Gameplay thread here fellas!
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dot!
It's morning and you are all getting up. It's been a bright time, this morning, as the sun rises through the city. Helios has provided a bright and sunny day. It is also mid July and Zeus will probably bring thunderstorms.
You own either a house or live in an apartment. You all know each other and live closely to one another. Describe your wake up routine.
Whitley woke up with a start early in the morning, sweat beading across his forehead. Like usual, he had had a nightmare where he was unable to move, reduced to a mere observer in his own life. His eyes adjusted to the low light provided by the small window in his apartment, bringing into focus the poor conditions he lived in. It was a small one room apartment, and as Whitley got up he reached over to the drawers that also served as his kitchen table, countertops, and anything else table-shaped.
He quickly put on his casual clothes, slipping his hide shirt over top before exiting the "apartment" and stepping into whatever this day brings.
Toc sleeps nude, curled on the floor next to a perfectly serviceable bed. A bird lands on the window ledge and it's claws click on the the sun hardened wood.
With a snarl Toc it awake, crouched like a predator ready to pounce, the hammer he has cradled all night held ready to swing.
The tension drains from his large sinuous frame as he realises there is no foe.
As he rises to his full formidable height, arms spread wide, he stretches every creaking and cracking muscle in turn. He ties a rough cloth about himself to save the locals their blushes and crams the last few mouthfuls of last night's meal into his maw.
Finally, he washes his breakfast down with the dregs of a cup of wine gone acid overnight and heads off to the foundry.
When the sun begins to break, Sirrus is already awake. Years as a slave always had him up before his masters. The habit remained even after buying his freedom. His apartment is small and sparse, but it serves the purpose of a place of safety and a place to sleep.
Most of Sirrus’s day is spent away from his apartment and out in this magnificent city. He first visits the Temple of Athena, prays and makes an offering. Then, he heads to the market for breakfast. He finds a fresh, aromatic bread and buys it. Nothing beats a fresh loaf of bread that you didn’t have to make yourself, he thought.
You find yourselves outside the agora, also called a market. Yes, nothing beats a fresh loaf of bread. The foundry is a bit further off for Brother Toc, and Whitley has his own reasons to go here.
Toc trudges towards the foundry, never wavering. He does not step aside for other people, people tend to subconciously move out of his way.
A nostril flares, fresh bread.the taste of the sour wine is still in his mouth, not the worst he has ever tasted, but not pleasant. After all, a detour through the agora would not make him late... Just less early than usual.
Sniff... Sniff, sniff
Ducking his shoulders under a low slung awning, Toc steps into the market, following his nose.
As Whitley made his way into the market, his usual begging spot, he saw Toc sniffing around. "Hello, my large stinky friend. How goes thee?"
Sirrus carries his bread through the agora. He heads to Whitley's begging spot. It was still early enough. I have time to see him, he thinks to himself, then gives a muffled little chuckle. Time - It is his thing. Sirrus didn't realize how true that was. Only that the strange gnome talked about it a lot. He wasn't sure why, but there was something unique about Whitley's pattern.
As he got closer, he heard Whitely call out to Toc. Great. he thought with sarcasm. It wasn't that he hated the orc; he was just uncomfortable to be around. He was an orc after all, and he was as blunt as his hammer. And there was that "Chosen of Gorm" stuff. Well, Athena help him.
Hey, Whitley! Hey, uh, Toc. he says has he draws near.
Distracted by Whitley's sudden appearance Toc missteps and ends up kicking a stone water trough.
"Is it a good morning Whitley? Do your wishes have that power? You smile away, but the wine is still sour and the rocks still bite." As the pain in his food fades so his grump mellows "But I hope you are well and your targets have been generous this morning."
Toc spots Sirrus' approach
Always looking down on me. So high and mighty.
"Uh, Sirrus. Whitley says the morning is good. What says your mighty wisdom?"
"Well, I haven't gotten much yet. The day is what you make of it, Toc. Do not be so negative so early, it dulls the mind." he says, holding an empty begging plate.
Whitley turns and faces Sirrus. "Hey, Sirrus, good to see you again. AS Toc said, how's your morning going?"
Let's hope they stay civil. I hate breaking up their arguments.
"Only the godless have dull minds. My brain is shining Bronze."
The three of you see a man in his forties approach all three of you. "I've been looking for you," he says. "Meet me in the hostel, I'll have fresh food for you."
Prior to the man's approach.
The morning is so far pleasant, but there are far more hours remaining. We will see if they fall in a new pattern, or if the day will be like any other. There's a tone of frustration at the end of his remarks. I've been here for weeks, and I'm no closer to finding training, he ruminates.
It's good to see neither of you are bad off.
After the man's invitation.
Sirrus looks at the bread in his hands, shrugs his shoulders, and stuffs it into his bag. It appears the pattern is changing, my friends. I will go with this fellow. What say you?
Though eager at this new prospect, Sirrus studies the man to get any clues about who he is.
Prior to the man's approach.
The morning is so far pleasant, but there are far more hours remaining. We will see if they fall in a new pattern, or if the day will be like any other. There's a tone of frustration at the end of his remarks. I've been here for weeks, and I'm no closer to finding training, he ruminates.
It's good to see neither of you are bad off.
After the man's invitation.
Sirrus looks at the bread in his hands, shrugs his shoulders, and stuffs it into his bag. It appears the pattern is changing, my friends. I will go with this fellow. What say you?
Though eager at this new prospect, Sirrus studies the man to get any clues about who he is.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8
Apparently, something else distracted you.
"I am Toc. Why have you been looking for me? Do I look starved to you?" Toc stretches to his full, intimidating height and puffs his muscular chest "Do you think I can be bought with bread? What do you want little man?"
Sirrus rubs his forehead and sighs. Orcs… But instead of following, he waits for a reply. Well, the question has been asked. Now, he’ll tell us, or he’ll insist we discuss it when we get there. If the latter, Toc won’t go, and this man will leave us all or push things until the orc starts fighting. I wonder who’s side I’d choose…
Toc, he says as he puts a friendly had on Toc’s shoulder. What harm could there be in going with him?
"One time, when I was a kid, I followed a stranger into an alley and I got beaten up and all my stuff was stolen. I would ask the same question as Toc. Who are you and what do you want?" Whitley says, positioning himself slightly behind the large Orc.
He was familiar with the Orc's temper, and didn't want to be caught between the man and Toc if the questions were refused.
"Haven't I made that clear? I'd like you to do guard duty," he explains.
Sirrus removes his hand fro Toc shoulder and turns to look at the two. Now, see! Guard duty. A respectable job if I’ve ever heard of one. And I, for one, am curious! Are you satisfied? While clearly enticed by the prospect, Sirrus makes no moves to follow the man without his companions.
"Hng. Your stuff is safe now Gnome. I will not have you beaten."
Toc thinks of the rocks that await his attention at the foundry, it was a fair way to stretch his muscles and release the tension in his body but it did little to quiet his mind. His constant background urge to fight.
"I will come and I will eat and I will listen. A warning to you, do not cross me or the Gnome. I would destroy you where you stood."
Whitley lets an awkward smile flash on his face at the not-so-veiled threat from Toc to the man. "I'm not sure how great of a guard I'll make, but I'll accompany you guys." Whitley steps towards and will follow the man.
"Good," said the man. "You may call me Anaxertes. Come with me and we will talk about it over some bread and wine, and maybe some cheese."
Lip still curled in distain, Toc follows with the others.
Whitley glances over at Toc and casts message, his eyes closing and reopening with a vast empty white. Yet, he keeps moving.
Anaxertes leads you to a bar, where you can buy drinks and some food. In this case, he is paying. There are some people ordering a stew here. "Order up, I'll pay for it," he explains.
Whitley smiles for the first time during this encounter, quickly calling the barkeep over and buying the most expensive meal on the menu (within reason.) "If you're paying, I'm buying!" he says, laughing heartily.
Toc, as usual, grunts and snorts on his way to the bar. He listens as Whitley orders
"Sounds ok. I'll have two of what hes ordered."
When the staff pause, wondering if Toc means he'll have 'what Whitley's having aswell' Toc gives a series of gestures, not often seen in polite company, that confirm his appetite in no uncertain terms.
...And your best wine!
Now your host is wondering if this was a mistake. They definitely do serve wine. Their best wine.
Slurping loudly and regularly wiping his mouth with the back of his fist, Toc noisily makes his way through the meal.
While a bit more civilized, Whitley consumes his meal just as quickly as Toc.
"Alright, guard duty," says Anaxertes. "You seem to be the fine fellows I'm looking for. All you have to do is guard a shipment of grain from the docks to the Persian quadrant."
"Fine fellows we are indeed! That seems like quite the easy job! Well - do we have to carry them or is a wagon or the like being provided for us? Because i'm not much help in the physical labor category."
"A wagon is provided for you, that's for sure," Anaxertes says.