The weather has been gracious for travelers lately, the skys clear and the wind mostly at your back. Each of you, for their own reasons, has been travelling in the direction of a small town in the Greenfields known simply as Greenest. Roiling fields of green grass gently wave over low hills with barely a tree or rock dotting the landscape. Another day of walking is coming to a close as you approach a fork in the road.
In the distance not far from the roadside you notice a light, mirroring the warm orange and yellow of the sky. No doubt a fellow traveler is lighting a fire to make camp for the evening, perhaps you may join them for a night. One might never know what dangers the darkness holds and there is safety in numbers.
As you approach, an old man looks up at you. The lone camper at this side is a fair skinned human, still blessed with a full head of long white hair, albeit somewhat messy, probably from the trek, and a short trimmed sliver and white beard. Though his skin is wrinkly and mottled from age, his eyes are still sharp and his posture, though weary, betrays no frailty.
The fur clothes he wears as well as the bow and shortsword leaning against the log he is sitting on suggest he is a hunter. Behind him a small tent made of animal hides has been raised and lies empty, save for a hide bedroll and a worn-out leather backpack.
He pulls the stick with which he has been stoking the campfire in front of him out of the flames and gestures for you to come closer as he speaks with a Jovial tone, his voice raspy but still strong: "I didn't expect to meet anyone today. But come have a seat, pull up a log." he breifly looks around himself before continuing "If you can find one."
A human of average height walks into the camp, his movements somewhere between a military March and a normal walk. He is dressed in chainmail that is well polished but not to the point of shining. His short brown hair, and neatly trimmed beard appear to have been done in some kind of military fashion.
His chainmail has a noticeable oddity, with a torn white cloth around his neck, as if a tabard had been torn off and never replaced. His short sword is sheathed and buckled to his belt, opposite his dagger. His Halberd is worn across his back, it's blade polished to a shine.
He gives a harsh look to the man, yet sits down with out a word. Not caring to find a log, he sits cross legged on the ground.
A moon elf approaches the campfire, slowly becoming visible as the warm light touched its thin body. She wears a dark sleeveless coat that covers her torso and goes down to the knees, over a white shirt and under a large belt that keeps the cloth tightened to her hips. A experienced warrior might note, by her movements and the way the fabric behaves, that she is using a leather armor under the coat. Her hands and forearms are covered with gloves, her legs with black pants, and her feet with long leather boots that go above the knees. Hanging from her belt to her left, a rapier and a closed quiver; to her right, a belt pouch and a sheathed dagger. On her shoulders, a full backpack with a coil of rope attached to one side and a shortbow to the other.
- Greetings. - she says, putting her backpack aside to rest her shoulders before sitting on the floor next to the chainmail wearing human, with her legs stretched towards the fire and looking around with curious blue eyes, brushing a lock of red hair away from her face, and then letting loose the black hair from the rest of her head by releasing a pin that looked a little too much like a lockpick (because it is). - Are you all going to Greenest as well?
The old man sizes up the two arrivals for a moment, then pushes his stick back into the fire.
"Greenest? No, I don't expect to see civilization for a while." he responds to the elven woman and nods his head respectfully.
"The name's Paadin." his gaze now locked on the man sitting on the ground next to the fire.
Zilyana was walking along the road quietly, her fine white cotton dress hanging loosely on her. She wore a bodice cloak, with matching bodice, that was currently pulled up over her head to hide her hair and face. Even with her proportions, one could recognize a drow on sight, so she tended to keep her head down to avoid drawing attention. She had been on the road for awhile, and her pack was feeling heavy against her back.
But then came that call. Red eyes glanced to the man, while form tensed ready. And saw it was a man sitting at a fire, soon talking to two strangers. After a moment of internal debate, she turned on the spot and began to walk toward them, her body still tense in case she would need to run. Her natural grace suppressed for now as she focused just on trying to blend in.
"Excuse me, travelers. Do you have room for another? The road is long and weary."
"Excuse me? Did someone say they were headed to Greenest?", a voice calls out from the roadside. A moon elf trudges up to the campsite and shrugs off his backpack, not used to carrying so much and obviously haggard from his journey.
He wears a finely made green linen tunic, embroidered at the collar and base with silver, and a pair of dark brown breeches. Over this he wears a long coat, a deeper green than his tunic and reaching to the tops of his boots, embroidered with silver patterns surrounding crescent moons on it's breast. The bottom of this coat, as well as his high-cuffed leather boots, are covered in dirt from the road. He carries a rapier-like weapon on his left hip, fastened securely to a black leather belt clasped with a silver crescent buckle studded with an opal.
"It's good to know that I'm not lost after all. After the caravan turned towards Baldur's Gate, I'm not sure why they couldn't just take a short detour to Greenest, I feel like I've been walking in circles." He takes a look around before noticing the figure that was walking up at around the same time as him and stands, followed by a short bow. "I do apologize, I should have waited until you were seated and comfortable before seating myself, Miss...?" He flashes his gold flecked, green eyes at the Drow as she approaches.
More people flicking to Greenest than I expected. Paadin, if you must know, I am Hutch of the Chill. Hutch states with a formal, if harsh tone. He seems agitated.
He glances to the elves, expecting the two silver elves to say something about his affiliations with the Hobgoblin mercenaries. At the appearance of the Drow, Hutch gives a Curt bid of his head, his respect for the fabled Drow strength taking hold.
A Drow and two elves? This should be interesting. Hutch smiles, though anyone looking at it could see it was a dark smile.
I don't think anyone would kick you out Drow. I certainly wouldn't. Even I'm not strong enough to tangle with one so skilled, if the tales of your race are true that is.
Zilyana looks up as soon as Venali greets her. If he couldn't see she was a drow before, that glance up certainly makes it obvious. A bit of her white hair escapes the hood, revealing the dyed end of it. She brushes it back under and gives the man a nervous smile.
"El-" She stops on her patronym after remembering exactly what it is. Saying that particular family name to an elf didn't seem smart. "Just call me Zilyana."
Her gaze turned to Hutch and she raised an eyebrow at what he said. "Perhaps they are true. Perhaps they are not. Either way, I seek Greenest. It has a particular duty which I need to attend to. So I may be going my own way by morning."
She wasn't about to confirm or deny any tales about the Drow just yet. Just in case...
Pity. Was hoping for some tales. I envy you Drow and your reputation. I have spent years building my own, the only human in the Chill. That's it though. I hope by the end of my journey I will be feared.
He stops, realizing he said to much. The Drow are legendary. I should watch my tongue around her.
That is to say I want my reputation to preceed me. This walking about without people knowing who I am has been annoying. People should know when the strong walk among them. Greenest should be a nice place to start. If what I learned from the Chill is correct a small town always has a need for a mercenary.
Venali's eyes catch sight of Zilyana's hair before coming to rest on her face, "Zilyana...", he smiles, "a name befitting a creature of your beauty, like a living statue made from the smoothest obsidian with eyes like gleaming rubies. The artistic depictions of your race hardly do you justice." He gives another slight bow, more to hide the slight blush rising in his cheeks than for anything else. He then turns his attention to Hutch.
"I was not aware the orcs and goblins were excepting humans into their ranks. Though, it does beg the question, why leave such a prominent mercenary company and seek work on your own?" He seems to ponder his own question for a bit before continuing, "For that matter, why Greenest? Though, I should be thankful, traveling companions should make the road much less dull."
He looks around the campsite, his eyes at last falling on Paadin and Zillyana. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names. I fear I've forgotten myself as well, Venali Auondril of Evereska."
They accept anyone who is a proven warrior, your frilliness Hutch replied, with a smile. Forgive me for the insult, but I fail to see how you in your outfit can travel alone without someone to protect you. Unlike the Drow here, there are no legends of your strength, and your outfit does not speak of one who has seen battle.
As for why I am on my own, well something's should be kept to ones self.
Hutch looks away, as if in grief. A few seconds later he turns back to the group. His face seems to have hardened a bit. As for traveling companions, I would be willing to travel with the Drow, someone with such a reputation could only be a benefit to one such as myself. The rest of you, if you don't mind me saying, I would travel with you if you could prove your skill, though if we encounter the usual bandits that lay along roads I think I will see proof you are strong or weak.
The red scaled dragonborn walked down the road his polished scale plates reflecting the twilight when he passed by the small camp. He paused a moment before deciding to greet the travelers.
Ah, greetings travellers, how fairs the coming night? I am Vorrak, Vorrakkriv Kerrhylon. Many however often call me Vor, or Vorrak.
You all hear a deeper slightly gravely voice and look up to see a 6'8" red scaled dragonborn, yet every so often from the corner of your eye, or in a quick flash, you could almost swear his scales shimmered golden.a large, polished, shield was strapped to his back and a longsword with a simple but well designed hilt hung at his side.
"Auondril... that name sounds familiar," the old man mumbles to himself, "do you perhaps have relatives in the area? Oh nevermind, I am Paadin." He nods his head in greating once again.
He looks at Hutch: "The Chill, huh? A man who served with hobbers. No doubt you are a fierce warrior then, Hutch. That does sound like someone with a tale or two to tell."
Paadin looks amused. He shifts his attention to Zilyana now: "There's a lot of talk about your people..." he begins, then he chuckles "but then you hear a lot about tieflings too. Let me tell you, one of the lovliest people I ever met was one. When you get to be my age, I suppose you learn to see people for who they are, and not the pointiness of their horns. It's certainly better than dying a miserable pile of prejudices fears."
As the dragonborn approaches Paadin stretches an arm out in wide, welcoming gesture "Good evening Vorrak. Looks to be a quiet night, albeit with some colorful company."
I may have a take it two to tell, but utter a bad thing about tieflings and you will wish you simply had a beating. Serving with the Hobgoblins certainly was fun, tons of insults and brawls. A few missions. I left on good terms, so no need to worry bout my former comrades coming to kill you for meeting me.
Hutch seems to come alive with furrybat first, then settling into nostalgia. He relaxes noticeably after threatening the beating. He gives the first actually non dark smile since arriving. He then looks to the Dragonborn.
Well well, seems I'm in the mix if a Drow, a frilly elf, a elf that I can't tell a thing about, an old kook, and now a dastardly dragon. This will be an interesting time alright. Many tales could start to add to my reputation.
Zilyana raised an eyebrow to Hutch as she heard his words. "You act as if being feared is something to aspire to."
She walked over to take a seat on a log, even as he smirked to Venali's words. "Which artistic expressions? The poems, the songs, the great paintings, the paintings people don't display in public, the books they hide in their nightstands..." Her eyebrows waggled. "So many depictions."
She smirked as she folded both hands in her lap. "My business is also my own, but not to fear; it is to no one's detriment."
But before she could continue, she heard the voice behind her, and turned her eyes to the latest arrival. The eyebrow returned to its lofty perch as she saw the dragonborn that had joined them. Then she shook her head a moment. "Welcome, child of the dragons. I am Zilyana."
She looked him up and down, then frowned to herself. What was he? Something about him in particular made her wonder if, perhaps, he was on the side of justice and honor. A source of frustration for her.
But before she could address him, the old man spoke and she turned to him, a lopsided grin decorating her features. "So have I. But, I come from Neverwinter. What I know of my people's famous history is mostly stories others tell and the way they look at my skin and hair. Which is far too bad for some of those nobles; their spouses have also heard the stories, and sometimes like the caress of spider silk." She smirked one more time. "But, enough of my dark and scandalous past..."
Fear is a useful tool. Much like a sharp blade. It gets things done. A mercenary with fear to his name gets paid more, and that's all I... all I need.
Hutch pales realizing he has talked to much about his past. Bringing up his wife tends to leave him weak emotionally and that doesn't help a mercenary.
All you need to know is that I was with the Chill, and that is all that past I am willing to go into. I am a mercenary, one who wants strength and that's it.
His hand reflexively went to his back to grab his Halberd before he realized what he was doing. He quickly pulled his had back, running it through his hair.
As for captain frilly, I heard you mention Baldurs Gate. Did you run into any liars of the Order of the Radiant Heart of see anything happen to the damned city.
Venali blushes more noticeably as Zilyana mentions books being kept in one's nightstand, "Ahem, yes, quite right." When Paadin speaks up about his family name all thoughts of embarrassment, and most of his thoughts about the dark elf before him, melt away. "Yes, actually I'm looking for my brother, Ysuran. I've heard rumors he was seen in Greenest not too long hence."
His attention was soon taken by yet another first for the day, while he had heard traders and his teachers speak of the dragons that walked as humans, he had never thought them true. He greeted the dragonborn in his own tongue, "Well met, and well come Vorrakkriv Kerrhylon. I am honored to meet such a magnificent specimen such as yourself." He then flies into a little question session, forgetting his manners in his excitement. "How do you get your scales that shiny? Why do they seem to shift from red to gold at random times? How many bones do dragonborn have? Can you actually feel someone touching you, or are the scales hard like armor to the point where..." He continues rambling for a bit until Hutch speaks up to Vorrak, his mind finally catching up to him and reminding him that what he is doing might be considered rude.
At Hutch's mention of a frilly elf, "I beg your pardon? Just because someone uses manners and conducts themselves as a gentleman rather than some gruff sellsword, that makes them 'frilly'?" He lets out an exasperated sigh, He's never going to stop calling me that, "Yes, I mentioned Baldur's Gate. The caravan I was travelling with continued on to Baldur's Gate and left me stranded out here for the past, what has it been, 3 days? I haven't been to Baldur's Gate since... well, and I'm not the greatest at guessing human ages, but before you were even born I'd think. As for the Radiant Heart..." He thinks for a moment, "They are the paladins that follow... Torm? Or was it Helm?"
Tired from the road, and seeing that the women were both seated, he took a seat in a particularly grassy area of the ground around the fire. Staring at his dirt caked boots he tilted his head to the side, Now this won't do. He pointed his finger at them and then flicked his finger quickly to the right, sending the dirt and caked on mud flying off into a pile on the ground away from him. "So how far are we from Greenest anyway?"
Vorrak let's out a chuckle at the elf's flood of question. how is it you get your ears so pointed friend? The same is for me, it just is. Some things are within our power to determine and change, some however, are not. As fkr my scales, they are normally red, but sometimes they glint a golden hue. I would wager its due to my mixed ancestry.
Vorrak gives Zilyana a nod Well met, and forgive my thoughts, but the only use for fear is tyranny. It breeds resentment and anger. Instead, you should work to inspire awe or respect in others. That's a much more useful... tool, in my opinion. That said, I often inspire slight fear due to the color of my scales. So I've had experience in that.
He looks up to the sky.
it has grown late, mind if I set up my camp nearby? Company on the road is always a pleasure. he gives his best at a smile, as much as a dragonborn can smile.
where are you folks heading to?
Venali nods sagely at Vorrak's explaination. "I suppose it does make sense to stop for the night, I've seen wolves in the area the past few days. As to where we are headed, odd as it may seem, we are all headed to Greenest." He stands up and grabs for a pouch on his belt, pulling out a small silver bell and a piece of fine silver wire. "Does anyone have a preference on sleeping arrangements?" He starts pacing around the campsite, ringing the bell every few moments, tracing invisible sigils in the air as he walks.
The young moon elf keeps her silence for a while, listening to everyone else's tales and names. Anyone paying attention would notice her opening her mouth to try to say something every so often, but giving up and listening as other were faster to respond. She is visibly agitated when the drown introduces herself, and again when the red dragonborn appears, her eyes going from one to another in a childish wonder. As the conversation seems to calm down, she finally puts out all her agitation and excitement in words.
"What a coincidence! To find so many people heading to Greenest on the same night, and for one of them to be my namesake! Your hair is even kinda red, like mine!", she giggles, "I am also called Zillyanna; but I guess you can call me Zilly, or Anna...Or Duskwood, i guess."
Her eyes go from Zyliana to Vorrak, and then she suddenly goes quiet, staring at her own boots. As Venali stands up and asks about sleep, she answers, in a quieter voice.
"I...anything is good for me, i don't sleep much, as you might know."
Paadin looks toward the last sunrays shining over the horizon. He cocks his head in thought: "I'd say you'd get there wihtin the day, if you start tomorrow in the morning." he estimates.
Vorrak moves to Zilyana and takes her hand in his claw and moved it up to touch the end of his snout. well met lady Anna, may your travels bring good fortune and self improvement.
He gives a nod and does the same with Zilyana and you as well lady Zilyana I've heard stories of your people, but I prefer to judge on ones character and their own actions, not because of their ancestry. May you do yourself and your people proud.
After that he sets out a small bedroll and, after looking to the sky, leaves his small tent unset.
I believe that the stars will be shining bright tonight. Always a lovely sight.
Last along the road is a weary traveller dressed in greys and muted browns where his mail didnt cover his clothing. The sharp earred among you catch the jingle of armour before he enters the light.
You are a lively group, he says with frown. I could hear you half a mile away... and there are worse things than me lurking in the dark.
Unbidden he approaches the fire, rubbing his hands together.
Don't all get up at once, besides its not me whose going to give you any trouble - it will be some sort of gruesome creature, wait and see.
I'm Erendur, he says simply. May you find favour in Kelemvors' eyes when your time comes.
In the firelight you can see the main is armed for war, a sword and warhammer much in evidence settled on his belt. His face somewhat drawn and his expression downcast. A silver badge on his chest catches the firelight.
I caught mention of Greenest, or am I mistaken?
The dragonborn looks up from his bedroll.
Greetings Erendur, and let them come, it would mean one less creature for others to worry about on the road. And yes, it seems most here are heading that way. I am Vorrak Kriv Kerrhylon. A Wanderer, for all intents and purposes.
They all say 'Let them come' but when those would be heros' die horribly does anyone think of poor undertaker who has to clean up and perform funeral rites their remains?, he replies morosely.
Its not fun you know... trying to work out if all the bits are there.
Zillyana smiles to Vorrak as he greets her, and watches with interest as a new traveler arrives to the fire.
"Pleasure, Mr Erendur. I'm Zillyanna, but i suppose I’m just Anna for the time being." she says, winking to Zilyana. "I suppose any creature dangerous enough to present a threat to us would already be able to find its way here due to the campfire, right?"
Venali pauses shortly in his mutterings, "I'll be taking care if that." He resumes muttering his incantation as he continues pacing about the fire, adding the newcomer to his mental list to include in the spell.
I find myself agreeing with the pious man. Being foolish I'd the same as being weak. Hutch states with the same gruffness he has been speaking with.
As for you frilly, you don't look like you could hold your own in a fight. That is why I am calling you frilly.
Its only a matter of time. Wait and see... it will be some big and nasty monster. Kelemvor willing it will be something that will make our deaths as painless as possible.
He seems to take some sort of comfort in the dire pronouncement.
I hope you all have made your peace with your gods... it goes badly for the 'Faithless' in the Greylands. If you are without faith, then perhaps I can help you find it in Kelemvor.
Its not as much as he is not acknowledging you as some of you welcome him as much as he is including you in his doomsday scenario.
with an attitude like that, a large rat is a deadly oppenent. I welcome challenges to overcome. I've overcome a dreadful beast already. One can not improve without challenging himself, er or herself. And even in the most dire of circumstances, one has to keep hope. Otherwise, they are already lost my friend.
Vorrak then leans back against his pack looking to the night sky. as I predicted, a beautiful night shines upon us.
It won't last, says Evendur plopping himself down and preparing his bedroll.
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Paadin laughs, "Welcome, Evendur. The fire has attracted quite a collection of creatures so far. I'd be curious what else it might draw in tonight. But I'm no fool. You don't survive in the wild for sixty-three years, by leaving beacons for predators and brigands to find you by in the night. So don't forget to roast your dinners before i stomp the fire out."
He looks up at the sky, fixing his gaze on the moon, which has been growing toward a half moon in the last few nights: "Selûne is smiling at us tonight, and any creature or group of bandits large enough to take on seven armed men and women, will have a hard time staying undetected in this terrain."
"We can figure out who is right tomorrow morning. Good night...", she says, more to herself than to anyone else, before trying to a find a comfortable place and position to rest.
I hope you all have made your peace with your gods... it goes badly for the 'Faithless' in the Greylands. If you are without faith, then perhaps I can help you find it in Kelemvor.
You give the gods to much credit. If they cared for us then I wouldn't be where I am today. If I die it will be from the, or someone far far stronger than me. If I am not killed in battle, then I know I am the stronger of the encounter.
Venali finishes casting his spell and there is a brief flash of light along the path he had been walking. "Well then, Evendur was it? Humans don't often have your attitude towards mortality, it's fairly refreshing. Venali Auondril of Evereska," he gives a short bow. He then moves to the fireside, grabs his pack, and sits near the two girls and assumes his trance position.
As the sky darkens and the last rays of the sunlight make way for a sea of stars, you start getting ready for the night, Paadin produces a small shovel from his pack and covers the fire with earth, before stamping the last few embers out with is boot and eventually crawling into his tent.
The night is calm and the air crisp and chill. You have no trouble falling asleep.
-----------------------
The elves are already long finished with their meditations when Paadin is the first to wake up in the early morning. The old man immediately begins collecting his equipment.
"Greenest is this way, just follow the road. Tell the others I wish you all good fortune. Farewell." he says, pointing down the road westward, before he slings his pack over his shoulder, picks up his bow and begins making his way south.
Zilyana yawned a moment as she came out of meditation. She had fallen silent last night as another person joined them, just watching the others until it was time to meditate. And then keeping a light watch over the people as they slept for a couple hours after. She could see in darkness, after all. She was certain some of them couldn't. Plus, she liked the night. With everything black, white, and shades of grey... It had a beauty to it that could not be missed.
But now, it was time for daylight. She hissed in annoyance at the sunlight and drew her cloak up over her head. It didn't serve just to protect her identity, but also to protect her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. And then she looked around and frowned. And then the man spoke to them and he nodded.
"I shall give them the message. Journey well." And then she sighed. Now it was time to deal with people...
As the elfs finish their meditations, it becomes clear that Zillyanna isn’t very fond of staying still. She spends about one hour looking at her surroundings in silence, but constantly changing position, and a few minutes more looking at Vorrak and then at Zilyana. She then lays on her back, looking at the stars, but that doesn't last long before she is sitting again, this time humming a calm sailor's melody to herself at a volume she thinks won't disturb others. She proceeds by standing up and doing some stretches before sitting down again, taking a piece of rope and playing with it, making and unmaking as many types of knots as she can remember.
When Paadin wakes up, she takes the dagger from her belt and cuts a piece rope with a knot, throwing it at his direction.
"They say it gives good luck", she smiles, "Have a good and safe journey, Mr. Paadin"
As the man goes away, she sits cross legged and goes back to starring at Zilyana and Vorrak with curiosity.
Venali shakes his head as he comes out of his trance, glancing for a moment at Zilyana and Zillyanna each in turn before standing and walking off into the field. He returns a few moments later and sits back down next to his pack, giving them each a small smile as he pulls out his waterskin. A slight frost coats the outside of the container before he takes a drink. Motioning to the rest of the group, "What do you think it's like? Sleeping, I mean. Humans, well, non-elves are curious creatures at times."
He spends the rest of the dark hours watching Zillyanna go about her routine, getting antsy just from watching her. Finally he decides it would make more sense to do something productive and goes in search of firewood, returning as Paadin wakes up.
As the old man starts to walk away Venali nods his thanks and dumps what few sticks he managed to find on the old fire pit. He then snaps his fingers as a fire springs to life in the little campfire. Noticing that Zilyana has raised her hood, recalls the problems Drow are said to have on the surface when it came to the sun. "You said you are from Neverwinter, yes? Does the sun still hurt your eyes so much after living on the surface for, and I may presume too much, your whole life?" As he asks this is moves over to where Vorrak is sleeping, and kneels down, studying the dragonborn's scales. I wonder if he'd mind me taking a sample at some point, I'm sure it could be useful to increase some of my spells' effects.
Not too long after the man leaves Vorrak grumbles awake, with a loud yawn. He nods to the elves. it's quite strange not to be the first one awake. Is an elf's trance an ability that can be learned? he looks about as he straps on his gear.
Where is paadin? I had a couple of questions for him.
I can't help shake this feeling I've been being watched... oh well. Probably my imagination. Or the fact people always stare, I'd think I'd have gotten used to that.
Venali thinks for a moment, "I have heard of some humans who have learned to focus their mind and enter a state resembling the trance of our people. As for the old man, he headed south, and pointed us westward."
Zilyana smiled somewhat to Zillyanna as the woman stared and tried not to feel uncomfortable. Their similarity in names was going to be a lot of fun...
But her eyes turn to Venali at his words and she shrugs. "I hear it's peaceful and they hallucinate. I know it makes them very easy to sneak around. They don't hear as well when they're asleep. Useful if you are stealing things or need to get by them." She didn't mention killing because she had never killed someone while they slept. "I had to sneak by a noble once while he was sleeping in his bedroom. He came home early and..." She paused a moment. "I shouldn't tell this story."
When the man left to get firewood, she sighed and looked to the others. Late rousers, all of them. "Perhaps we can wake them up before it gets too late in the day..."
But then came Venali's question. "Yes. During my time in Neverwinter, we went outside primarily at night or spent a lot of time underground. There's a lot of work for those who can see in the dark. My parents worked as night watch for the city. Some people weren't too fond of them, but they had a pretty high arrest rate." She grinned. "And I always met interesting people. Met several noble families through their children. And there were merchants that only sold at night. Including a fellow drow who specialized in garments and jewelry brought from the Underdark. Drow make, so it couldn't survive in sunlight, but it was beautiful."
She shakes her head to Vorrak, even as she stands. "I tried, once. A girl I knew in my childhood wanted to learn. She kept trying her entire life, but never managed. If it can be learned, I do not know how it can be taught."
Then, she turns to those still sleeping and rubs her chin. "Vorrak, can you roar and stomp the ground really hard? Maybe all of us can stomp the ground? I have an idea for getting these sleepy-heads up..."
hmm, won't stop me from trying I suppose. But it's a bit disheartening to be sure.
At the question Zilyana posed, he stops to turn and give Zilyana a curious look. yes, I can blow some smoke with a bit of flame that won't hurt anything , or a full flame, but why do you want me to do that?
Zilyana gives Vorrak the most mischievous smirk she can. "You roar and send out smoke, every stomps in unison, and I yell about dragon attack. I bet they'll all get up quickly."
Evendur gives a small groan as he rises. You woke me when you first rose. I tried to ignore it and get some more rest but I just couldn't with you chattering away. I just know today is going to be as horrible as my rest was.
The priest moves away from the camp, kneels and begins to pray.
Vorrak seems to ponder for a few seconds. Then shrugs and does so, sending out a small puff of smoke from his nostrils.
and let's out a, rather lacking, roar.
Zilyana sighed as her idea gets derided a bit by the waking downer of a priest. Despite that, she began to stomp on the ground, hoping it was enough and others would join in.
"Wake up! Dragon attack!"
The priest startles.
You know I am talking to my God here right?
RAWR!
----after----
well, if you are like your God, maybe he could do with a few laughs... no disrespect meant of course. I suppose if we are all heading the same direction might as well travel together no? he finishes packing and sets his pack down, reaching in the lifts up a finely crafted Flute of some type, with intricate designs and runes etched into it with gold leaf. He sits down again and while waiting for the others to finish their packing He begins to play a tune, at first a bit haunting melody, but eventually it seems to grow into a sort of happy one, if still invoking a slight feeling of sadness.
Zilyana looked to Evendur and grinned. "Tell your god he still owes me give gold from poker last week," she joked.