discount yourself - you have many an advantage that we bigger folk do not. And it would not last long, either." He looks up at the sounds of disturbance on the deck, and sees the gnome who had earlier been vomiting now in a crowd of crewmen, looking well inclined to start a fight. Before Ariston could decide to intervene or just look on, a human woman gets into the middle of the crowd, seemingly attempting to calm nerves, and Ariston leans back against the ship railing.
He looks casually down at Dristen. "You think we should get in there as well?", nodding towards the argument. "Surely the gods would have issue with such discordance."
"I didn't need your help smooth skin" She stares at Tasha as if dareing her to say otherwise, her glare almost menacing in it's intencity. Suddenly the stare deflates as her face turns a few shades greyer. "But I guess you helped so I should thank you." She manages to strangle out as another wave of nausea nearly bowls her over. "How do you yips stand traveling like this?"
Tasha's dark eyes sparkle when she smiles at the gnome. "I was born out here. But I think you'll find that you aren't the only one uncomfortable to the waves. It takes time, but you'll get used to it."
Reaching into a satchel, Tasha's hand roots around for a minute, before pulling out some dried leaves. She reaches out her hand, a bracelet made of bone hanging loosely on her wrist. "In the meantime, you should eat these. They're very bitter, but will settle your stomach."
He will take up his parchment and inkpen and interview the other members of the crew and any passengers. He will lead with the following phrase:
"As the preist aboard this vessel, I am in charge of all last right traditions. Could you please provide me with your deity and what you would like your last rights to be?"
Haggin looks at the halfling, somewhat surprised by the sailor's question. Last right tradition? As opposed to taking a left? Ha! The gnome laughs at his own silly joke. I'm surprised there is another of my own size on this fine vessal. She is a sturdy girl, isn't she? I'd like to think so since the result of any failure by this boat would be quite drastic. Little folk like you and me could easily be overlooked during any rescue attempts.
Godfrey adjusts his hat as the breeze picks up a bit more that usual then realizes he has yet to answer the cleric's question. Oh, traditions and all that nonsense. No, I have no tradition when it comes to death, I've can't say I've ever died before. As far as a diety goes, well, which one would you suggest? I really am not a firm believer and any of that nonsense, we make our own way well enough. For instance, it was not fate or the will of the gods that cause me to be on this ship. No sir, I happened to fancy taking to the sea for my travel this time around. The road can be so boring at times, wouldn't you agree? But out here, well, who knows what one might encounter if you are a land-lubber... that is the term, isn't it?
The gnome seems to be in quite the talkitive mood, as opposed to when he first arrived on the ship the previous day. After getting his legs and taking in the experience of the first day of their journey it has become apparent that Haggin might just be able to drum up a client or two if he talks to enough people. Being a cleric you must have some type of symbol of your faith, do you not? If you are interested, I could create something for you out of gems and jewels and precious metals if you would like. The gnome leans in closer to the halfling, as if about to tell him a secret. Mind you, while I may not be a believer I do have a discount schedule for those of the cloth. I know your type and the self-sacrifice stuff usually go had-in-hand.
Haggin gives Dristen a wink, as if he knows something the cleric knows. Oh, last right. Yes, well, just be sure I stay alive and we'll not have to worry about it! Don't you think it dreadful to take about what to do when one dies? I'd rather live, thank you! We are too young to think of death. Let's play dice and drink with the others tonight!
The sorcerer-jeweler pats Dristen on the shoulder, gives him a smile, and then swiftly walks away seemingly satisfied that he has made a new friend... or maybe earned a client.
He looked around to see who else might be eating.
Haggin Goodfey looks at the man that was doing the strange dancing earlier up on the deck of the ship. I wonder what his story is? Strange to be doing all those atlethics and such when nobody else is there. I know the clerics meditate but he doesn't seem the type. Maybe I'll just ask him and find out what I'm missing.
Ahoy, friend! May I break fast with you? Not asking for an answer the gnome quickly sits down and takes a sampling of his meal. I couldn't help but notice, well, I'm sure I wasn't the only one, but I wanted to ask you about your dance this morning? Is tat some sort of prayer? A ritual maybe? Haggin's eyes wider as he says the last few words and eagerly awaits an answer.
Ariston smiles. "Yes, I could grow you to that size, if you wished it. Though you shouldn't discount yourself - you have many an advantage that we bigger folk do not. And it would not last long, either." He looks up at the sounds of disturbance on the deck, and sees the gnome who had earlier been vomiting now in a crowd of crewmen, looking well inclined to start a fight. Before Ariston could decide to intervene or just look on, a human woman got into the middle of the crowd, seemingly attempting to calm nerves, and Ariston leans back against the ship railing.
He looks casually down at Dristen. "You think we should get in there as well?", nodding towards the argument. "Surely the gods would have issue with such discordance."
Dristen: "In this situation I would be much more worried about the captain than the gods. I think there are enough people crowding around there for us to do any good." Dristen turns from watching the scene. "Oh, it's not that I discount myself, I just wonder what it would be like. I bet that guy walks into a bar and doesn't have to prove himself capable. I would just wonder what that would be like."
Commotion from up ahead brought Tasha into a slight jog. She saw one of the larger crew members looking ready to crush a sick-looking gnome. 'Too many passengers,' she thought. It's only the first day and they're fighting already. And that poor little thing doesn't stand a chance.' Pausing only to mutter a quick prayer, she got between the two of them. Speaking to large man she exclaimed loudly, "You know enough to know how the Captain reacts to fighting.'
After the confrontation is over, the sick little gnome gathers up his winnings and quickly excuses himself from the game so that he can catch up with his heroine. Excuse me, miss? Or it is misses? I never know what the proper way to address a young lady is anymore. The gnome looks up to you with a bright face and a relieved smile and doesn't look sick anymore. Some men just do not know how to lose! If you hadn't intervened, well, I'm sure I'd be regretting the answer I have given to the cleric about last right's earlier! Whew! Haha!
The gnome lets out a deep and exaggerated breath. Anyway, Haggin Goodfey at your service. Thank you so much for the rescue. Perhaps I could repay your kindness in some way? I am a renowned jeweler, my work is well regarded in many of the port towns that this vessal is sure to visit. If you fancy a necklace or a ring or anything else I could create something for you, at a gentle discount of course seeing that you most likely saved my skin.
Haggin claps his hands together suddenly. Oh, I do talk too much and here I am talking nothing but business. What is your name, good lady? And what brigs a lady of your quality to this fine vessal we travel on?
Sagaxus finds himself busy nearly all day and night working as one of the cabin boys. Keeping a vessel like this in fine clean order takes a lot of work, and the first mate isn't shy about keeping their noses to the task. As he labors, Sagaxus wears a simple bandanna that completely covers his hair - or at least the hair on top of his head. His dreadlocks hang to his chest and swing back and forth at the tips as he walks. When he is cleaning, he draws the dreadlocks back over his shoulders and ties them in a loose tail using one of the dreadlocks as a tie. His first reaction upon making eye contact is to break it, and he avoids looking at people's faces, preferring to stare straight ahead as he moves.
When he is off-duty, he climbs up into the rigging and watches the waves. He's low enough to the deck to fall comfortably should he choose to, and this perch of his is where Dristen the cleric finds him. He looks over his shoulder at the small one with a glower on his face, but when he sees Dristen's earnestly curious expression he seems to make a conscious effort to smile. He's not very good at it. At Dristen's question regarding last rites, he stares thoughtfully up at the sky, and a few moments of thoughtful silence pass by before he finally speaks in a quiet voice. "I've always..." he pauses and licks his lips, wetting them again before speaking again a bit more loudly. "I've admired the ways of the goddess Desna. Freedom. Traveling. Not being bound to one place. Sounds like my kind of deity. I don't know if she'd take a sinner like me, though." He pauses, and seems a little angered at himself for disclosing that amount of vulnerability. He snaps, "Do what you think is best, and leave me alone, holy man," before dropping from the rigging and climbing belowdecks again.
Filios looks to the Gnome.
And a good morning to you, as well. I am Filios. Who are you, again?
Haggin gives Dristen a wink, as if he knows something the cleric knows. Oh, last right. Yes, well, just be sure I stay alive and we'll not have to worry about it! Don't you think it dreadful to take about what to do when one dies? I'd rather live, thank you! We are too young to think of death. Let's play dice and drink with the others tonight!
The sorcerer-jeweler pats Dristen on the shoulder, gives him a smile, and then swiftly walks away seemingly satisfied that he has made a new friend... or maybe earned a client.
Dristen finishes writing and looks up to see the gnome walking away. He pulls a wooden symbol of Gozreh from the front slot on his belt and looks it over. He tosses it into the air a couple of times and then snatches it and slides it back into his belt with a smile.
"I've always..." he pauses and licks his lips, wetting them again before speaking again a bit more loudly. "I've admired the ways of the goddess Desna. Freedom. Traveling. Not being bound to one place. Sounds like my kind of deity. I don't know if she'd take a sinner like me, though." He pauses, and seems a little angered at himself for disclosing that amount of vulnerability. He snaps, "Do what you think is best, and leave me alone, holy man," before dropping from the rigging and climbing below decks again.
Dristen keeps writing but steps back as the teifling drops from the rigging. As he finishes he looks up and frowns at the back of the teifling. Anger? For answering my question?
DM i am leaving tonight for a Music festival that will last until sunday.
I probably won't be able to post until then very sorry as i feel this might put me out from de facto consideration
Ariston barks a laugh at the halfling's comment. "Ha! The captain surely is a fearsome elf. You make a good point." At Dristen's slight turn and off-hand mentioning of his reasons for being big, Ariston's smile fades. He feels something like sympathy for Dristen, but quickly shakes off the feeling and makes his way to the outskirts of the argument, but it seems to be quickly breaking up. Still, he waits for the judgement of the captain or first mate. He can't imagine they'll let this slide.
Filios looks to the Gnome.
And a good morning to you, as well. I am Filios. Who are you, again?
Haggin looks a bit surprised, as if he wasn't expecting a question. Did I say something to this bloke? I don't recall... well, don't look the fool you are, answer him! Thank you sir! I am master jeweler and sometimes sorcerer Haggin Goodfey, at your service! The gnome quickly stands and doffs his hat in an exaggerated motion, then just as quickly sits back down. It IS a fine morning, isn't it? Have you taken to the seas often? This is my first time and I must say its a nice change from the dusty roads. However, it seems some on board aren't faring as well with keeping their stomachs, eh? Haha!
I have traveled by boat many times at the behest of my patrons, but I cannot say that I prefer such transport. It is a means to an end, though. Have either of you sampled Lady Plumbwhisper's goods as of yet?
A jeweler, eh, haggin. I could always use a good appraiser, or someone to move goods of dubious origins. Would that interest you?
Oh, dear me. Haggin looks a bit uncomfortable with the subjects that the elf has entertained and elects to address the one directed at him. I am but a mere craftsman, I only buy the items I intend to use in my creations. Not so much for their value... don't get me wrong, there are times the value is important. However, I only sell crafted goods. I do not have experience in, say, turning over goods for profit on their own. I do not have those sort of clients.
The gnome looks to gather a little courage before continuing in a slightly larger voice. Now that's not to say that I do not have a good appraiser's eye. I can tell you well enough whether or not something is genuine I'm sure. I have to be. I'm sure that if you ever need a trained eye when it comes to precious stones you can call on me.
A particular confrontation: Dristen stands at the bottom of the main mast and looks up to the crow's nest. He shouts:" Excuse me, Mr Sellas? Can I come up to the nest to ask a few questions related to your last rights observations?"
Sal grudgingly takes the leaves from Tasha's hand."Thank you for this," she gulps down the leaves without hesitation"Kiya by the First Vault and it's Blessed Master. How can something supposedly good for you taste so foul?" She stares at the gnome yammering at her new found benefactor as if noticing him for the first time, even though she has been paying acute attention to his placement so close to her."You are a noisy little yapper." Blood and hate boil up at the impertinent thing's constant stream of blather. She quickly reaches up to the Key hanging from her throat, turning it as if it were in a lock, she closed the vault on the feeling swiftly and surely.
He looked around to see who else might be eating.Haggin Goodfey looks at the man that was doing the strange dancing earlier up on the deck of the ship. I wonder what his story is? Strange to be doing all those atlethics and such when nobody else is there. I know the clerics meditate but he doesn't seem the type. Maybe I'll just ask him and find out what I'm missing.
Ahoy, friend! May I break fast with you? Not asking for an answer the gnome quickly sits down and takes a sampling of his meal. I couldn't help but notice, well, I'm sure I wasn't the only one, but I wanted to ask you about your dance this morning? Is tat some sort of prayer? A ritual maybe? Haggin's eyes wider as he says the last few words and eagerly awaits an answer.
"You might call it a bit of both. It definitely is a ritual, to keep my body limber so that I can maintain mastery of my body, and my defenses. It is also a prayer, or a meditation, where I channel my life energy into the Great Circle." He breaks apart a loaf of dried bread and sops up some of the porridge, eating slowly before he continues. "It is a bit of a spectacle, I imagine. And if it brings delight to people, I see no problem in letting them experience the Great Circle as well, even if they do not realize that is what they are experiencing."
I have traveled by boat many times at the behest of my patrons, but I cannot say that I prefer such transport. It is a means to an end, though. Have either of you sampled Lady Plumbwhisper's goods as of yet?
Quiahar shakes his head. "No, not I. Although I am not as bound to the laws of purity and cleanliness that some of those that trained with me are, I do respect those laws. I also respect Lady Plumbwhisper, and hope that those of you who desire to know the 'plump and pleasing lady' better will take the opportunity to do so."