Arian gives Okaris a punctuating strum after each stanza. Then at the end, she follows with a strumming chord in a rise that stops suddenly when she puts one hand over the strings, then ends with a single plucked string that leaves a comic punctuation mark at the finish.
"We could make a living together as bad artists!" she says with a broad smile. "But wait, there are no gnomes here!"
It ends Tuesday and then I start making up my mind the following day.
"Of course," Okaris replies and strokes his mustache as he considers a poem.
Finally he turns to Arian and says while he claps is hand in a measured rhythm, "This is the meter." He adds with a smile, "Can you keep up?"
"I met a lass at the Comely Ogre
Drink after drink she stayed Sober""She tried to get me to sing and dance
I obliged her, hoping for a little romance""I aspired to take her home"
"As fate had it she left with a gnome"When he finishes he turns to his companions and says with a straight face, "I guess what they say is true, size really doesn't matter."
-----------------------------------
[dice=Perform (Oratory)]1d20+6
I think the Mighty Jaffar might have cursed you to a life inside an hourglass wearing a red bikini for trying a limerick in an 'Arabian Nights' kind of AP. LOL
Riceak laughs at the two strangers who were fast becoming his friends.
"We Varisians don't believe in bad musicians; we just believe in musicians who are either too eager to play, too nervous to play, or too drunk to play right. There's actually an old Varisian tune that is a bit more humorous than how I said it though," he said with a smirk.
The joyous chit chatter was fast getting on Rorx nerves - he had seen and heard it before among new recruits, all blood shot and ready to go into fame and glory - he had managed to avoid some of their deaths in his time, but not nearly enough - Poor fools - he thought to himself, absent mindedly rubbing his forearm.
"I know a poem" - he blurted out after a few drinks, so that the others in the table over yonder could hear him - "Something I've heard from a kid on a particularly happy day" - he chuckles.
'They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe'
'They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them'
He finishes with his mug rose in a toast to the others and a smile - "Was a good kid that one. Almost made it out alive" - he adds.
----------------------------
It's still early there is always hope," Okaris replies to Arian with a laugh.
He turns to Riceak to respond when a surly half orc in the corner interrupts. With out thought Okaris's calloused hand instinctively travels the the worn handle of his scimitar as he turns his head toward the half breed. He cautions himself, It is better to make a friend than an enemy.
As the half orc goes ahead recites his poem Okaris is moved by the depth of passion displayed. "Well done! Well done! I raise a glass to you and your fallen comrades," he raises his glass and drains it in one long swallow. "Please come and join us," he offers.
----------------------------------------------------------
I think the Mighty Jaffar might have cursed you to a life inside an hourglass wearing a red bikini for trying a limerick in an 'Arabian Nights' kind of AP. LOL
Rorx hesitates, not much of a believer in the 'kindness of strangers' - "What the heck" - he shrugs it away though - "Don't mind if I do" - then stands up dragging his table to pull it alongside the others. The grating noise brings some looks from the other patrons but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Ladies, gents" - he nods after retrieving his spear - "Well met to you, I am Rorx" - and pulling a chair, plops himself down - "Is this some sort of wandering troupe get together, what with all the poetry reciting and music?" - he chuckles.
As the varisian speaks his mind Faffnyr shrugs with her shoulders.
" I have heard many a strange story from the wandering folk, but so far I never met them. Is it true that some of your folk can talk someone out of their trousers without him noticing?"
Smiling at the new Half-orc Faffnyr speaks up while clapping her hands once in ovation."Yes, please, sit down. You have a very nice voice!
Tell me, what leads you to this place?"
One can see that her shyness is gone once she is in company to another half-blood and that she is happy that the focus shifts to another person!
"Well..." - Rorx pauses for a moment - "I didn't catch your name, for starters" - he smiles in a better mood apparently - "Just joking, if you wanna keep it to yourself, that's fine" - he shrugs.
"As for me, heh... Just wandering around you know? Seeing the world and all that - usually I go where the stream takes me, and it seems this time it brought me across the sea to this... HOT land" - he laughs - "Speaking of hot..." - he looks around for the girl, and when she notices him asks for another round by pointing to the empty jar, and offering a wink - "Not much for me on the other side of the ocean anyway" - he shrugs again.
"What about yourself, you from around here or just passing by?"
"Ladies, gents" - he nods after retrieving his spear - "Well met to you, I am Rorx" - and pulling a chair, plops himself down - "Is this some sort of wandering troupe get together, what with all the poetry reciting and music?" - he chuckles.
"No Rorx, it is just some new friends taking solace in each others company and trying forget their cares for a while," Okaris adds, "Feel free to leave your cares behind and partake of our companionship."
Okaris grabs the attention of one of the buxom waitresses, "Please another drink and a large bowl of figs, dates, and almonds to share with my new friends."
"No Rorx, it is just some new friends taking solace in each others company and trying forget their cares for a while," Okaris adds, "Feel free to leave your cares behind and partake of our companionship."
"Leave your cares behind" - Rorx echoes - "I like the notion, just never managed to actually get it done" - he chuckles - "One way or another either they end up finding me again, or I them" - the half-orc downs the last drops of his drink - "But yeah, it is a nice enough idea" - he replies to Okaris.
Okaris grabs the attention of one of the buxom waitresses, "Please another drink and a large bowl of figs, dates, and almonds to share with my new friends."
"Figs and dates?!" - now the half-orc laughs - "My pouch is not full, but what about some meat also?" - he suggests - "If I keep drinking like this on just fruit, you lads will have much to put up from me in a few" - and keeps on laughing.
"So, you just all happened to meet here by happenstance, is that it? You've got a reason for being here, or just wanderlust?"
Isadriewen brings pitchers of ale to the table for the group. "May I join you? I think you will enjoy the ale. The brewer is friend of mine. He uses a rare hops found only in the high desert. It adds a bitterness wholly unique to our blasted land."
The leather clad half elf pulls up a chair. You note that her hands are covered by speckles of paint. "Forgive me for not introducing myself - I am Isadriewen Fage Llewellenar. I'm visiting an art collective down the street. I've spent the whole day and much of last night painting scenes of different cacti variants from local gardens. Did you know there is a purple cactus unique to this region? It has a delicate blue flower that only blooms at night during the first full moon after the spring rains."
She eyes the bowl of figs, dates and almonds in front of Okaris. "May I?"
"So, you just all happened to meet here by happenstance, is that it? You've got a reason for being here, or just wanderlust?"
Some might call it coincidence or perhaps it is the gods that have brought us together reminding us to stop, look around, and believe in the hope of friendship"
As Isadriewen approaches, "See Rorx, fate brings another friend to our table."
Isadriewen brings pitchers of ale to the table for the group. "May I join you? I think you will enjoy the ale. The brewer is friend of mine. He uses a rare hops found only in the high desert. It adds a bitterness wholly unique to our blasted land."
The leather clad half elf pulls up a chair. You note that her hands are covered by speckles of paint. "Forgive me for not introducing myself - I am Isadriewen Fage Llewellenar. I'm visiting an art collective down the street. I've spent the whole day and much of last night painting scenes of different cacti variants from local gardens. Did you know there is purple cactus unique to this region? It has a delicate blue flower that only blooms at night during the first full moon after the spring rains."
She eyes the bowl of figs, dates and almonds in front of Okaris. "May I?"
Okaris eyes absorb in the sight of this beautiful woman trying to remember every detail. After a few seconds he is aware that he hasn't answered her, "You have already taken my heart, what are few dates and figs in comparison." With a gleam in his eye he adds, "I am Okaris al Abbas, just say the word and I am your slave."
"See? Told you about artists," says Arian. "Flocking to the figs and dates."
Homeland, Family, and Childhood
civilized social trait
artisan and merchant social trait
artisan social trait
Influence social trait, Champion story feat
Adolescence and Training
worldly social trait
Scholar of the great beyond faith trait
Moral Conflicts, Relationships, and Drawbacks
3 CP
2 CP
Resolution: Undecide
Deity: Sarenrae
Isadriewen brings pitchers of ale to the table for the group. "May I join you? I think you will enjoy the ale. The brewer is friend of mine. He uses a rare hops found only in the high desert. It adds a bitterness wholly unique to our blasted land."
The leather clad half elf pulls up a chair. You note that her hands are covered by speckles of paint. "Forgive me for not introducing myself - I am Isadriewen Fage Llewellenar. I'm visiting an art collective down the street. I've spent the whole day and much of last night painting scenes of different cacti variants from local gardens. Did you know there is a purple cactus unique to this region? It has a delicate blue flower that only blooms at night during the first full moon after the spring rains."
"Rorx" - the half-orc replies - "And nope, had no idea - not much of a flower guy, but hey - it sounds huh... Nice..?" - he seems slightly puzzled.
"See? Told you about artists," says Arian. "Flocking to the figs and dates."
"Hehe, no artist here, at ALL" - Rorx laughs, raising his hands - "Just an old, bad tempered soldier" - he then stops short - "Wait... Are all of you artists?" - he squints, looking at each one in turn with a grin.
"I play the setar, Okaris is a poet, and Isadriewen is a painter. Soooo..." says Arian.
Riceak nearly choked on his tea that the waitress had brought him whe the half-orc asked him could Varisians persuade someone to sell the clothes off their back. While it wasn't orange spiced tea or blackberry chamomile lemon tea, it was still pretty good tea.
"Faffnyr, I believe you are mistaken. While many Varisians are quite skilled merchants and have talented tongues to get them out of any sort of trouble, not all of us are con artists or thieves. Those would be our dishonest kin, the Sczarni."
Riceak spat at the name. You can tell that many Varisians would prefer not to deal anything with the Sczarni.
He then answered Rorx's question, "I'm not an artist. I'm actually a swordsman-explorer and member of the Pathfinder Society."
With a resounding thump, Nickadeamous closed the book that had been occupying his attention. It had seemed like hours pouring over the strange symbolism in the book. His head had begun to hurt and his vision had started to blur. He ran his sat back and ran his fingers through his hair, slowly letting out a long sigh. Blinking a few times before rubbing his eyes, he turned and looked around the room. Several new faces had entered since he last paid attention. He stood up, hands on his lower back and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back. Frustrated with the tardiness of his appointment, he grabbed his book and slowly approached the performers congregating at one of the larger tables.
"Greetings" he exclaimed! "Please, forgive the intrusion. I hate to be a bother but I was supposed to meet a man here and it appears that he is not coming. I...I was..." He leaned down to bring his face closer to eye level of those still sitting. Leaning down, his holy symbol of Nethys slips out of his robes and dangles from his neck. "I was wondering if any of you could sell me some keif? You see the man I was supposed to be meeting was supposed to be a dealer in such ingredients but it would seem he has been detained in his arrival. Now, I've heard that performers such as yourselves often indulge in alchemical entertainment so I've come to inquire as to the truths of these speculations."
He says this all with an air of ignorance almost. He clutches his spellbook tightly and nervousness is obvious in his eyes and voice. His voice trembles slightly and his fingers tapped lightly on the heavy book.
Isadriewen laughs and smiles at the dawnflower dervish, "Well met Okaris. We should not speak lightly of slaves in these lands. I have many fugitive friends whom are hunted by the bloodly slave lords."
She eats a handful of the figs, "Delicious! Do you dry them yourself?"
Isadriewen nods at Rorx, "I will show you what I painted today. The contrast between the different variants of cactii coloration is breathtaking. I know you'll love it."
Isadriewen raises her eyebrow when Arian mentions the setar. "A musician! Can you play for us? I'm almost drunk enough to dance!"
Isadriewen smirks at Nickadeamus and laughs. "Aye, I have some of your Keif right here! Have a seat! This ale will just have to do for the moment until your dealer shows up. And I do hope you're buying for the rest of us!"
Arian says, "Certainly I can play a tune that you can dance to." She shifts the setar back into a comfortable position on her lap and starts slow.
Lark smiles as he relaxes in his chair glad to be out of the rain, wincing slightly as he brushes the bruise on his shoulder. His eyes dart around for a moment, stopping as he catches a look at the taverns namesake. A shiver runs down his spine as he looks away. "Her shield protect me." He mutters, his hand idly brushing the holy symbol of Iomedae emblazoned on his sword hilt.
A voice calls attention back to the hustle around him. "Can I get you anything?"Looking up Lark catches a look down the bonnet of the waitstaff in front of him. "Sir?
"Ahh, w-water. He says, his mouth going dry as he forces himself to look up at the girl's face, giving her an apologetic smile. The girl shakes her head slightly and wanders off.
As he contemplates retiring to his room his ears pick up the sound of catchy song. Desperate to distract himself he stands up to find the source of the music.
Naatme watches as the other non-regulars slowly congregate, taking a long draught of water, sighing as her body greedily consumed it...she could feel her tissues re-hydrating as she listened to the impromptu concert.
One eyebrow rises in curiosity as her birthplace was mentioned, she could hear her Master's voice in her head, Coincidences are opportunites, never neglect them."
Placing the now full waterskin into her pack, Naatme picks up her mug and the wide platter of bread and fruit and rises.
"If I may?" she asks the assembled, placing the platter within easy reach, "I don't sing or play, but I can clap." she says with a pained smile, her lips still dry from her journey across the desert sands.
As Arian plays, Naatme starts up steady beat, dust rises up in small clouds from the wraps that still cover her arms.
Remember, just because it is the weekend does not mean you should relax on your character. I'm going to pick from those that post in-character, and those with sheets completed by Wednesday.
Dropping out then. I guess this just isn't for me.
Lark wanders over to the small group, enjoying the song. Almost without thought his fingers begin tapping the rhythm out on his leg. "Wonderful," He says, approaching with a wide smile as he draws a stool over. "Hope you don't mind if I listen for a while, it's been quite the trip."
Seeing the platter of food at the table he waves over the girl from earlier,passing her a couple of gold pieces. "A round of drinks if you please," He says, slipping her a silver piece as a tip.
Isadriewen laughs and smiles at the dawnflower dervish, "Well met Okaris. We should not speak lightly of slaves in these lands. I have many fugitive friends whom are hunted by the bloodly slave lords."
Abashed Okaris responds, "A thousand pardons if I have offended mistress. You must forgive a man who loses his wits around such intoxicating company." He is saved by the approach of a dark skinned woman.
"If I may," She asks the assembled, placing the platter within easy reach, "I don't sing or play, but I can clap." she says with a pained smile, her lips still dry from her journey across the desert sands.
As Arian plays, Naatme starts up steady beat, dust rises up in small clouds from the wraps that still cover her arms.
This must be what Nirvana is like, Okaris thinks as he listens to the music and looks at those sitting at the table. He turns to The dark woman who is clapping, "Well done. If you are not a musician what do you do?"
Lark wanders over to the small group, enjoying the song. Almost without thought his fingers begin tapping the rhythm out on his leg. "Wonderful," He says, approaching with a wide smile as he draws a stool over. "Hope you don't mind if I listen for a while, it's been quite the trip."
Okaris looks up at the newcomer and winks at Arian as he replies, "Yes it is wonderful, please sit." After a moment he asks, " Where do you travel from?"
When Lark orders a round of drinks Okaris grins in appreciation, "Many thanks friend."
Okaris looks up at the newcomer and winks at Arian as he replies, "Yes it is wonderful, please sit." After a moment he asks, " Where do you travel from?"When Lark orders a round of drinks Okaris grins in appreciation, "Many thanks friend."
"Infernal Cheliax," Lark responds, his eyes scanning the assorted company. "Name's Lark, errant Paladin of Iomedae. As you can guess they don't take kindly to my type back home."
As he picks up a slice of fruit Lark waves a hand at Okaris. "Don't mention it friend, to a happy evening with good song! Lark grins as he raises a toast.
Riceak nearly choked on his tea that the waitress had brought him whe the half-orc asked him could Varisians persuade someone to sell the clothes off their back. While it wasn't orange spiced tea or blackberry chamomile lemon tea, it was still pretty good tea.
"Faffnyr, I believe you are mistaken. While many Varisians are quite skilled merchants and have talented tongues to get them out of any sort of trouble, not all of us are con artists or thieves. Those would be our dishonest kin, the Sczarni."
Riceak spat at the name. You can tell that many Varisians would prefer not to deal anything with the Sczarni.
He then answered Rorx's question, "I'm not an artist. I'm actually a swordsman-explorer and member of the Pathfinder Society."
With her first true smile the she half-orc shrugs, showing that she just pulled the varisians leg. "I just repeated rumours I have heard. And now, being close to a true varisian, I couldn´t help myself!" But after Okaris speaks the word slave she visibly pales. She grabs the bards hand in her strong hand, showing for the first time that she still is a half-orc, with her heritages strength.[b]"You have no idea what slave means. Do not jest with it. Not in my presence! NEVER!" After a moment she relaxes again and nods to Isadriewen words. With a wave of her hand she asks if she would care to join. "Pray sit down, mistre.. mylady!"
Homeland: 1d100 ⇒ 64 Raised in a Human Homeland:
Parents: 1d100 ⇒ 67 Both of your parents are dead.
Siblings: 1d100 ⇒ 72 No Silblings
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Circumstance of Birth: 1d100 ⇒ 86 Born into Bondage:
Parents Profession: 1d100 ⇒ 02 Slaves:
Major Childhood event: 1d100 ⇒ 77 Mentorship/Patronage:
--------------------------------------------------------------
ClassPaladin: 1d100 ⇒ 25 Holy Epiphany:
Influential Associates: 1d100 ⇒ 16 The Mentor:
Conflict: 1d20 ⇒ 6 Negligence:
ConflictSubject: 1d20 ⇒ 07 Leader
ConflictMotivation: 1d10 ⇒ 3 Pressured
Resolution: Regret and Penance
RomanticRelationship: 1d20 ⇒ 20 No Experience:
----------------------------------------------------------------
Character Drawback: 1d100 ⇒ 02 Attachment (Object):
The door to The Comely Ogre opens a large head pokes through, as a tall half-ogre bends down to pass the door frame, slightly tilting his broad shoulder so they don't scrape the sides.
The half-orc straightens up, and lumbers over to the bar, to the wide-eyed bartender, who looks up and asks,
"Uh..what will it be..sir."
"One water and one ale", seeing the slight distress n the bartenders face, Ozmid adds, "..please?"
The bartender returns in record time with a cool cup of water and a lukewarm clay cup of brown ale.
It was a good day. Making some gold for a few hours work, escorting that merchant across the city, but nobody made a grasp for his coin purse, Ozmid thinks.
With cup of water in hand, the tall half-orc turns around to examine the room.
Ozmid looks across the room to notice, to notice a large table surrounded by various races, and..some half-orcs!
Dear Sarerae! And one of them is female!! And beautiful!!
A smile crosses Ozmid's face, and raises his glass to toast the half-orcs across the way, mouthing the words, "Aka'Magosh"
"You have no idea what slave means. Do not jest with it. Not in my presence! NEVER!"[/b] After a moment she relaxes again and nods to Isadriewen words. [/B]
** spoiler omitted **...
As he finishes his toast, Lark looks Faffnyr in the eyes and offers a mug. "I will happily agree with you that slavery is a grave injustice and should not be made light off," He says as he moves to take a seat next to her. "But your anger would be wasted on this man, save it for those who deserve it. However anyone who feels so strongly about such injustice is welcome in my company any day, if you would be so kind would you join me for a drink?" He asks, a warm smile on his face.
As he finishes talking Lark feels a slight tap on his shoulder. It was the waitress he'd accidentally gotten an eyeful of.
"Your water, sir." The waitress said as she handed him a mug that was cool to the touch. "Thank you. He said, taking the mug.
As he took it she gave him a sly smile.
"You're welcome."She said, giveingnhim a curtsy that dipped just enough to be flirtatious but not tasteless.
Lark smiled at her, acting oblivious as she scurried off. He wasn't a stranger to that kind of attention. Growing up his handsome features, deep blue eyes and dark wavy hair had been the source of more than a few looks. It had only gotten worse as he came into his own, his tall frame filling with hard earned muscle. While he certainly wasn't any elf, half or not, as far as humans went he was certainly good looking. As a man he'd learned to use the gifts Sheyln (or perhaps Calistra)had bestowed on him to his advantage, a charming smile and kind word often went far in his line of work. Though the bruise that was stained over his shoulder from where a warhammer had glanced off his scale mail was a keen reminder that not everything could be talked down.
As luck would have it the longsword at his hip was for more than ceremony and praying
But after Okaris speaks the word slave she visibly pales. She grabs the bards hand in her strong hand, showing for the first time that she still is a half-orc, with her heritages strength."You have no idea what slave means. Do not jest with it. Not in my presence! NEVER!" After a moment she relaxes again.
Startled by Faffnyr's reaction, and stength, Okaris quick recovers replying, "Sorry if I have given offense where none were intended." He places his free hand on top of her hand adding, "Now I say this as a friend, I too Abhor slavery, but by your actions, it appears as if you are trying to be the master of my tongue, which is much more presumptuous than my careless use of a word." He pats her hand and releases it, "Nevertheless, all is forgiven as I now realize your zeal on the subject."
He turns to Arian trying to change the subject and asks over the music, "Where did you get such a nice setar?"
Isadriewen nods to Lark, Ozmid, Faffner and Naatme. "Greetings friends! More drinks - well done, sir. It's a party now!"
With that, Isadriewen drains the flagon of ale in front of her and rises up to dance. Slowly she sways in time to Arian's haunting melody. She closes her eyes and allows the rich, hypnotics sounds from the seran's strings to embrace her. As the beat pics up, Isadriewen transitions into a traditional Keleshite belly dance. Her exposed arms and legs sway suggestively with the rhythm of Naatme's clapping.
Remember, just because it is the weekend does not mean you should relax on your character. I'm going to pick from those that post in-character, and those with sheets completed by Wednesday.
Isadriewen nods at Rorx, "I will show you what I painted today. The contrast between the different variants of cactii coloration is breathtaking. I know you'll love it."
"Do that" - he nods - "I'm sure there is a LOT of stuff I don't know about cacti" - then laughs.
"Aka'Magosh"
"Nalal meav broavhas" - Rorx raises his mug at Ozmid from across the room.
"Well met brother"
Then the half-orc's attention is drawn to Isadriewen's dance for a few moments as he stares and watch. Since there is already too much conversation going on for his taste anyway, he pushes his chair back from the table, and stands there, observing the conversations in silence, raising an eyebrow only as Faffnyr seems to get upset about something regarding slavery - "I'm betting if someone even dabbling in such a thing would set a foot in this place, he or she would get shredded even before having their first drink" - he winks at the she half-orc - "Heck, with the symbols of Sarenrae I see around here, I don't think he or she would even have a chance to say a word, let alone even ask for a drink" - and laughs raucously.
----------------------------
Riceak turns down the drinks, saying, "Thank you for the drinks, but I prefer tea. I do appreciate the gesture though. I like to keep my wits about me."
When he realized that Faffnyr was joking with him, Riceak chuckled a bit.
"I've always knew that the followers of Sarenrae had a good sense of humor...unlike the followers of Iomedae."
Arian continues playing the setar, though she leans slightly to whisper to Okaris, "It is a family heirloom. My mother would play it sometimes in the evenings. She said that it came to her from her grandmother, and thence from her great-grandmother, and it goes back to a story of our family encountering a genie and the setar was a gift due to cleverness. I can tell the tale after the song finishes, if you like."
"I've always knew that the followers of Sarenrae had a good sense of humor...unlike the followers of Iomedae."
Lark looks over at Riceak, raising an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He says racking his brain for a joke before settling on the first one to come to mind. It was one he'd picked up traveling from a pair of mercenaries.
"A cleric of Iomedae sits in a bar, reminiscing about past battles with another cleric.He goes: "Ah, there was much glory to be gained in that battle."
The other responds: "Aye. And in another one of mine, I defeated many foes. All just to make my god proud."
They keep going like this, admiring the accomplishments of each other.
Finally, the first cleric prepares to leave, saying: "It's always nice to find another devout follower of Iomedae fighting for justice."
The other responds: "Justice? I kill because I feel like it. And I follow Gorum."
Their fight never ended, because each one kept healing themselves."
Startled by Faffnyr's reaction, and stength, Okaris quick recovers replying, "Sorry if I have given offense where none were intended." He places his free hand on top of her hand adding, "Now I say this as a friend, I too Abhor slavery, but by your actions, it appears as if you are trying to be the master of my tongue, which is much more presumptuous than my careless use of a word." He pats her hand and releases it, "Nevertheless, all is forgiven as I now realize your zeal on the subject."
Touching her lips and forehead in a sign of peace and apologies in the fashion of the followers of the dawnflower Faffnyr replies."It seems you understand me. May her light shine on you!"
Bowing to the compliment Faffnyr listens to Larks story and after taking a sip of her water to see if someone else would answer to the tale she speaks up."I apologize if I fail to see the humor in it. It sounds more like a sad story. I understand that there are misunderstandings between the followers of diffrent faiths. But this seems ... strange to me. I only met only follower of Gorum before and he seemed more interested to show his bravery and mettle in battle than to kill for killings sake. But I am just a woman, my faith is diffrent and I know that my knowledge is very limited!"
Arian continues playing the setar, though she leans slightly to whisper to Okaris, "It is a family heirloom. My mother would play it sometimes in the evenings. She said that it came to her from her grandmother, and thence from her great-grandmother, and it goes back to a story of our family encountering a genie and the setar was a gift due to cleverness. I can tell the tale after the song finishes, if you like."
Okaris watches Isadriewen's undulating hips sway in tune with Arian' music. Getting so lost in his thoughts that he almost misses Arian's responce but his ears perk up at the mention of a tale, "Yes, yes, that should be quite the tale. A tale I hope to share with others down the road, if you don't mind."
Unable to control himself any longer he adds, "But first I dance!"
Okaris gets up and moves gracefully between the packed tables, his torso, along with his shoulders and arms, bounce up and down rhythmically. Whiles his legs a feet seem to move faster and faster trying to keep pace with Isadriewen's hips.
----------------------------------------------
***Important change!***
1. Human Error, mine. I thought I was being witty but made a mistake instead. So the Faith trait spot can be either Magic or Faith.
2. Yes. It's a test of creativity.
Isadriewen drops back into her chair after dancing with Okaris. The sweat glistening on her forehead is testament to the physical exertion of the dance. "You got rhythm, my friend. I haven't seen anyone dance like that since I came in from the desert. Where are you from?"
She nods her appreciation to Arian. "You made the setar sing beautifully - bravo! Did I overhear that it is a family heirloom? Tell us of this genie! Your great-grandmother must have been clever indeed to have won such a fine instrument from a genie."
She motions to the bartender to bring more pitchers of ale to the table for the group.
This must be what Nirvana is like, Okaris thinks as he listens to the music and looks at those sitting at the table. He turns to The dark woman who is clapping, "Well done. If you are not a musician what do you do?"
As she remains adding a beat to Arian's playing, Naamte contemplates Okaris' question, "My Master says he's taught me all he can, so I am thrust out into the world. What do I do? I seek my past. " she says engimatically, before watching her questioner surge out into the crowd.
She continues to clap, occasionally slapping the table to add a different sound, or a double clap here and there, all the while watching Arian's fingers as she plays, seeing there similarities to the rhythms and movements of her own art.
She catches Faffynr's comment, and cocks her head curiously, "Just a woman? I doubt that." she says firmly, "My Master always said, the gods to not choose lightly. Saranae chose you. You are more." she continues with a smile for the holy half-orc.
Homeland: 1d100 = 59 City or Metropolis
Parents: 1d100 = 62 Only your father is alive
Siblings: 1d100 = 93 No Silblings
Circumstance of Birth: 1d100 = 66 Noble Birth
Nobility: 1d100 = 61 Knight
Major Childhood event: 1d100 = 18 Competition Champion
ClassPaladin: 1d100 = 33 Zealous Devotion
Influential Associates: 1d100 = 26 The Lover
Conflict: 1d6 = 6 Negligence
ConflictSubject: 1d20 = 13 Family Member
ConflictMotivation: 1d4 = 1 Justice
Resolution: Regret and Penance
RomanticRelationship: 1d12 = 8 Several Significant Relationships
Character Drawback: 1d100 ⇒ 19 Justice
Traits - Combat: Inspiring rush
Social: Charming
Faith:Indomitable Faith
Campaign:Missionary
Loyalties -
1)The common good
2)My God
3)My honor
As the son of a Knight, Lark had always been raised to hold honor and duty above all. To a Chelaixian that meant up holding your word, and fufilling your duty to the state and by extension Asmodeus. His father resolved to teach his son everything he knew and as Lark grew older he became known for his skill with a blade, winning praise for his efforts at competitions. However as Lark traveled his country he couldn't ignore the suffering he saw, how the diabolic laws of his state were effecting the people who lived there. Eventually he found solace at a small temple of Iomedae, finding a home that spoke to him. Eventually he struck up a dalliance with a woman by the name of Diane, one of the local clergy, and as a minor celebrity the news spread fast.
For a little while things were tense, his father did not approve but kept his peace, thinking that his son's youthful passion would soon die out and he would move on to another. But as the days turned to weeks, Diane and Lark fell deeper in love. And as it did Lark's dissatisfaction with the world around him grew, the tales of Iomedae's knights swirled around in his head and he could feel something building inside himself. Seeking his father's blessing Lark confided that he had converted to Iomodae's faith and was going to leave the country to purse a life of adventure.
Eventually things came to a head when his father captured a family of escaped slaves, impaling them upon the great iron fork in the center of town as was custom. According to tradition the village was gathered to watch as Lark and his father pronounced judgment. Seeing this broke something inside of Lark and as the last slave was dragged forth, a girl of no more than 10 he cried out in protest.
A silence fell over the crowd as they watched their lord's son impose himself between the spike and the men carrying the girl. His father was furious and ordered that he remove himself, Lark refused saying that it wasn't just. The argument only became more heated until suddenly Lark's father struck out at him, the blow rocking him to his core.
In that moment Lark felt something awaken in him, a feeling of awesome power and grace that made him want to cry out in fear and joy. For the first time he felt a sense of purpose fill him and as he rose to place himself between the spike and the girl again it was like he could finally see.
His father took a step back in shock as his son rose from the ground, and looked at him with a resolve he'd only seen in a few men. Lark expanded his senses and felt the power rush through him, crying out Iomedae's name as he retaliated, feeling that same power thunder through him like a lightning bolt. The blow crashed into his father, shattering his jaw.
The crowd was stunned, watching with confusion as the two men brawled. However the excitement was short lived as their Lord's men-at-arms subdued Lark and dragged him away.
The next day Lark was dragged through the village in chains, covered in bruises. When they reached the village center he was made to look upon the Iomedaen clergy who had 'corrupted' him be impaled, Diane his lover was the last to be killed.
However rather than be added to the spike Lark's father dragged outside of town to where a horse waited for him. Lark was shocked as his father sent the men-at-arms away. Once they were alone the shackles were removed and his father grabbed his shoulders and told him that while he had lost his love, he had gained his respect. With a look of farewell he pressed a bag of gold into Lark's hands and told him to leave, never to return.
Bowing to the compliment Faffnyr listens to Larks story and after taking a sip of her water to see if someone else would answer to the tale she speaks up."I apologize if I fail to see the humor in it. It sounds more like a sad story. I understand that there are misunderstandings between the followers of different faiths. But this seems ... strange to me. I only met only follower of Gorum before and he seemed more interested to show his bravery and mettle in battle than to kill for killings sake. But I am just a woman, my faith is diffrent and I know that my knowledge is very limited!"
Lark shrugs. "I heard the joke told by a pair of rowdy sellswords a few weeks back. I suspect the tale is more a reflection on them than the faiths themselves. My apologies it was the first thing to come to mind, I'll admit to the stereotype and say I don't know many jokes." He says, a good humored smile on his face.
Turning to Isandriewen, making a mental effort to look her in the face. "Forgive me but I couldn't help but notice as you danced that you have some very interesting tattoos. Do they mean anything or are they simply to enhance your already bountiful charms?"