Morgan Amberlain's page

Awh shucks, I was all set for some hilarious, yet potentially deep roleplaying once Gil found out about Morgans secret : /

Hey guys! So, I'm still going to be taking a break from PbP until further notice, but I'm feeling better and well enough to post in the actual discussion thread today.

I just wanted to point out that if Morgan has any secrets, they're related to Karm's banishment (maybe--never got that bond fully fleshed out). Morgan's gender identity and gender expression has never been secrets to anyone, Gil just made assumptions, and was going to be corrected as soon as we were all, you know, not fighting for our lives. :P

One of my friend's most memorable D&D/PF characters (I only heard about him, never played in that game) was a dwarf named Byron Stonef*~+er. He was a black dwarf Fighter with a bald head and clean-shaven face, a distate for alcohol, whose weapon of choice was a katana. He would get extremely upset if anyone questioned his eschewing of traditional/stereotypical Dwarven culture.

I just have the worst post timing apparently. The ONE TIME I don't preview, there are two posts before mine. :P

"Skorabor, there are a couple of troughs of water over there--think we could lift them together?" Morgan shouts out to the strange newcomers as well, the skinkman and elf in the barn, pointing: "There's water inside the barn!" Wherever they had come from, they seemed to be acting as allies--despite the one being some controller of death and the other a pirate (and one who Morgan had encountered in that capacity personally, at that)--at least for now.

Morgan smiles at Skorabor with the same kind and worried brow, and shakes his head. "I'll be okay. That fire is more important right now." There was the creek--but Morgan didn't have anything to get the water from it, and running for a bucket would take too long--the princess squints through the darkness to find something useful for putting out the fire, sneaking a concerned glance at the two shapeshifters. Seeing that Horn has the situation under control--for now, at least--Morgan looks in and around the barn for something useful.
Discern Realities: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (3, 3) + 1 = 7
All right, so I get one question: What here is useful to me?

Is there any large, nearby source of water? Like a lake or river? Or even a full rain-barrel?

Morgan takes a moment to admire the Northman's weaving--more hypnotized than engrossed--but soon shakes it off when he realizes that Gilder is missing. "Gilder?" he questions softly, looking around for his bodyguard. "Gilder?" he calls again, louder, feeling a panic rising in his chest. Where the hell has he gone?

Morgan rushes downstairs, sits and quickly sweeps aside the silvered hem of his dress to pull off his shoes and tug on the former dwarf explorer's boots--they might come in handy--stuffing the other shoes in the bag with the strange magical orb and other adventuring supplies. He dashes outside (no Gilder, nor Florin either, upon looking around), then with a shaky breath intended to calm himself, he starts off in the direction that it looked like the mink went. Through the darkened forest, Morgan stumbles and curses, and is almost sure that he's going the wrong direction until he smells smoke in the distance. He gulps and dashes toward the smell, bow in hand. He emerges from the wood to find the scene at the barn. Noticing the rather beaten-up Skorabor sitting dazed on the ground, Morgan rushes over. "Skorabor? Are you all right? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look terrible..." Morgan soothes, a smile on his lips but his eyes betraying his concern as he lays a hand on the dwarf's.
Gentle Touch: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (4, 1) + 2 = 7
Skorabor Healed/Morgan Damaged: 1d8 ⇒ 5
As Morgan touches Skorabor's hand, there is a warmth that flows through him. Some of his cuts close and his bruises shrink, but as they do, Morgan seems to grow tired, and the hand that touches the dwarf splits open on the back, the skin parting as if Morgan had been cut deeply. He winces, but his smiling-concerned face remains as he looks into the dwarf's eyes. He's worse than I thought...his eyes look a little unfocused--maybe a concussion? Morgan asks quietly, "Hey Skorabor, are you okay? Feeling bad?--besides the pain from fighting?"

Bwuh. Didn't see that you posted already. We can say this happens before you stand up? Or maybe it will take me too long to get there before that?

Sad to see you go, Gilder, but I totally understand; I recently had to cut down quite a bit myself.

So, should I rewrite my bonds? Maybe just leave the blanks empty? Will Gilder remain as an NPC?

Upstairs, there is unfortunately no moonlight with which to examine the orb. But it feels surprisingly 'warm' to the touch, and you swear you can feel slight motion within.

Ah, my mistake, I thought the moon was out tonight. However, surely the wizard who can cast a light spell isn't working on his spellbook in the dark?

Given the speed with which the others rushed out the door, Morgan doesn't want to try to catch up with them--either he'll lag behind or fall into an ambush (Gilder was always talking about ambushes--mostly about surviving through them--but enough that Morgan didn't feel like getting caught in one). The best thing to do now would be to wait until Torvald came to, and wait for his defenders to get back. He slips Leona's pendant over his head and lets it hang from his neck, but places it inside his shirt to hide it.

Intrigued by the former-dwarves' articles, Morgan carefully removes the bag, hoping that its threadbare stitches hold, and starts to head upstairs--but not before he investigates the strangely well-preserved boots. Thinking of the blisters on his own feet (his shoes were very cute, but hardly built for walking so often), he sucks in a nervous breath through clenched teeth and tugs the boots off the crumbling bones. With a practiced eye for fashions from across the continent, he looks them over, seeing if he recognizes the make.
Spout Lore: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 5) + 1 = 11

He then heads up the stairs to find Karm. The man frightened him somewhat--he had shared that he was "twice-banished," and Morgan was wary of that kind of exile (much different from his own, of course). But he seems to be wordly, so Morgan heads into the room where the wizard sits weaving. "Karm?" he asks tentatively, "I don't wish to intrude, but I found some strange objects--could you tell me anything about them? This one looks like a crystal ball or something," he guesses, removing the glass orb and holding it up to the moonlight.

EOCI

I totally heard about that on NPR! It was an incredibly brief update that I heard in the less-than-ten minutes or so I was in a coffee shop getting my breakfast. I was like, "Huh, wonder if it's the same one. Probably just a coincidence."

How's eastern Oregon for finding gaming groups? I actually live in Portland, so there's plenty of PFS stuff here, but I switched to the online games because my commute kind of precludes me from going to the physical tables anymore.

Morgan snatches Leona's pendant from Torvald's pocket, running his thumb over the familiar silver chain and dangling emerald. He turns it over to find the engraving on the back: "LA." Definitely Leona's. Morgan bites his lip in frustration--was the innkeeper responsible for this? Was he a traitor? A pawn?

These thoughts are interrupted by the elven pirate dumping a spit bucket on the floor, and running out the door followed by most of the other tavern occupants. "Horn, wait, I--" the princess manages to get out, but not before the halfling flies out the door. He thinks about following them, but the sense of dread from his nightmare returns, halting his steps. He shivers and turns back toward Torvald; surely there must be something in here to wake him up or give some answers. Morgan looks around, stopping at the sight of the swarven skeletons in the wall. He shudders once more, but approaches them, using his bow to retrieve the knapsack between them so as not to touch the ominous bones, and looks inside for anything of use.

I'll still try to answer questions in the meantime, however, if some come up.

You're welcome to add more detail to the pendant. If not, I will do so.

You can go ahead and describe the pendant. I'm feeling very much on the side of "find out what happens" with this particular development. :)

Hope things work out at work!

"The mink ran out the door! Black fur, stitched lips...wait, 'milady'? I'm not--" Morgan starts, but he is interrupted by Skorabor crashing through the wall in a spray of dust, wood, and bone. Figuring that it would be futile to try and catch a dark, tiny weasel in the middle of the night (at least for Morgan--he barely knew how to light a torch, much less see in the dark or have the constitution to run after a mink through the tangled forest), he rushes over to the unconscious innkeeper.

He kneels down beside the debris-laden man, brushes off the rubble, and frowns with concern at the small cuts and bruises that sparsely pepper his form like dusty stars. Morgan reaches out a slender hand and wipes off some dust from the man's face, holding it comfortingly to his cheek. "Oh, Torvald...what is going on? Come on, you'll be all right..." Morgan's voice is sweet and clear, full of a nervous hopefulness. The innkeeper had been a bit salty when he and Gilder came in, but at the mention of Leona's name he became much more helpful--evidently she had stayed here on many of her outings beyond The Wall. Why wasn't she here yet?
I believe this should trigger my Gentle Touch move--unless "unconsciousness" isn't numerical damage I can heal?
Gentle Touch: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (2, 1) + 2 = 5
Well, in any case, I guess it doesn't matter with that roll!

For my Discern Realities question, I'd like to ask: What should I be on the lookout for?

Morgan's eyes widen at the sight of the stitch-mouthed halfling. He's real! A familiar vision flashes before his eyes: a dream; well, a nightmare:

A halfling with an owlish face--Horn, Morgan knows now--transforms into a great horned owl, and chases after a shaggy black mink with its lips stitched shut. The mink runs for its life, but the owl closes. It swoops silently through the trees, its claws sharp and ready. The mink disappears behind a bush, and as the owl chases, dark tendrils of smoke emerge and hold fast to its wings. Its head rotates wildly as it struggles against the shadowy restraints, but it is of no use. The owl is dragged to the ground, and a wild-haired halfling with his smiling lips stitched closed steps out from behind the bush. He approaches the struggling owl with a length of dark green thread and a long bone needle...

Morgan's heart pounds in his chest as he frantically whispers to the elf in front of him: "I've seen that mink before! It's dangerous--should we go after it?"

As the shade-turned-skeleton before him succumbed to the elf's blade, Morgan moved to the side as the elf dashed into the rented room. The shades, the skeletons--it was all too much. I didn't think it would be like this! Okay, calm down... Morgan thinks, his nocked arrow trembling but still tensely ready. The princess takes an unsteady breath, which helps. Gilder said to get Florin. I'll get Florin. Maybe then I can find Leona...I hope she's okay...

With that, Morgan heads down the stairwell, but stops and holds his breath when he hears the innkeeper conversing with someone below. Morgan pads quietly down the stairs, staying out of the dim firelight (presumably relit recently) and straining his ears to hear with keeping his bow at the ready.
I'm going to try to Discern Realities by listening closely to the conversation, seeing if I can get a surreptitious glimpse of the speakers without being seen, and seeing if I can recognize or discern any shadows cast on the wall from the fireplace. How much of the conversation have I heard from the stairwell?
Discern!: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 1) + 1 = 7
EDIT: I'd like to know how much of the conversation I heard before I choose my question. Also, let me know if this is the proper use of a roll. :)

Morgan nearly cries out as a shape descends from above--the elf! Morgan slowly loosens his arrow, and raises a finger to his lips to indicate a need for a furtive approach--when a loud crack comes from a nearby wall. Morgan turns back toward the elf, and in a panicky, hoarse tone whispers, "I don't know why you're here, but you don't seem to want to rob me tonight--or if you do, you've done a very bad job of it so far." Despite his trembling lips and shaking hands, Morgan's eyes are sharp and searching as he searches the elf's face for intention. With time being of the essence, he hastily adds, "Listen: protect me, and I will make it worth your while." Morgan's hands return to his bow, and he deftly skirts around the elf, up the stairs, to put the pirate between him and whoever is downstairs.

I'll go ahead and make a radically assumptive post then, and we'll see if it flies. ;D

Hey friends, just wanted to stop in and apologize for the absence. Like I said, new job, very busy. Plus my internet just flat out did not work for huge swaths of the weekend. x.x

I'll try to get something up tomorrow. I'm glad to see that in the daunting 20+ new posts, I feel like I haven't missed TOO much!

As mystical light floods into the hallway, Morgan squints against the sudden illumination. When his vision clears, two shocking images stand before him: a charred skeleton--was it one of the shades?--and a tall, familiar elf. "It's you!" Morgan cries out, the image of the salty elf a more unlikely phantasm than the vicious shadows pursuing them.

Morgan shakes off his amazement, though, and turns his attention back to the task at hand. Florin was outside, and Morgan intended to reach him. "The only way out is through..." he says quietly, and moves to the side of the hallway to shoot an arrow at the dark spirit blocking his way.
Volley!: 2d6 ⇒ (6, 4) = 10
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 6

A note: I rolled a 4, not for Volley, but for damage (while the shadows were momentarily stunned by the bats, and with a -2 for their apparent "armor"). I can go back and actually make a 2d6 roll if needed, instead of a 1d6 one. :P

Have you played any Apocalypse World? My friend got me a bundle of indie RPGs, Apocalypse World and Dungeon World included, and while I'm excited to be playing DW, I ALSO still want to try out AW.

In the dark, the room explodes with a pandemonium of sound, and Morgan's heart races even faster. The bats--Gilder calling out in his usual triumphant way--the Northman casting another spell against the shades--it was time.

Morgan pushes open the flimsy door to the closet with his shoulder (luckily the shadows had not tried it, since there was nothing holding it particularly shut--not that that would have stopped them probably) and takes advantage of the light from Karm's spell to loose an arrow at the shadow attacking the wizard.
1d6 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4

In the ensuing chaos--the (brief) fire and shouting from the hallway, the sudden mountain lion and living corpse and the skink standing in the doorway with his eye floating in front of him--Morgan rushes behind the floating-eyed reptilian and stands in the doorway. "Karm!" the princess calls out, his voice ringing clearly like a bell despite the din of battle. "If there are too many, I'll try to draw some out! Finish the ritual if you can!"

Morgan then rushes down the hall--and almost smacks into a tall figure standing before yet another shade. That voice... Morgan thinks, looking up at the figure in the faintest glow of embers from a smoldering tapestry he holds, I've heard this man's voice before...

Sorry for the posting delay! I just got a new job, so I've been busy. Also, I was trying to figure what to do besides hide in a closet. :P

Morgan does his best to stay calm. He holds his breath as the shadows stalk in, and manages, apparently, not to alert them. The air in his chest feels as tense as the arrow nocked on his bow. Not that it was guaranteed to be useful--if the rumors were true, the arrow would simply pass through their shadowy forms without so much as a scratch. Still, it gave some comfort. The dark, silent room suddenly flashes with the light of the old Wizard's magic and rumbles with the dwarf's shouts. Morgan watches intently from the slatted door of the closet, ready to spring into action once the ritual goes off.

The princess can't take his eyes off the shade as the serpents of light tear into it. The old Northman had said he could control magical powers, but this was the first Morgan had ever seen of such things. His eyes are wide, but he fights to remain silent--not yet, wait for the wizard, wait for Gilder... But what were these foul creatures?

As long as the trees aren't moving, we'll be fine.

Sounds about right to me. Morgan knows that he's in constant danger, and wants to get back to Dunsinane eventually, but he has no idea who hatched the plot to kill him or how he's going to stop them. He'll certainly be trying to figure it out, though!

Oh, goodness, I did not mean to post as my GM alias...whoops.

In any case, I've decided that Morgan is from the kingdom of Dunsinane.

I'm gonna keep thinking that DM Mogthrasir's posts are mine--I use the same chicken weathervane avatar on my GM alias.

It depends on how long I've been in exile, fleeing from my assassins. I had imagined that Morgan was still fairly inexperienced in matters outside of his kingdom, and had been running for, say, a year at most. How about one year? Is that long ago enough? Leona could have been there as well, and only recently has parted from Gilder and me with the planned rendezvous at the inn. Does that work?

So somewhere on the way to Karl's Creek, Morgan and Gilder had to take a ship. I feel like that raises some interesting questions about why my sister Leona would have us flee somewhere so far as to require a ship (especially one of a size to attract pirates!). For my bond with Gil, it seems that something must have prevented me from wishing his death; and probably more than just his exquisite elf-ness. :P Instead...
I have seen Giltharon in my dreams.
I dreamed about this elf before I met him. I cannot recall specifics very well--there was a vast ocean, and dark shapes, and the elf standing tall and shining against them. I do not know what this meant, but when I saw him on that ship, I knew that we would meet again.

As a minor but not inexplicable issue, Gil, I have since modified Morgan's stats and gear from my original post (which is what is linked to in an earlier character list). I have since traded out my short sword for an ornate bow instead. That said, there's no reason I couldn't have switched in the fiction at some point.

As far as Mandus goes, Morgan had never met any non-humans within his own kingdom. He probably believes all sorts of (mostly) incorrect fairy tales about the skinks, if he has heard of them at all. That said, Morgan's hopeful outlook and appreciation for Duty probably puts Mandus' own piety and respect for his community in a good light--perhaps not exactly good enough to absolve his scary necromancy, but it's a start. As far as the Nemesis is concerned, I think that they're a little closer to home...

EDIT: Oh, and I forgot to actually write up a bond!

Mandus looks like something right out of a fairy tale--and not one that ends Happily Ever After.

Rough couple of days, will try to post soon. Like what I've seen so far. :)

Good question! For Morgan you should use male pronouns. Although for royal titles, by blood he's a prince, but by "office," so to speak, he's a princess. So probably Princess Morgan would be his preferred full address.

I think Morgan will like Mandus, since their beliefs in Duty are similar. :)

Hey all, just popping in to say a few things. I've been following along, I've just been busy and quiet.

Karm An important secret, eh? Maybe I haven't revealed my royal station to you yet, or I know some Royal Secret about your banishment.

I like how both Gilder and Horn want to teach me how to be more like them! Shall I follow the path of the Hero or the Hunter? :)

I think there may be some confusion about my starting question:

Speak Softly... - Morgan - You're hidden in the closet. Not necessarily by some grand design, but out of "discretion". None of these things seem to realize you're there though, which gives you an advantage.

I don't know if I ever said anything about "discretion," I thought I was hiding because there are evil shadows looking for me. :P

I was also thinking more about my interactions with Gilder. Is Gilder a loyal subject of my kingdom? If so, perhaps my sister Leona entrusted him with my protection. Maybe Gilder learned the art of the blade from Leona, and she trusted him as her most skilled pupil? I also wanted to have two bonds with Gilder, as I feel he's the main character in our group who would simultaneously appreciate my Aid and require the most Interference.

Numeo, I'd be fine with a lizard or rat race! It would certainly make things more interesting, I think.

Yeah, as always, these are all just proposals for ideas. The reason for my hiding can tie in with another question answered:

What are they after?
They are after Morgan (although not necessarily just him), and have been sent by his Nemesis!

Horn is in my nightmares, sure, but is it a nightmare because of you or something else? >:)

I imagine that Karm was banished from my kingdom--considering his age, it was mostly likely before I was even born. I don't know if my kingdom is in the north. That depends on whether Karm was born a Northman, or became one.
________________________________________

•Speak Softly…
Where are you?
Hidden in the closet of Gilder's room.

How did you get there, and how long have you been there?
It was agreed that I should be the one to hide, and I have been waiting in the closet since we "retired" for bed.
________________________________________

Other questions:
What are these things?
Living shadows, restless spirits pressed into service of dark magic. They assume the rough shape of the necromancer that bound them, but without faces.

Does anyone else know you guys are here, besides the inn keeper. Who and how?
My sister Leona. After saving my life with her skill at arms (I certainly know no one who can best her in a fight sword fight), she bade me flee to this inn, and promised to meet me here soon. She hasn't arrived yet, though...

Nemesis
Tags: Cold, Wrathful, Beautiful Considering what I explain below, I think that my Nemesis is starting to sound like Azula from Avatar: the Last Airbender...
All right, with this, I think that my Nemesis is a would-be tyrant who wants to control the people of the kingdom through fear, either someone below me in line for the throne, or a corrupt adviser to someone in my family. The hope I represent is in their way of their control by fear, so they plotted to have me killed. Their attempt was foiled (by either someone warning me about or rescuing me from the assassination), but now I have fled into the wilderness/countryside/what have you because the palace is no longer safe for me. Which leads to...

Drive
Right a wrong. I have been driven out of my comfortable life of sheltered wealth and comfort. I have seen the poverty of my people and the fear that controls them. I will--I must, for it is my duty--give them hope and end their tyranny.

Bonds
_____Karm_____ is a former subject of my kingdom.
_____Skorabor_____ does not believe in themself. I hope to change that.
I have seen _____Horn_____ in my nightmares.
_____Gilder_____ is my trusted confidant.
_____Gilder_____ trusts my word completely.

Dot!

Crunch update: So originally, I based Morgan's stat line roughly on my, the player's, own, although certainly with a modest boost to Constitution. Now, on a related note, I had to run for (and then miss) a connecting bus today. Having run only a paltry distance, I was basically dying, sooooo I think I can no longer in good faith have Morgan's Constitution that high. I'm thinking Cha>Wis>Int>Dex>Str>Con instead.

For the Nemesis, I was thinking they would be someone who wanted to kill him for his ability to inspire hope in the people of the kingdom--I think it'll be A Poor Kingdom--and wishes to see him fail for some reason. Either the outcome of a hopeful kingdom is hateful to them, and/or they don't want the job done by a drag-princess. I don't know if I would know them or not. I'm imagining that they betrayed Morgan and forced him to flee/sent him into exile, which is why he's now out adventuring. He didn't suspect anything or anyone, so I was counting on that third tag from you to determine the nature of them (unless you don't choose a noun).