Durielle's head pounded and her mental protections had faltered. The unfiltered future flashed before her vision, causing some minor disorientation as what was real and what was just possible blended together in a confusing hodge-podge.
She felt someone assisting her to Whisper, and she mumbled something she hoped was thanks. She fumbled with her new scarf and placed it to her nose to help stop the flow of time...er, blood. She shook her head and her vision began to clear and she looked around almost startled.
Seeing Sugua carrying the stony remains of the paladin Morgrym filled her with sadness. She wondered if her time in the Stolen Lands would be as brief. Her visoins never showed her her death...but that didn't mean she was a part of every future she could see.
Vladimir thinks for a while before answering the half-orc's question, "Am I prepared to bear the weight of my actions and decisions? Yes, I am. There certainly was a time in my life where I would not, or perhaps to be more accurate was not allow to bear such responsibilty." Vladimir says with no myrth in his voice.
"Fortunately for me, Master Mikalos made it a point to teach me that lesson. Did I know that there was little hope of redeeming any of the bandits we fought back at Oleg's? Certainly, but I felt it was something that had to at least be tried. Likewise, as capturing the bandits was my demand, it was my responsibility and duty to carry out the sentence that came along with their choices."
"We have to stop meeting this way," Angor says as he is yet again brought from the brink. He at least got a shot off this time but once again he was laid low with a single hit. It was progress, if a little. And that was what the Brokan Axe clan did. The survived. They struggled. They fought. And they channeled that into the song. They starred death in the face and roared at it. And that hopefully gave them the strength to survive.
Angor tried to sit up but the pain in his chest stopped him cold. He sucked in a sharp breath to prevent crying out. He rolled over instead and pushed off the ground. After taking a deep, steadying breath and followed along after the others. He may have survived, bt that doesn't mean his pride wasn't a little wounded.
" Hrmph then you would realize you didnt do that at all.. You appeal to them not talk down to them. They don't rob for good or evil, just to get along. If you had instead just told them to rob someone else or let them act in your favor for a price, they would have. You have to learn to understand. Thats really it. Experience and Understanding! HAHA! Not every time am I or others going to share the capture idea either! "
Khargol walks beside the others in silence, seeming to be deep within his own mind as they make their way back to Oleg's trading post. Losing Morgrym has certainly had a strong impact on him and it might take him a bit more time to fully sort it out within himself.
The forest is strangely silent, and the party arrives back at Oleg's with little incident. Evening is just beginning to fall as the party passes through the gates into the fort.
Svetlana comes out to greet the party on their return but once she sees the stoney faces of the party, and the equally stone body of Morgrym she runs back inside.
Oleg appears not long after looking solemn and carrying a shovel.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Seeing the shovel, Khargol respectfully asks that the group be allowed to bury their companion themselves; he doesn't want to foist the muscle-work onto Oleg and he feels like it would be disrespectful to Morgrym to allow anyone besides one of the party members to lay him to rest.
Oleg merely nods to Khargol and heads back inside.
Tomas walks towards the group that is carrying the dwarf.
"I would suggest that we honour our fallen comrade by setting him up here as a statue to watch over us and the growth of civilization in this region, seeing as that is what he gave his life for. A comfort and reminder to all who come here! Let his story become a legend in this place...told and retold when others speak of the taming of this land. What do you all think?"
"It seems a fitting tribute. I hope that he remains in the form of stone that his people so revere."
Sugua shrugs, " Well he doesnt have much choice now does he?! I'm not one for burial rights so I leave that up to you.. When it comes to heading back out or Fightin' you talk to me. Otherwise I got nothin'! Gotta say, seeing one turn to stone is new though. " Sugua scratches behind his ear and spits on the ground.
When Angor returns to finishing the hide from the bear. It should be a decent trade item for Bokken in the future.
As the group settles back into the familiar surroundings of the trading post, Donovan doffs his pack and his armor and takes a seat near the statue-corpse of Morgrym. He takes out his kerchief, wets it slightly, and starts working on removing gore and bloodstains from his hands and the scales of his armor.
After a few minutes of this diligent cleaning he glances at the statue of the dwarf again, and pauses thoughtfully. A few moments later he resumes his diligence.
Once he has at least made himself passable he hefts up his pack onto his back, drapes his armor over one arm, and seeks out Vladimir.
"Vlad, since I arrived late . . . what are our accommodations? Where should I put my pack? Or are we sleeping under the stars?"
"I suspect that is up to Oleg and Svetlana. They had accommodations for us when we first arrived, so I suppose we should see if that is still the case."
Sugua yawns and goes to work his blade to a fine point, flames flickering off the Greatsword. He freely chewed some of the bear jerky as well, the next cut would need to be sharp and deadly.. just like any other. If this was a sign, it was that at least realization hit the group.. death would be an ever-lurking mistress.
Oleg and Svetlana continue to house the party through the night.
The party awakens the next day to rainfall stretching out across the Greenbelt, the cloudy skies show no sign of letting up and the day is sure to be a wet one.
Much as the day before with the early morning comes new arrivals. This time five men proceed down the road. One might think they were bandits if not for the telltale look of Restov armor upon all except one, a robed man.
Tomas keeps his eyes on the robed man. He keeps his distance, but ready to act if this 'stranger' makes any sort of 'casting' action.
Sugua's sword steamed every time the water graced it's form, he and honed it to a wicked edge the day before and drunk heartily despite the death of a comrade. Upon the sound of other visitors, Sugua simply raises a brow and places his waterskin down from his mouth, " WHAT!? Another group is coming? HA! Seems like Restov is supplying a heavy supply of effort into this land. Makes me wonder what we got here. So, HEY, YOU.. Yeah YOU.. What are you here for? " Sugua lazily pointing to the guards.
As with the previous morning, Angor gets up and practices. Maybe it was the practice that had allowed him a solid hit the other day. Maybe not. It didn't matter really. Constant improvement was the key. Experience and practice would make surviving easier. And speaking of surviving, guards from Restov seemed to be coming down the road this day, and they were bringing someone new. Fully clothed, armored, and axe over his shoulder, Angor joins the others in the courtyard to greet the new greenhorn or slay some bandits in disguise.
The following morning, Donovan is about his devotions and prayers, and shortly after he finishes he makes an inspection of the various potions that were provided by the eccentric alchemist.
Sugua moves up to Angor and chuckles, " I see you training! Why do you do so by yourself if it doesnt help enduring blows. The only way to get better at that is sparring! Sure, Sure, imaginary methods might help once or twice, but a real moving target; One that is putting the same effort to take you down, is much better. Next time you do so.. You might want to include someone else! Hrmm.. Maybe the Stuffed Shirt or the Abadarian.. "
"I don't need a sparring partner for basics," he says solemnly. "And you don't wake up early enough to spar," he says a moment later with a smile. "Don't need an accidents either before going out. We have a lot of land to get familiar with. How about we take down some Kobolds today?"
Sugua laughs " Son, I wake up before you even stir, sharpen my blade on the surrounding trees and come back. I always fight, even while sleeping, so if you want to test me again then by all means! But don't use that as an excuse. And when it comes to the Kobolds.. Hah, I doubt you could survive their traps. You all keep forgetting, these beings LIVE out here... That would mean those Kobolds keep that bear and plant thing at bay somehow.. you really want to try that without even being able to clear out the surrounding area? The Kobolds are father than that. Kobolds don't fight.. they plan.. and If one can fight, they will fight real GOOD! "
"Not all of us have forgotten Sugua, but thank you for the constant reminders."
The mage leans against the barn at the moment, watching the approaching group.
Sugua shrugs, " Seems like they dont go through unless someone dies.. Maybe it might take a few more... "
Angor merely rolls his eyes at Sugua. The man took everything people said as a personal affront to his character apparently. Always needing the last word. He knew the type. They were like storms. Best to let them blow themselves out before continuing. That was part of the problem. People sometimes tuned out such overzealous individuals and missed out on the important information. Like the clear points on kobolds. "You are very long winded for a fighter. I tink you should practice someting other than fighting. Like saying what you need to say in fewer words. Dat way you are not treated like a man on a stage talking about his god. Ignored."
Seeing there is a welcome party Alphonse feels pleased I hope these are my new compatriots and not another group of bandits, these lands surly are a dangerous set
As Alphonse got closer the group could see him far clearer, the group got their first look at what many people consider his unsettling features, first his glowing eyes, seemingly shining like a lantern from within his skull and second and arguably more noticeable was the large pair of white feathered wings folded on his back.
Alphonse ever striving to be polite calls out to those on the path "Greetings and fair day to you people, i am told i left two days behind the main group set out to settle these lands. are you those people or more nomads that occupy this place?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Vladimir allows himself a small grin, hearing some of the others express their thoughts on Sugua's constant commentary.
Seeing the new group approach, Vladimir takes note of the Restov soldiers, but is surprised to see the winged, robed man.
"Greetings to you as well, traveler. Indeed we are the party that has been chartered by the lords of Restov to explore the Greenbelt. Who might you be?"
Actually Vladimir you reckcognize one right away, Niles Kestor.
Under your tutelage to Nicomo Mikalos you occasionally met with some of the other Swordlords of Brevoy and their students.
Niles Kestor, a young major noble, was the star student of Alexander Resivius.
However, two years ago a scandal broke when it was found he was involved in a relationship with a commoner woman.
The fall out saw him leave Brevoy and become a Sellsword.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"The kobolds are certainly not going to be as difficult to confront if the things I hear about kobolds are to be believed. Regardless, we should be cautious. We do not need a repeat of yesterday.""
-Posted with Wayfinder
As the approaching group gets closer, Vladimir asks, "Niles? Niles Kestor? Is that really you?"
Kestor isn't at all like how you last remember him, the last two years have apparently been unkind to him as he bears a great deal of scars he certainly didn't have in his youth.
And by his side the dueling sword doesn't hang but instead a wicked looking warhammer.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Kestor looks around before speaking, when he does, all the civility and eloquence seems to have left him since you last met.
Spitting on the ground he says, "None too happy to see so many half breeds here. Just got done on a campaign in the north, had to kill a fair few of your father's I'd wager. " He says indicating to the three Half-Orcs.
He turns to face Vladimir, his eyes narrowing at hearing his name, they soften only slightly when he seems to recognize you. "Ducheski." He says with a nod.
"Finally out from under the wing of old Nicomo eh? What brings you to this s&~$ hole of a backwater?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
As he is greeted Alphonse extends his hand for a firm hand shake introducing himself "I am Alphonse Calderon, one day to be labeled as Sorcerer supreme, but in the times before then Al will suffice. I am no stranger to the ways of the world and im aware that these are dangerous lands so i joined these men as they made there way to the trading post here. Owned by a man named Oleg if i remember correctly. Perhaps i should be introduced to the others if we are to be companions, i like to be abreast of everyone whos back i shall need to watch and who will be watching mine"
As he rose from a bow and introduced himself Alphonse noticed that the others were looking at him a tad oddly so he thought it best to address the goblin in the room "My heritage is seeded with a touch of the divine as you may all notice, my eyes though seemingly glow are still just as dark when there is no light as yours are, though they gift me with the ability to see in pitch blackness, and my wings have never born me aloft as i was injured as a child by some bullies in the orphanage that i was raised in. while i may look different please know that i am a staunch defender of those i call my friend and i ask only the same in return"
Vladimir does his best to ignore the racially charged commentary from Kestor.
Seeing the hammer in the place a dueling sword once hung, causes an eyebrow to raise. "Indeed, Master Mikalos has set me free from his tutelage. What brings me here? I am one of the chartered of course. What's with the hammer? Last time I saw you, you carried one of these." he says, tapping the sword at his hip.
Vladimir extends his hand in greeting. "A pleasure to meet you, Alphonse. As you may have overheard, I am Vladimir Ducheski. You will finde the others inside, along with Oleg."
Kestor throws his hand to Vladimir and spotting the well in the center of the courtyard goes to it and begins to crank it to the surface.
"Second day in battle with the orcs up north a big bastard cut it in half and gave me this scar." He says indicating to a long scar running across his right side of his face, stretching hairline to chin.
"Had another one made of course. Thing is, orcs are tough sons of b+!@&es, you can stab and slash them up well beyond what a normal man could take and they'll just keep on fighting. But you know what? You bash their damned faces in and I've yet to see one put up any fight after that."
"Resivius' teaching was well and good in a duel, but in a real battle where the enemy has no problem just stabbing you in the back, to hell with all that grace and swordplay, you kill your opponent dead and you get to killing more."
Kestor shrugs and takes a long drink of water from the well's bucket.
"Maybe you'll have more luck with it than I did."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Donovan approaches Vladimir, eyebrows raised slightly at the appearance of Alphonse. "Seems it's reunion week," he says in response to the appearance of another colleague of Vladimir's. "I've checked the potions. Eight of them are poisoned. I've tied small bits of colored cloth around the necks of the bottles to make sure nobody accidentally drinks one. The other three, the safe ones, are unmarked."
Donovan inclines his head politely to both Alphonse and Kestor.
"Hopefully so, Niles. That being said, if you ever want to revisit Resivus's teachings, I would be happy to practice with you."
"That does seem to be the case, Donovan." Vladimir says with a grin.
"Do you suppose there is there any value in keeping the poisoned potions?"
"There may come a time when we can use magic to remove the poison," Donovan replies, "but there's always the risk of someone accidentally imbibing one. I suppose it depends on how cautious you're willing to be. If we want to be especially particular, we can dispose of the poisoned ones just to be sure. Otherwise, we should probably put them in a box, put a note on the box, tell Oleg, and put them somewhere that nobody will try to steal them or accidentally use them. On a positive note, this does leave us with three potions that are not poisoned."
Alphonse bows to Donovan in response "Nice to meet you kind sir, you carry the look of a clergy man about you, that is good, this path will have many wounds that will need tending, and my powers can help with some of it but i think you will be needed most. My name is Alphonse, but you may call me Al, please dont be estranged by the wings and my eyes, in time im sure youll hardly notice" eagar to meet the rest of his companions Al makes his way towards the building Vlad pointed out determined to meet the others
----meeting thomas-----
Alphonse on his way towards the home first takes a side trip strait towards the man that has been watching him since the party came up the road "[Draconic]High honors to you[/Draconic] you sir have the airs of a scholar and a mage, im happy to introduce myself as Alphonse, but please call me Al, life is to short for that second syllable, i would love to stay and chat but i must meet the others" and like that he was off, leaving thomas no time to even get a word in edgewise
----meeting the half orcs----
the three half orcs seemingly gathered up and discussing options for the continued works in the region Alphonse kindly interrupts them when a moment arises saying "Good day my savage looking brothers, and brothers in arms we shall be considering the events to come, I am Alphonse and i shall be joining you in our fights here, i will endevor to learn all of you in time but forgive me if i forget a name or two, who might you all be? and are there any others of the group i dont see out of these doors on this fine morn?"
Kestor smiles at Vladimir revealing quite a few missing teeth, "Huh! Maybe, we'll see."
"So you're the charter group huh? Out here to claim all the glory while we do the grunt work eh? Well good."
"Killing Bandits will be a nice retirement from real battle. Maybe I'll even meet a pretty elf girl and settle down." winking to Durielle.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Khargol listens to the exchange between the others in silence; how was he to know who his father was? Or his mother, for that matter? He never knew any parents save for the clergy at the temple of Abadar. Of course, there was no need to say such things out loud, especially to the crude-seeming man who had struck up a conversation with Vladimir...though it was at least nice to know that they were acquainted. A slight smile turned up a corner of his mouth as the thought flitted through his mind of Vladimir being one of those people that couldn't go anywhere without seeing someone they knew. Everyone! I'd like you to meet Danzig; he was in playgroup with me when I was an infant!
The next time he spoke up was when Alphonse approached to introduce himself. "Khargol Uzgurn." he says simply, reaching up to shake the man's hand. His follow-up of being a follower of Abadar is notably absent, but the god's holy symbol is still prominently displayed on his chest.
Angor gives Kestor a dirty look at the obviously racist comments. He approaches the man with his axe over his shoulder and a swagger to his stride. He stops just before the man and leans in very close. It looks as if a fight is about to start until the Skald smiles a genuine smile."Absolutely right you are. Orcs are an unruly bunch. Best way to deal with dem is usually let dem kill demselves. But at least we're only half as likely to do dat. Eh?"
Tense moment averted he returns to the other half-orcs who have naturally come together it seems. He spends a moment looking over Alphonse's wings, even going so far as to pull one gentle out. "Wonder if de taste like chicken wings?" he muses with mock seriousness.