It was a normal fall day in Trunau. The temperatures had dropped considerably in the recent weeks from the normal over hundred degrees of the summer months beyond the hordeline of the orcs to in the 80's.
The military patrol approached the gates in a cloud of dust kicked up by the horses. The Seven Riders led by Omast Frum had been away for a week. Among them was Rory Cornelius astride his wolf companion Thistle. The Patrols were among early warning systems in place to help protect the fortified town many miles from Lastwalls protection, in the southern heartland of The Orc lands of Belkzen. They were returning in time for tomorrows festivites.
The Patrol road past Barterstone, the huge flat rock that served as the open market where locals sold wares. There were farmers selling their harvest, tinkers selling trinkets, carvan owners selling their good brought from Janderhoff, Varisia, Lastwall and Mothume.
a quartet of guards stood at the gates ready to close them at a moments notice.
Within The City Shel was seated at a table inside the House of Wonders looking over a book recently obtained by Agrit about a the Giant Urskoth and his leadership of the Twisted Heart clan of Orcs and giants when they came south many many years ago. She was particularly interested in the information about the Giants hammer 'Agrimmosh' She moved forward and paid for the book with Agrit, glancing down at her Spirit Animal, Phoenix which walked around on the floor under the watchful eye of Agrit. The Chicken was rather healthy and confident...braver than worldly fowl.
further up in the inner commons at the only tavern in town 'The Killing Ground' Ovril laid out some harrow cards for a reading a Caravan Guard in town for the festivities requested. The Guard sat nervously looking at the 'death card laid out in front of him. It was a bad reading Ovril had to share...nothing he was enjoying doing.
At the Commons Imara and Rydell were helping decorate for the festival under the direction of Roderick Grath, son of the other Patrol Leader Jagrin, The Militia was helping prepare forthe festival as this one was more special than normal. Tomorrow Ruby, The daughter of The Chief Defender, would become of age and take the vow to defend Trunau, obtaining her own Hope Knife. Amelia was present helping her brother Rydell as they laid out table cloths on the some tables within the wooden amphitheater, Itwas a happy time, but Roderick looked preoccupied. Though most knew he recently found love with Brinya Kellver, a Cleaning woman at Sanctuary, her half orc heritage ignored by the smitten young man...though his father disapproved ofthe relationship.
It was a normal day in Trunau as the sun laid low on the horizon....
Amelia laid a table loth down at one end looking over at Imara and said This is really Exciting. Isnt it. Ruby gets her Hope Knife tomorrow. Do you remember when you got yours Imara?. Rydell spoke for me. I was so proud. She looked at the knife hanging in a sheath on a leather cord around her neck.
|Enzi of The Ilse|
Roderick carried 4 chairs over near one of the tables turning to Rydell Care to help me move these chairs Rydell. Dad said he wants to make the tug of war pit extra large and muddy this year...why would he want to dothat do you think? He said with a smile....knowing that Ruby would choose what 6 people would help her...and that Roderick and his brotherand several guards would have to face off to them...and of course it wouldnt do for the Cheif Defenders daughter to be drug through the mud on the day of her festival.....
|Patrol Leader Omast Frum|
Omast Frum, The Grizzled old Veteran of Orc Campaigns Had lived in Trunau most of his life after coming from Lastwall. He reigned up before the gates and turned to his men glancing at them all astride horses. He always viewed his men as he would his kids. He glanced down at Rory and nodded to the Halfling astride his wolf.
Ok Men good job on Patrol. We ride to the stables and then take care to settle your horses in first before heading to your barracks and cleaning up. Once your horses have been seen to, you are off duty until Morning of the 5th of Lamashan. Enjoy the festivities. The with a look at Rory, Obviously you dont have a horse to see to, so see you day after tomorrow at the Longhouse. Good Job!
He then turned and spurred his mount through the gate and around up the switchback to the gates going into the Inner Compound and out theother end to the main part of town. Waving at townsfolk as he went.
Imara smiles softly at Amelia. "Yes, I remember getting my hopeknife. I remember your ceremony too. And Rydell speaking for you. He's lucky to have you, you know. You can keep him in line!" She winks at Amelia.
She thinks back on her own ceremony. It was one of her first lessons on how complicated life can be. Her pride at receiving her hopeknife, and the honor and gratitude she felt in having Agrit speak for her was mixed equally with the feeling of loss of not having her father there. She always thinks of him now whenever there is a Hopeknife festival.
The sound of riders breaks Imara out of her reverie and she looks up to see the patrol returning. She quickly counts them. Seven. Good. They all returned. A feeling of relief flows through her and she turns quickly back to her job of decorating, wondering if they have any news to report.
|Rydell Derrick Ellindorr|
Rydell's lips form a grin for a moment before returning to a slight frown.
Who's to say, He replied, moving to help Rodrick.
Perhaps he thinks you need a bath? He paused momentarily.
Or, perhaps its because... well. He stops momentarily as Omast and the others return. Because you're involved with her? Rydell shakes his head before continuing. Perhaps he's just getting back at you for all the aggravation you caused him during the years? Despite his usual mood, the festive air was contagious to anyone, and see his sister so excited warmed Rydell's heart making him more open to conversation.
He glanced towards Amelia's and Imara's way, before nodding to himself.
It's good to be back to town.' Turning and looking over his shoulder as Thistle stopped near Frum's gelding, 'Plenty of time to get a few things done and get cleaned up.' Thistle turns her head and moves slightly as horse dances a little. "Shhhh, leave the horse along." Settling the wolf as Omast begins to speak, Rory smiles as the old veteran looks at him. Putting his right hand on his chest as a salute, Rory's smile widens, "We'll see you at the long house." He winks, "Don't use up all the hot water though, Thistle needs a bath."
Clicking his tongue and nudging Thistle's right shoulder with his right knee, he turns the wolf away to make sure their from underfoot of the horses. He watches as the others ride through the gate. patting her on the neck. "Come on girl, lets get to the longhouse." Not waiting for Rory to use his knees, Thistle breaks into a trot headed through the main gate.
Heading past Than'n'Such and then Clamor, Thistle turns east heading through the Lower Quarter Gate then into the inner court through the Upper Quarter Gate headed toward the Longhouse. 'The festival, they must be setting up for the festival.' Seeing his friends helping with the decoration, he tells Thistle, "Stop girl." Wanting to continue toward dinner and a bed inside a building, Thistle ignores Rory for a second, until he clamps both knees and repeats the command sternly. "Kwusi!" Thistle slides to a stop, and turns and looks at him dejectedly. Roty gives her a half smile, "I know, I know, you want to eat, just give me a moment to talk to my friends."
Turning her back toward where the others are preparing for the festivities, he raises his arm and calls out, "Hey! How's it going?"
|Enzi of The Ilse|
Rodrick laughs at Rydells Jest and then see's the patrol returning and puts down the chairs and heads over to talk with Omast as the Patrol Leader dismounts and heads toward the stables.
|Sergeant Kurst Grath|
Kurst comes out of the Longhouse and heads toward the stables as well passing by Rory as he went He Rore! Welcome back! The Patrol went well?
|Councilor Agrit Staginsdar|
Agrit looked at Shel as she began to pay for the book. I hope this one is as enjoyable as the last Shel. Oh look the patrol has come back. You know what that means. I have a meeting at The Ivory Hall tomorrow morning. I wont be open tomorrow at all then, with the Hope Knife Ceremony in the afternoon and evening. Have a great Day Shel! and May Nethys grant you mental acuity
The Barkeep/Tavern owner stopped by the table where Ovril sat and said Oh My. That reading doesnt look well. Can I get you any drinks.
The caravan guard said Please. an ale...and a shot of bourbon please!
Shel slips the new book into her satchel as Agrit escorts her out of the House of Wonders, wishing the dwarven woman well as she lockes her shop and went on her way. Agrit was one of Shel’s favorite people in town, supplying both arcane reagents and knowledge. Not the profession you would normally expect of a dwarf, but Agrit knew her business.
Shel faces the setting sun, eyes closed, breathing slowly. The sun kissed her skin, the stone burned her bare feet. She felt cut off from the spirits when indoors, and she stood in silence as the spirits of earth and sky welcomed her back into their presence. She often felt cut off from the spirits in Trunau, the citizens too concerned with meaningless things like wealth and social status to be in touch with the metaphysical world. Tomorrow would be different. Ruby was receiving her Hope Knife, and there would be celebration. Spirits loved festivities and the people of Trunau would be more open to the spirits while they celebrated. Equally important, Shel loved celebrations. The Hope Knife ceremony reminded her of the rites of passage of her tribe when she was younger.
With nothing else to do, Shel makes her way to the Commons by way of the east gate to see how preparations for the ceremony were coming along. As she nears the gate, she passes by the Killing Ground. Her spirit animal, Phoenix, had a strong affinity for the social hub. Phoenix was sent by their spirits to guide Shel, but he could be said to be somewhat vain. As they approached the bar, Phoenix crows and takes off through the door, running between the legs of an exiting elf and disappearing inside. Shel sighs and follows her spirit animal into the Killing Ground.
|Phoenix the Magnificent|
Phoenix the Magnificent struts through the door to the Killing ground, making a direct line to the bar. With a loud flap of his wings, he takes to the air in a short leap that lands him on the bar top. He begins crooning softly, puffing out his feathers and turning in place so that the mortal denizens of the bar might see him from all angles. His species was not native to these lands, but then again, nothing about him was normal. The red jungle fowl had a magnificent, flawless coat of feathers that positively shone. Not a single feather out of place, his blood red comb a crown befitting of an emperor. It was known that the mere sight of Phoenix could cure simple maladies and, being a benevolent immortal, he made himself available for viewing as often as possible. He began to strut up and down the bar, stepping around mugs of ale and plates of greasy bar food, clucking in time with his steps.
Imara looks up at the call from Rory. She smiles a little and waves, then puts down the ribbon she was wrapping around a pole and walks over to him.
"Hello, Rory! How did the patrol go? Anything noteworthy to report? Everyone got back safely, I hope?" The elf worries every time patrols go out, concerned that something awful will happen. It wouldn't be the first time, but that doesn't really make it easier. She finally notices Kurt and nods to him as well. ""Hello, Kurst.
Waving at Kurst he nods and smiles. "It went well enough, we made it back in time for the festival," turning and waiving at Ameila as she leaves he sees Imara waive at him, Rory clicks his tongue and shifts his left knee to move toward the elf. Thistle drops her head and lets her ears droop turning and looking at him letting him know of her disapproval of waiting to eat, but she trots toward Imara.
Stopping near Imara, he dismounts, patting Thistle on her heck. "The patrol went OK." Running his fingers through his disheveled hair, "Nothing noteworthy." Thistles turns and starts licking his face, he pushes her away lovingly and smiles. "I guess no sign of Orcs is good right?"
He looks around at the decorations "Are you all almost done? I have to get Thistle fed and get cleaned up a little. But I didn't know if I would work on her new armor or go out on the town and start the celebration early. So I thought I would ask around before I made a decision."
|Rydell Derrick Ellindorr|
I know what I want for my animal companion haha. Also, it may help if we can get a heading of sorts in each post when the party is split up. So everyone easily knows who is around.
Rydell walks up to Rory and Imara.
Well, as loud as the patrols are I doubt any Orc would be close enough to see. They could hear you coming from Lastwall. Better to scout silently... He says, pausing momentarily before adding.
Which I imagine you can do better than most of them. If given the chance. He makes a remark hinting about the time Rory and Rydell nearly walked right into each other while both were out hunting. After that, he leans down and offers Thistle a small bit of jerky as Rory asks about the celebration progress.
The responsible decision would be to work on her armor. Especially if you do encounter orcs and she is hurt because you decided not to. He answers, a bit bluntly as he stands back up.
He then turns to Imara with a smile.
And thank you for watching after Amelia. Her enthusiasm is a good thing, but she is far to excitable in my opinion. One tends to make bad decisions through excitement. Or so they say anyway. He then turns to watch Amelia before she moves out of sight. His crystal blue eyes seeming to pierce the skyline. Once she is out of sight, his eyes move to back to Imara.
Darrick, the Stablemaster, could be seen coming out to tend the horses and talk briefly with Omast, Kursk and Roderick. He was nodding and wringing his hands. He wasnt particularly liked in town and for a Half Elf did not show any of his Elvish traits.
Rabus turned to see Shel and waved her over...Please Please come in...I see your ...chicken...has already found a seat. he said as Phoenix stopped before a chair and scooted it back with but a look before jumping up to sit in it with a flap of its wings.
While the Killing Ground was one of Phoenix’s favorite haunts, Shel was less enamored with the place. She approved of the tent like construction of the structure, but the filthy floor and intoxicated men did not compliment her choice of attire. She walks to the bar, hopping over a puddle of something on the way, and takes a seat next to Phoenix. ”Good evening, Rabus. Do you have anything cold to drink? And some water for Phoenix.” She greets the owner and orders, setting her satchel on her lap. ”Expecting a good day tomorrow?” She asks, assuming that people taking a day off work for the ceremony tomorrow would be good for a man in the leisure industry.
|Phoenix the Magnificent|
Phoenix the Magnificent looks around the bar as he awaits his water. While he knows the importance of staying hydrated, he spots something more interesting at a nearby table. A man looking intently at some strange, paper squares set on the tabletop and not at Phoenix! Very interesting. Phoenix chirps under his a breath. Perhaps the paper squares have mesmerized him with a curse. I’d better investigate. The spirit animal’s feathers and eyes glow with a soft, white light, rustling in an invisible breeze. A few moments later, one of the squares levitates off the tabletop as if lifted by an invisible hand and begins to move towards the chicken.
Phoenix casts prestidigitation on one of Orvil’s harrow cards.
'He's got that right, all that metal clanging around.' Nodding in agreement, 'He's right about that too.' Smiling Rory pats Thistle, "That's why they use me and Thistle as outriders. So we don't get caught unexpected."
Seeing the bit of jerky offered Thistle reaches out and gently takes it from Rydell's hand, then she quickly wolfs it down. Rory's smile widens 'That will keep her happy for a moment.'
'I've been working on the thing every night, it's time to relax.' Shrugging noncommittedly, "I'm going to try and make a lamellar harness from the boiled leather. It should be easier to replace damaged strips, instead of a whole leather piece."' He rubs Thistles ear. "The leather barding works well enough for now. But it's fun trying to make new stuff."
Watching Rydell stand Rory follows his eyes towards Amelia, Not wanting to interrupt, Rory waits a bit for Imara to answer.
'I haven't had a pint in days' shifting from one foot to the other, he finally blurts out. "So are we drinking tonight or what?"
So don't know how much OOC we want to do in game, but I just wanted to say that even though it seems that Rory want's to party, I'm good with everyone heading to bed so tomorrow can happen. However I want to be available if anyone wants to RP more, to get a feel for their character.'
Rydell, what kind of heading are you thinking of? Just something indicating the location? Like...
Imara nods. "Yes, I'd say no signs of orcs is a good thing for sure!"
She then turns her attention to Rydell and laughs at his comment about being too excitable. "Oh, I don't know. A little enthusiasm for life is a good thing! Otherwise things get too boring!" Imara pauses for a moment, then gives Rydell a mock angry look. "You stole my idea, by the way!" She also pulls out a piece of jerky and offers it to Thistle.
"I don't know, Rory...I'm usually not up for partying the night before a festival." It reminds me too much of my dad. And there was that one time I thought I could handle drinking "just a little" on a festival day...that didn't go so well. She glances at Rydell, wondering if he's thinking the same thing. Her mood suddenly seems much darker. "Well, I think we are pretty much done decorating. I'll see you guys tomorrow." She flashes her raised palm at them in what must be a wave and turns abruptly to walk away, leaving her ribbon hanging from a partially wrapped pole.
Imara wouldn't do it tonight, I wrote up her intro to have her away from the festivities the night before.
|Rydell Derrick Ellindorr|
we could do something like that, or we could simply put it in a spoiler, as follows. I'm fine either way. It would just help me keep on track with what is and is not going on in the immediate area.
Rydell frowns slightly as he notices the change of mood in Imara. She was likely the person he felt closest to after his sister and he had a general idea of what might have caused her change in mood. He felt something off, and despite his normal preference to solitude he instinctively reaches out as Imara goes to leave and grabs her shoulder gently.
I'm not really up for drinking or the like either, I prefer to keep my mind clear. But.. He pauses to think for a few moments. We could go for a hunt. I was uh, likely going to go either way. Then maybe a walk under the stars? I always found both enjoyable, and relaxing. The night is a good place to set thoughts straight. And I'm sure any extra meat we may manage to get would be welcome for the festival.
I'm so not good at cheering people up.... Something that only rarely becomes an issue. He thinks to himself.
He then glances back to Rory. You could come as well if you wished. I know both of you can move quietly enough.
Smelling the jerky Thistle turns toward Imara gently taking the piece of meat from her hand and then flopping on the ground places it between her front paws and begins to chew on the end.
Looking from Rydell to Imara then down to Thistle, Rory shakes his head, jesting. "You've turned ma finely tuned killing machine into a lap dog."
'Well, couldn't hurt to ask.' As Imara answers he shakes his head, trying not to look disappointed, "Didn't think about everything folks had to get done for tomorrow." He shrugs, "Just used to having a pint after coming back from patrol."
He turns and looks towards Rydell as Imara turns to leave. 'Prefer to keep my mind clear?' Watching as Rydell reaches out to Imara, Rory raises an eyebrow, 'Go for a hunt? Then walk under the stars?' Knowing when threes a crowd, Rory shakes his head. "Naw, I've been out for days, you two enjoy the starlight." Stepping over to Thistle he climbs on her back. "We'll get cleaned up, then maybe head for that pint on our lonesome." Realizing it was time to leave, Thistle wolfs down the rest of the jerky and stands. Shaking herself Rory nudges her with his right knee, and she begins to trot off towards the Longhouse.
GMMichael, Imara brings up a good point. Do you want us to work our introduction into the narrative or was it just an example of our writing?
|Ovril Necul Havayselvay|
I hope you don't mind me sticking to the Pathfinder Harrowing cards! I found some amazing cheatsheets that both give meaning and context to the guards, and a google excel sheet that automatically generates a spread of cards! I can link them in the discussion thread if you want.
Disappointed at what the cards had to say, Ovril gives the guard an apologetic look. "The Fiend might be a rather fatalistic card, but there are many, many interpretations associated with it other than, well, you know, death. The Fiend, or King of Clubs, indicates a great challenge of strength is approaching, say a battle or ... eh, a contest. Are you perhaps partaking in a challenge of sorts soon? One that you attach a mighty amount of importance to? If so, The Fiend might indicate that this challenge will be a harrowing ordeal to those involved."
He's lying. The Fiend is never an innocent harbinger, but the meaning attached to it can be tied to the interests of the person drawing it. Ah, why couldn't Ovril have the people's skill of his sister, his mother, or his grandma?!
But then meaning finds its way to the table. One of the cards starts to tremble and then moves about as if lifted by fate itself! Wait a second, it's floating towards that ... chicken!
Confused and confounded, Ovril gets off his chair in a stumbling fashion and kneels at the creature. He has seen the animal before but never thought much of it. Perhaps he ought to reconsider.
In front of Phoenix, The Cricket trembles and bobs. "The Cricket," Ovril says with a voice that's as unsteady as the card he's describing. "An amazing thought or a speedy journey which both tend to lead towards a great treasure. Whether that be material or immaterial wealth, the Cricket indicates opportunity and the promise your labors might bear fruit."
Only then does it dawn on Ovril that he's talking to a chicken. Yes, a magical one, a familiar, but a chicken nonetheless. There's no way in Hell this animal will stroke his palm with the caress of a silver coin - without such a transaction, any reading is null and void! "Quick, slip me a silver coin, or this reading will go to waste, and so too a great opportunity for you, for the Cricket is a finicky thing!"
Suit: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Card: 1d9 ⇒ 1
|Corporal Harlon Grandon|
One of the friendly junior officers of the Militia came by and nodded at the three friends on his way to talk with Omast, Kurst, and Roderick who all nodded at whathe ahd to say and as Omast turned his horse over to Darrick, they turned and headed to the Longhouse.
the intro was a writing sample, a slight test, and something you can include or just know it is included. right before the ceremony.
the test part was to see who caught the clue and embellished putting their own personality in---ovril no feel free to do what you want with the harrow deck. its an important part of your character.
Imara stops and turns back around as she feels Rydell's hand on her shoulder. She listens to what he says, then gives him a long, considering look.
A starlight walk? Is he...asking me out? She glances over at Rory, walking away. Well, I guess I'll have to deal with that later. It is kind of him to offer, though.
"Thank you, Ry, but I am alright." She gives a mostly genuine smile to prove her point. "I just need to do my own thing tonight. Er...well, I mean, I'll be meeting Sid too. But I'll see you in the morning! Night, Rory!" She waves to them both and moves off in the direction of lower Trunau.
|Rydell Derrick Ellindorr|
yes! Perfection. Both people got the totally wrong idea! haha good to know I succeeded. This will be fun.
He nods at Imara's response.
Fair enough. I guess hunting and nightly strolls are my thing in a way. Not everyone else would enjoy it. He doesn't smile, but keeps his face a mask of seriousness.
As the others leave, Rydell just stands there mildly confused. He shakes his head slightly as he thinks.
I swear, every time I think I have a read on her or my sister they prove me wrong. Well, I suppose I never feel like I have that great of a read on anyone else. So maybe I'm just fooling myself with those two.
With a slight sigh, he looks up to judge the time of day.
Well, guess I might as well go make sure Amelia isn't causing trouble. See if I can't get a bit of tracking practice in as well.
want a roll, or just say he finds her? Note, this can also be a lead into turning in for the day if everyone else is doing so.
Imara makes her way into the Inner Quarter easy enough as the day turns to early evening. to her right she can see the 'Killing Ground.', The Tavern Rory will be going to to have a drink later. She turns and heads towards the bakery, where Sid would be closing shop for his boss before retiring to Ramble House later.
Rydell, easily follows his sisters tracks to the Ivory Hall where Ruby and Amelia sat on the stoop talking.
Rory moved towards the Longhouse and went inside to his room.
Ovril and Shel and the magnificent Phoenix sat at tables in The Killing Ground. The Caravan Guard looked bewildered at the card raising in the air and Ovril talking to a chicken.
|Phoenix the Magnificent|
Hmm. Yes...yes... I suspected as much. Phoenix the Magnificent coos softly, pecking the card. I am due for some good luck! Phoenix turns to his companion, rifling through her satchel. After a moment, muffled clinking is heard from the satchel. Phoenix returns to the kneeling man, a silver coin clutched in his beak. A fair trade. He clucks around the coin, holding it out to the man. What is a silver piece to a chicken with fortune and treasure in his future?
Shel gives the fortune teller a sidelong glance through narrowed eyes. She knew of him, of course; a varisian fortune teller stood out even amongst the ragtag group of people that made up Trunau. She did not trust his form of magic, if he had any. There was certainly no magic in his cards. The spirits did not embody processed materials and they would not guide his hand. She could feel excitement bubbling up in Phoenix through her link with the spirit animal, but she was not so easily fooled. ”Don’t fill his head with nonsense. I have enough trouble with his flights of fancy.” She says, diplomatically. She was not a brawler and she had no idea how much the man might have had to drink.
LOVE the harrow stuff!
|Ovril Necul Havayselvay|
The words it isn't me, it's the cards talking to your companions! ache to come out in response to the woman's gentle rebuke, but he knows it would be to no avail. The idea a set of cards can predict one's future is simply an absurdity to the unbeliever.
"Fair enough." Blasé and brief, the Varisian gives up before the fight manages to even take place. It's clear he is in a state of sobriety, though he's looking to change that. "Here, let me buy you a drink or two with this coin. I am not looking to scam anyone out of their coin, and it's clear you had no agency in this here transaction."
He then flashes Shel a humorless grin, trying to put up a display of Varisian bravery, but missing the mark by quite a bit. "I do hope you're right, you know, that it is all nonsense. The cards have been all gloom and doom as of late. Oh, and sorry, let me introduce myself, the name is Ovril, Ovril Havayselvay."
Turning and waiving to Imara, "In tha morning then!" he pauses and looks to the west. 'Hmmm, can't be much later than three or four, still too early for supper.' Turning from the low lying sun towards the Longhouse Rory and Thistle follow behind the young Grandon into the building.
So I started the post last evening, wasn't sure how much I wanted to write, but I wanted to work on what I saw him doing so I just kept typing, then it continued this morning. Don't feel obligated to read. It's just me trying to get in his head.
Letting Thistle wind her way to the human size bunk they share, she comes to a stop beside the bunk knowing the sooner she sits the sooner Rory will unload the gear. Dismounting Rory unloads the saddle tossing his rucksack, saddlebags, lance, staff-sling and spare bullets on the bunk.
Once unloaded Thistle jumps to her feet and begin prancing in the aisleway, looking expectantly at Rory. When she sees him pick up the wooden bucket from the end of the bed, she stops prancing and tucking her tail lets out a slow moan. Shrugging, Rory grabs the saddle pad as he puts foot to stirrup, mounting. "Come on it's too early for dinner, we may as well get cleaned up." Thistle stand her ground, turning her head and looking back at him, giving another pitiful moan. In his most authoritative voice he gives the command "Jee." Thistle moves much slower exiting the Longhouse than she did entering, belligerently making Rory give ever command until they reach the water.
Finally reaching the Hopespring, Thistle stops about ten feet away and flops on the ground. Shaking his head as he dismounts Rory set's the bucket on the ground. "Aw come on it's not that bad, let's get this harness off of you."
Undoing the buckles for the saddle pad first, lifting it off of the leather backplate. He then unbuckles the leather helmet and neck pieces, setting them aside. Coaxing her to stand up he unbuckles the backplate and breastplate that protects her soft underbelly. Finally he lifts each paw taking off the leather padded 'booties' that protect the pads of her feet from sharp rocks.
Taking his own harness and armor off, he strips down to his blue cotton pantaloons. Having dumped the bar of soap, a stiff bristle brush and a large rag out of the bucket he head over to the spring. 'Strange old man, still doesn't hurt to have a druid looking over the water supply.' he looks around seeing Silvermane on the other side of the spring near the rock. giving a quick smile and wave, he dips the bucket in the water and walks back to Thistle.
Seeing the bucket of water , Thistle lowers her head and droops her ears giving Rory a sad look. Smiling at his wolf he raises the bucket. "Oh come on it's not that bad." He then dumps the bucket on her. Thistle, even less happy now, stands and gives a good shake as Rory uses the soap and stiff bristle brush to lather her up. Before Thistle could shake off all the soap Rory quickly fetches a second bucket he gives the still shaking wolf a good rinse. As shaking continues, the now soaked halfling steps back from his wolf admiring the work. "Well, I think that got the dust off!"
As Thistle finishes shaking off she sits and begins to lick her paws, Rory fetches another bucket from the spring, Dumping it over his own head, using the same brush and bar of soap he scrubs himself. Once satisfied that he has scrubbed enough he fetches a third bucket of water, making sure not to get any soap in the spring water and moving back a bit, dumps it on himself. Using the rag to dry himself he then fetches a fourth bucket of water.
Dropping his white linen shirt and wool stockings in the bucket he scrubs them with brush and soap, rinsing and ringing them out and laying them on a rock to dry. Using his damp drying rag he wipes the dust off of all the leather gear, first the saddle harness and leather armor, then his own leather accoutrements. Lastly he uses the still damp bristle brush on his buckskin boot, breaches and jacket then his heavy hide armor.
Satisfied that they both were clean enough for civilization, Rory laid out his rag near the other drying items, then placing the brush back in the empty bucket and went over to the cliff face and sat down. Watching the water fall into the pool below as the sun drops in the west. he leans back on both hands letting the sun's dying rays warm him. Eventually Thistle moves nearer nudging his hand with her nose. Rory smiled at the wolf, "So all is forgiven now and I suppose you want to go get dinner?" rubbing the wolf behind an ear,
Rory gets up, putting his own cloths on first then putting the war harness back on his wolf. bucket in hand he mounts and Thistle quickly finds her way back to the long house and their bunk. Dropping off the bucket and pulling dishware and her bowl out of the ruck sack they head to the mess hall.
Figured I'd stop here. After dinner Rory would work on armor and then after dark he would go have a drink (as is his habit after returning from an extended patrol) then head to bed.
I'm assuming the conversation between Shel and Ovril is happening while Rory is bathing, If the RP continues late into the evening, I will join in.
GM Michael I wasn't sure how much of the 'Longhouse's day to day' practices you had crafted yet [or how much the AP spelled out). Initially I didn't know if it was 'individual rooms' or a 'bunk house' so I just referred to his bunk. I imagine there is a mess hall, though there may not be. I'm not sure why, but I imagined a stew pot that was continuously being refilled so hungry soldiers could always grab something to eat. Possible day old bread nearby, Possibly a place where bones and offal were available for the carnivores animal companions. Decided to focus on the 'getting cleaned up' part of the night so I didn't describe things wrongly.
|Aleril of Trunau|
Coming up from the Lower Quarter The Elf had several branches in his arms he'd purchased from a Goblin Trader at The Barterstone and several pounds of good iron from a Dwarven merchant from Janderhoff. Heading back to his shop he nodded at Imara. As one of the few Elves in town, he knew her, though their lives were far different. He was an expert in bow craftsmanship and a fletcher of the best sort. Many sought his trade. Where she was more of a wildling, not prone to settling in. He did appreciate her skill with a bow though and acknowledged her before turning down the lane to his shop near the bluff.
Ruby saw Rydell before Amelia did and waved at the Half Elf. Hiya Ry. Amelia is so excited for me, youd think it was her ceremony. Im going to choose you to be my Champion tomorrow. You up for it?
part of the ceremony were several 'games' where the Champion and his crew would try to best Militia Members to show the spirit of Trunau.
|Silvermane of The Thorns|
Silverman watched Rory and Thistle near the spring, preparing for cleaning and he smiled. He kept his distance but appreciated the bond between Halfling and Wolf. He had a bond like that once...with a Firepelt Cougar...once, before, a lifetime ago.
He had been left for dead by Orc Raiders in the Ghostlight Marsh, though then it had been known as The Marsh of Thorns. When his kindred had made the sacrifice to drive off the Orcs, he had survived and took his knowledge with him to Trunau, where portents showed he would be needed. Since then his magics had come in handy several times to defend the town. Though he hadnt felt these attacks were what the portents pointed to. He touched the scaron his neck that had taken his vocal cords. and sighed. he would have liked to talk with the pair, but...it wasnt to be.
He knelt by the spring and let water and sand run between his fingers as he looked into the springs depths, the waterfall splashing on his shoulder. If the town only knew what he guarded....
Daktani came into the Killing ground, covered with dust from his labor. He had been scrubbing the barterstone clean . He ordered an ale and moved to sit with a thin half orc sitting in a booth a bit further away. They talked like old friends and held hands like lovers.
Urnsul had been sitting quietly in a booth watching the antics of the chicken and the fortune teller. She had of course seen Shel come in and nodded at her, but didnt say much. It was common knowledge that Urnsul had come into town about a month ago and been hired very soon after by Sara Morninghawk as a smith. Her work with fine metal was close to perfection and was appreciated by those who wanted jewelry in town.
|Rydell Derrick Ellindorr|
Rydell stares for a few moments before sighing mentally.
Great I just know this Amelia's doing...
You been letting Amelia talk you into things again eh?.
He glances towards Amelia before letting out a small sigh.
I suppose if that's what you want, I'll oblige. Who else? He asks
Oh I dont know. Maybe Rory and Imara...and that woman with the cute chicken who likes to do tricks. Thatd be fun. and one more...who do you think Amelia?
Oh hed be perfect...then they couldget their fortune read if they were going to succeed or not...wont Roderick be funny to watch pulling against a Gypsy and a chicken?
laughing veryloud Ruby snorted and both Amelia and her paused before laughing even louder. The Ruby said calming herself with a smile Well My Champion youd better get plenty of sleep. You'll need to marshal your troops tomorrow in my honor...Make sure you beat the Militia for me.
then a grin spread...Bold and wiley Imara, brave sir Rory and his mighty wolf...a fortune teller, the spirit talker who likes to run around half naked...and a ..chicken...
at that both girls started laughing out loud so much they almost fell over.
|Rydell Derrick Ellindorr|
Rydell stands by quietly and grins despite himself as the two go on. When she mentions Shel the grin fades a bit. Perhaps that would not be for the best.. but... that chicken IS.... Interesting could be the word.
At the mention of marshaling Rydell mulls it over briefly.
The chances of any of them, save perhaps Rory, being "marshaled" is as slim as I would be. None of us like to take orders. Hopefully they can at least follow my lead.
Rydell crosses his arms before speaking.
If worse comes to worse, we can always throw that chicken at them. I'm sure that would disrupt their ranks. Even if only for thoughts of dinner.
Well if you’re buying... Shel finishes her current drink and adjusts her seat, turning ever so slightly in the fortune tellers direction. ”Shel.” She signals the barkeep to bring her another drink. Not being gainfully employed by anyone and rarely needing to be anywhere at any particular time, Shel had few reasons to turn down free drinks. ”Doom and gloom as of late? You don’t think the act of divining the future changes the future?”
|Phoenix the Magnificent|
Phoenix dips his beak into his water then lifts his head to let the water run down his throat. Guiding the featherless ones is thirsty work. Thirsty work indeed.
|Ovril Necul Havayselvay|
The fortune-teller orders a glass of a fiesty apricot spirit, a Varisian favorite. Strong and sweet, it sweet-talks its way down your gullet before setting your whole being on fire. "Alas, I can tell you what the cards have to say, but I am not a philosopher nor a sage repository of wisdom. If the present is a constant reverberation of who we are, the future might be an extrapolation of that collective state of being. Like the journeys we undertake and the stories we tell and share, certain common aspects of our lives are condensable and predictable, given the right tools and insights."
He puts away his cards as if to say he's done with them for now yet somehow he visibly is stuck on something Shel said. "And yes, doom and gloom. Fatal portents, the sort that hangs over you like the accursed lunar shape of Groetus."
Ovril lacks the courage to tell Shel that ever since the bad readings have started to pop up, he hasn't once used his heirloom deck of Harrow cards. Perhaps the unaligned and uninitiated cards he had crafted himself weren't quite in tune with the world around them, and his readings are bogus. Or worse, tied to his own fears and failings. The thought is both comforting and chilling. "But hey! Tomorrow brings plenty of reason to feel festive! Cheers to that, to better days!"