On reflection and after some discussion with dien over PM, I'm going to remove myself from this campaign.
It's been fun while it lasted... and I wish you and dien all the best moving forwards.
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Stirgen's pace upon the path slows even further from a cautious step to a near halt as he clearly ponders upon something.
Perception: Stirgen hears but incoherent mutterings of those that ply the path behind him.
Stirgen doesn't pause at the shrine and continues walking at the fore, without turning his head to see behind - instead scanning front and side alone. Despite the heat he pulls the neck of his shirt upwards as those that would not even share their names talk among themselves behind him.
Stirgen continues walking at the fore, without turning his head to see behind - instead scanning front and side alone.
Having had the time to place both his armor and armament upon himself, Stirgen runs one tattooed hand down the length of the crossbow stock hanging from his left hip, while cradling a leather pouch on his opposite hip that hangs beside an adequate battleax. Musing he mentally takes stock before speaking aloud and to himself "The Allfather has two shoulders, perch for Hugin and Munin in turn... Always talking, talking, talking filling Odin's head with all the news of the world... thoughts and memories countless and boundless, streaming. But for all the talking it still takes the Father's legs to step forward and make his path." Reminding the arrivees that none of them had yet shared their name he touches his chest again "Stirgen is walking... stay and listen to the ravens if you wish. Or ride the skis again." He then starts slowly and cautiously down the path towards market. The clay jug that was gifted by the Satyr still stands where Stirgen placed it, upon the earth and untouched.
My money's on a post Hawaii haze :P No worries though Dien.
Having not been explicitly told that he couldn't see to his arms and armor, Stirgen moves to secure it and see it borne once more. He listens as he does so, casting wary glances at the satyr as it speaks.
The smaller man's stained face splits into a slight smile as he forces himself to stand without assistance. He casts a worried glance backwards to where the satyr stands, brow momentarily creasing before turning back to the group that's come and asked for him to accompany them. Raising his right hand he speaks "Heil og sæl, I am Stirgen..." pausing a few moments to allow reciprocal introduction before continuing "Now that we are not strangers... I hope you do not mind if I see to my raiment?" gesturing to a pile of belongings not yet claimed by the more bearish man. The pile includes armor, blade and a very well made dark-wood crossbow. There are also a number of runic accoutrements among the pile that can be seen, and what looks to be a soothsayer's runic pouch.
Stirgen doesn't explicitly refuse Knute's hand, but he similarly doesn't allow himself to be helped up either. Releasing the greystone pendant he rests the palms of his dye stained hands on his knees as he continues to squint upwards. Evenly and without malice or overt trust he seeks clarification "Aye, in a hurry, riding Skaði's skis... but the unanswered question still stands." making a point that Knute had yet to explicitly state whether his attendance would be an onus or a request.
The other of the pair is not left standing, instead collapsing to squat upon his haunches as the flood of exhaustion weighs more heavily upon him as his free will is grudgingly and gradually returned to his own keeping. He first blinks and looks upon the jug gifted to him, placing it on the ground to one side before looking up squint-eyed at the humans come from his collapsed position. The only part of him that doesn't seep exhaustion is his eyes, deep in their sockets and stained with kohl... but watching and with an intelligence. He doesn't immediately gather his possessions, though he steals a glance and is comforted by their presence. Instead he takes his greystone pendant in one hand, squeezing it firmly before offering a half-friendly half-guarded smirk up and addressing all and none "Do you seek bēot? - would you tie our urðr to the task? Or do you ask, as kinswoman to kinsman?"
*puff,huff,stomp,trip,fallingrapes,strugglebacktofeet,stomp*
Huzzah! - Congrats on the funding GM!
*stomp,stomp,huff,puff*
As a small FYI - I'm off on a short trip tonight and tomorrow to a rugby tournament for my son (well... depending on whether there is breathable air or not...). Thusly I'll be a less wordy / potentially silent for a couple of days.
It's not on backwards... it's just designed for a rakshasa? Cool ship by the way!
One of the Ulfen's cadence is noticeably slower than the other... no doubt product of his relatively slight build and the pallidness of his skin. He wheezes and draws deep breaths as he struggles to keep apace with his companion. His eye sockets are stained black with kohl, though the pigment has begun to run and it gives an impression of black tears. His shirt is open to his waist and his sleeves rolled up, laying plain a less than impressive physique. Under the ruby grape stains though are fading tattoos in madder red and weld yellow to go along with woad lettering upon his fingers. Apart from his breeches and shirt, the only possession upon his person is a grey stone pendant bouncing up and down upon a brown leather thong.
Lilley... where?
As per PM received:
Looks like this specific campaign will be getting shut down, and Idyll will start afresh with a new one. Along that bent I'd have to reserve judgment on the new campaign until I'd heard some details before figuring out if I'm interested or not. GM Idyll - could you please turn this campaign into an inactive one?
No problems GM Idyll - real life happens to us all. I'm not going anywhere :) - the only thing I'd suggest is that when you're back and ready to kick off again, PMs would probably be useful to draw us back in. I've noticed that the campaign tracker can be a bit finicky when it comes to keeping threads updated, etc.
Lilley: Arriving at Thrown Bones, Stirgen is similarly unarmored - wearing a simple smock and leggings in brown, but he does still carry his primary stonecarving implement across his shoulders. A smile creasing his broken face as he draws near he raises a hand in greeting before looking to regard the gambling hall "Our first port of call?... shall we?"
Lilley: Nodding "Good, good... I would think the better for the rest.. shall we meet at the hall of vice later?"
Once the short farewells are made, Strigen makes a halfhearted attempt to find Rory before collapsing in a heap on his bunk and succumbing to sleep. He sets out to rendezvous with Lilley upon his awakening.
Lilley: Stirgen drops his bread onto the table and slaps a hand to his forehead in remonstration "Ai! You've just reminded me... I should check in with the one that led me to the temple also" thinking of the halfling Rory. Shaking his head at his own forgetfulness as he offers "I would be worried as well Lilley... do you think it urgent enough to inquire immediately?... or could it wait until after we've rested?" heavy lids on his eyes showing sign of his near exhaustion.
Lilley: The hall chosen is one frequented by the poets and singers of the bardic college - and among the eating students are those deep in thought, with muttered or half-volume performances and a basso profundo at one extreme bizzarely chanting some kind of elvish aria in a voice so deep as to defy human production. Stirgen eats with a tangible hunger, and once his bowl is empty gets a couple of pieces of flatbread to finish with. To Lilley's statement of her gastronomic tendencies he chuckles "Aye milady, you're a braver soul than myself in that regard." before he continues to answer her query "I am a student, yes... and Poetry is what has first called to me... though I fear I have much to learn of the art. Perhaps our spelunking will inspire me" giving her a wry grin as he returns the question "And what of you milady? - you mentioned you are here but recently, have you found your feet and lodging?"
Lilley:
Stirgen leads Lilley through the Lycaeum to one of the meal halls. In typical bohemian style the food is haphazardly presented in a buffet, half-finished and up to the consumer as to what and how it is preferred to be taken. Trestle tables and benches are the order of the day, and Stirgen finds an unoccupied end of one - seating Lilley before moving away to retrieve some food and drink.
As a start he gathers two bowls of a pasty gruel that looks like softened paper - but tastes much better, rich and creamy with honey strewn through to sweeten the meal. He also retrieves a pot of a fruity smelling tisane of apple and mint, as well as two cloudy glass mugs. Pouring for Lilley first, he then fills his own glass and holds it up for a cheers and proffers "To beauty... wherever we might find it" GM Idyll: The hall chosen is one frequented by the poets and singers of the bardic college - and among the eating students are those deep in thought, with muttered or half-volume performances and a basso profundo at one extreme bizzarely chanting some kind of elvish aria in a voice so deep as to defy human production.
Lilley: Stirgen's unsightly features scrunch into a more genuine and warm smile as Lilley hesitates. He does not falter and his arm remains open "I am not blind milady, but in the time I have known you I have seen nothing that would give me pause in extending you my trust." waiting to see if she does indeed rise to join him.
Lilley: Stirgen smiles wanly, though there is little mirth to his face and his eyes are sad. "I am what I am Lilley... and perhaps it is conceit, but I do not see either half of my heritage as monstrous." sighing before continuing "In Belkzen I am weak, in Varisia I would be a monster and perhaps elsewhere a slave or worse... but in Kaer Maga at least I am Stirgen."
"You have pain and anger, and have endured more than you should have in either of your lives... but I have faith" tapping an etched rose on his breastplate "and trust in you milady." taking Lilley's hand and giving a chaste kiss to the back of it. Standing and offering his arm once more "The morning is young though we have been awake most of the night... will you join me for a repast?"
Lilley: Stirgen's mangled face has a tinge of sadness to it, but before he can clarify the subject veers to recent events. Stirgen measures his response "I do not think that I would go meekly into the night, no... I can but hope to never be faced with such a choice." melancholic reflection ensues for a few moments before he turns up a corner of his mouth to smirk "But given the fact my axe bites stone more than flesh one supposes I am unlikely to reach old age if I continue with dangerous endeavors."
Tongue rubbing the top of his mouth as he ponders how to delicately phrase his next query he ventures "I do not know your past milady... and though I would listen, I do not seek it to be told unless you will it." sighing as he continues head low "Your words have made me wonder... to hate the vel van die baster as you do..." touching his orc-tainted features lightly "...have you not worn them your whole life?"
I second Joana's words - lets wait on AK before we head back underground. There's more than enough in Kaer Maga to keep us busy for a day... if you're really stuck for ideas then just head to Hospice when the sun goes down...
Lilley: Stirgen accepts the calls and welcomes of the fellow students of the Lycaeum warmly and returns them in kind. As mention is made of Lilley's armor, Stirgen's mind suddenly clicks... though he parks the thought for now so as to refer to it later. He listens attentively as Lilley tells her story, and gives her hooked hand a companionable squeeze as he corrects "Not all is lost milady, not while you still draw breath"
At the temple to Shelyn, Stirgen takes a seat not on one of the pews - but on the floor of the garden. Armor clanking he rests his back against one of the seats and then cranes back his neck to rest his head staring up into the roof. As the chorus begins he closes his eyes for a few minutes, and a peaceful smile crosses his face. Benediction then seemingly completed he muscles himself off the ground to sit next to Lilley once more. Slightly melancholically as Lilley muses "I do not know milady, but I am thankful for them. Regardless the chaos of the city outside or travails in our minds and hearts... they sing without hibition." staying silent and savoring the passing moments a while before adding "The shrine is open to all Lilley... any time you wish to forget yourself and remember, you are free to worship here."
Stirgen is inured against the catcalls and cries from the wildlife of hospice, and indeed the speed at which he chose an efficacious route through the seething pustulant mass of sin might make Lilley wonder exactly how long he'd spent thereabouts... that and the fact that he waved a genial acknowledgement to some of the bouncers and ne'erdowells that they passed. Lilley's question provided a diversion most welcome from such implications "Not a native, milady - but I have lived here for some time. I was born a bastard in Belkzen, and pressed to serve." the word bastard is said as a statement of fact, rather than an epithet. "I arrived on a caravan where my master thought to have tamed a mammoth... only to have that assumption challenged most violently when the beast stampeded and trampled him to death. I scrabbled and survived for some time before it was at the feet of an Elfin bard that I was born again and given purpose." his eyes grow momentarily misty with reminiscing as he guides Lilley around a pile of recently deposited vomit on the street "Following his radiant trail I arrived upon the doorstep of the Lycaeum and was permitted to study. I have been honing my meagre talents there for the last few years, before being asked by the Dean himself to attend to the Pharasmin and render assistance where I may." he is clearly proud and sees it as an honor to have been selected.
Stirgen smiles as his arm is taken and they begin to walk towards the Lycaeum "I can promise the arm, but I do not doubt many would question if I am a gentleman. And at any rate I would think that my appearance alone would blunt any derisive thoughts on your own." gesturing at his notched greataxe and poorly scribed roses on his breastplate... though a flicker of sadness crosses his eyes as he dwells for but a moment on his own scrofulous features. Though Stirgen is conscious to guide them through Hospice rather than along the rim and through Ankar-Te... he would prefer to leave that particular trouble back at the Ossuary.
Stirgen notices Lilley's unconscious gesture but makes no mention of it. He extends a hooked arm so that he might escort her onwards as a gentlemen is want to do of a lady and speaks "Please allow me... it is still dark, but if we make haste we should be at the Lycaeum in time for the Chorus of the Dawn."
Stirgen has the bone wand, and I think that's all from below. He took Esme's jewelry from her room, but gave it back to the reanimated one.
Stirgen is mostly leveled - just need to select a spell or two.
As the group makes to go their separate ways, Stirgen lingers and seeks Lilley's ear "Milady Lilley, we spoke of the Lycaeum before when we were below..." emotions crossing his ugly face as the travails they faced flashed across his face "I will be returning there to rest... but would you accompany me first to the Temple of the Rose?"
Stirgen withdraws the bone wand they found and proffers it "Well there was this." To the thoughts of heading below "I would be willing to finish plumbing the depths below, though can wait a day if Kenji needs to rest" raising a eyebrow.
Stirgen will be Inquisiting it up for level 2 - will do the profile update tomorrow. HP: = 4 or 5?
"For mine I do not care.. I will not see the murderer humanized"
Stirgen yields Rhen to the Pharasmin priests before taking a seat where he is bade to. Ignoring Esme for the moment, Stirgen explains "We have found the man who was stealing corpses... he was a necromancer of sorts and we had to put down some of his creations before subduing him. We found that he had this" indicating whatever Esme actually is "held what seemed to be captive. She abused our trust of her innocence and coldly murdered the necromancer where he lay bound."
"Rather than tell the story twice, perhaps you can direct us to Valanthe Nerissia? It was she who sent us below, and we need to have words immediately"
Stairs it is.
Stirgen is. He's not averse to coming back down - but would prefer to de-Esme now.
Returning to the others, Stirgen puts the bag of jewelry into whatever serves for a pocket on the muderesses' dress. He then looks to the others, keen to rid himself of the mostly dead burden.
Bedroom: Stirgen gathers up the perfume and jewelry into a small bag and looks to the others "Are we finished here" and if no dissent is given, moves back to the others.
I was more referring to her taunting of Stirgen as to You will sleep well tonight and the You are guilty. You are condemned. There is harm in those words.
Grumble grumble - why are people so desperate to humanize the murderer... Stirgen gagged her so we wouldn't have to put up with her poisonous tongue... Whatever fallacious arguments she uses it doesn't excuse the act performed in front of us. We can RP it out, but Stirgen will be strident on this.
Skeletons destroyed, Stirgen spends some time going over the bedroom... Perception: take 20 for 29
Stirgen approaches the other skeleton and delivers a mighty crosswise swipe...
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