Hey gang, my life's getting busier and I need to drop a game. No complaints at all, but this is my slowest game right now so I'm going to bow out.
Thanks yall for the game, and I wish you the best!
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Maq'la shrugs, impatient to find the vexing fey at the root of all this. "If they went through the hole, I bet it was on purpose. Perhaps hiding from our might? Let's look for tracks or other sign that might lead us to them."
Maq'la breathes a sigh of relief as she sees the Lady is found, alive. "Lady Argentea, we're happy to escort you back as soon as is possible. There are bigger forces at play here, unfortunately. We've routed the bandits, but it seems they were merely pawns of some ice mephit named Izoze and their trollish boss, Teb Notten...who all seem to be part of why it's been so f^%king cold recently. "If we can find their trail, it might make sense to stick on it first. If not, heading straight back to Heldren makes sense to me."
Seeing that Ai has managed to stave off the leader's death, Maq'la will stand over his prone body with her Aq'lakh raised threateningly. "Don't dishonor yourself and make us regret saving you from death."
While Yorah administer's first aid, Maq'la sticks pokes head out to look and listen down the stairway. Clearly the bandits below heard the ruckus. Now we learn if they are brave enough to charge up into it, or are running away. Or perhaps they prepare to surrender? That fleeing human seemed to think they mostly would rather give up, if not badgered any longer by this fool.
Maq'la bounds along the top of the table, following Rhokar. She strikes again, making sure to keep her aq'lakh ready to fend off any counterattack.
Maq'la leaps up on the table, sending dishes scattering. She swings her aq'lakh in a blur, managing to hit Rhokar in the shoulder.
"You're not getting ahead this time, Noemy!" Maq'la cheerfully bounds in behind her, swinging her aq'lakh to clear away the last remnants of broken glass as she dives through.
Sorry, I can't seem to figure out where the map is. Can someone link me to it? I assume Maq'la just charges in behind (or striding above?) Noemy...but I'd love to consult the map.
Thanks, I've been sparser than usual too. Several life hiccups. Looking forward to the rumble in the fort with yall!
Seeing Noemy down a foe before she can, she replies, "Not a bad start, no lie, but the next one's mine!" And with that Maq'la is about to charge through the door the three bandits just rushed out, when Vhekk urges caution. "I'll tell you what. Some of yall wait here to snipe. I'll flank the door and bop whoever comes out next."
"To Glor-" Noemy's about to cheer to Maq'la's jest, but remembers she's supposed to be staying quiet to not draw attention to Yorah. She instead whispers "Bet you one silver I kill more zombies today!" "You're on!"
"I'll stick with you, Noemy. There may be glory to come for each of us...but that doesn't mea I want to let you get the leg up on me in battle!", Maq'la jests.
I'm so sorry. I'll hold her, and all who loved her, in my heart. Take all the time you need.
Maq'la nods. "Being unwilling to kill your brothers is it's own form of honor, even if it's sullied by your cowardice. And being a coward is no killing offense. As my companions have said: Go far from here, and make a new life for yourself; an honest one this time."
Maq'la shakes her head. "That's up to him." Turning to the bandit, she says, "If you are telling the truth about Rokhar, and these skeletons and fae, this is your chance. You can choose to break from the dishonor you've brought on your family thus far, and attempt to redeem yourself by helping us defeat this Rokhar. If you die, at least it will have been part of a honorable, courageous undertaking. And if you live, you will have helped to undo your past mistakes and finding a new path for yourself. "The choice is yours."
Maq'la steps beside Vhekk, her aq'lakh resting easy in her hands. "Just the truth. Who is Rohkar, what is your business, and what are you looking for? Know that we have no patience for deceit."
Maq'la frowns. "These people deserve an honorable burial...but you are right, first we must find the rest of those that are plaguing us all." She takes a brief look at the atomie's body (figuring it was perhaps the leader here) to see if she can find anything useful, and then is ready to go.
Updated as well (in "Crunch (Pathbuilder)" link, in header)
When Maq'la returns to her normal size, she says, "Phew, that's a relief. No offence, Noemi, but I think one toy-sized troublemaker is enough for this here cadre. "And I know not what happened–or ought, really, about witches and faeries–but I know we fought bravely. Lilyana, no need to apologize...I just want wasn't sure I could make it all the way over to that next fairy, once the snow drifts were as high as my head." She rubs the wound on her shoulder. "But I get the sense we haven't seen the last of them, eh? And that means more Glory to be had! Let's regroup, and then soldier on."
Maq'la is just about to swing at the atomie when it gets splattered in front of her, fae blood staining the snow. "Nice shot...though perhaps you could've killed a foe further from me? Noemy, I don't know how you do this!", she complains theatrically to Lilyana while giving Noemy a wink. With a sigh, the tiny orcish warrior bound through the snow over to the only faerie left that she can clearly see. As she nears, she leaps into the air with a cry of "tlhIngan maH. taHjaj!", and swings her aq'lakh expertly, knocking the sprite roughly into the ground.
Maq'la attempts--though sheer force of heroic will--to resist the fae trickster's magic, but the sorcery is too powerful and suddenly the mighty orc shrinks to the size of a kitten. With a (now somewhat higher pitched) growl of frustration, she readies to leap up and swings her Aq'lakh at the faerie that ensorcelled her.
"Enough of your trickery!" Maq'la bellows. She bounds across the snow and smashes the stag twice with her aq'lakh. The first one knocks the massive animal's front legs out from under it with a loud crack, and the second comes down on its neck, snapping it, and dropping it to the ground.
Maq'la bites her tongue in surprise, and decides to wait to see if it answers Vhekk's question. Hoping to put it at ease, Maq'la adds, "You can count on us to be trustworthy, if we can count on you to do the same."
Maq'la shakes her head. "I can't say for certain either, but we may as well pursue. Come on!" Maq'la lopes through the snow after it, her aq'lakh in hand.
Maq'la shakes her head, "The biggest curse I feel at this point is the snow that keeps getting into my boots. There's little glory in cold, wet feet." Looking to Noemy, she adds with a chuckle, "Though perhaps I shouldn't be the first to complain on that regard, eh my friend? Are you certain you don't want to ride on my shoulder? You can always make a dramatic dive down from above onto the first foul witch we encounter."
Maq'la retches in revulsion. "They mean nothing to me, but that there are sinister people afoot...but we knew that already, didn't we? "At least we know we're on their trail now, and perhaps closing in."
"Thank you both! You have worthy skills, in and out of battle." Between Yorah's expertise with herbs and stitches, and Ai's healing waters, Maq'la is ready to fight again in no time. Maq'la takes a few minutes to gingerly stretch her newly healed leg. Once she is done, and everyone has had a few minutes to recenter themselves, she says,"Alright then. I trust that further glory awaits us!"
A the wyrm collapses, Maq'la stands still for a moment as she processes that they'd taken it down. Then she lets out a roaring, Then she brushes the snow from a fallen log with her aq'lakh, sits down, and lifts her leg to appraise the many needle-like holes (still bleeding slowly in the cold). "Not bad for my first dragon wound, eh? I wonder what kind of scar it'll make."
"Don't fret about my honor here, comrades. I am–unngh!" Maq'la grimmaces as the beast sprays her in frost, and then bites into her leg. She looks down and sees the red blood pouring from her leg start to freeze and coagulate from the cold. "–Fine to share the glory–" She gives the dragon-thing a hard smack on the head with her Aq'lakh, grinning through the pain as she does so. "–Of killing our first–" Maq'la swings again, but the beast is fast and dodges her blow, "–Dragon."
"Reveal yourself, and let's see if you're a worthy competitor!" When she spots their foe, Maq'la bounds through the deep snow with enthusiasm. ...But in her haste she misjudges how deep the snow is and her mistake causes her to swing wildly, missing the hidden creature by a mile. She scowls, but holds her aq'lakh at the ready.
Maq'la throws herself into helping to cremate the dead, and then continues along the path in silence. At first she lets herself muse about how well she did versus the zombies. It was over too early for me to even get a worthy scar...but surely there will be more foes to come, before long. As Maq'la gets further from the pyre, and from the adrenaline rush of battle, she finds herself getting colder and colder. She looks at the others–her breath crystalizing as she hikes, her toes numb in her boots–and is starts to grumble, "Even with this jacket, I'm already sick of this blasted cold. Hopefully we'll best these wintery fey soon so we can get back to an Inn and be done with the cold for goo--" Suddenly she spots the chest and stops mid-word. Looking left and right, she says in a low voice. "Careful. This may be a trap." Do you want us to roll Perception for ourselves?:
Excited for a chance to test her mettle, Maq'la bursts into action as soon as Ai's splinters shred the fabric. "Qu'vatlh! ghuy'cha'!" She bounds up to ten feet in front of the uninjured one, and with a great battle-shout she slams her Aq'lakh into it's face. She follows her first swing with another, but underestimates how far her first blow had knocked it back and finds the horrid thing jerks out of the way at the last moment.
At Noemi's suggestion, Maq'la looks over the carriage. "Hmmmm, while that's not the path to glory, I'm not opposed. That said, it looks like we'd be poking blind, and I suspect as soon as we start poking through, they'll bust right through that canvas. "What if we stand back a bit. I could throw a dart or two–maybe I'll get lucky–and then we can be ready to clobber them when they bust through that canvas and run toward us."
Maq'la shrugs. "Alright, no harm in carrying my bedroll and some jerky in my backpack."
"I suppose the glory of victory shouldn't be spoiled by suffering with a chill," Maq'la acknowledges. When Ai suggests it'll be a while until they're are back, she replies, "I don't see why we can't be back for a hot dinner at the Stoat tonight, but I'm also not selfish enough to head off to claim victory alone before my companions are ready. We will go when all are set, so long as it won't be too long a delay."
“Would that I could go with you,” he says. “My ancestors would ridicule my lack of valor for fleeing rather than fighting to the end. But I faced enemies that even the greatest warriors in the Linnorm Kingdoms have faltered against.” Maq'la says, "There is glory to dying battle...but you may yet get that chance again. Rest up, and then go out to prove that there was a reason you withdrew, by going on to vangquish more vile foes, and earn more war scars. And for today, while you're still healing, rest knowing that we will carry the banner for the day." Turning to the rest of this makeshift posse, she says, "Speaking of which, if any of you know where this happened, lead on. Maq'la, daughter of Ulkh will be right behind you."
Maq'la (who knows only Taldan and Orcish, and finds all human languages quickly start to sound the same to her) gets a bit distracted as conversation slips between multiple tongues, and she follows her little buddy toward Willowbrook. When they arrive, she's happy to get the chance to put her muddy–and all too pungent–boots on the magical mat. "Gotta admit, magic like that's just plain handy, right?", she mutteres as she enters the apothecary, and she happily murmurs a prayer to Lady Luck. Maq'la listens seriously to the ulfen warrior's tale. While no orc, she can see he's a strong warrior, and his description of their foes is concerning. "I'm sorry for your loss, but hope you take heart: while you've lost a battle you've gained new scars to tell the story of your heroism. And with the blessings of Kai'dun Khaliun–and the other gods–" she waives to the painting on the butterfly on the wall, "–perhaps a fresh crew of warriors can rescue this Lady." Turning to the crew of mostly strangers she's traveling with, Maq'la says, "I'm sure I can count on Noemy to join me in this. What of the rest of you? I know little of 'winter-touched' or witchcraft, but I'm eager to test my Aq'lakh against these wicked fey and this ice demon. And if we can rescue Lady Argentea, perhaps we will get not only glory in doing good, but also a reward, eh? Will you join me?"
Fun–and impressive–yall! I'm glad I asked. And Ai, I've got me some Hoosier roots. My folks met at IU, and I lived in campus housing there for a few years as a kid, while my dad was in grad school there.
Lilyana and Ai (or players thereof) are either of you Russian speakers? Violant/Lily, from the way you wrote your comment above, it certainly sounds like it! The only language I'm anywhere near fluent in is English, though I can hobble along in super basic conversations in Spanish or American Sign Language...if the person I'm chatting with is VERY patient. ;-) I'm in a number of PBPs where people blindly copy/paste from Google Translate (typically with the English in a spoiler or OOC tag), e.g. see the bottom spoiler on this WotR campaign I'm in...but in those cases the translation is haphazard at best, and it's really just there for the flavor of how it looks (and maybe as a way to spoiler the meaning from those who don't speak that language).
Maq'la's brows raise with respect as Vhekk tells of training while a slave. "To train in secret to be able to fight with your clan's weapon, while slavers work to keep you docile? You bring honor to your clan, and I truly hope we do get the chance to test our mettle together." She gives his unusual staff an appraising look, then hands it back to him. "Vhekk, I think Yorah's trying to say we're going to want to be wet while investigating. And you know what?" Noemy dunks her head one last time in her drink, soaking until she's rather sodden "I've got that covered! Hehe." "And here I was, thinking how dry that work was in Johas's hayfield, and how glad I am to have wet my throat before heading out again. May all our work be so wet!" As they leave, Maq'la calls out again for Khai'dun's blessings upon Kale and Menander's fine tavern.
Maq'la looks at the elderly clerk. While she's seen her about town they haven't met yet, and she waits back–leaning against the wall–content that others are asking the same questions she would.
As she walks in, Maq’la gives Kale a big smile. ”Khai’dun’s blessings on you and your tavern! I don’t suppose that barrel of orcish bloodstout has arrived, has it? No? Then let me have another pint of your delicious Three Devils. I’ve been out early helping Farmer Johas this morning and I’ve worked up a terrible thirst.” When Vhekk complements his weapon, Maq’la smiles, and hands it to the hunter so he can inspect it. ”It’s an Aq’lakh; the finest weapon there is, in the hands of a skilled warrior. And yes, good eye. Hickory, carved for me by my aunt Jakha. Check out the balance. “I don’t think I’ve seen something like what you’ve got there, but I look forward to seeing it in action, if we have the opportunity.” While she enjoys her pint, she listens to Yorah argue for haste. ”I like the fire in your heart, Yorah. You don’t want innocents to suffer, and you want to get out and test your mettle while setting things right, eh? And we will, I can feel it! But what’s the harm in going into something like this while thirsty? And see! We’ve already learned a bit more about Gand and Findol. And Lady Argentea’s bodyguard. Now which should we check out first? Maybe swing by city hall to see if they’ve got a map to copy, or any news about the bodyguard?”
Pondering briefly on the topic of alcohol, she poses a question to the orc to test a theory: "Have you ever heard of Cayden Cailean? Sounds quite similar, both in sound and in ideals, to your Khai'dun, in all honesty. I'm a worshipper of Alseta, myself, but I know a bit of Cayden seeing how popular his worship is." Maq'la laughs, slapping her flank. "Heard of him? He's the same god! Humans pronounce it 'Cayden'...which makes some sense, I suppose. Taldan-speakers often have difficulty pronouncing orcish names, after all. "The really odd part is that the humans I've met since I've come to Heldren all claim not to realize that Khai'dun was as dromarr as Yorah here: both human and orc. Honestly, how plausible is it that the god of glorious battle, of tests of strength, and of raucous drink wouldn't have some orc heritage? It seems a bit silly...but I'd been warned that humans can be quite provincial at times. No offense intended." Vhekk shrugs at Maq'la's words. "I suppose it's simply a difference of opinion, then. My god, Atarshamayyin the Windspeaker, teaches that vices of the body, such as drink, and vices of the spirit, such as undue passion, close our ears to the whispers of what was and what will be. Still, if the Voice on the Wind does not speak to you, it's no business of mine how you worship, and I wish you well." Maq'la's expression is the same as if someone said they've sworn off all food but cabbage. With a shrug, she says, "Well, we have a saying in orcish: Different strokes for different folks."
"Snow–and a frozen river–in summer? A talking stag? You're right, Noemy. You've piqued my curiosity. Let's go check it out, perhaps after a pint to loosen us up. Baling hay doesn't agree with me."
Hey yall, what do you think of having a private Discord channel for this game? (What is Discord?) I'm a big fan of keeping all Gameplay here, but over the years more and more of my PbP games have had a Discord channel for side discussion. I've found it to sometimes speed up play, and recommend it to folks who haven't tried yet. That said, PbP clearly works well without it too. I'm happy to follow Reckless' lead here, or whatever the majority wants.
When Noemy starts to climb her, Maq'la happily reaches down to put the doll-girl onto her shoulder, patting her on the head as she does. "To the Stoat! Oh and, did you hear about the goings on at Wishbone Creek? If something's really trying to lure farmers into the forest, we might just have a job on our hands, don't you think?" Shaking her head, Maq'la answers, "No, I haven't heard a thing. I got fed up from not finding any suitable warrior's work and ended up agreeing to help Farmer Johas with his hay baling today, but if you've a lead on a job worthy of our mettle then I'd love to hear it, now or over a pint." When Maq'la's eyes land on Yorah, she smiles. "Sister! I don't see enough orcs–or dromaar, for that matter–around this town. Will you join us at the Stoat too? They don't serve orcish ales, sadly, but Menander's Three Devils Ale is...worthy in its own right." When Vhekk introduces himself, Maq'la nods–frowning slightly when he mentions avoiding alcohol. "Ahhh, but a true warrior can fight mightily and drink mightily, as the moment demands. Our passions can sometimes mislead us, yes, but Khai’dun Khailiun shows us that through our passions we can also reach untold heights. "Still, Kai'dun also teaches that freedom is dear, and I'll fight for your right to abstain, if it comes to it." Turning to those new to her, she says, "At any rate, I am Maq'la, daughter of Ulkh, and a proud warrior of Clan Gartok."
Maq'la strides into town, her clothes covered in sweat after a day helping bale hay. She wears simple leathers and light furs, and has shock of icy-blue hair amidst her thick green locks. It is no shame to get a few coins for some honest labor...but where's the glory in tossing bales of hay? Surely there is some opportunity in this town to test my mettle... Maq'la twirls her Aq'lakh impatiently, and then looks up to see both the bizarre snow falling, and the little doll-girl that Maq'la met at the Silver Stoat. She laughs–a loud, warm, barking laugh–at seeing the doll-girl at play. "HA! I was just wondering who I could talk into joining me at the Stoat. And now I've got twice the reason for it, with the weather going freakishly cold. Why did I come down from the World's Edge Mountains, if it was just going to snow down here?" Maq'la notices a few others about the square as well. When a human starts muttering about the strangeness, Maq'la claps her on the shoulder. "What're you muttering about? I don't know anything about a stag or a weasel, but the Silver Stoat is a fine spot to raise a tankard." Maq'la lifts her own, slung at her waist.
Thanks for the opportunity, Reckless! Do you have a preferred option (or options) for how we do our sheets? I'm happy to use a Pathbuilder link if it's easy for you, but also happy to export as a PDF or to write out in text in my profile. To the party, I haven't read everyone's background yet but I will. I'm happy to make some modifications/interweave if you'd like. My image is that Maq'la has been in/around Hedron for about six months now, and would mostly have had occasion to meet folks either on a low-level mercenary job or at anything alcohol related (e.g. at a tavern, or a festival with drinking involved). Cheers! |