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"I'm cooking, am I?" Quintessa says, facing Graham as she drops into a knee beside Teela. Turning back to poisoned friend, she steadies the bard’s shoulder as she "helps" force the antidote down. "Eaasssy. Small swallows. Breathe... Good. Good." She nods to Graham. "Keep her propped and talking. If she fades, shake her and keep her eyes on you."
Quintessa continues to unload her most powerful spells, not holding back on this monstrosity. She superheats the create with a surge of fire magic before raising her shield again.
With Velas empowered, she focuses on the large insect itself. Circling her hands in front of her, she draws forth stray metal fragments and sends them flying towards the creature. ◈◈
I apologize for slow posting. I am exceptionally busy with work at the moment.
Quintessa darts in behind Velas, palm warm on the small of his back. "Show me the edge of your blade." she whispers in a rushed voice. As his blade tilts, she sketches a quick lattice of glyphs in the air as runes slither down onto the steel.
Quintessa tips her chin to Meepo, slipping back into Draconic. Draconic:
"Meepo Sootscale, it's your choice, not ours." "Take a blade and stand with us, but you follow our calls and stay behind our shield wall. No running ahead, no striking prisoners. You are here to reclaim what was taken from you." "Or take your freedom now. We’ll give you water and a weapon for the road. Carry this message to Chief Sootscale. The chartered folk who freed you come to parley in peace. We hunt the mites for a woman’s silver ring and for your Old Sharptooth." "If we find Old Sharptooth, we return it to your chief. That’s my word." She nudges a fallen mite’s shortsword toward him, hilt first.
Quintessa’s smile thins "The choices we make now will affect what happens with the Sootscales later. Should you show anything less than full support of Meepo's endeavors, it will make life down the road harder for us." "G%$!$#nit. A damn frost giant problem every other day with you guys. We can put it to a vote." She turns to address Teela directly "Teela, call it a frost giant situation if you like, but that situation kept all of us alive and moving and with enough resources to save others. I didn’t bargain for sport, I did it because a dozen corpses said steel wasn’t the smart answer." She exhales, steady but cool, trying her best to not lose her patience. "You sing when blades aren’t enough. I parley when fighting isn’t wise. That’s teamwork. Save the little jabs for the foes, not your allies if you don't mind." She turns her back on the seamstress and walks to the other side of the room, frustrated.
"Fair. They’re nasty little wretches... and we’ve the bites to prove it. But let’s not forget, Teela - we climbed into their warren and have been room-to-room clearing it. Our goal was the ring and now possibly Old Sharptooth, not a tally of corpses." She nods toward Meepo. "And the Sootscales? We just cut one of theirs loose and kept him breathing. That buys us a hearing. Pacify doesn’t mean pardon, it means end the raids with the least blood that gets the job done. If Tartuk’s the rot, we pull the root. If the tribe will parley, we talk. Hope isn’t naive, it's our leverage unless you want to clear every sycamore in the Greenbelt the hardway."
Draconic:
"Tartuk. Purple-skin from the west, ruling through fear. Got it. And Old Sharptooth, is it ... a creature? A totem? Something the mites stole? Where do they keep it, further below, with their chief?" She shifts to common for the party. "Useful information here. Name in hand and motive in sight. We help find this Old Sharptooth to win the Sootscales, and with it, likely recover Svetlana’s ring from the same stash. Pacify over purge stays on the table."
Quintessa’s eyes narrow, assessing, not hostile, but her demeanor suddenly changes. She switches to smooth, court-perfect Draconic. In a soft, measure tone she begins: Draconic: "Sootscale, then. Good. We’ve met your Greenback neighbors. They claim a new hand is driving your tribe to raid. We also found one of your black-scales slain beneath this very tree, peppered with darts and stabbed in the back. We hunt the mite-thieves here for a woman’s silver ring...and because their poison and cruelty offend us." She glances to her companions, then back to Meepo. "People have told us that there is a conflict amidst the Sootscales and we want to help resolve it. I prefer peacefully. Tell your chief to expect us as friendly visitors, just like we saved you here today. We’ll come to speak rather than spill blood. But I’ll have truth in return. Who leads you now besides Chief Sootscale? Name them for us, if you would."
Quintessa tests her weight, winces once, then smooths what’s left of her torn sleeve and crosses to the chained kobold. She stops a few paces off, palms open, voice low and even. Switching to the creature's native tongue, she starts a dialogue. Draconic:
"Peace, little scale-cousin. We are not your captors. We won’t harm you."
She nods toward Sir Scarlet’s blade and Alvis’s kit. "If you allow it, we’ll free you, give you water, tend those burns. I am Lady Quintessa Orvlovsky. These are my companions." "You are Meepo? Good. Tell me. Whose nest is this, and why did they take you? How many mites still skitter below? Do they serve a Lord, or only themselves? We also seek a plain silver ring taken from a woman at the trading post, have you seen such a thing?"
Quintessa eases down onto the packed earth, propping her bad ankle on her pack and staring up the shaft, spying Teela still descending. "Oh. Take your time, Teela. No rush. We only slew a small nation of mites waiting for your grand entrance." She waits a beat, then flashes a crooked smile. "Next charter I’m petitioning House Orlovsky to fund stairs." She glances down at her skirts with a sigh. "It appears I also tore the hem and a sleeve on that graceful swan-dive. Teela, when you’re done drumming us to glory, I’ll owe your patchwork before we march, or I’ll unravel by lunchtime."
Quintessa glares at the greenish one, summoning an attempt to look dangerous and fearsome, but shifts her weight to her bad ankle and winces, ruining the attempt. Groaning in frustration, her fingers begin to crackle as she summons another arc of electricity to blast between these creatures.
Fighting through her twisted ankle, she climbs to her feet crying out in pain. Standing with all of her weight on her left foot, she sends another blast of electricity through the room.
She fights through the pain in her ankles and reaches out and grabs a hold of Velas's ankle. "Velas! You are needed now!" she cries out, infusing him with the essence of life. Still on the ground, she targets the creature hovering over Velas's body with some electrical current, sending it to the other injured creature in the room afterwards. ◈◈
Quintessa hears what's happening below and knows they are running out of time and she needs to act. She let's go of her hand hold and free falls to the ground, land with a crack that shoots a pain up her legs as her ankle twists unnatuarlly.
Quintessa hears the sounds of Velas's being attacked and frowns about some poor decisions that have been made. Mostly talking to herself, she thinks through her options. "I am not going to be able to get down there quickly, climbing is not my forte, I'm afraid. I have some rope or I could light a torch and send it down."
"Agreed. Let’s come at them from the other descent. If they’re waiting here, let them wait for ghosts." She cocks the crossbow and nods. "On your lead. Slow and steady, please. Let’s make this clean without any unecessary incidents."
Hero Points
@GM - There isn't a "great" mechanic for handling Hero Points in PBP. In PBP, hero points suffer and usually make their appearance only once a level. In one of my games though, the GM suggested we award it every weekday. This would obviously work well in a fast-paced game where we're making a good pace, but not as well in a slower game. Are you open to some variation of this? Every x encounters, every X weeks or something akin to that?
Being as the two creatures were so close to each other, Quintessa follows the same motions she did only seconds before. Flicking her wrist she sends another blast of electrical current to arc between them before putting up another protective shield. ◈◈
Quintessa shifts sideways along the roots to get a clean lane, lips curling at the stink. "Eck! Mind your footing boys, let’s see how they like a live floor." She snaps a sigil with her wriest as wwin bolts fork from her palm into the room, leaping first to the centipede in front of Scarlet and then chaining to the one worrying Alvis. . ◈◈
Hope things are smoother for you on out! One job is hard enough!!!
Quintessa searches, but not alone. She nudges Velas and Graham in front of her, urging them forward so she's not wanedering around without some protection.
Quintessa shreds a fragment of metal into jagged shards and sends them flying forward towards the last remaining creature, hoping to end the encounter relatively quickly before anyone else gets hurt. ◈◈
Lady Orlovsky's hand flashes, thumb and forefinger sketching a sigil in the air. "Appears we shall speaklater, spark now." Twin forks of white-blue lightning leap from her outstretched palm towards the ringstealers. Afterwards, she casts Glass Shield on herself for protection. ◈◈
Quintessa doesn't understand this tongue, but she's thankful Teela does. She listens to the words and tries to infer their intent by watching Teela's reactions.
Quintessa nods at Alvis’s suggestion, slinging her crossbow and looping the rope about her waist. "Careful, Brother. One good tug and you’ll have me dangling like a chandelier." she jokes. Once Alvis has the line she eases over, lowering herself until she she lands beside Velas. She thanks Alvis for his assistance and then casts a quick look west then east down the dim tunnel. "Lovely. Duck your heads, gentlefolk. It seems heroics in these parts are performed at a stoop."
Velas looks at Scarlet and Quintessa in surprise as they talk to the woods. "Do you expect the trees to talk to you? I sure hope not!" Quintessa huffs. An almost theatrical sound. "Velas..." she starts, shaking her head. "No. I don’t expect the oak to answer in perfect Taldane. But every patch of old forest in these lands has eyes. Sprites, gremlins, or worse. Polite words cost nothing, and sometimes the unseen listeners leave their spears un‑poisoned if you show a little courtesy, less you find darts shot into you with a knifewound in your back." She points at the large tree as if punctuating the point "I was speaking to them, not the bark." --- When descedning, she kneels at the edge, crossbow ready, waiting for Velas’s report. She has no intention of going in the first group. She waits until half the group is down and then asks for assistance as she descends.
Quintessa studyies the dart‑riddled kobold and the notched, odd knife. "Poor little Sootscale." she murmurs, crouching to examine the wound. [b]"These gremlin creatures clearly use darts... Elly’s tale is lining up like stitch‑marks." She stands, eyeing Scarlet’s fluttering leaves and speaking a bit louder. "Creatures of the roots! We seek only what was stolen - a simple silver ring engraved with love. Return it, and we leave in peace. Pockets heavy with seed pods, not with steel and your treasure. We do not wish to intrude, only ask what was stolen be returned. It's clear you will protect your territorty, hwoever, if we are attacked we will engage in return."
Hang in there, it will get better!
Quintessa reins in beside Scarlet, eyes narrowing at the gnarled roots. "A sycamore this size matches Elly’s tale. I believe we were told gremlins under a big tree east of camp. Svetlana’s ring is likely close now." She swings down, shoulders her crossbow, and nods toward the feet. "Let’s have a careful look. Someone please stay alert for a trap so we don't get something dropped on us from above or something."
Quintessa rests a hand on the newborn maple’s trunk, admiration clear in her eyes. "That is a beautiful gift, Scarlet. One Day I expect you’ll coax a whole grove from stone." Teela’s leg‑day quip earns the bard a quick, arched‑brow stare that says behave. "Coordination is more than calves and cardio, my friend." she chides gently before turning back to Alvis. "I’m neither the fleetest blade nor the stoutest shield, yet with a little planning I can open a fight to everyone’s advantage. Let’s measure our strengths, not race them."
"In this, was the entire barn burned down? Or you declared a menace to the town?" Quintessa laugh echoes softly. "Only the loft, thank Shelyn. Well that and Father's patience. The still was a loss, the barn stood, and I was sentenced to a summer mucking stables instead of experimenting. A fair judgment, I suppose, though the horses learned new adjectives that year." When he starts his story, Quintessa listens without interrupting, head tilted, eyes steady on the man. When he finishes, she inclines her chin in a small, court-perfect nod-half thanks, half acknowledgment of confidence shared. "Names and titles are only as useful as the deeds behind them." she says, voice low so it doesn’t echo in the cave. "If Scarlet or Bucky carry the weight of purpose you seek, that’s enough for me. You’ve already proven the mettle beneath the paint." "And for the record, our company measures worth by sword-arms and steadfast hearts, not by dusty heraldry. Welcome to the ledger, Sir Scarlet-profits and perils alike."
... so there I was, twelve years old, ankle-deep in lavender mash, certain Mother would never miss a single vial of brandy to improve the tincture. I’d just eased the stopper when the cat darted in, knocked the lantern, and, the straw beneath the copper still caught like tinder. Flames raced up the rafters, the draft roared, and the whole loft glowed orange. I grabbed the barrel tap, praying the pressure wouldn’t-" Quintessa’s tale pauses mid-sentence when Alvis's excitement is passed around. She rises, wipes charcoal dust from her fingers, and pads barefoot across the stone to study the glittering vein. She smiles at the warden and gives him a polite nod, taking the nugget and inspecting it. "Well done. It seems Abadar’s ears were burning-he’s sent you a shining reminder that even in burnt barns and storm-soaked caves, profit ever finds the faithful."She hands the nugget back to Alvis. "We’ll mark the location on Teela’s map." A quick wink to the bard. She steps back, looking for The Scarlet Knight. "Now. Sir Scarlet, the next verse is yours."
Quintessa lets out a soft laugh at Teela’s reveal, giving a soft clap and a smile to go along with it. "Well played. If the boys freeze it shall be from lack of foresight, not lack of offers." At Scarlet’s warning she nods with a sigh, eyeing the ceiling. "Very well. No fire. We’ll keep the kindling dry for morning. Graham's strikingly good looks will have to stand in for hearth-heat tonight." She unbuckles her own damp cloak, wringing the edge toward the crevice before spreading it over her pack to dry. "We’ll eat cold and make do. Alvis, you and your night eyes take first watch at the crack. Scarlet, relieve him after, your armor will be dry enough by then. I’ll follow, then Graham. That should see us to dawn." Settling onto a flat bit of stone, she draws out her journal but glances toward the newcomer. When you’re ready, Sir Scarlet, I’ll hold up my end of the bargain. I’ll begin with a tale of a girl, an overfull stillroom, and one very flammable barn."
The downpour drums on Quintessa’s hood as she ducks into the crevice after the others. "Nicely done." she calls, raising her voice over the storm. She turns to the Scarlet (she refused to call him Bucky), softening her tone. "Sir Scarlet, you’ve earned your keep already. Warm yourself. When the fire’s lit, we’ll trade a story or two, no limericks required." Turning to Teela, she asks "Do you think your handy spell could help dry the boys off?"
Tessa's gotten Runic weapon off twice, but often finds herself in bad positioning to make better use it. It is a great spell!
Quintessa’s eyes widen a fraction at the limerick, one brow arcing sky-high. Then, just as quickly, the corner of her mouth twitches and she gives a light, perfectly practiced clap of approval. More seeds than a farmer, is it? Brevoy’s poets will envy such fertile imagery! "Planting more seeds than a farmer. Well now, that is a turn of phrase I have never heard in the salons of Eagle’s Watch." She inclines her head in return to his bow. "Your courtly technique needs only a little polish, Sir Scarlet. We’ll have you dueling in the ballroom and the uhm, the fields, before the season ends. When the road grants us quieter hours, perhaps you’ll indulge a fellow storyteller with the unabridged edition." She turns back to her journal, quill dancing, but the occasional sidelong glance at the crimson champion makes it clear that the lady intends to harvest that story eventually. With that playful jab delivered, she picks up her quill again and flips the journal to a blank page, intruiged. Brevoy has many proud banners. House Orlovsky, Lebeda, Medvyed, Garess... But his heraldry is ... decidedly singular. What is his hiding?
Quintessa closes her journal and gives Alvis an amused glance. Take heart, Brother Alvis, your miracle made it edible, and that alone earns Abadar his keep. But I agree with Svetlana. Tomorrow we’ll rely on her skillet, not the vault." She rests her chin on one hand and studies the crimson-clad champion. "Names have power, Sir Knight. If yours must stay veiled, we need something handier than The Scarlet Knight every time an arrow whistles past." A smile touches her lips. "Would Scarlet suit? Short enough for a battlefield warning, respectful enough for polite company, and it keeps your secrets intact." She glances toward Teela, then back to the knight. "Unless, of course, you’d rather we address you by the cadence of your next couplet... but I fear Graham would insist on critiquing the meter."
Though Graham may have been addressing Oleg, she says quickly "Apology accepted." before turning to give Alvis a nod. " “Quite right, Brother Alvis. Quite right. I’m so eager to make progress I nearly forgot our poor horses can’t subsist on pure ambition." She taps her quill thoughtfully against her lip. "Let us keep today for planning, mending tack, and letting the mounts rest. Tomorrow at dawn we ride." "That gives plenty of time for Graham to finsh all of the Remaining Important Things, I would think."
Quintessa gives an approving look at Teela’s half-embroidered map. "Exquisite work, Teela. When this canvas is finished it will be the envy of Restov’s cartographers." She taps the outline of the Thorn River. "And it tells us precisely where trouble still lingers." Turning to the red-armoured newcomer. "Sir Scarlet, welcome to our company. Any blade raised against the stag-marked outlaws is welcome at our hearth side and at my flank. Your strength, and your verses, are most appreciated." Hmm, we should have asked Elly what river that was, to learn if we've found the Skunk and the border of our charter, or if it's another and we have more to explore beyond. Quintessa, who had been taking her own notes, sets her quill down and lifts an eyebrow at Graham, the corner of her mouth quirking into a half-smile. "Master Snodgrass, you fence like a duelist born, but Gods, you do let words slip past your guard sometimes." "We already know the Shrike: we followed it from Restov. The tributary that fed the bandit camp was the Thorn, Oleg named it only moments ago. Which means..." She sketches a quick triangle on the map Teela is working. "We have not yet reached the Skunk, and the southern edge of our warrant still lies unexplored." "Your memory is forgiven, provided your blade remembers its work the next time a stag-marked brigand steps from the brush to poke us." "So then, the ring and the Stag Lord both likely lie south of here, beyond the Thorn. We’ll trace the Shrike down to its next junction. If fortune favors us, we’ll strike the Skunk and any lairs that fester along it." Quintessa straightens and claps her hands twice, loudly. "Maps checked, supplies tallied. Saddle up, friends. The Greenbelt will not tame itself!"
Apologies for the absence, I'm still here. I had a family emergency that preoccupied me the last few weeks. I'm returning home shortly and should be able to return to a more normal posting routine.
Quintessa strides forward with a purpose, weaving her hands through the air and summoning a molten force. With her final step she thrust her right hand towards the reddish creature and transfers a blast of superheated air towards it.
Quintessa will let those with hands on blades do their blade things. She will be prepared at a safer distance, but still staying within range. |
