Operation Graystone #1
At long last your training has reached its end. After what feels like years of practice and instruction you are finally ready to go out into the world and seek your fortune. But alas all you have is the clothes you wear and some modest gear. Not the best way to start an adventuring career! There are the usual job opportunities: caravan guards, bodyguards and other such mundane undertakings. You want something more, but just what eludes you.
That is until you find an intriguing announcement. There is a notice for adventurers posted in the town or city that you are currently in. Others are talking about it as a great opportunity and a way to make a fortune and return home as a wealthy and respected adventurer.
The first thing that catches your eye is what appears to be a coat of arms. It shows two griffons facing each other, one gold on a field of royal blue, the other dark green on white. You are informed that this is the royal seal for the Kingdom of Cynalon itself.
The post reads:
Let it be known: the crown seeks brave and skilled adventurers to supplement the Cynalonian Army in our spring offensive!
If you have the skill and the drive to join our brave men and women in battle, then seek out the nearest recruiter for more details!
If you seek adventure and travel to distant untamed lands, this opportunity is for you!
This spring, the Cynalonian Army and their allies will move forth from the great City of Crossroads, advance up the Graystone Pass and finally reach the fallen City of Gateway. We will take back what was once ours from the vile goblin hordes and the dark masters they serve!
By order of His Royal Majesty, the honorable King Victor Vaughn the Sixth, Operation Graystone begins in Spring!
The local recruiter is able to fill you in on more details. If you join Operation Graystone you'll receive a signing bonus in the generous sum of 100 gold coins. Given your current situation, that is a vast amount of money. Your enlistment is only for the duration of the campaign, in this case until the liberation of Gateway has been accomplished. After that you can go off on your own or remain a part of the Cynalonian Army. All you need to do is travel to the City of Crossroads in the coming spring to take part in what promises to be a grand adventure!
Operation: Graystone #1
Operation: Graystone #1
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
April 10th, CR 569
On the tenth day of the fourth month of the year 569, by Cynalonian Reckoning, you arrive in Crossroads. The city sits at the base of mountains to the north and west. Farmland surrounds much of Crossroads for as far as the eye can see. Forty-foot-tall walls surround the city and their tops are illuminated by Continual Light Spells.
A light rain is falling this day and the temperatures are in the high 40's as the transition from winter to spring is in progress. To some this will feel warm, while to others it is downright cold. Workers fill the fields as the growing season is fast approaching and they must get ready. This past winter was particularly long and brutal. A few did suspect, in hushed whispers so as not to attract the goddess' ear, that Auril was upset about something and was punishing all with a brutal winter. But finally Lathander pushed the winter away and brought the spring.
Crossroads literally sits at the intersection of several major roads. The first is the King's Road that runs to the south and through the Black Peak Mountains. It passes through Alexandria, the Capital of Cynalon, and eventually ends at Kingsport far to the south. The second road is the High Road that runs to the west and ends at Elcadan.
Both roads lead deep into the center of the city. They pass through massive, heavily defended gates and portcullises. Once inside Crossroads both roads are over thirty feet wide to accommodate the passage of multiple caravans coming to or departing from the city. There are street lights with more Continual Light spells on both sides of the roads. Mounted guards are a common sight.
The city is filled with people this day, certainly more than the usual forty-five thousand or so that call Crossroads home. There are the members of the caravans and the goods they carry. There is also a huge military presence here in Crossroads today. From what the recruiter told you the army would be gathering in Crossroads and from there travel to Fort Graystone which lies a day’s travel to the south and east. It is from Fort Graystone that the army will march up the pass and eventually reach Gateway.
You're directed to a large hall where applicants are signing up for Operation: Graystone. It is a large military bunkhouse here in Crossroads, part of the military district. The center of the building is wide open and normally used as a mess hall and training area. Private Chambers are on either side of the hall. There is an elevated stage along the back of the building. Several important looking figures are standing up there chatting with each other, but paying little attention to those down on the floor.
There is a small line where many other adventurers are also signing up. Some of those present do look like they have some measure of skill, while others look like they are in over their heads. From what you can see you're sure that you have more talent and skills than most of them.
Finally, you reach the recruiter. He repeats the information that you've heard before and you sign on the dotted line. The recruiter hands you a small sack of gold and directs you to one of the side chambers along the side of the hall. You'll noted that there are at least three or four rooms that the applicants are being directed towards.
Reaching the door indicated, you open it and step inside. The chamber appears to be a combination small meeting area and barracks. Along one wall of the room is a weapons rack that holds several short swords, some daggers, short bows and quivers of arrows, light crossbows and bolts. A variety of suits of leather armor for various races are present as well. There is a series of two high bunks along the other side of the room. Each bunk has a chest to store goods in it.
A man with reddish hair and beard, wearing chain mail armor under a tabard bearing the royal seal, awaits you. He has a sheathed longsword hanging from his belt. The man stands about six feet tall.
“Welcome to Wyvern Squad,” the man announces as he shakes your hand. “I'm Sergeant Traken, your commanding officer.”
On the tenth day of the fourth month of the year 569, by Cynalonian Reckoning, you arrive in Crossroads. The city sits at the base of mountains to the north and west. Farmland surrounds much of Crossroads for as far as the eye can see. Forty-foot-tall walls surround the city and their tops are illuminated by Continual Light Spells.
A light rain is falling this day and the temperatures are in the high 40's as the transition from winter to spring is in progress. To some this will feel warm, while to others it is downright cold. Workers fill the fields as the growing season is fast approaching and they must get ready. This past winter was particularly long and brutal. A few did suspect, in hushed whispers so as not to attract the goddess' ear, that Auril was upset about something and was punishing all with a brutal winter. But finally Lathander pushed the winter away and brought the spring.
Crossroads literally sits at the intersection of several major roads. The first is the King's Road that runs to the south and through the Black Peak Mountains. It passes through Alexandria, the Capital of Cynalon, and eventually ends at Kingsport far to the south. The second road is the High Road that runs to the west and ends at Elcadan.
Both roads lead deep into the center of the city. They pass through massive, heavily defended gates and portcullises. Once inside Crossroads both roads are over thirty feet wide to accommodate the passage of multiple caravans coming to or departing from the city. There are street lights with more Continual Light spells on both sides of the roads. Mounted guards are a common sight.
The city is filled with people this day, certainly more than the usual forty-five thousand or so that call Crossroads home. There are the members of the caravans and the goods they carry. There is also a huge military presence here in Crossroads today. From what the recruiter told you the army would be gathering in Crossroads and from there travel to Fort Graystone which lies a day’s travel to the south and east. It is from Fort Graystone that the army will march up the pass and eventually reach Gateway.
You're directed to a large hall where applicants are signing up for Operation: Graystone. It is a large military bunkhouse here in Crossroads, part of the military district. The center of the building is wide open and normally used as a mess hall and training area. Private Chambers are on either side of the hall. There is an elevated stage along the back of the building. Several important looking figures are standing up there chatting with each other, but paying little attention to those down on the floor.
There is a small line where many other adventurers are also signing up. Some of those present do look like they have some measure of skill, while others look like they are in over their heads. From what you can see you're sure that you have more talent and skills than most of them.
Finally, you reach the recruiter. He repeats the information that you've heard before and you sign on the dotted line. The recruiter hands you a small sack of gold and directs you to one of the side chambers along the side of the hall. You'll noted that there are at least three or four rooms that the applicants are being directed towards.
Reaching the door indicated, you open it and step inside. The chamber appears to be a combination small meeting area and barracks. Along one wall of the room is a weapons rack that holds several short swords, some daggers, short bows and quivers of arrows, light crossbows and bolts. A variety of suits of leather armor for various races are present as well. There is a series of two high bunks along the other side of the room. Each bunk has a chest to store goods in it.
A man with reddish hair and beard, wearing chain mail armor under a tabard bearing the royal seal, awaits you. He has a sheathed longsword hanging from his belt. The man stands about six feet tall.
“Welcome to Wyvern Squad,” the man announces as he shakes your hand. “I'm Sergeant Traken, your commanding officer.”
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
GM Notes:
Welcome everyone! You're in the army now!
Well sort of. You're part of a special unit and have a looser relationship with the army. So you won't have to do some of the more mundane tasks that new recruits in typically would have to endure. You basically are subject to orders from your superiors such as your commanding officer and those above him. You cannot order around those of lesser rank under normal circumstances.
Basic food and drink will be provided for you as will some basic gear. Things like arrows and crossbow bolts can be restocked as you need them. You'll be given a place to sleep as well.
If you have any other questions, direct them to Sergeant Traken. For now, just introduce yourselves, interact with the other players and ask whatever questions you have for Sgt. Traken. There are a few brand new players to this sort of gaming, but there are also some veterans as well to help the rookies learn the ropes. The players arrive at the bunkhouse in the order that they post. So the first player is already there when the second player arrives and so on.
Spell casters please list your spells currently in memory/prayed for in the Spell List thread. We put those lists into a separate thread to make them easy to find instead of having to find them inside the posts themselves. The Spell List thread will be stickied at the top of this forum.
There is a Character Biography section where you can go into general details about your character should you so desire. There are a few biographies there to provide an example. If you have past stories involving your characters, they can go into the Tales of Cynalon area. There are several of them there already covering certain characters or significant historical events.
For those players who are brand new to this, you've just entered into a very large game world with much history. The Background and History thread at the top of this forum covers the basics for this game. There is a much larger history of Cynalon thread in the Campaign History forum if you are interested. The smaller threads with the dates listed are things that happen at those times in other games and stories set in this world. This particular game takes place at least 2 years before those other games, so it is not essential to go over those for this game.
There will be a recap thread, like those other games, in the Campaign History section. As a game day comes to a close, I will recap in the appropriate thread. That thread does not exist yet, but I will make one when the time comes. The introduction thread in the Campaign History section will give you some idea just how big this world is. At this point there are still games that I have yet to recap, so that's not even all of it!
And for the first time for many of you we come to the eternal question of...
Now what?
Welcome everyone! You're in the army now!
Well sort of. You're part of a special unit and have a looser relationship with the army. So you won't have to do some of the more mundane tasks that new recruits in typically would have to endure. You basically are subject to orders from your superiors such as your commanding officer and those above him. You cannot order around those of lesser rank under normal circumstances.
Basic food and drink will be provided for you as will some basic gear. Things like arrows and crossbow bolts can be restocked as you need them. You'll be given a place to sleep as well.
If you have any other questions, direct them to Sergeant Traken. For now, just introduce yourselves, interact with the other players and ask whatever questions you have for Sgt. Traken. There are a few brand new players to this sort of gaming, but there are also some veterans as well to help the rookies learn the ropes. The players arrive at the bunkhouse in the order that they post. So the first player is already there when the second player arrives and so on.
Spell casters please list your spells currently in memory/prayed for in the Spell List thread. We put those lists into a separate thread to make them easy to find instead of having to find them inside the posts themselves. The Spell List thread will be stickied at the top of this forum.
There is a Character Biography section where you can go into general details about your character should you so desire. There are a few biographies there to provide an example. If you have past stories involving your characters, they can go into the Tales of Cynalon area. There are several of them there already covering certain characters or significant historical events.
For those players who are brand new to this, you've just entered into a very large game world with much history. The Background and History thread at the top of this forum covers the basics for this game. There is a much larger history of Cynalon thread in the Campaign History forum if you are interested. The smaller threads with the dates listed are things that happen at those times in other games and stories set in this world. This particular game takes place at least 2 years before those other games, so it is not essential to go over those for this game.
There will be a recap thread, like those other games, in the Campaign History section. As a game day comes to a close, I will recap in the appropriate thread. That thread does not exist yet, but I will make one when the time comes. The introduction thread in the Campaign History section will give you some idea just how big this world is. At this point there are still games that I have yet to recap, so that's not even all of it!
And for the first time for many of you we come to the eternal question of...
Now what?
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
The woman waited somewhat impatiently as she stood in line at the bunkhouse in Crossroads. It had been a difficult trip for her to get here and she was greatly disappointed that circumstances had led her to… this! She shook out her dark curly hair from the light rain that was falling outside and she was careful of her steps so her damp feet did not slip on the stone floor.
Erisciana looked around at the various would-be adventurers that formed multiple lines. She wondered silently why some of them would even be allowed to join up. Perhaps this kingdom was in as bad straits as the stories back in Zakhara had told! She tried not to be too judgmental, but it was her nature. Still she had little choice herself. The bandits in that vile territory known as Elcadan had seen to that.
Erisci noticed the looks she received and she heard some of the comments that were spoken under their breath. She smiled at their naivete'.
Eventually the diminutive woman reached the front of her line. The recruiter there looked at her with a disapproving eye. “Are you sure you’re in the right place, young lady?” He eyed her silken dress and silver jewelry, lack of armor, lack of any weapons really. “This recruitment is for the soldiers, not for support staff. You can sign up at the Red Kettle Inn for that.”
Erisciana raised one eyebrow at the man and frowned. “I assure you that I am in the correct place,” she said with a bit more than a hint of an accent.
The recruiter looked her over again. “Are…are you sure of that?” He paused for a moment. Then, sighed. “Well, pray tell, what CAN you do?”
The Zakharan woman put her hands on her hips for a moment defiantly. “Very well…” She then turned to one of the young men in the line behind her. She was fairly certain from listening to their conversation that they really were the ones who should not be there. She was a priestess of Ishtar, Goddess of Love and War!
Taking her holy symbol in her left hand, she gestured widely and raised herself up on her tiptoes. Then she thrust her hands toward the young man, with splayed fingers. A horrible face took over his features and he howled in surprise and fear. Pushing past his comrades, the young man raced out of the building.
Erisciana turned back to the recruiter. “I am Erisciana of the House Iltani and priestess of Ishtar, Goddess of Love… and of War.” The recruiter smiled to his assistant and nodded. The assistant covered his mouth with his hand to avoid laughing. The recruiter looked back at the woman and then began scribbling notes on the paper in front of him. He then pushed another paper in front of her.
“Sign on the dotted line.”
Erisci scanned the simple document. A soldier. In a foreign army. Oh Ishtar, what have you led me to, she questioned silently. Reluctantly, she scrolled her name onto the page and quickly pushed it back across the table. The man’s assistant offered her a small pouch. She took it, feeling that there were coins inside. This must be the bonus that they were offering.
“Go to the second door from the end,” the man said, indicating the far right of the hall. Erisciana turned away and paused for a moment. She wanted to retch. This was not what she had planned when Aegos sent her on this “important” mission. It was bad enough what had happened in her family. Bad enough that Zarek and Balathu had caused such mischief and mayhem and effectively exiled her from her homeland.
There was little else to do except play the hand she had been dealt. Erisci hoped that Ishtar had some reason for putting her priestess through this awful ordeal. Raising her chin and steadying her gaze, she strided purposefully to the door she had been directed and stepped inside.
The woman waited somewhat impatiently as she stood in line at the bunkhouse in Crossroads. It had been a difficult trip for her to get here and she was greatly disappointed that circumstances had led her to… this! She shook out her dark curly hair from the light rain that was falling outside and she was careful of her steps so her damp feet did not slip on the stone floor.
Erisciana looked around at the various would-be adventurers that formed multiple lines. She wondered silently why some of them would even be allowed to join up. Perhaps this kingdom was in as bad straits as the stories back in Zakhara had told! She tried not to be too judgmental, but it was her nature. Still she had little choice herself. The bandits in that vile territory known as Elcadan had seen to that.
Erisci noticed the looks she received and she heard some of the comments that were spoken under their breath. She smiled at their naivete'.
Eventually the diminutive woman reached the front of her line. The recruiter there looked at her with a disapproving eye. “Are you sure you’re in the right place, young lady?” He eyed her silken dress and silver jewelry, lack of armor, lack of any weapons really. “This recruitment is for the soldiers, not for support staff. You can sign up at the Red Kettle Inn for that.”
Erisciana raised one eyebrow at the man and frowned. “I assure you that I am in the correct place,” she said with a bit more than a hint of an accent.
The recruiter looked her over again. “Are…are you sure of that?” He paused for a moment. Then, sighed. “Well, pray tell, what CAN you do?”
The Zakharan woman put her hands on her hips for a moment defiantly. “Very well…” She then turned to one of the young men in the line behind her. She was fairly certain from listening to their conversation that they really were the ones who should not be there. She was a priestess of Ishtar, Goddess of Love and War!
Taking her holy symbol in her left hand, she gestured widely and raised herself up on her tiptoes. Then she thrust her hands toward the young man, with splayed fingers. A horrible face took over his features and he howled in surprise and fear. Pushing past his comrades, the young man raced out of the building.
Erisciana turned back to the recruiter. “I am Erisciana of the House Iltani and priestess of Ishtar, Goddess of Love… and of War.” The recruiter smiled to his assistant and nodded. The assistant covered his mouth with his hand to avoid laughing. The recruiter looked back at the woman and then began scribbling notes on the paper in front of him. He then pushed another paper in front of her.
“Sign on the dotted line.”
Erisci scanned the simple document. A soldier. In a foreign army. Oh Ishtar, what have you led me to, she questioned silently. Reluctantly, she scrolled her name onto the page and quickly pushed it back across the table. The man’s assistant offered her a small pouch. She took it, feeling that there were coins inside. This must be the bonus that they were offering.
“Go to the second door from the end,” the man said, indicating the far right of the hall. Erisciana turned away and paused for a moment. She wanted to retch. This was not what she had planned when Aegos sent her on this “important” mission. It was bad enough what had happened in her family. Bad enough that Zarek and Balathu had caused such mischief and mayhem and effectively exiled her from her homeland.
There was little else to do except play the hand she had been dealt. Erisci hoped that Ishtar had some reason for putting her priestess through this awful ordeal. Raising her chin and steadying her gaze, she strided purposefully to the door she had been directed and stepped inside.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
Apparently, Erisci is the first one to enter this room. Following is what people see of her when they come in.
To one side of the room stands a young brunette woman. At first glance one might think she is a serving girl, especially given her dress and lack of obvious weapons. The barefoot woman leans against the wall, her arms folded across her midsection. A look of impatience seems to exude from her beautiful, exotic features.
Those who look closer notice that her clothing is certainly not that of a serving girl. Her dark sapphire blue dress looked as though it might be made of silk and has silver embroidery along the plunging neckline and lower edges, cut in an asymmetrical pattern across her thighs, longer on the right than the left. A white multi-corded belt circled her hips and gave form and shape to her garments.
Two silver necklaces hung from her neck, including one that ended in a long blue crystal pendant that almost seemed to irradiate its own light. Exhaling slowly in a long sigh, she ran her fingers through her thick curly dark hair for a moment. Despite being held back by silver hair combs, the length and sheer volume of her ebon curls seemed to almost have a life of their own. The silver bracelets on her wrist jingled musically as she brushed a ringlet of hair from her face.
Looking more closely one can see that the woman has quite a bit of silver jewels. Large silver hoops hung from her ears and peeked through her raven tresses. A thin chain, with small silver disks suspended from it, hung from her hips. Her right nostril was pierced and she wore a snug-fitting nose ring hoop. A few thin silver strands were woven into her ebon locks and flashed as the light caught them. A braided strand over her left eye ended in a bright blue fob.
The slit in her gown reached nearly to her waist, showing off her shapely legs. A pair of wide silver cuffs adorned her dainty ankles and were polished to a brilliant shine which reflected the light with a bright gleam. Other belled anklets rested below these and she wore several plain silver rings on her toes and fingers. She was well-tanned, darker skinned than most Cynalonians. Almost a deep bronze she was, her skin accented by the bright blue of her dress and the lustrous silver jewelry.
Her make-up was detailed, but flawless. Dark eyeliner rimmed her magnificent blue eyes and made her considerable eyelashes stand out even more. The blue on her lids highlighted and accentuated the brightness of her eyes. And the warm pink color on her lips made them seem all the more perfect.
She shifted her position and then turned to look as the next persons entered the room.
Apparently, Erisci is the first one to enter this room. Following is what people see of her when they come in.
To one side of the room stands a young brunette woman. At first glance one might think she is a serving girl, especially given her dress and lack of obvious weapons. The barefoot woman leans against the wall, her arms folded across her midsection. A look of impatience seems to exude from her beautiful, exotic features.
Those who look closer notice that her clothing is certainly not that of a serving girl. Her dark sapphire blue dress looked as though it might be made of silk and has silver embroidery along the plunging neckline and lower edges, cut in an asymmetrical pattern across her thighs, longer on the right than the left. A white multi-corded belt circled her hips and gave form and shape to her garments.
Two silver necklaces hung from her neck, including one that ended in a long blue crystal pendant that almost seemed to irradiate its own light. Exhaling slowly in a long sigh, she ran her fingers through her thick curly dark hair for a moment. Despite being held back by silver hair combs, the length and sheer volume of her ebon curls seemed to almost have a life of their own. The silver bracelets on her wrist jingled musically as she brushed a ringlet of hair from her face.
Looking more closely one can see that the woman has quite a bit of silver jewels. Large silver hoops hung from her ears and peeked through her raven tresses. A thin chain, with small silver disks suspended from it, hung from her hips. Her right nostril was pierced and she wore a snug-fitting nose ring hoop. A few thin silver strands were woven into her ebon locks and flashed as the light caught them. A braided strand over her left eye ended in a bright blue fob.
The slit in her gown reached nearly to her waist, showing off her shapely legs. A pair of wide silver cuffs adorned her dainty ankles and were polished to a brilliant shine which reflected the light with a bright gleam. Other belled anklets rested below these and she wore several plain silver rings on her toes and fingers. She was well-tanned, darker skinned than most Cynalonians. Almost a deep bronze she was, her skin accented by the bright blue of her dress and the lustrous silver jewelry.
Her make-up was detailed, but flawless. Dark eyeliner rimmed her magnificent blue eyes and made her considerable eyelashes stand out even more. The blue on her lids highlighted and accentuated the brightness of her eyes. And the warm pink color on her lips made them seem all the more perfect.
She shifted her position and then turned to look as the next persons entered the room.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Vernar -
Finally, the long journey is at its end. Not that there was a shortage of travelling companions on the High Road, just that Vernar often sought solitude with his thoughts rather than strike up conversation. The light rain was refreshing on his face even though it was a bit chilly. The water beaded on his hair and beard, and found pathways across his scars and deep lines on his forehead. So serious all the time, he thought, but better than being scared.
Following the crowd, Vernar spied the recruitment building, a massive structure that gave him little pause. Crossroads was teeming with life, and quite a few dwarves he noted. However, he always felt more comfortable with humans, as they were almost all he ever knew except for those few brief images that still haunted him. An impatient recruiter snapped him out of his nightmarish daydreaming, and Vernar hadn't even realized the line had moved along expediently. It was simple enough, as he was looked over an given an almost approving nod. He figured the weapons and armor gave away his purpose easily enough. The dwarf followed directions towards another room, quite large as most of these chambers seemed to be. That suited him just fine.
It is only then that the dwarf realizes he's not alone. Turning, he runs one hand down the center braid of his long, brown beard. Best to look at least somewhat presentable, he muses. His long brown hair, reaching past his shoulders, is still plastered to his head from the rain. His eyes, the color of gathering storm clouds, look over the person leaning against the wall with an impatient air about her. A scar frames his left eye socket. Vernar's cloak, trimmed with grey fur (wolf, perhaps?) has seen better days. His gloves are likewise well worn. His studded leather armor and leather boots are quite the opposite, looking like they have been cared for with loving hands. The rest of him is an arsenal. A short sword and hand axe, one on each side of his waist, are secured to make minimal noise when the dwarf moves. A throwing dagger is secured, pommel down, on each side of his ribs, and a third is snug against the small of his back.
"Well, hello 'dere, lass.. er, lady," Vernar corrects, his voice softer than one might expect, but with a faintly-hidden rumbling that could conceal something far more boisterous if the dwarf were to let loose. She is decently attractive, for a human, or at least what he would expect many human males would find desirable. She was not nearly plump enough for his own tastes.
"Apologies," he continues, "but you jus' don't first strike me as a soldier in an army."
Vernar sits down cross legged on the floor, his arms resting easily on his spread knees. "I am Vernar, from west o' here," he greets the woman. "Looks like some serious business 'bout to begin 'round here."
Finally, the long journey is at its end. Not that there was a shortage of travelling companions on the High Road, just that Vernar often sought solitude with his thoughts rather than strike up conversation. The light rain was refreshing on his face even though it was a bit chilly. The water beaded on his hair and beard, and found pathways across his scars and deep lines on his forehead. So serious all the time, he thought, but better than being scared.
Following the crowd, Vernar spied the recruitment building, a massive structure that gave him little pause. Crossroads was teeming with life, and quite a few dwarves he noted. However, he always felt more comfortable with humans, as they were almost all he ever knew except for those few brief images that still haunted him. An impatient recruiter snapped him out of his nightmarish daydreaming, and Vernar hadn't even realized the line had moved along expediently. It was simple enough, as he was looked over an given an almost approving nod. He figured the weapons and armor gave away his purpose easily enough. The dwarf followed directions towards another room, quite large as most of these chambers seemed to be. That suited him just fine.
Vernar returns the handshake firmly, figuring this sergeant can handle a strong grip. He doesn't say anything else, and instead finds a place to drop the backpack containing his meager gear. He had eaten the last of his food this morning, and was beginning to feel the need for something to fill his belly. Taking a long pull from his wineskin, he tossed that on the top of his pack, the second one already emptied a day prior.“Welcome to Wyvern Squad,” the man announces as he shakes your hand. “I'm Sergeant Traken, your commanding officer."
It is only then that the dwarf realizes he's not alone. Turning, he runs one hand down the center braid of his long, brown beard. Best to look at least somewhat presentable, he muses. His long brown hair, reaching past his shoulders, is still plastered to his head from the rain. His eyes, the color of gathering storm clouds, look over the person leaning against the wall with an impatient air about her. A scar frames his left eye socket. Vernar's cloak, trimmed with grey fur (wolf, perhaps?) has seen better days. His gloves are likewise well worn. His studded leather armor and leather boots are quite the opposite, looking like they have been cared for with loving hands. The rest of him is an arsenal. A short sword and hand axe, one on each side of his waist, are secured to make minimal noise when the dwarf moves. A throwing dagger is secured, pommel down, on each side of his ribs, and a third is snug against the small of his back.
"Well, hello 'dere, lass.. er, lady," Vernar corrects, his voice softer than one might expect, but with a faintly-hidden rumbling that could conceal something far more boisterous if the dwarf were to let loose. She is decently attractive, for a human, or at least what he would expect many human males would find desirable. She was not nearly plump enough for his own tastes.
"Apologies," he continues, "but you jus' don't first strike me as a soldier in an army."
Vernar sits down cross legged on the floor, his arms resting easily on his spread knees. "I am Vernar, from west o' here," he greets the woman. "Looks like some serious business 'bout to begin 'round here."
"Here I go again on my own..." ~the Bard Whitesnake
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana-
Finally the waiting was broken as the next person entered the gathering room. Sergeant Traken was not the most conversational although he had asked about her background and experience. The sergeant also explained that they were not a normal military squad but rather a special group which would engaging in more difficult and challenging independent tasks. That had been explained to her minimally by the kind lord who helped her in Pyris after her harrowing troubles in Elcadan.
The next person to enter was a short and stocky male. A dwarf, he appeared to be. Erisciana had heard of their kind and they were reported to be effective fighters, strong and rugged. The priestess observed the dwarf as he approached the sergeant and briefly greeted him. A warrior obviously, based on the armor and numerous weapons. And one who might operate at times in a clandestine manner, as he wore only the quieter studded leather and his weapons did not clatter as many soldiers did when they walked. She nodded approvingly to the sergeant as they exchanged wordless glances, while the dwarf deposited his gear on the stone floor.
"Well, hello 'dere, lass.. er, lady," Vernar corrects, his voice softer than one might expect, but with a faintly-hidden rumbling that could conceal something far more boisterous if the dwarf were to let loose.
“Greetings,” she said, turning to face the dwarven warrior. She noted his eyes that said he had seen much, and not just because of the scar across his left one.
“Apologies,” he continues, “but you jus’ don’t first strike me as a soldier in an army.”
Vernar sits down cross legged on the floor, his arms resting easily on his spread knees. “I am Vernar, from west o’ here”, he greets the woman. “Looks like some serious business ‘bout to begin ‘round here.”
“Good day, Vernar,” Erisciana says returning the greeting. Her words carry a slight accent that indicates she is not native to Cynalon. Stepping closer, her movements are accompanied by a slight jingle of her silver jewelry. “I have never personally encountered one of your kind before. Well met,” she says with a brief nod of her head.
“I look forward to, what will hopefully be, some interesting adventure. You look well prepared for the coming travails. As for me,...” she paused a moment, measuring her words. “I must admit that I am rather vexed to be in my current predicament. One makes the most of one’s trials and tribulations. At least we are something of a specialist unit,” she says.
“I am Erisciana of the House Iltani and a priestess of Ishtar. Despite first impressions,” she says, gesturing to indicate her current appearance, “Ishtar is not only the goddess of Love but also of War.”
“If I am not mistaken, the Dwarven lands are to the northeast. From where do you hail, then, my warrior companion?”
Finally the waiting was broken as the next person entered the gathering room. Sergeant Traken was not the most conversational although he had asked about her background and experience. The sergeant also explained that they were not a normal military squad but rather a special group which would engaging in more difficult and challenging independent tasks. That had been explained to her minimally by the kind lord who helped her in Pyris after her harrowing troubles in Elcadan.
The next person to enter was a short and stocky male. A dwarf, he appeared to be. Erisciana had heard of their kind and they were reported to be effective fighters, strong and rugged. The priestess observed the dwarf as he approached the sergeant and briefly greeted him. A warrior obviously, based on the armor and numerous weapons. And one who might operate at times in a clandestine manner, as he wore only the quieter studded leather and his weapons did not clatter as many soldiers did when they walked. She nodded approvingly to the sergeant as they exchanged wordless glances, while the dwarf deposited his gear on the stone floor.
"Well, hello 'dere, lass.. er, lady," Vernar corrects, his voice softer than one might expect, but with a faintly-hidden rumbling that could conceal something far more boisterous if the dwarf were to let loose.
“Greetings,” she said, turning to face the dwarven warrior. She noted his eyes that said he had seen much, and not just because of the scar across his left one.
“Apologies,” he continues, “but you jus’ don’t first strike me as a soldier in an army.”
Vernar sits down cross legged on the floor, his arms resting easily on his spread knees. “I am Vernar, from west o’ here”, he greets the woman. “Looks like some serious business ‘bout to begin ‘round here.”
“Good day, Vernar,” Erisciana says returning the greeting. Her words carry a slight accent that indicates she is not native to Cynalon. Stepping closer, her movements are accompanied by a slight jingle of her silver jewelry. “I have never personally encountered one of your kind before. Well met,” she says with a brief nod of her head.
“I look forward to, what will hopefully be, some interesting adventure. You look well prepared for the coming travails. As for me,...” she paused a moment, measuring her words. “I must admit that I am rather vexed to be in my current predicament. One makes the most of one’s trials and tribulations. At least we are something of a specialist unit,” she says.
“I am Erisciana of the House Iltani and a priestess of Ishtar. Despite first impressions,” she says, gesturing to indicate her current appearance, “Ishtar is not only the goddess of Love but also of War.”
“If I am not mistaken, the Dwarven lands are to the northeast. From where do you hail, then, my warrior companion?”
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Butternut:
Wanting to get a full day in at the market, the merchant Butternut was guarding on this last leg of the trip drove his small team of wagons through the night. With no rest, it is fortunate that they weren't attacked. They are in line when the gates open in the morning, though it takes some time to get through as the guards take their time approving each petitioner for entry.
Once into the city, they drive down the broad boulevard toward the center of town. Butternut goggles at the size of the city and vast number of people. It's still early in the day, but even the rain hasn't deterred crowds of people from getting up and about their daily activities. Butternut instinctively withdraws into her hooded cloak, trying to get some separation from the swarming human masses.
Eventually they reach their destination in the central market square. With no other option left to her, Butternut climbs down from the wagon. The merchant drops a handful of silver coins into the halfling's small hand and directions to the registration hall into her ear. A quick thanks accompanied by a nod, and Butternut turns to make her way toward her destination.
The building is large, rough and imposing, built to be functional rather than grand. A grim smile of approval flits across the woman's own unremarkable features. With a sigh, she pulls one of the heavy doors open and trudges inside.
Onlookers within see a diminutive bundle of wet cloth and hair trudge into the hall, looking for all the world like something the local tavern mouser coughed up and spat out. Pausing by the door, she removes and shakes out her brown wool cloak, drops of water flying in all directions. First impression is of an adolescent girl, though a second look confirms that there is nothing childish about this woman. Tight braids of dark hair fall past her shoulders, serving as a backdrop to plain features and hard eyes in a hawk-like face. Her burgundy tunic, charcoal gray breeches and soft, black boots are dirty and travel-stained. Small scars on her hands, feet and face match the rips and tears in her clothing. A short sword is strapped to one hip and a dagger to the other, both looking well used and well cared for. Clearly, she has come far to be here, and the road was not an easy one.
Some who are familiar with the small folk may see some slight resemblance, but where they are usually soft, round and jolly, she is none of those things. One wonders whether she has known a day of comfort in her life. Her grim demeanor speaks volumes about the hardships this woman has survived.
Butternut glances about the room as she tosses the slightly less damp cloak back around her shoulders. Registration tables make a row on the far side of the hall, with lines before each one. Most of the volunteers appear to be a motley collection of clueless farmboys, witless tavern bravos, and serving girls hoping to make a better life for themselves. Few of them are likely to survive the first battle. At least it's not as crowded in here as it is outside...
With a shrug, Butternut moves forward and joins the shortest-looking line. 'Might as well get this over with,' she thinks to herself.
Thankfully, it doesn't take long for the line to move up, and she soon reaches the recruiter. The desk is chin-high to the halfling, but she ignores the obvious size difference as she does the furtive whispers of the ignorant humans that infest this place. He looks like he wants to make some off-hand comment, but Butternut's hard stare dissuades him. Instead, he gives his rehearsed spiel and pushes a paper in front of her. Wordlessly, she scans the page quickly, then signs where indicated. A small pouch of coins is proffered in exchange for the contract, and Butternut is directed toward one of the rooms along the side of the hall. She drags the pouch off the desk, and shuffles off in the indicated direction.
Entering the specified room, Butternut pauses momentarily to get the lay of the land. There are racks of weapons within easy reach, though the bunks further back are far more appealing at the moment. A human soldier, by the look of his armor and tabard, stands in the middle of the room, a dwarven warrior sits cross-legged on the floor to one side, and some sort of dancing-girl stands on the other side of him - apparently attempting to engage him in conversation.
After the soldier has his say, she steps over near the dwarf, her head over-topping his only because he's sitting on the floor. "Well met, earth-brother. Good to see a root of the mountain here."
A slight movement causes her to look up at the human dancing-girl with the filmy clothes and gaudy jewelry. "Fetch me a mug of ale, will you, miss?" she asks, before returning her attention to the dwarf.
Wanting to get a full day in at the market, the merchant Butternut was guarding on this last leg of the trip drove his small team of wagons through the night. With no rest, it is fortunate that they weren't attacked. They are in line when the gates open in the morning, though it takes some time to get through as the guards take their time approving each petitioner for entry.
Once into the city, they drive down the broad boulevard toward the center of town. Butternut goggles at the size of the city and vast number of people. It's still early in the day, but even the rain hasn't deterred crowds of people from getting up and about their daily activities. Butternut instinctively withdraws into her hooded cloak, trying to get some separation from the swarming human masses.
Eventually they reach their destination in the central market square. With no other option left to her, Butternut climbs down from the wagon. The merchant drops a handful of silver coins into the halfling's small hand and directions to the registration hall into her ear. A quick thanks accompanied by a nod, and Butternut turns to make her way toward her destination.
The building is large, rough and imposing, built to be functional rather than grand. A grim smile of approval flits across the woman's own unremarkable features. With a sigh, she pulls one of the heavy doors open and trudges inside.
Onlookers within see a diminutive bundle of wet cloth and hair trudge into the hall, looking for all the world like something the local tavern mouser coughed up and spat out. Pausing by the door, she removes and shakes out her brown wool cloak, drops of water flying in all directions. First impression is of an adolescent girl, though a second look confirms that there is nothing childish about this woman. Tight braids of dark hair fall past her shoulders, serving as a backdrop to plain features and hard eyes in a hawk-like face. Her burgundy tunic, charcoal gray breeches and soft, black boots are dirty and travel-stained. Small scars on her hands, feet and face match the rips and tears in her clothing. A short sword is strapped to one hip and a dagger to the other, both looking well used and well cared for. Clearly, she has come far to be here, and the road was not an easy one.
Some who are familiar with the small folk may see some slight resemblance, but where they are usually soft, round and jolly, she is none of those things. One wonders whether she has known a day of comfort in her life. Her grim demeanor speaks volumes about the hardships this woman has survived.
Butternut glances about the room as she tosses the slightly less damp cloak back around her shoulders. Registration tables make a row on the far side of the hall, with lines before each one. Most of the volunteers appear to be a motley collection of clueless farmboys, witless tavern bravos, and serving girls hoping to make a better life for themselves. Few of them are likely to survive the first battle. At least it's not as crowded in here as it is outside...
With a shrug, Butternut moves forward and joins the shortest-looking line. 'Might as well get this over with,' she thinks to herself.
Thankfully, it doesn't take long for the line to move up, and she soon reaches the recruiter. The desk is chin-high to the halfling, but she ignores the obvious size difference as she does the furtive whispers of the ignorant humans that infest this place. He looks like he wants to make some off-hand comment, but Butternut's hard stare dissuades him. Instead, he gives his rehearsed spiel and pushes a paper in front of her. Wordlessly, she scans the page quickly, then signs where indicated. A small pouch of coins is proffered in exchange for the contract, and Butternut is directed toward one of the rooms along the side of the hall. She drags the pouch off the desk, and shuffles off in the indicated direction.
Entering the specified room, Butternut pauses momentarily to get the lay of the land. There are racks of weapons within easy reach, though the bunks further back are far more appealing at the moment. A human soldier, by the look of his armor and tabard, stands in the middle of the room, a dwarven warrior sits cross-legged on the floor to one side, and some sort of dancing-girl stands on the other side of him - apparently attempting to engage him in conversation.
Butternut tosses her cloak onto one of the pegs by the door, then steps forward to accept the handshake, her small hand seeming to disappear within his much larger one. Despite its size, he can the feel the rough skin and calluses of hard work. "Butternut of Clan Foxburr, Sergeant, goblin-hunter by trade."“Welcome to Wyvern Squad,” the man announces as he shakes your hand. “I'm Sergeant Traken, your commanding officer.”
After the soldier has his say, she steps over near the dwarf, her head over-topping his only because he's sitting on the floor. "Well met, earth-brother. Good to see a root of the mountain here."
A slight movement causes her to look up at the human dancing-girl with the filmy clothes and gaudy jewelry. "Fetch me a mug of ale, will you, miss?" she asks, before returning her attention to the dwarf.
Gordon (fanchergw AKA Kylie, Grondar, Yusef, Lily Pak / Menagerie, Butternut, Onas, and Vardra)
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Ren Silvare
- Thief / Shadowmage
- Posts: 33
- Joined: Wed Apr 04, 2018 11:41 pm
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
It was starting to get late by time he arrived, but the detour through the edges of the Dorwyn Elfholds had been worth it. There was something reassuring about the shadows of those towering canopies after the boring countryside of the High Roads.
Ren saunters through the city whistling a bit to himself amidst the early-evening glow of the Continual Light, as he trod past pools of muddy tracks towards the military district. Luckily there don't seem to be many adventurers in the line so he won't have to wait long. If it was one thing he lacked, it was patience for the trivial. Sure sure, traditions, formalities, paperwork, bureaucracy, all a waste in the face of the unknown. As he nears the recruiters desk he signs the line with his usual flourish and reaches up on his toes for the sack of gold towards the far edge of the table. Even at three and three quarters feet there were still things Ren couldn't escape. Slightly taller than your traditional gnomes but with a wiry frame Ren was a slender 67 lbs, though he'll tell you at least several of those are in the nose. He meanders over towards the barracks stopping at a restroom after receiving his assignment and picking up his gear from the courier's office. Have to be committed to making an impression of one sort or another. As he stares into the mirror his deep blueberry eyes twinkle with the shine of a gnome who smells a tantalizing trick. His slicked back shock of indigo hair was unfrazzled by the weather thanks to his dark ornate cloak which he whisks off with a deft movement spraying droplets across the room revealing the two katar strapped to his leather belt adorned with a large pouch and a belt buckle modeled after a tiny trebuchet.
Suddenly he begins chanting a quick spell and his form begins to change, his skin becoming an olive ork green standing four and three quarters feet tall with burgeoning muscles and a squat awkward form, a slight tinge of human features detected in the nose and ears. Casting Change Self he now looks like an awkwardly short half-ork with blueberry eyes. Not stopping to glance in the mirror he redons his cloak and carries his backpack to the garrison.
Ren draws near the garrison and sneaks into the shadows of the torches but makes sure to be heard on the wooden planks outside as he trundles up to the entrance. In a quick movement from a sliver of darkness he appears inside the barracks, "I are Ren da sneak! Rep-ork-ing and ready sar." He throws a quick almost mocking salute, clicking his heels together.
With a slight hesitation and a quizzical look Sergeant Traken announces "Wel..welcome to Wyvern Squad. I'm Sergeant Traken, your commanding officer." He looks down at his roster and states before trailing off, "I was expecting someone," he pauses, "slightly different."
"Dat is da sneak is it not!" He throws his gear at the nearest bunk and as he awkwardly moves to approach trips himself. With a slow stage fall he tumbles towards the bunk finishing with a quick leap towards the top bunk all the while his form shifts back to his true gnome form.
With a mirthful laugh he appraises the shocked look of the sergeant and notes that several others have already arrived in the unit. Ren then stands on the top bunk and with an over-exaggerated bow addresses the room. "Hello everyone. My name is indeed Ren and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do pardon me for my display but I find I cannot help myself, for, you see, I can be a bit of a showman. Have to be I'm afraid otherwise no one sees the shadows." with a wink he whisks off his cloak to rest it on the corner of the bunk and seats himself facing towards the center of the room.
"And who have we here? I see the flame and the spark," nodding towards a scarred dwarf with brilliant eyes and the lovely jeweled woman dressed as a courtesan, "But what of the wind?" he says, turning to look at the female dwarf.
Ren saunters through the city whistling a bit to himself amidst the early-evening glow of the Continual Light, as he trod past pools of muddy tracks towards the military district. Luckily there don't seem to be many adventurers in the line so he won't have to wait long. If it was one thing he lacked, it was patience for the trivial. Sure sure, traditions, formalities, paperwork, bureaucracy, all a waste in the face of the unknown. As he nears the recruiters desk he signs the line with his usual flourish and reaches up on his toes for the sack of gold towards the far edge of the table. Even at three and three quarters feet there were still things Ren couldn't escape. Slightly taller than your traditional gnomes but with a wiry frame Ren was a slender 67 lbs, though he'll tell you at least several of those are in the nose. He meanders over towards the barracks stopping at a restroom after receiving his assignment and picking up his gear from the courier's office. Have to be committed to making an impression of one sort or another. As he stares into the mirror his deep blueberry eyes twinkle with the shine of a gnome who smells a tantalizing trick. His slicked back shock of indigo hair was unfrazzled by the weather thanks to his dark ornate cloak which he whisks off with a deft movement spraying droplets across the room revealing the two katar strapped to his leather belt adorned with a large pouch and a belt buckle modeled after a tiny trebuchet.
Suddenly he begins chanting a quick spell and his form begins to change, his skin becoming an olive ork green standing four and three quarters feet tall with burgeoning muscles and a squat awkward form, a slight tinge of human features detected in the nose and ears. Casting Change Self he now looks like an awkwardly short half-ork with blueberry eyes. Not stopping to glance in the mirror he redons his cloak and carries his backpack to the garrison.
Ren draws near the garrison and sneaks into the shadows of the torches but makes sure to be heard on the wooden planks outside as he trundles up to the entrance. In a quick movement from a sliver of darkness he appears inside the barracks, "I are Ren da sneak! Rep-ork-ing and ready sar." He throws a quick almost mocking salute, clicking his heels together.
With a slight hesitation and a quizzical look Sergeant Traken announces "Wel..welcome to Wyvern Squad. I'm Sergeant Traken, your commanding officer." He looks down at his roster and states before trailing off, "I was expecting someone," he pauses, "slightly different."
"Dat is da sneak is it not!" He throws his gear at the nearest bunk and as he awkwardly moves to approach trips himself. With a slow stage fall he tumbles towards the bunk finishing with a quick leap towards the top bunk all the while his form shifts back to his true gnome form.
With a mirthful laugh he appraises the shocked look of the sergeant and notes that several others have already arrived in the unit. Ren then stands on the top bunk and with an over-exaggerated bow addresses the room. "Hello everyone. My name is indeed Ren and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do pardon me for my display but I find I cannot help myself, for, you see, I can be a bit of a showman. Have to be I'm afraid otherwise no one sees the shadows." with a wink he whisks off his cloak to rest it on the corner of the bunk and seats himself facing towards the center of the room.
"And who have we here? I see the flame and the spark," nodding towards a scarred dwarf with brilliant eyes and the lovely jeweled woman dressed as a courtesan, "But what of the wind?" he says, turning to look at the female dwarf.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
The priestess begins a conversation with her new companion, a dwarven warrior, when another enters their gathering chamber. The being is not a dwarf. She is smaller and thinner. Erisci considers for a moment what she might know of the new arrival's race. Meanwhile, she watches the rain-soaked female introduce herself to the sergeant and the dwarven warrior. Erisciana raises an eyebrow though at the response to her.
After the soldier has his say, she steps over near the dwarf, her head over-topping his only because he's sitting on the floor. "Well met, earth-brother. Good to see a root of the mountain here."
A slight movement causes her to look up at the human dancing-girl with the filmy clothes and gaudy jewelry. "Fetch me a mug of ale, will you, miss?" she asks, before returning her attention to the dwarf.
"Excuse me?" Erisci says for a moment. She looks toward the sergeant for a moment. He just smiles, but says nothing.
Erisciana turns back to the diminutive newcomer. Waving her arms across the room, she states, "I'm afraid there is no ale available here. Perhaps after our team is finalized here, you may wish to visit one of the local taverns? Being new to these lands, I am afraid I cannot make a recommendation."
------------------------------------------------
Before long another newcomer arrives. "By Ishtar, each new arrival is smaller than the other!" she thinks to herself. She is rather surprised to realize that even with her short stature, she is the tallest member of this team so far.
She watches the newcomer's antics curiously.
"Hello everyone. My name is indeed Ren and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do pardon me for my display but I find I cannot help myself, for, you see, I can be a bit of a showman. Have to be I'm afraid otherwise no one sees the shadows." with a wink he whisks off his cloak to rest it on the corner of the bunk and seats himself facing towards the center of the room.
"And who have we here? I see the flame and the spark," nodding towards a scarred dwarf with brilliant eyes and the lovely jeweled woman dressed as a courtesan, "But what of the wind?" he says, turning to look at the female dwarf.
"Good day, Ren," she says in her slight accent. "I am Erisciana Iltani, priestess of Ishtar. And what may be your profession and skills?"
The priestess begins a conversation with her new companion, a dwarven warrior, when another enters their gathering chamber. The being is not a dwarf. She is smaller and thinner. Erisci considers for a moment what she might know of the new arrival's race. Meanwhile, she watches the rain-soaked female introduce herself to the sergeant and the dwarven warrior. Erisciana raises an eyebrow though at the response to her.
After the soldier has his say, she steps over near the dwarf, her head over-topping his only because he's sitting on the floor. "Well met, earth-brother. Good to see a root of the mountain here."
A slight movement causes her to look up at the human dancing-girl with the filmy clothes and gaudy jewelry. "Fetch me a mug of ale, will you, miss?" she asks, before returning her attention to the dwarf.
"Excuse me?" Erisci says for a moment. She looks toward the sergeant for a moment. He just smiles, but says nothing.
Erisciana turns back to the diminutive newcomer. Waving her arms across the room, she states, "I'm afraid there is no ale available here. Perhaps after our team is finalized here, you may wish to visit one of the local taverns? Being new to these lands, I am afraid I cannot make a recommendation."
------------------------------------------------
Before long another newcomer arrives. "By Ishtar, each new arrival is smaller than the other!" she thinks to herself. She is rather surprised to realize that even with her short stature, she is the tallest member of this team so far.
She watches the newcomer's antics curiously.
"Hello everyone. My name is indeed Ren and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do pardon me for my display but I find I cannot help myself, for, you see, I can be a bit of a showman. Have to be I'm afraid otherwise no one sees the shadows." with a wink he whisks off his cloak to rest it on the corner of the bunk and seats himself facing towards the center of the room.
"And who have we here? I see the flame and the spark," nodding towards a scarred dwarf with brilliant eyes and the lovely jeweled woman dressed as a courtesan, "But what of the wind?" he says, turning to look at the female dwarf.
"Good day, Ren," she says in her slight accent. "I am Erisciana Iltani, priestess of Ishtar. And what may be your profession and skills?"
-
Ren Silvare
- Thief / Shadowmage
- Posts: 33
- Joined: Wed Apr 04, 2018 11:41 pm
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
"I've built the odd nook and cranny for those who wish their goods hidden. An engineer by trade, and a bit of a sleuth by night. I've always had a penchant for controlling the shadows and hiding amidst them. Sometimes I find myself where I should not; I do, however, insist that some chests do beg to be opened, despite the owner's protests. What is it you do yourself? I can't imagine this was Ishtar's grand plan." Ren says, gesturing towards the meager accommodations."Good day, Ren," she says in her slight accent. "I am Erisciana Iltani, priestess of Ishtar. And what may be your profession and skills?"
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
"Hmmmm...", Erisciana simply comments as Ren says a bit about himself.
What is it you do yourself? I can't imagine this was Ishtar's grand plan." Ren says, gesturing towards the meager accommodations.
"Sometimes the gods detail their plans to their followers. Sometimes they do not." She looks around at the current situation she finds herself, musing silently for some moments. "Some trials are meant for our own good, some trials are meant for the good of others. I am still learning what sort of trial I am currently facing myself."
"As for my skills, Ishtar is the Goddess of Love and War. I have some martial skill and am versed in various small magicks. I feel certain that I will be a boon to the members of this assemblage."
"Hmmmm...", Erisciana simply comments as Ren says a bit about himself.
What is it you do yourself? I can't imagine this was Ishtar's grand plan." Ren says, gesturing towards the meager accommodations.
"Sometimes the gods detail their plans to their followers. Sometimes they do not." She looks around at the current situation she finds herself, musing silently for some moments. "Some trials are meant for our own good, some trials are meant for the good of others. I am still learning what sort of trial I am currently facing myself."
"As for my skills, Ishtar is the Goddess of Love and War. I have some martial skill and am versed in various small magicks. I feel certain that I will be a boon to the members of this assemblage."
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Small Update:
Additional Introduction for Lucyus:
Earlier in the day, Lucyus made his way through the Crossroads Temple of Heironeous. It being situated next to the military district came as no surprise. The temple was active this morning as a unit of Heironeous' followers would be accompanying the army on their mission to liberate Gateway. The leader of this force was Durn, a high ranking follower of Heironeous here in Crossroads. It was assumed that once Gateway was liberated that he would set up a new temple there and become its leader.
Lucyus locates Brother Durn. He's is an older man and from the scars on his face has seen battle before. He wears traditional chain mail underneath his Heironeous tabard. Durn's battleaxe is close at hand.
“Welcome Brother Lucyus,” Durn says in greeting as the two grasp hands. “It has come to my attention that you requested a transfer from the accompanying force to join the army itself in this glorious endeavor.”
Durn looks Lucyus in the eye as if trying to gauge the measure of the man.
“Permission granted!” Durn snaps. “Give'm hell, son!”
Later that day, Lucyus makes his way to the military gathering hall. He goes through the applicant line and then finds himself in a barracks with several other individuals.
Additional Introduction for Wimzy:
Elsewhere in Crossroads, Wimzy made her way through the Crossroads Temple of Azrella. As was common with many of the Blue Lady's places of worship, it doubled as an orphanage for those unfortunate children who had lost their parents. The sounds of children at play filled the air. Many of the followers of Azrella were orphans themselves, having grown up in such Temples. As they grew older they dedicated themselves to the Blue Lady's good works.
On this morning, Wimzy had been summoned to speak with a more experienced priestess, Selinda by name. It was common knowledge among the faithful that Selinda would be leading a force of Azrellan's that were going to be accompanying the army on their mission to liberate Gateway. This force would offer healing and otherwise tend to the sick and wounded. They were not expected to see front line action unless undead were encountered. It was assumed that once Gateway was liberated that Selinda would become the Mother of a new temple dedicated to the glory of Azrella.
“Sister Wimzy,” Selinda says upon seeing the halfling. “So good to see you. I have heard that it is your intention to join the army for the upcoming mission. While I praise your valor and courage to join the front line fighting, are you sure that is what you want? There would be a place for you among those traveling with me.”
Upon hearing that Wimzy has, presumably, made her mind up, Selinda will add, “You do our order proud, Wimzy. May the Blue Lady bless you and your endeavors.”
Later that day, Wimzy gathers up her belongings and makes her way to the registration area.
Additional Introduction for Lucyus:
Earlier in the day, Lucyus made his way through the Crossroads Temple of Heironeous. It being situated next to the military district came as no surprise. The temple was active this morning as a unit of Heironeous' followers would be accompanying the army on their mission to liberate Gateway. The leader of this force was Durn, a high ranking follower of Heironeous here in Crossroads. It was assumed that once Gateway was liberated that he would set up a new temple there and become its leader.
Lucyus locates Brother Durn. He's is an older man and from the scars on his face has seen battle before. He wears traditional chain mail underneath his Heironeous tabard. Durn's battleaxe is close at hand.
“Welcome Brother Lucyus,” Durn says in greeting as the two grasp hands. “It has come to my attention that you requested a transfer from the accompanying force to join the army itself in this glorious endeavor.”
Durn looks Lucyus in the eye as if trying to gauge the measure of the man.
“Permission granted!” Durn snaps. “Give'm hell, son!”
Later that day, Lucyus makes his way to the military gathering hall. He goes through the applicant line and then finds himself in a barracks with several other individuals.
Additional Introduction for Wimzy:
Elsewhere in Crossroads, Wimzy made her way through the Crossroads Temple of Azrella. As was common with many of the Blue Lady's places of worship, it doubled as an orphanage for those unfortunate children who had lost their parents. The sounds of children at play filled the air. Many of the followers of Azrella were orphans themselves, having grown up in such Temples. As they grew older they dedicated themselves to the Blue Lady's good works.
On this morning, Wimzy had been summoned to speak with a more experienced priestess, Selinda by name. It was common knowledge among the faithful that Selinda would be leading a force of Azrellan's that were going to be accompanying the army on their mission to liberate Gateway. This force would offer healing and otherwise tend to the sick and wounded. They were not expected to see front line action unless undead were encountered. It was assumed that once Gateway was liberated that Selinda would become the Mother of a new temple dedicated to the glory of Azrella.
“Sister Wimzy,” Selinda says upon seeing the halfling. “So good to see you. I have heard that it is your intention to join the army for the upcoming mission. While I praise your valor and courage to join the front line fighting, are you sure that is what you want? There would be a place for you among those traveling with me.”
Upon hearing that Wimzy has, presumably, made her mind up, Selinda will add, “You do our order proud, Wimzy. May the Blue Lady bless you and your endeavors.”
Later that day, Wimzy gathers up her belongings and makes her way to the registration area.
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
GM Notes:
Special ranks are available to all players who want them. If the rank listed under your avatar is “Rookie” then you do not have a special rank. As noted in this post you can have ones like Priestess of Ishtar or Locksmith. Ones like Priestess of Azrella, Paladin of Heironeous, Mage, etc are available. Let me know what special rank you want attached to your player.
Special ranks are available to all players who want them. If the rank listed under your avatar is “Rookie” then you do not have a special rank. As noted in this post you can have ones like Priestess of Ishtar or Locksmith. Ones like Priestess of Azrella, Paladin of Heironeous, Mage, etc are available. Let me know what special rank you want attached to your player.
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Butternut:
"That's a damn shame," Butternut replies. "I could use a drink." Not sure what the dancing-girl means about 'our team', but she suspects all will be explained in time. Perhaps the entertainment will be traveling with them as far as Fort Graystone...Erisciana wrote:"Excuse me?" Erisci says for a moment. She looks toward the sergeant for a moment. He just smiles, but says nothing.
Erisciana turns back to the diminutive newcomer. Waving her arms across the room, she states, "I'm afraid there is no ale available here. Perhaps after our team is finalized here, you may wish to visit one of the local taverns? Being new to these lands, I am afraid I cannot make a recommendation."
Almost immediately, someone else enters, making a big show to draw attention to himself. The oddly-bent orc-like form shifts and reforms into that of a gnome. 'Great, just what we need - more entertainers,' Butternut thinks to herself. 'I thought this was supposed to be a serious mission.'Ren wrote:With a mirthful laugh he appraises the shocked look of the sergeant and notes that several others have already arrived in the unit. Ren then stands on the top bunk and with an over-exaggerated bow addresses the room. "Hello everyone. My name is indeed Ren and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do pardon me for my display but I find I cannot help myself, for, you see, I can be a bit of a showman. Have to be I'm afraid otherwise no one sees the shadows." with a wink he whisks off his cloak to rest it on the corner of the bunk and seats himself facing towards the center of the room.
"I'm Butternut, last survivor of Clan Foxburr, Ren," Butternut states with a hint of sadness in her tone. "And the only wind about me is usually the result of too much spicy food."Ren wrote:"And who have we here? I see the flame and the spark," nodding towards a scarred dwarf with brilliant eyes and the lovely jeweled woman dressed as a courtesan, "But what of the wind?" he says, turning to look at the female dwarf.
'A priestess...?' Butternut wonders. 'Never heard of this Ishtar. Some foreign goddess of dancing-girls and concubines, apparently.'Erisciana wrote:"Good day, Ren," she says in her slight accent. "I am Erisciana Iltani, priestess of Ishtar. And what may be your profession and skills?"
"So you do paid work for people and then rob them?" Butternut asks bluntly. 'Need to keep a sharp eye on this one; he may be the most dishonest person I've ever met.'Ren wrote:"I've built the odd nook and cranny for those who wish their goods hidden. An engineer by trade, and a bit of a sleuth by night. I've always had a penchant for controlling the shadows and hiding amidst them. Sometimes I find myself where I should not; I do, however, insist that some chests do beg to be opened, despite the owner's protests. What is it you do yourself? I can't imagine this was Ishtar's grand plan." Ren says, gesturing towards the meager accommodations.
An odd chuckling sound emerges from the still-dripping halfling woman. "Goddess of Love and War... I've heard there are those who see them as being much the same." As for the 'boon', Butternut thinks, that has yet to be seen. Perhaps she couldn't afford to dress for war, so dressed for 'love' instead. Mayhap the stipend they were paid will allow her to get some decent gear.Erisciana wrote:"As for my skills, Ishtar is the Goddess of Love and War. I have some martial skill and am versed in various small magicks. I feel certain that I will be a boon to the members of this assemblage."
Gordon (fanchergw AKA Kylie, Grondar, Yusef, Lily Pak / Menagerie, Butternut, Onas, and Vardra)
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
"That's a damn shame," Butternut replies. "I could use a drink."
The diminutive humanoid appears to not be exaggerating. Rain-soaked and scruffy, she does indeed look somewhat haggard. Erisci, however, does not comment further.
After the gnome enters and explains himself, the halfling makes an interesting comment.
"So you do paid work for people and then rob them?" Butternut asks bluntly.
Erisci is particularly curious about the response this biting question receives. She will definitely be keeping an eye on this miniature rascal.
Erisciana introduces herself more formally.
An odd chuckling sound emerges from the still-dripping halfling woman. "Goddess of Love and War... I've heard there are those who see them as being much the same."
The priestess turns at the chuckle she hears. Cocking her head to one side, she looks for the reason behind the mirthless laughter. Not able to fully ascertain the implication, she will answer directly. "Often they ARE one and the same, indeed. Two sides to the same coin, as it were." She pauses to gauge her new grim companion. "Do you have one to which you feel the opposing tugs of Ishtar's powerful forces?"
"That's a damn shame," Butternut replies. "I could use a drink."
The diminutive humanoid appears to not be exaggerating. Rain-soaked and scruffy, she does indeed look somewhat haggard. Erisci, however, does not comment further.
After the gnome enters and explains himself, the halfling makes an interesting comment.
"So you do paid work for people and then rob them?" Butternut asks bluntly.
Erisci is particularly curious about the response this biting question receives. She will definitely be keeping an eye on this miniature rascal.
Erisciana introduces herself more formally.
An odd chuckling sound emerges from the still-dripping halfling woman. "Goddess of Love and War... I've heard there are those who see them as being much the same."
The priestess turns at the chuckle she hears. Cocking her head to one side, she looks for the reason behind the mirthless laughter. Not able to fully ascertain the implication, she will answer directly. "Often they ARE one and the same, indeed. Two sides to the same coin, as it were." She pauses to gauge her new grim companion. "Do you have one to which you feel the opposing tugs of Ishtar's powerful forces?"
-
Flare Nightstorm
- Ranger of Selune
- Posts: 24
- Joined: Sat Apr 07, 2018 5:08 pm
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Flare Nightstorm's been in a serious mood lately. He's on a mission to restore honor to the Nightstorm family name.
[He signs the registration ledger and receives his bag of coins.]
His Father, Egro Nightstorm, has gone missing after a failed mission into Gateway some months back. An unknown merchant had hired him and several other mercenaries for the clandestine task. This has concerned many friends and family back home in the forests of Alexandria and the South Sea.
No one seems to remember that this has been a pattern throughout Egro's life. It was not unusual for Egro Nightstorm to mysteriously disappear for months on end. He'd missed most of Flare's, and his sister's (Vileah's), childhoods.
But Marilee Nightstorm, their Mother, still worried about the man. Why she worried, Flare did not know. Why she still held a torch for the man, Flare did not understand.
The tales surrounding his Father were larger than life. People loved the man. He was a legend. But Flare was having none of it. Egro Nightstorm was a drunk and a scoundrel. Flare imagined that his Father brewed and served his infamous hard-ciders to the enemy Horde on a nightly basis. An entrepreneurial raconteur and ex-pat, living amongst the enemy, having no moral issues with it at all, sneaking gold from the Goblin Horde with his left hand while stealing silver from the Cynalonians with his right.
Egro Nightstorm was an embarrassment to his son. That said, if there was one enviable skill that the elder Nightstorm possessed, it was his ability to survive. He was as resilient as they came. And hopefully this was a skill that was passed on to Flare.
Once he finds his Father, dead or alive, and gets word back to the village (and Mother), Flare will move on to his own adventures, fighting for good, and living with honor and dignity. His word will be stronger than any signed document. This is the name he wishes to build for himself, and the name he wishes to pass on to the next generation.
Perhaps someday Selune will light his way towards love. And he and his beloved will have a home full of children that they can love more than life itself.
Flare is struck by this image. And saddened by it as well. He looks around stealthily and reaches into his pocket. Seedlings, twigs & rodent hair pour down his leg, sticking here and there, and sprinkle upon the ground. He whispers into his pocket, "It's okay... shh.. it's okay..." as he brings a small flask to his lips and sneaks a taste of sweet, alcoholic, blackberry cider. Flare may have more in common with his Father than he wishes to admit. Glancing around the registration hall again, he gently places the flask back in his pocket, wipes his mouth with the back of a hand, and enters the barracks.
He sees and approaches Sgt. Traken, shares a few brief words, salutes and moves to a nearby wall where his eyes are immediately drawn to the exquisite "Dancing Girl". It's difficult to take his eyes off of her. He stares transfixed for longer than he wishes he had, and finally curtsies awkwardly toward her, spilling more twigs and debris to the ground. My god! Vileah's right! I've been in the woods too long, he muses to himself. He picks a dried rabbit's foot off the ground and stuffs it gently back into his pocket.
Finally gaining his composure, Flare notices the female Halfling, who seems to notice him back. It's been years since I've interacted with her kind. Interesting, he says under his breath. Flare slides a long finger down the side of his nose, a gesture aimed at the Halfling when she is looking. She looks like a fellow creature of the woods. Not a bad thing. And there's an air of seriousness about her. Also, not a bad thing, he thinks silently.
Flare then spies the Dwarf sitting cross-legged on the floor, sizing him up as well. No offense, Dwarf, but I drink alone. I won't indulge in unnecessary Dwarvish carousing and mischief-making. Too much of it in my own lineage, he says to himself. Nonetheless, Flare nods respectfully at Vernar.
Finally, Flare sees the Gnome on the bunk. Despite his jovial appearance, Flare will have to keep an eye on this one. Sorry, Gnome, he thinks. Once a thief, always a thief. Nothing personal. I was born to a thief and am all too familiar with their kind. He nods to Ren as well.
Having summed up the other members of the barracks, Flare Nightstorm finally relaxes.
He doesn't like to judge others, but, as was mentioned earlier, he's been in the woods for far too long, and trust is not easy to come by these days.
[He signs the registration ledger and receives his bag of coins.]
His Father, Egro Nightstorm, has gone missing after a failed mission into Gateway some months back. An unknown merchant had hired him and several other mercenaries for the clandestine task. This has concerned many friends and family back home in the forests of Alexandria and the South Sea.
No one seems to remember that this has been a pattern throughout Egro's life. It was not unusual for Egro Nightstorm to mysteriously disappear for months on end. He'd missed most of Flare's, and his sister's (Vileah's), childhoods.
But Marilee Nightstorm, their Mother, still worried about the man. Why she worried, Flare did not know. Why she still held a torch for the man, Flare did not understand.
The tales surrounding his Father were larger than life. People loved the man. He was a legend. But Flare was having none of it. Egro Nightstorm was a drunk and a scoundrel. Flare imagined that his Father brewed and served his infamous hard-ciders to the enemy Horde on a nightly basis. An entrepreneurial raconteur and ex-pat, living amongst the enemy, having no moral issues with it at all, sneaking gold from the Goblin Horde with his left hand while stealing silver from the Cynalonians with his right.
Egro Nightstorm was an embarrassment to his son. That said, if there was one enviable skill that the elder Nightstorm possessed, it was his ability to survive. He was as resilient as they came. And hopefully this was a skill that was passed on to Flare.
Once he finds his Father, dead or alive, and gets word back to the village (and Mother), Flare will move on to his own adventures, fighting for good, and living with honor and dignity. His word will be stronger than any signed document. This is the name he wishes to build for himself, and the name he wishes to pass on to the next generation.
Perhaps someday Selune will light his way towards love. And he and his beloved will have a home full of children that they can love more than life itself.
Flare is struck by this image. And saddened by it as well. He looks around stealthily and reaches into his pocket. Seedlings, twigs & rodent hair pour down his leg, sticking here and there, and sprinkle upon the ground. He whispers into his pocket, "It's okay... shh.. it's okay..." as he brings a small flask to his lips and sneaks a taste of sweet, alcoholic, blackberry cider. Flare may have more in common with his Father than he wishes to admit. Glancing around the registration hall again, he gently places the flask back in his pocket, wipes his mouth with the back of a hand, and enters the barracks.
He sees and approaches Sgt. Traken, shares a few brief words, salutes and moves to a nearby wall where his eyes are immediately drawn to the exquisite "Dancing Girl". It's difficult to take his eyes off of her. He stares transfixed for longer than he wishes he had, and finally curtsies awkwardly toward her, spilling more twigs and debris to the ground. My god! Vileah's right! I've been in the woods too long, he muses to himself. He picks a dried rabbit's foot off the ground and stuffs it gently back into his pocket.
Finally gaining his composure, Flare notices the female Halfling, who seems to notice him back. It's been years since I've interacted with her kind. Interesting, he says under his breath. Flare slides a long finger down the side of his nose, a gesture aimed at the Halfling when she is looking. She looks like a fellow creature of the woods. Not a bad thing. And there's an air of seriousness about her. Also, not a bad thing, he thinks silently.
Flare then spies the Dwarf sitting cross-legged on the floor, sizing him up as well. No offense, Dwarf, but I drink alone. I won't indulge in unnecessary Dwarvish carousing and mischief-making. Too much of it in my own lineage, he says to himself. Nonetheless, Flare nods respectfully at Vernar.
Finally, Flare sees the Gnome on the bunk. Despite his jovial appearance, Flare will have to keep an eye on this one. Sorry, Gnome, he thinks. Once a thief, always a thief. Nothing personal. I was born to a thief and am all too familiar with their kind. He nods to Ren as well.
Having summed up the other members of the barracks, Flare Nightstorm finally relaxes.
He doesn't like to judge others, but, as was mentioned earlier, he's been in the woods for far too long, and trust is not easy to come by these days.
A Source of Light in the Dark of Night. (Unless he's drunk.) (If he's drunk, you're on your own.) (Sorry, I cannot control Flare. He's his own man.)
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Wimzy steps through the doorway of the barracks room with a confidence at odds with her youthful appearance and diminutive size. She brings her feet together and comes to a comfortable halt just inside the door, scanning the room, appearing a bit like a tiny sentinel to those already gathered there. Her eyes move from person to person, noticing details they may not even know they are exhibiting. She’s had a lot of practice in her life sizing people up before the need has arisen. As a small person spending a great deal of time around the “bigs,” not all of whom have the best of intentions, it has served her well to be wary and prepared. She spies an empty top bunk near the back of the room and decides that’ll be hers for now.
"Greetings, one and all,” she says in her best public speaking voice. “I’m Wimzy, and I’m here to help.”
Some of those gathered look up to see who has joined them. Standing before them they see a slender wisp of a woman a little under four feet tall and weighing what must be barely 50 pounds, but her curly dark red hair makes her look a bit bigger. She is wearing a sky-blue knee-length sleeveless vest with billowy maroon pants beneath it. Her slender exposed shoulders and arms are tan from spending a lot of time outside, but they do not bear the muscles of a hard or demanding physical existence. She is quite appealing to look at, with both a fit, if thin, body and a nicely arranged face. Most people upon seeing her think of the word adorable rather than ravishing. A gold-colored metal chain hangs around her neck, coming together high on her chest, holding a golden infinity symbol several inches across, bound at the thin point in the center by an onyx ring.
She steps up to Sergeant Traken, shakes his large, strong hand. “At your service, sir.”
She gives a quick nod and jauntily springs across the room, dancing through the other recruits with a quirky smile on her face, looking like she’s playing a game of hopscotch. She arrives at her chosen bunk and hops up onto it with surprising ease. Upon dropping her backpack on the mattress, clinking with a new bag of gold inside, she locks eyes with the attractive human woman in the corner. Glancing down at her dress, Wimzy whispers “I like the blue. Good color…for you.” Wimzy brushes both of her hands down her own ribs, indicating to the dark-haired woman her own blue apparel. “And the bare feet,” Wimzy winks, pointing. “Nice touch.” The slender halfling looks down at her own bare feet, quite a bit larger than the human woman’s despite being over a foot shorter than her. Poor girl, Wimzy thinks. Must be murder to balance all that weight on such small pedestals.
Her eyes once again dart around the room, seeing a rugged dwarf, a gnome who looks to be having a bit too much fun, and another halfling whom Wimzy guesses is a businesswoman of some sort, though she looks like she may have had a bad day. So many little people, Wimzy thinks. It was rare to have two in one place in this city, let alone four, and they were purposely assigned to this mission together. She wonders if there is meaning or intent behind that.
She then lays her eyes on a human woodsman with strange lumps in all of his pockets, looking a little confused. Is he drunk, she wonders? Surely not. Maybe he had a hard night too, she conceded. Wimzy isn’t much for judging people on anything but their actions. Of course drinking is an action, so she’ll have to keep an eye out for that. She has never met a person made better by alcohol. As a younger woman, she had tried for years to help a friend break free from the grasp of the ale, but saw the tenacious hold it can have on some, and the vicious toll it takes when it is victorious. That friend reverted again and again, and eventually was consumed by drink, dying one night after making one too many bad decisions. Wimzy considered that loss one of her worst failures as a servant of Azrella. She philosophized, the greatest affront to the Goddess of Life is not Death, but apathy, a life granted but not lived. She knows all too well that if alcohol has its way, it always ends in apathy. Wimzy has observed that people suffering from the insatiable urge to drink behave just a bit too similarly to the creatures she finds most abominable in all of creation, the undead. It hurts her without end to see a life wasted like that; to see someone alive who purposely shuts off their mind like a damned shambling ghoul. She couldn’t let that happen to anyone close to her ever again.
She is snapped back to the present when she sees something…move? In the woodsman’s pants? Not in a place one might expect movement either, even with an overly done-up human female beguiling him. No, he is past paying attention to her, at least for the moment. Wimzy quickly surmises what is going on, as she looks away and nods knowingly. She is a lover of animals herself and often finds herself sharing her life with them. Given this, instead of seeing a lonely, tipsy wanderer hiding secrets, she sees a kindred spirit with a good heart and a hurting soul in that lumpy woodsman. She vows then and there to do all she can to make sure he doesn’t succumb to the same fate as her friend. Yes, she will be certain to help him reach his full potential and make sure he understands how much the people of Cynalon need him to be his best self. This might be a tall order, but challenge accepted, she chuckles.
Oh, and that dwarf. He looks like a man with whom one should not trifle. She fixes her gaze on him as he chats with the Sergeant. Throughout her life, Wimzy has benefitted from powerful men watching over her. They don’t always know why, but something in the backs of their minds invariably reminds them that she needs to be protected at all costs, even to their own detriment, not that any of them suffer much as a result. After all, she protects them too. This history has made her strangely comfortable around men many others might find ominous or frightening. Yes, she thinks. He might be the one here best-suited to having a protective disposition toward me. She temples her fingers and taps them rapidly in succession. I’ll have to work on that. She knows she can be very persuasive.
Wimzy smirks her crooked smile as she flops backwards onto her bed. What a ragtag bunch we are, she muses. This is going to be fun.
"Greetings, one and all,” she says in her best public speaking voice. “I’m Wimzy, and I’m here to help.”
Some of those gathered look up to see who has joined them. Standing before them they see a slender wisp of a woman a little under four feet tall and weighing what must be barely 50 pounds, but her curly dark red hair makes her look a bit bigger. She is wearing a sky-blue knee-length sleeveless vest with billowy maroon pants beneath it. Her slender exposed shoulders and arms are tan from spending a lot of time outside, but they do not bear the muscles of a hard or demanding physical existence. She is quite appealing to look at, with both a fit, if thin, body and a nicely arranged face. Most people upon seeing her think of the word adorable rather than ravishing. A gold-colored metal chain hangs around her neck, coming together high on her chest, holding a golden infinity symbol several inches across, bound at the thin point in the center by an onyx ring.
She steps up to Sergeant Traken, shakes his large, strong hand. “At your service, sir.”
She gives a quick nod and jauntily springs across the room, dancing through the other recruits with a quirky smile on her face, looking like she’s playing a game of hopscotch. She arrives at her chosen bunk and hops up onto it with surprising ease. Upon dropping her backpack on the mattress, clinking with a new bag of gold inside, she locks eyes with the attractive human woman in the corner. Glancing down at her dress, Wimzy whispers “I like the blue. Good color…for you.” Wimzy brushes both of her hands down her own ribs, indicating to the dark-haired woman her own blue apparel. “And the bare feet,” Wimzy winks, pointing. “Nice touch.” The slender halfling looks down at her own bare feet, quite a bit larger than the human woman’s despite being over a foot shorter than her. Poor girl, Wimzy thinks. Must be murder to balance all that weight on such small pedestals.
Her eyes once again dart around the room, seeing a rugged dwarf, a gnome who looks to be having a bit too much fun, and another halfling whom Wimzy guesses is a businesswoman of some sort, though she looks like she may have had a bad day. So many little people, Wimzy thinks. It was rare to have two in one place in this city, let alone four, and they were purposely assigned to this mission together. She wonders if there is meaning or intent behind that.
She then lays her eyes on a human woodsman with strange lumps in all of his pockets, looking a little confused. Is he drunk, she wonders? Surely not. Maybe he had a hard night too, she conceded. Wimzy isn’t much for judging people on anything but their actions. Of course drinking is an action, so she’ll have to keep an eye out for that. She has never met a person made better by alcohol. As a younger woman, she had tried for years to help a friend break free from the grasp of the ale, but saw the tenacious hold it can have on some, and the vicious toll it takes when it is victorious. That friend reverted again and again, and eventually was consumed by drink, dying one night after making one too many bad decisions. Wimzy considered that loss one of her worst failures as a servant of Azrella. She philosophized, the greatest affront to the Goddess of Life is not Death, but apathy, a life granted but not lived. She knows all too well that if alcohol has its way, it always ends in apathy. Wimzy has observed that people suffering from the insatiable urge to drink behave just a bit too similarly to the creatures she finds most abominable in all of creation, the undead. It hurts her without end to see a life wasted like that; to see someone alive who purposely shuts off their mind like a damned shambling ghoul. She couldn’t let that happen to anyone close to her ever again.
She is snapped back to the present when she sees something…move? In the woodsman’s pants? Not in a place one might expect movement either, even with an overly done-up human female beguiling him. No, he is past paying attention to her, at least for the moment. Wimzy quickly surmises what is going on, as she looks away and nods knowingly. She is a lover of animals herself and often finds herself sharing her life with them. Given this, instead of seeing a lonely, tipsy wanderer hiding secrets, she sees a kindred spirit with a good heart and a hurting soul in that lumpy woodsman. She vows then and there to do all she can to make sure he doesn’t succumb to the same fate as her friend. Yes, she will be certain to help him reach his full potential and make sure he understands how much the people of Cynalon need him to be his best self. This might be a tall order, but challenge accepted, she chuckles.
Oh, and that dwarf. He looks like a man with whom one should not trifle. She fixes her gaze on him as he chats with the Sergeant. Throughout her life, Wimzy has benefitted from powerful men watching over her. They don’t always know why, but something in the backs of their minds invariably reminds them that she needs to be protected at all costs, even to their own detriment, not that any of them suffer much as a result. After all, she protects them too. This history has made her strangely comfortable around men many others might find ominous or frightening. Yes, she thinks. He might be the one here best-suited to having a protective disposition toward me. She temples her fingers and taps them rapidly in succession. I’ll have to work on that. She knows she can be very persuasive.
Wimzy smirks her crooked smile as she flops backwards onto her bed. What a ragtag bunch we are, she muses. This is going to be fun.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Lucyus
With his training almost done, Lucyus breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a hard road to this point. Leaving home at a young age and being whipped into shape had shown the young man how to overcome the limitations before him. The military training could be seen upon his 6 ft 1 in frame; his muscles lean yet somewhat strong allowing him to endure and overcome the long runs and marches of the military life.
As he donned his garments for the day, one of his brothers came to get him. His commander wished to see him. “Thank you, I will be there shortly, brother,” he says in a low tone as he dons his blue cloak with a hint of silver upon the fringe. Picking up his battleaxe he slings it across his back as the hand sits above his right shoulder.
As he walks through the compound the sound of drilling is heard, weapons ringing against one another. For a moment, he looks on the courtyard; he always was fascinated by sword and axe work. He looks on his brothers in training and silently wishes them the best in their trials, for they will need it soon when they move out with the army. For a moment he feels guilty but he had his reasons for applying for his transfer.
Coming to Brother Durn’s door, he raises his hand in a fist and knocks, awaiting entry. Within moments he enters and meets his officer with a firm handshake. “Good Morning, Brother Durn. You wished to see me?” he says parting his legs beneath his frame in a relaxed nature, his blue eyes never leaving the commander.
“It has come to my attention that you requested a transfer from the accompanying force to join the army itself in this glorious endeavor.”
“Indeed I did. While it would be glorious to enter the fray with my brothers at my side; I felt I was needed elsewhere. All abled bodies are to help with the coming battles. I wish to see as many as I can survive and see the fruition of their work.”
For a long moment Durn looks into his eyes and Lucyus dares not blink, staring hard and determined back at his mentor. “Permission granted!” Durn snaps. “Give'm hell, son!”
“Thank you sir!” he says, as his black boot-heels click together and a smile etches across his clean face. As he turns to leave, Lucyus looks back at his commander. “Sir, Thank you for your guidance and teachings. I do not think I would have made it without you.” He puts his fist to his chest and bows slightly then makes for the door.
Walking back to his barracks, Lucyus gathers his gear within his pack. For the majority of his life he knew this moment would come; one he did not long for or relish. Picking up his battleaxe he looks to the others within the barracks, he shouts “Strength in Battle!” He raises his axe in salute then stores it upon his back.
Later that day, Lucyus makes his way to the military gathering hall. He goes through the applicant line and then finds himself in a barracks with several other individuals. Lucyus crosses his arms before him waiting on line. His blue eyes take in the others about him. How many would not make the cut? He subconsciously reaches his hand up to hold his holy symbol. The sign of Heironeous hangs there. The weight of it still new to him it is a mere fraction to what it truly means to the Paladin Cleric.
Finally the moment arises where he reaches the front of the line. His gaze looks at both men, gauging them. Without a thought he takes up the quill and puts his signature on the line with what looks like an eagle afterward, an old habit one that he had long forgotten about. He takes the gold in his hand and offers his thanks, stowing it away the stipend.
Looking at the armory he can’t help but to ask. “Where can one get a suit of chainmail and a shield?”
Excusing himself from the Sergeant, Lucyus places his gear on a bunk, opening the storage container and drops his gear within. He places his battleaxe upon the bed. As he does so his hair falls into his face which he moves before him, as he looks up to his team. A glint of medal falls upon a chain before him: a lightning bolt held in a fist, clear upon it’s front. His gaze falls silently on each not saying much just evaluating them. “Good evening friends, It seems that fate has all brought us to this glorious endeavor." Putting his black hair from his face, “ I am Lucyus Blackmyre, Paladin and Cleric of Heironous. It is my pleasure to meet each of you,” he says pleasantly enough, his crispness and tone implies his military upbringing.
Description for those that wish to see it:
Lucyus is 6ft 1in and well built. Most would say he is good looking with his shoulder length hair and blue eyes that are crystal blue. Currently he is wearing black breeches with soft black boots, his tunic is white and a silver medallion hangs from his neck. Emblazoned upon it is the symbol of his religion and deity, Heironeous. His traveling cloak is of good cloth, blue in color and outlined in the faintest of silver. His battleaxe lays over his right shoulder. While worn, it is well cared for.
With his training almost done, Lucyus breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a hard road to this point. Leaving home at a young age and being whipped into shape had shown the young man how to overcome the limitations before him. The military training could be seen upon his 6 ft 1 in frame; his muscles lean yet somewhat strong allowing him to endure and overcome the long runs and marches of the military life.
As he donned his garments for the day, one of his brothers came to get him. His commander wished to see him. “Thank you, I will be there shortly, brother,” he says in a low tone as he dons his blue cloak with a hint of silver upon the fringe. Picking up his battleaxe he slings it across his back as the hand sits above his right shoulder.
As he walks through the compound the sound of drilling is heard, weapons ringing against one another. For a moment, he looks on the courtyard; he always was fascinated by sword and axe work. He looks on his brothers in training and silently wishes them the best in their trials, for they will need it soon when they move out with the army. For a moment he feels guilty but he had his reasons for applying for his transfer.
Coming to Brother Durn’s door, he raises his hand in a fist and knocks, awaiting entry. Within moments he enters and meets his officer with a firm handshake. “Good Morning, Brother Durn. You wished to see me?” he says parting his legs beneath his frame in a relaxed nature, his blue eyes never leaving the commander.
“It has come to my attention that you requested a transfer from the accompanying force to join the army itself in this glorious endeavor.”
“Indeed I did. While it would be glorious to enter the fray with my brothers at my side; I felt I was needed elsewhere. All abled bodies are to help with the coming battles. I wish to see as many as I can survive and see the fruition of their work.”
For a long moment Durn looks into his eyes and Lucyus dares not blink, staring hard and determined back at his mentor. “Permission granted!” Durn snaps. “Give'm hell, son!”
“Thank you sir!” he says, as his black boot-heels click together and a smile etches across his clean face. As he turns to leave, Lucyus looks back at his commander. “Sir, Thank you for your guidance and teachings. I do not think I would have made it without you.” He puts his fist to his chest and bows slightly then makes for the door.
Walking back to his barracks, Lucyus gathers his gear within his pack. For the majority of his life he knew this moment would come; one he did not long for or relish. Picking up his battleaxe he looks to the others within the barracks, he shouts “Strength in Battle!” He raises his axe in salute then stores it upon his back.
Later that day, Lucyus makes his way to the military gathering hall. He goes through the applicant line and then finds himself in a barracks with several other individuals. Lucyus crosses his arms before him waiting on line. His blue eyes take in the others about him. How many would not make the cut? He subconsciously reaches his hand up to hold his holy symbol. The sign of Heironeous hangs there. The weight of it still new to him it is a mere fraction to what it truly means to the Paladin Cleric.
Finally the moment arises where he reaches the front of the line. His gaze looks at both men, gauging them. Without a thought he takes up the quill and puts his signature on the line with what looks like an eagle afterward, an old habit one that he had long forgotten about. He takes the gold in his hand and offers his thanks, stowing it away the stipend.
Stepping into the room he first notices the weapons as his boots move silently off the wooden floor. Not really paying attention to the others within, a reddish haired man steps forward and offers his hand. “Wyvern squad?” Lucyus repeats looking around to the others then his blue eyes looking back at the Sgt. “I am Lucyus Blackmyre of Heironous,” he says firmly. “How long have you been in the army Sergeant?”Finally, you reach the recruiter. He repeats the information that you've heard before and you sign on the dotted line. The recruiter hands you a small sack of gold and directs you to one of the side chambers along the side of the hall. You'll noted that there are at least three or four rooms that the applicants are being directed towards.
Reaching the door indicated, you open it and step inside. The chamber appears to be a combination small meeting area and barracks. Along one wall of the room is a weapons rack that holds several short swords, some daggers, short bows and quivers of arrows, light crossbows and bolts. A variety of suits of leather armor for various races are present as well. There is a series of two high bunks along the other side of the room. Each bunk has a chest to store goods in it.
A man with reddish hair and beard, wearing chain mail armor under a tabard bearing the royal seal, awaits you. He has a sheathed longsword hanging from his belt. The man stands about six feet tall.
“Welcome to Wyvern Squad,” the man announces as he shakes your hand. “I'm Sergeant Traken, your commanding officer.”
Looking at the armory he can’t help but to ask. “Where can one get a suit of chainmail and a shield?”
Excusing himself from the Sergeant, Lucyus places his gear on a bunk, opening the storage container and drops his gear within. He places his battleaxe upon the bed. As he does so his hair falls into his face which he moves before him, as he looks up to his team. A glint of medal falls upon a chain before him: a lightning bolt held in a fist, clear upon it’s front. His gaze falls silently on each not saying much just evaluating them. “Good evening friends, It seems that fate has all brought us to this glorious endeavor." Putting his black hair from his face, “ I am Lucyus Blackmyre, Paladin and Cleric of Heironous. It is my pleasure to meet each of you,” he says pleasantly enough, his crispness and tone implies his military upbringing.
Description for those that wish to see it:
Lucyus is 6ft 1in and well built. Most would say he is good looking with his shoulder length hair and blue eyes that are crystal blue. Currently he is wearing black breeches with soft black boots, his tunic is white and a silver medallion hangs from his neck. Emblazoned upon it is the symbol of his religion and deity, Heironeous. His traveling cloak is of good cloth, blue in color and outlined in the faintest of silver. His battleaxe lays over his right shoulder. While worn, it is well cared for.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
More new members of their combat team start to arrive and next there is another human. While a woodsman, certainly he is too tall to be a half-elf. He is dark and brooding and rather quiet it appears, preferring to take a position along the wall. But while his voice doesn't speak, his eyes most certainly do. The foreign priestess does not need her powers of observation in this case, as he is quite obvious in his staring.
Erisci smiles easily at the man. In response, he curtsies awkwardly and dumps more contents of his cloak onto the floor. The priestess giggles slightly but does not say more and his attention moves on to the others in the room momentarily.
Moments later, another new arrival debuts. This one is quite the opposite of the dark archer. A bubbly halfling with shocking red curls. Erisci cannot help but smile as she nearly bounces into the room, drawing all the attention she can muster. Hoping on a nearby top bunk, she seems to survey the group like a noble surveying her audience.
...she locks eyes with the attractive human woman in the corner. Glancing down at her dress, Wimzy whispers “I like the blue. Good color…for you.” Wimzy brushes both of her hands down her own ribs, indicating to the dark-haired woman her own blue apparel. “And the bare feet,” Wimzy winks, pointing. “Nice touch.” The slender halfling looks down at her own bare feet, quite a bit larger than the human woman’s despite being over a foot shorter than her.
"Why thank you," Erisci responds to the compliments. She raises one foot and wiggles it, making a soft jingling noise with her anklets. "To be honest, many of us from the Golden Coast often go barefoot. I have most of my life. And blue is the sacred color of Ishtar. It looks quite good on you as well, fair Wimzy. I just love your crimson curls. You look positively adorable," she says with a smile.
Apparently, we are going to be sleeping here. Erisci had procured a room to store her belongings. "Sergeant Traken, is this to be our sleeping arrangements? I have some of my possessions off site and I imagine myself, and likely others, may like to acquire additional supplies for our journey. How long before we are on our way?"
Yet another member of their incongruously varied group appears before long. This one also is more martial than many. Clearly, he would be one of the frontline fighters. Eventually he introduces himself as a paladin and cleric of Heironeous. Erisciana knew that he was a patron of Justice and Valor.
“Good evening friends, It seems that fate has all brought us to this glorious endeavor." Putting his black hair from his face, “ I am Lucyus Blackmyre, Paladin and Cleric of Heironous. It is my pleasure to meet each of you,” he says pleasantly enough, his crispness and tone implies his military upbringing.
Fate. It was said that Zakhara was the Land of Fate. And yet fate had transpired to remove her from that land. "Good evening to you as well. My name is Erisciana Iltani of the temple of Ishtar. Fate certainly has seemed to conspire for many of us," she says looking about the room. For the moment, she has nothing further to say.
More new members of their combat team start to arrive and next there is another human. While a woodsman, certainly he is too tall to be a half-elf. He is dark and brooding and rather quiet it appears, preferring to take a position along the wall. But while his voice doesn't speak, his eyes most certainly do. The foreign priestess does not need her powers of observation in this case, as he is quite obvious in his staring.
Erisci smiles easily at the man. In response, he curtsies awkwardly and dumps more contents of his cloak onto the floor. The priestess giggles slightly but does not say more and his attention moves on to the others in the room momentarily.
Moments later, another new arrival debuts. This one is quite the opposite of the dark archer. A bubbly halfling with shocking red curls. Erisci cannot help but smile as she nearly bounces into the room, drawing all the attention she can muster. Hoping on a nearby top bunk, she seems to survey the group like a noble surveying her audience.
...she locks eyes with the attractive human woman in the corner. Glancing down at her dress, Wimzy whispers “I like the blue. Good color…for you.” Wimzy brushes both of her hands down her own ribs, indicating to the dark-haired woman her own blue apparel. “And the bare feet,” Wimzy winks, pointing. “Nice touch.” The slender halfling looks down at her own bare feet, quite a bit larger than the human woman’s despite being over a foot shorter than her.
"Why thank you," Erisci responds to the compliments. She raises one foot and wiggles it, making a soft jingling noise with her anklets. "To be honest, many of us from the Golden Coast often go barefoot. I have most of my life. And blue is the sacred color of Ishtar. It looks quite good on you as well, fair Wimzy. I just love your crimson curls. You look positively adorable," she says with a smile.
Apparently, we are going to be sleeping here. Erisci had procured a room to store her belongings. "Sergeant Traken, is this to be our sleeping arrangements? I have some of my possessions off site and I imagine myself, and likely others, may like to acquire additional supplies for our journey. How long before we are on our way?"
Yet another member of their incongruously varied group appears before long. This one also is more martial than many. Clearly, he would be one of the frontline fighters. Eventually he introduces himself as a paladin and cleric of Heironeous. Erisciana knew that he was a patron of Justice and Valor.
“Good evening friends, It seems that fate has all brought us to this glorious endeavor." Putting his black hair from his face, “ I am Lucyus Blackmyre, Paladin and Cleric of Heironous. It is my pleasure to meet each of you,” he says pleasantly enough, his crispness and tone implies his military upbringing.
Fate. It was said that Zakhara was the Land of Fate. And yet fate had transpired to remove her from that land. "Good evening to you as well. My name is Erisciana Iltani of the temple of Ishtar. Fate certainly has seemed to conspire for many of us," she says looking about the room. For the moment, she has nothing further to say.
-
Ren Silvare
- Thief / Shadowmage
- Posts: 33
- Joined: Wed Apr 04, 2018 11:41 pm
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
"Well met, and I would be hard pressed to think you wouldn't be useful.""As for my skills, Ishtar is the Goddess of Love and War. I have some martial skill and am versed in various small magicks. I feel certain that I will be a boon to the members of this assemblage."
"I'm Butternut, last survivor of Clan Foxburr, Ren," Butternut states with a hint of sadness in her tone. "And the only wind about me is usually the result of too much spicy food."
"Ahhh the wanderer of sliced... Foxburr, was it? Let us first not jump to conclusions and rest assured any goods procured were returned to their rightful owners. Judge as you may but stopping those working outside the law, with the law can be strenuous at best. My quality of work is always high in both professions, so both parties receive what they purchased.""So you do paid work for people and then rob them?" Butternut asks bluntly.
In the midst of his explanation a silent companion with clear marks of the forest enters and wanders to a far wall surveying those gathered before him. A simple nod in Ren's direction is returned with an all too knowing wink.
Ren continues, "But fear not, I am now but a squeaky mouse, meant to sniff out Graystone's cheese..." he trails off as yet another person enters the room.
"A wimzy and a delight certainly, and what a wonderful interruption. I could not help but admire the symbol at your neck, does it have an importance? Ahhh, but they do all arrive at once it seems...""Greetings, one and all,” she says in her best public speaking voice. “I’m Wimzy, and I’m here to help.”
“Good evening friends, It seems that fate has all brought us to this glorious endeavor." Putting his black hair from his face, “ I am Lucyus Blackmyre, Paladin and Cleric of Heironous. It is my pleasure to meet each of you,” he says pleasantly enough, his crispness and tone implies his military upbringing.
Fate. It was said that Zakhara was the Land of Fate. And yet fate had transpired to remove her from that land. "Good evening to you as well. My name is Erisciana Iltani of the temple of Ishtar. Fate certainly has seemed to conspire for many of us," she says looking about the room. For the moment, she has nothing further to say.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Post Continued:
April 10th, CR 569
So far seven strangers have taken up the offer from the Cynalonian Army to join up in their mission to re-take the City of Gateway. Approved applicants are then directed to one of several side rooms where their new units are randomly being formed.
Inside one such room awaits Sergeant Traken, the commanding officer of Wyvern Squad. Units of adventurers supplementing the army were given the code names typically belonging to monsters. Several new such units were being christened this day, among them Wyvern Squad.
Having no real idea what to expect, Sergeant Traken is surprised to find the scantily clad Priestess of Ishtar be the first to arrive at his room. They talk briefly and the Sergeant is able to determine that Erisciana would be assigned to support for Wyvern Squad.
The dwarf that follows doesn't say much. Could be a front-line fighter or a scout. Maybe both.
Next is a halfling who introduces herself as Butternut.
When Ren enters under the disguise of the Change Self spell, Sergeant Traken goes for his sword. He knows that half-orcs were not being recruited for this mission. Furthermore, he has no idea who will end up in Wyvern Squad. So this stranger must obviously be in the wrong place or is an imposter!
After Ren reveals his true form, Sergeant Traken will say, “Don't ever do that again. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” A scout of some sort, Traken notes in his ledger.
Flare is next and the conversation with the Sergeant is brief as he is so distracted by the Priestess of Ishtar. Another front-line fighter and/or scout is Traken's guess.
“Glad to have you, priestess,” Traken states. “Always good to have a potent healer in the unit.”
“Well met, Lucyus. The supplemental adventuring squads are being named after various monsters.” Traken explains. “There is Basilisk Squad, Chimera Squad, Gargoyle Squad and so on.”
“If there is some gear on the racks that you can make use of, you may take it. If you need something not there, you'll need to pick it up in town on your own gold. Tonight is yours to do as you please. Tomorrow you belong to the army. Enjoy yourselves.”
April 10th, CR 569
So far seven strangers have taken up the offer from the Cynalonian Army to join up in their mission to re-take the City of Gateway. Approved applicants are then directed to one of several side rooms where their new units are randomly being formed.
Inside one such room awaits Sergeant Traken, the commanding officer of Wyvern Squad. Units of adventurers supplementing the army were given the code names typically belonging to monsters. Several new such units were being christened this day, among them Wyvern Squad.
Having no real idea what to expect, Sergeant Traken is surprised to find the scantily clad Priestess of Ishtar be the first to arrive at his room. They talk briefly and the Sergeant is able to determine that Erisciana would be assigned to support for Wyvern Squad.
The dwarf that follows doesn't say much. Could be a front-line fighter or a scout. Maybe both.
Next is a halfling who introduces herself as Butternut.
“Then you're in the right place,” Traken agrees. “We'll be fighting so many goblins that you'll become sick of them!” Butternut is noted as a front line fighter on Traken's list.Butternut wrote:"Butternut of Clan Foxburr, Sergeant, goblin-hunter by trade."
When Ren enters under the disguise of the Change Self spell, Sergeant Traken goes for his sword. He knows that half-orcs were not being recruited for this mission. Furthermore, he has no idea who will end up in Wyvern Squad. So this stranger must obviously be in the wrong place or is an imposter!
After Ren reveals his true form, Sergeant Traken will say, “Don't ever do that again. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” A scout of some sort, Traken notes in his ledger.
Flare is next and the conversation with the Sergeant is brief as he is so distracted by the Priestess of Ishtar. Another front-line fighter and/or scout is Traken's guess.
The halfling priestess of Azrella is next, much to Traken's surprise. He had never seen a halfling who served the Goddess of Life before. Still, having an Azrellian in the unit was a good thing.Wimzy wrote:She steps up to Sergeant Traken, shakes his large, strong hand. “At your service, sir.”
“Glad to have you, priestess,” Traken states. “Always good to have a potent healer in the unit.”
Sergeant Traken perks up upon seeing Lucyus. Here is a man who is clearly a front line fighter and a Paladin of Heironeous to boot!Lucyus wrote:“Wyvern squad?” Lucyus repeats looking around to the others then his blue eyes looking back at the Sgt. “I am Lucyus Blackmyre of Heironeous,” he says firmly.
“Well met, Lucyus. The supplemental adventuring squads are being named after various monsters.” Traken explains. “There is Basilisk Squad, Chimera Squad, Gargoyle Squad and so on.”
“Several years now,” Traken answers. “But this is my first command.”Lucyus wrote:“How long have you been in the army Sergeant?”
“All the armor the army is offering is leather,” Traken answers. “If you need something stronger, you'll need to purchase it with your signing bonus. However there are a few shields that you can pick from.”Lucyus wrote:Looking at the armory he can’t help but to ask. “Where can one get a suit of chain mail and a shield?”
“Alright, listen up!”, Sergeant Traken calls out getting everyone's attention. “Here's the deal. If you need a place to sleep, you may stay here. If you got rooms in town, you may use those tonight. Regardless of where you sleep, you must be here first thing in the morning. We'll be moving out with several other army units to Fort Graystone tomorrow after breakfast.”Erisciana wrote:Apparently, we are going to be sleeping here. Erisci had procured a room to store her belongings. "Sergeant Traken, is this to be our sleeping arrangements? I have some of my possessions off site and I imagine myself, and likely others, may like to acquire additional supplies for our journey. How long before we are on our way?"
“If there is some gear on the racks that you can make use of, you may take it. If you need something not there, you'll need to pick it up in town on your own gold. Tonight is yours to do as you please. Tomorrow you belong to the army. Enjoy yourselves.”
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
GM Notes:
The gear in the rack is basic stuff. Leather armor, short swords, daggers, maces and spears. Nothing that's really expensive or exotic. There is some ammunition as well. Sheaf arrows, and light crossbow quarrels.
I've started to add character sheets for this game to my Character Sheet page. More of you will be added as time goes on until everyone is there and up to date.
Some have added Biographies and origin stories in the appropriate areas of the forum. Check them out if you haven't seen them yet.
Biographies
Origin Stories
Once more we come to
Now what?
The gear in the rack is basic stuff. Leather armor, short swords, daggers, maces and spears. Nothing that's really expensive or exotic. There is some ammunition as well. Sheaf arrows, and light crossbow quarrels.
I've started to add character sheets for this game to my Character Sheet page. More of you will be added as time goes on until everyone is there and up to date.
Some have added Biographies and origin stories in the appropriate areas of the forum. Check them out if you haven't seen them yet.
Biographies
Origin Stories
Once more we come to
Now what?
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Vernar -
Soon the room fills up as more and more individuals come in and set down their gear. Vernar is a bit surprised at just how many different races make up their squad. Small folk, he thinks as the first few enter, as the humans often call them. The dwarf will acknowledge everyone from his current seated position. A simple head nod in reply for most, but some verbal exchanges for others. He also continues his original conversation.
Vernar takes measure of Ren, listening to his words. He nods slightly upon learning he is in the company of another patron of the fine art of lockpicking. While the dwarf is confident in his own skills, having another set of nimble fingers in the group certainly won't hurt.
At one point, Vernar can feel lingering eyes on him. He notices Wimzy's gaze, but doesn't let it faze him. He is quite stocky and knows some can be intimidated by his build despite not standing as tall as a human or other races. Besides, she doesn't seem scared, but rather inquisitive. Anything further that Vernar might have contemplated is interupted by the sergeant.
He will seek out the finest locksmith shop he can locate. The dwarf will obtain for himself a set of thieves' picks and a pair of small belt pouches with the gold he received. From there, he will also purchase a couple flasks of oil and some trail rations. Once the trivial business is done, he will inquire about the best place for good ale and a meal. The dwarf will order whatever comes highly recommended and is in season. He will not drink to excess, knowing there will be an early start in the morning, but after so long on the road with next to nothing, he will eat his fill and enjoy the atmosphere of his surroundings before returning to his bunk.
Soon the room fills up as more and more individuals come in and set down their gear. Vernar is a bit surprised at just how many different races make up their squad. Small folk, he thinks as the first few enter, as the humans often call them. The dwarf will acknowledge everyone from his current seated position. A simple head nod in reply for most, but some verbal exchanges for others. He also continues his original conversation.
Vernar thinks a bit, but cannot recall anything much about Ishtar. "I spent a lot o' time among humans, but they were a simple folk. Didn't have much o' a need for war, and apparently not much for love neither."“I am Erisciana of the House Iltani and a priestess of Ishtar. Despite first impressions,” she says, gesturing to indicate her current appearance, “Ishtar is not only the goddess of Love but also of War.”
"I am woefully ignorant 'bout much of my race," Vernar reveals. "Humans took me in after the disaster when I was but a small thing. Their village is a bit o' travel west o' here. Gentle folk, them. Learned a trade an' how to defend myself, but needed something more than that simple life."“If I am not mistaken, the Dwarven lands are to the northeast. From where do you hail, then, my warrior companion?”
"Pleasure," Vernar says simply. The word sounds genuine, although his demeanor is less convincing. Nothing hostile, just that this dwarf's version of pleasure may be much different than Butternut might otherwise suspect.After the soldier has his say, [Butternut] steps over near the dwarf, her head over-topping his only because he's sitting on the floor. "Well met, earth-brother. Good to see a root of the mountain here."
Vernar takes measure of Ren, listening to his words. He nods slightly upon learning he is in the company of another patron of the fine art of lockpicking. While the dwarf is confident in his own skills, having another set of nimble fingers in the group certainly won't hurt.
At one point, Vernar can feel lingering eyes on him. He notices Wimzy's gaze, but doesn't let it faze him. He is quite stocky and knows some can be intimidated by his build despite not standing as tall as a human or other races. Besides, she doesn't seem scared, but rather inquisitive. Anything further that Vernar might have contemplated is interupted by the sergeant.
Knowing that he will be sleeping here, Vernar does have some business in town. He will get up and head out, leaving his mundane gear behind. There is little there anymore, he thinks as he sets out, his weapons not making a sound as he walks.“Alright, listen up!”, Sergeant Traken calls out getting everyone's attention. “Here's the deal. If you need a place to sleep, you may stay here. If you got rooms in town, you may use those tonight. Regardless of where you sleep, you must be here first thing in the morning. We'll be moving out with several other army units to Fort Graystone tomorrow after breakfast.”
“If there is some gear on the racks that you can make use of, you may take it. If you need something not there, you'll need to pick it up in town on your own gold. Tonight is yours to do as you please. Tomorrow you belong to the army. Enjoy yourselves.”
He will seek out the finest locksmith shop he can locate. The dwarf will obtain for himself a set of thieves' picks and a pair of small belt pouches with the gold he received. From there, he will also purchase a couple flasks of oil and some trail rations. Once the trivial business is done, he will inquire about the best place for good ale and a meal. The dwarf will order whatever comes highly recommended and is in season. He will not drink to excess, knowing there will be an early start in the morning, but after so long on the road with next to nothing, he will eat his fill and enjoy the atmosphere of his surroundings before returning to his bunk.
"Here I go again on my own..." ~the Bard Whitesnake
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Just wanted to give everyone a heads up that the recruitment poster for this game has been completed! Crafted by our very own Scott (Vernar) the poster now hangs in the Griffon's Lair store.
Here is a link to a smaller version of the final poster.
Enjoy!
Here is a link to a smaller version of the final poster.
Enjoy!
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Butternut:
A new member of Wyvern Squad enters, and soon takes to drooling over the scantily-clad priestess. He drags his eyes away from her abundant flesh long enough to gesture in Butternut's direction. It's not one she typically uses, but she's seen Galan and his partners use it, and has a pretty good idea what it means. Returning the gesture, she ups the ante with a question. "Butternut of the Foxburr Clan. And you are?"
This Wimzy quickly takes to making small talk with the priestess who calls herself Erisciana. <"Welcome, Wimzy,"> Butternut says in halfling as their eyes meet. <"I'm Butternut, last survivor of Clan Foxburr.">
It is not long before the next person enters. This one is human, appears young, and is obviously a warrior.
Once she has selected her weapons, Butternut picks out a bunk in the back corner and drops her excess gear in the storage box next to the bed - what little there is of it. She still needs some additional things, so she will head out to do some shopping. After that, it is time for some dinner and a drink!
______________________________________________________________________________
I'm assuming that the bolts are in quivers. If I need to buy one, let me know.
BTW, the link to the poster isn't working for me.
"I'm only sick of the live ones, Sergeant, and I do my best to improve them rapidly."Traken wrote:“Then you're in the right place,” Traken agrees. “We'll be fighting so many goblins that you'll become sick of them!” Butternut is noted as a front line fighter on Traken's list.
The Sergeant is clearly no more impressed by the gnome's antics than she is.Traken wrote:After Ren reveals his true form, Sergeant Traken will say, “Don't ever do that again. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” A scout of some sort, Traken notes in his ledger.
'The dwarf has had an unusual life', Butternut notes. 'He may be better able to adapt as a result.'Vernar wrote:"I am woefully ignorant 'bout much of my race," Vernar reveals. "Humans took me in after the disaster when I was but a small thing. Their village is a bit o' travel west o' here. Gentle folk, them. Learned a trade an' how to defend myself, but needed something more than that simple life."
Butternut considers for a moment. "There was no war in those I loved, and there is no love in those I war upon." She chooses not to elaborate further.Erisciana wrote:The priestess turns at the chuckle she hears. Cocking her head to one side, she looks for the reason behind the mirthless laughter. Not able to fully ascertain the implication, she will answer directly. "Often they ARE one and the same, indeed. Two sides to the same coin, as it were." She pauses to gauge her new grim companion. "Do you have one to which you feel the opposing tugs of Ishtar's powerful forces?"
"I see..." Butternut replies in a non-committal tone. And indeed we shall see; actions tell all, as her mother always said.Ren wrote:"Ahhh the wanderer of sliced... Foxburr, was it? Let us first not jump to conclusions and rest assured any goods procured were returned to their rightful owners. Judge as you may but stopping those working outside the law, with the law can be strenuous at best. My quality of work is always high in both professions, so both parties receive what they purchased."
Ren continues, "But fear not, I am now but a squeaky mouse, meant to sniff out Graystone's cheese..." he trails off as yet another person enters the room.
A new member of Wyvern Squad enters, and soon takes to drooling over the scantily-clad priestess. He drags his eyes away from her abundant flesh long enough to gesture in Butternut's direction. It's not one she typically uses, but she's seen Galan and his partners use it, and has a pretty good idea what it means. Returning the gesture, she ups the ante with a question. "Butternut of the Foxburr Clan. And you are?"
Wimzy wrote:"Greetings, one and all,” she says in her best public speaking voice. “I’m Wimzy, and I’m here to help.”
Moments later another female halfling saunters into the room. This one appears to be younger than herself. Strange to find two in the same room so far from The Shire, but even stranger that this one appears to be just as lean. Perhaps she has seen hard times as well, though her appearance and attitude don't reflect it. Nevertheless, healers are valuable, and the Sergeant seems to agree.Traken wrote:“Glad to have you, priestess,” Traken states. “Always good to have a potent healer in the unit.”
This Wimzy quickly takes to making small talk with the priestess who calls herself Erisciana. <"Welcome, Wimzy,"> Butternut says in halfling as their eyes meet. <"I'm Butternut, last survivor of Clan Foxburr.">
It is not long before the next person enters. This one is human, appears young, and is obviously a warrior.
Butternut quietly takes note of this information. Hopefully, there will be more information forthcoming.Traken wrote:“All the armor the army is offering is leather,” Traken answers. “If you need something stronger, you'll need to purchase it with your signing bonus. However there are a few shields that you can pick from.”
'A paladin of Heironeous, huh?' Butternut thinks to herself. Stepping toward the paladin, Butternut looks up at the much taller human. "Good to meet you, Lucyus. I am Butternut. Welcome. I have heard good things about your order."Lucyus wrote:Excusing himself from the Sergeant, Lucyus places his gear on a bunk, opening the storage container and drops his gear within. He places his battleaxe upon the bed. As he does so his hair falls into his face which he moves before him, as he looks up to his team. A glint of medal falls upon a chain before him: a lightning bolt held in a fist, clear upon it’s front. His gaze falls silently on each not saying much just evaluating them. “Good evening friends, It seems that fate has all brought us to this glorious endeavor." Putting his black hair from his face, “ I am Lucyus Blackmyre, Paladin and Cleric of Heironous. It is my pleasure to meet each of you,” he says pleasantly enough, his crispness and tone implies his military upbringing.
And there's the rest of the information she had been waiting for. She glances over her shoulder at the weapon racks and spots a couple of light crossbows and some daggers. She cannot make use of the armor or shields, but the weapons are a different matter. Turning, she steps over to the rack and takes one of the light crossbows, and a quiver of bolts. She then selects a couple of daggers and straps them to the insides of her forearms. It looks a bit odd the way they jut past her elbows, but she's become used to wearing them that way.Traken wrote:“Alright, listen up!”, Sergeant Traken calls out getting everyone's attention. “Here's the deal. If you need a place to sleep, you may stay here. If you got rooms in town, you may use those tonight. Regardless of where you sleep, you must be here first thing in the morning. We'll be moving out with several other army units to Fort Graystone tomorrow after breakfast.”
“If there is some gear on the racks that you can make use of, you may take it. If you need something not there, you'll need to pick it up in town on your own gold. Tonight is yours to do as you please. Tomorrow you belong to the army. Enjoy yourselves.”
Once she has selected her weapons, Butternut picks out a bunk in the back corner and drops her excess gear in the storage box next to the bed - what little there is of it. She still needs some additional things, so she will head out to do some shopping. After that, it is time for some dinner and a drink!
______________________________________________________________________________
I'm assuming that the bolts are in quivers. If I need to buy one, let me know.
BTW, the link to the poster isn't working for me.
Gordon (fanchergw AKA Kylie, Grondar, Yusef, Lily Pak / Menagerie, Butternut, Onas, and Vardra)
-
Ren Silvare
- Thief / Shadowmage
- Posts: 33
- Joined: Wed Apr 04, 2018 11:41 pm
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
"Well in that case, I shall part ways for now, and enjoy my last night in a real bed. I clearly need as much beauty sleep as possible." Ren lets out another laugh though a bit more sardonic than those before. "Also, Sergeant, do forgive me for my display. I only wish to lighten this gloom. I'll work on my timing." And with that he lithely jumps from the bunk, grabs his cloak and gear, eyes the rack of armor for a suit of leather closest to his fit, and departs for the market and local inns.Sgt. Traken “If there is some gear on the racks that you can make use of, you may take it. If you need something not there, you'll need to pick it up in town on your own gold. Tonight is yours to do as you please. Tomorrow you belong to the army. Enjoy yourselves.”
Taking stock of his gear, he knows he needs to pick up some decent food for about 3 days, who knows what kind of meals the army subjects people to. About a week of dry rations for emergency stores should about cover it. As Ren wandered through the market he saw a jar of honey and a couple loaves of fresh baked bread that he had to have, the scent of the loaf wafting through the air, reminding him of his mother's bakery. He also found a small basic hand mirror with a black frame which could fit to his grip for a good price. He stopped to chat with a few tanners trying to find a method for darkening the leather armor to prove useful in further... complicated situations, so his cloak and garments shan't have to suffice. Afterwards Ren quickly finished his purchasing with a new set of basic thieve's tools, a quill and ink, and 5 pieces of parchment, finally determined for some rest.
Doh, he thinks, I can't forget to pick up a flask of greek fire; if I am lucky enough to find a vendor, and some matches. Damnable boars had trampled most everything I had left. What a waste, Hermes would say. He shakes his head as if warding off the thought.
After procuring his goods, he searches for the most contradictory inn he can find. Rowdy with fairly decent accommodations. There is nothing quite like some of these common inns. Plus the din of a good argument or wild tale to drown out the impending fate before him would be welcome. Sometimes a show can be draining. It's good to hide away for a bit.
Ren was never a fighter though he knew his weapons well by now. Always balanced, always nimble, always dodging, even in wit. Quickly talking to the innkeeper Ren asked about a room and deposited his newly refilled backpack. Ren finished silently eating a decent meal in the corner of the bar absorbing the warmth of a fire, lost internally. After some time he pulled out the pen and ink and a single piece of paper from his cloak, writing fervently he signs with his usual flourish. Almost hesitant, not wanting to wholly commit to the act, he brushes the note off the table towards the fire watching intently as it feathers its way into the chaos of the flames. The last remaining shreds "Dear Artemis the Fair," and "Forever yours, Light of the Shadows" turned to ash and were burned into his mind as he slept.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
The conversations continue in the barracks...
"As for my skills, Ishtar is the Goddess of Love and War. I have some martial skill and am versed in various small magicks. I feel certain that I will be a boon to the members of this assemblage."
"Well met, and I would be hard pressed to think you wouldn't be useful."
Erisci smiles and nods.
The gnome known as Ren seems to meet the forest halfling's satisfaction for now, following his antics upon arrival. Erisciana wonders if that sort of action will end up causing him to be the first one of their group killed or was it a bravado born of self-confidence. She was not able to determine just yet. The fate of the future would be the judge of that.
-------------------------
“I am Erisciana of the House Iltani and a priestess of Ishtar. Despite first impressions,” she says, gesturing to indicate her current appearance, “Ishtar is not only the goddess of Love but also of War.”
Vernar thinks a bit, but cannot recall anything much about Ishtar. "I spent a lot o' time among humans, but they were a simple folk. Didn't have much o' a need for war, and apparently not much for love neither."
"A pity," the priestess says with a surprised look. "Conflict is inevitable. It comes in ways we do not expect or even recognize at times. And no need for love? Surely all beings have a need for this," she says softly.
“If I am not mistaken, the Dwarven lands are to the northeast. From where do you hail, then, my warrior companion?”
"I am woefully ignorant 'bout much of my race," Vernar reveals. "Humans took me in after the disaster when I was but a small thing. Their village is a bit o' travel west o' here. Gentle folk, them. Learned a trade an' how to defend myself, but needed something more than that simple life."
"A disaster? I am sorry to hear about your pain and loss. And I certainly understand about the desire for more in life. Many of us seem to have been both blessed and cursed by the deities in our desires for more. They can be fickle like that at times," she says with a slight chuckle. "I am also, from the west. Much farther west, obviously. I hail from the land of Zakhara," her accent is especially thick when she pronounces her homeland.
--------------------------
These and more conversations may continue, but in the meantime:
When Traken gives his instructions, Erisciana steps over to the rack of weapons. A small shield with blue edging catches her eye and she removes it from the wall and tries it on, adjusting the forearm strap to fit her, and testing its weight. Making a somewhat satisfied face, she sets the shield down and then glances over the weapons. After a few moments of searching, she notices a flanged mace which looked much the same as her own previous one. She takes this down too, and steps aside so as not to hit anyone, swinging it back and forth to gauge the feel of the weapon. With a shrug to no one in particular, she will take the mace and shield and set them on the footlocker near an unclaimed bunk near the wall.
"Traken had said we can sleep here or in our own rooms, if we had them," the priestess thought, as she sat a moment on the bunk, feeling the comfort level. "An initial bonding experience may prove helpful, but a room to oneself might be a luxury unafforded again for some time," she continued to muse. Erisci decided to wait until others in the group made their own such decisions. For now, she would claim this bunk below the one of Wimzy. Hopefully the halfling did not snore.
Tieing the pouch of coins she received to her corded waist belt, Erisci will eventually take her leave once the conversations and introductions have ended. Stepping out into the afternoon showers, the priestess of Ishtar spread her arms wide, taking in the precipitation. Surveying the crowd, she could see that the weather did not deter the crowds from going about their business. It looked as though the rain might intensify as the sky was dark and thunder could be heard in the distance.
Erisciana will head to the inn, to retrieve her cloak in case the rain gets worse. The hard packed streets have started to soften underfoot from the rain, but those looking do not see the weather conditions seem to bother her much, despite the wetness or the low Spring temperatures. With her cloak loosely about her shoulders, Erisci will head to the nearby marketplace to do some shopping for the coming trip.
The conversations continue in the barracks...
"As for my skills, Ishtar is the Goddess of Love and War. I have some martial skill and am versed in various small magicks. I feel certain that I will be a boon to the members of this assemblage."
"Well met, and I would be hard pressed to think you wouldn't be useful."
Erisci smiles and nods.
The gnome known as Ren seems to meet the forest halfling's satisfaction for now, following his antics upon arrival. Erisciana wonders if that sort of action will end up causing him to be the first one of their group killed or was it a bravado born of self-confidence. She was not able to determine just yet. The fate of the future would be the judge of that.
-------------------------
“I am Erisciana of the House Iltani and a priestess of Ishtar. Despite first impressions,” she says, gesturing to indicate her current appearance, “Ishtar is not only the goddess of Love but also of War.”
Vernar thinks a bit, but cannot recall anything much about Ishtar. "I spent a lot o' time among humans, but they were a simple folk. Didn't have much o' a need for war, and apparently not much for love neither."
"A pity," the priestess says with a surprised look. "Conflict is inevitable. It comes in ways we do not expect or even recognize at times. And no need for love? Surely all beings have a need for this," she says softly.
“If I am not mistaken, the Dwarven lands are to the northeast. From where do you hail, then, my warrior companion?”
"I am woefully ignorant 'bout much of my race," Vernar reveals. "Humans took me in after the disaster when I was but a small thing. Their village is a bit o' travel west o' here. Gentle folk, them. Learned a trade an' how to defend myself, but needed something more than that simple life."
"A disaster? I am sorry to hear about your pain and loss. And I certainly understand about the desire for more in life. Many of us seem to have been both blessed and cursed by the deities in our desires for more. They can be fickle like that at times," she says with a slight chuckle. "I am also, from the west. Much farther west, obviously. I hail from the land of Zakhara," her accent is especially thick when she pronounces her homeland.
--------------------------
These and more conversations may continue, but in the meantime:
When Traken gives his instructions, Erisciana steps over to the rack of weapons. A small shield with blue edging catches her eye and she removes it from the wall and tries it on, adjusting the forearm strap to fit her, and testing its weight. Making a somewhat satisfied face, she sets the shield down and then glances over the weapons. After a few moments of searching, she notices a flanged mace which looked much the same as her own previous one. She takes this down too, and steps aside so as not to hit anyone, swinging it back and forth to gauge the feel of the weapon. With a shrug to no one in particular, she will take the mace and shield and set them on the footlocker near an unclaimed bunk near the wall.
"Traken had said we can sleep here or in our own rooms, if we had them," the priestess thought, as she sat a moment on the bunk, feeling the comfort level. "An initial bonding experience may prove helpful, but a room to oneself might be a luxury unafforded again for some time," she continued to muse. Erisci decided to wait until others in the group made their own such decisions. For now, she would claim this bunk below the one of Wimzy. Hopefully the halfling did not snore.
Tieing the pouch of coins she received to her corded waist belt, Erisci will eventually take her leave once the conversations and introductions have ended. Stepping out into the afternoon showers, the priestess of Ishtar spread her arms wide, taking in the precipitation. Surveying the crowd, she could see that the weather did not deter the crowds from going about their business. It looked as though the rain might intensify as the sky was dark and thunder could be heard in the distance.
Erisciana will head to the inn, to retrieve her cloak in case the rain gets worse. The hard packed streets have started to soften underfoot from the rain, but those looking do not see the weather conditions seem to bother her much, despite the wetness or the low Spring temperatures. With her cloak loosely about her shoulders, Erisci will head to the nearby marketplace to do some shopping for the coming trip.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Small Update:
Those taking items from the barracks armory have done so. Those who leave the barracks will see that the outside has more people milling about then before. Many of the other newly recruited adventurers are also out of their barracks. There are a few regular army people here handling directions to various places in Crossroads for those unfamiliar with the city.
Those looking for lock picks will be directed to the Strong House, a shop that specializes in making and maintaining locks and carries the associated gear.
When Vernar asks about the best place for ale and a meal, the army rep will ask if he prefers dwarven or human fare. There is a dwarven quarter for those who prefer 'home cooking' over human food.
If Butternut does ask for a referral to an inn, she'll be referred to the Blushing Maiden Inn as it's close by and has good food and drink.
Ren ends up at the Purple Hobgoblin for his evenings meal and rest after doing his shopping.
When Erisciana leaves the barracks her presence is noted by many of the men around. A few will ask if she is looking for company for the evening. She heads for her own inn, the Fat Cyclops to retrieve her things.
Those taking items from the barracks armory have done so. Those who leave the barracks will see that the outside has more people milling about then before. Many of the other newly recruited adventurers are also out of their barracks. There are a few regular army people here handling directions to various places in Crossroads for those unfamiliar with the city.
Those looking for lock picks will be directed to the Strong House, a shop that specializes in making and maintaining locks and carries the associated gear.
When Vernar asks about the best place for ale and a meal, the army rep will ask if he prefers dwarven or human fare. There is a dwarven quarter for those who prefer 'home cooking' over human food.
If Butternut does ask for a referral to an inn, she'll be referred to the Blushing Maiden Inn as it's close by and has good food and drink.
Ren ends up at the Purple Hobgoblin for his evenings meal and rest after doing his shopping.
When Erisciana leaves the barracks her presence is noted by many of the men around. A few will ask if she is looking for company for the evening. She heads for her own inn, the Fat Cyclops to retrieve her things.
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Vernar -
"Human," Vernar finally replies. " 'Dere is a way you folk cook potatoes that is absolutely enthralling." Once a good recommendation is made, he heads off to get his previously noted shopping done.
There were no multiple choices where he hailed from, and so Vernar looks a bit puzzled at the query. Makes sense, of course, the dwarf thinks, knowing this is just one such adaptation to a larger world.When Vernar asks about the best place for ale and a meal, the army rep will ask if he prefers dwarven or human fare. There is a dwarven quarter for those who prefer 'home cooking' over human food.
"Human," Vernar finally replies. " 'Dere is a way you folk cook potatoes that is absolutely enthralling." Once a good recommendation is made, he heads off to get his previously noted shopping done.
"Here I go again on my own..." ~the Bard Whitesnake
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Another Small Update:
Edit: Forgot to mention that Crossbow bolts are held in a case of 20. My understanding that this case attaches to your belt as the bolts are much smaller then arrows.
And that will get him a recommendation to the Blushing Maiden Inn as well.Vernar wrote:
There were no multiple choices where he hailed from, and so Vernar looks a bit puzzled at the query. Makes sense, of course, the dwarf thinks, knowing this is just one such adaptation to a larger world.
"Human," Vernar finally replies. " 'Dere is a way you folk cook potatoes that is absolutely enthralling." Once a good recommendation is made, he heads off to get his previously noted shopping done.
Edit: Forgot to mention that Crossbow bolts are held in a case of 20. My understanding that this case attaches to your belt as the bolts are much smaller then arrows.
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Lucyus
Later on, his Sergeant explains of the sleeping quarters. Lucyus wishes to see to a suit of armor. Taking up his axe, Lucyus looks to the others as many leave for the night. Apparently they wish to relax amongst themselves and enjoy their last night of freedom.
Gathering up his axe he slings it over his shoulder and heads out after the others. He pulls his cloak's hood up and puts it over his head as the rain comes down softly. He heads towards the market area of town and begins looking for a blacksmith.
Once at the blacksmith (one with the best reputation), He will look amongst their wares and find a suit of chainmail that is to his liking; he will also see about getting a helmet that covers his face as most chainmail sets don't fully cover the face.
Settling on a suit of armor, Lucyus pays the merchant and dons the armor attempting to get used to the weight.
"I must say I have not heard your accent before, From where do you hail from Eriscianca Iltani of Ishtar?Fate. It was said that Zakhara was the Land of Fate. And yet fate had transpired to remove her from that land. "Good evening to you as well. My name is Erisciana Iltani of the temple of Ishtar. Fate certainly has seemed to conspire for many of us," she says looking about the room. For the moment, she has nothing further to say.
"Better than Troll, I guess."he says evenly. "Then may your first command meet much success, Sgt!" he says back a grin upon his face.“Well met, Lucyus. The supplemental adventuring squads are being named after various monsters.” Traken explains. “There is Basilisk Squad, Chimera Squad, Gargoyle Squad and so on.”
“Several years now,” Traken answers. “But this is my first command.”
"Then, I will see to locating a set of chainmail. Leather never has felt right. I will see to the shield though," Lucyus says as he looks at the racks once again. Seeing a medium sized shield, he pick it up and feels it's weight. He also spots a few daggers, he takes two and places once in each boot. Satisfied, Lucyus brings the shield to his bedside and lays it up against his bed.“All the armor the army is offering is leather,” Traken answers. “If you need something stronger, you'll need to purchase it with your signing bonus. However there are a few shields that you can pick from.”
Lucyus looks at the child before him,"Thank you for your kind words and you are? Are you a squire?" he asks curiously and realizes his mistake upon second glance. "My apologizes, I did not mean to offend. I have heard of your kind, a halfling are you not?" he asks curiously as he fights to overcome his embarrassment.'A paladin of Heironeous, huh?' Butternut thinks to herself. Stepping toward the paladin, Butternut looks up at the much taller human. "Good to meet you, Lucyus. I am Butternut. Welcome. I have heard good things about your order."
Later on, his Sergeant explains of the sleeping quarters. Lucyus wishes to see to a suit of armor. Taking up his axe, Lucyus looks to the others as many leave for the night. Apparently they wish to relax amongst themselves and enjoy their last night of freedom.
Gathering up his axe he slings it over his shoulder and heads out after the others. He pulls his cloak's hood up and puts it over his head as the rain comes down softly. He heads towards the market area of town and begins looking for a blacksmith.
Once at the blacksmith (one with the best reputation), He will look amongst their wares and find a suit of chainmail that is to his liking; he will also see about getting a helmet that covers his face as most chainmail sets don't fully cover the face.
Settling on a suit of armor, Lucyus pays the merchant and dons the armor attempting to get used to the weight.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
Fate. It was said that Zakhara was the Land of Fate. And yet fate had transpired to remove her from that land. "Good evening to you as well. My name is Erisciana Iltani of the temple of Ishtar. Fate certainly has seemed to conspire for many of us," she says looking about the room. For the moment, she has nothing further to say.
"I must say I have not heard your accent before. From where do you hail Eriscianca Iltani of Ishtar?
"My home is Zakhara, the Land of Fate. Far to the west. Past the mountains of Hule. I am from the city of Huzuz, the City of Delights," she will answer with a smile. "From where do you hail, warrior?"
-----------------------------
The priestess finds herself approached several times by the local menfolk looking for evening companionship. Surely these people have seen women before?! Those that are rude louts, she will ignore with a disdainful, pained look on her face, while those with some manners, she will politely decline. She wanders the bazaar area looking for useful items. The bazaar here is much smaller than her home city, but adequate. In truth the bazaar of Huzuz was possibly larger than all of Crossroads.
She buys a new leather backpack to store her gear and clothes for the trip. The wooden crate she received from the kind caravan leaders from her homeland was not practical for their upcoming travels. It was unusual to her that the merchants here did not want to seem to haggle. That was natural for her people. Eventually the merchant she purchased from was willing to give her a slight discount.
Erisci will collect her gear from the inn and pack in her new items as well and return to the barracks after an evening meal. The thought of eating at an establishment named the Fat Cyclops was not at all appealing and she wondered how she even ended up at such a place. She remembered hearing that the Blushing Maiden Inn was recommended for food and she will stop there as well for her own meal.
-----------------------------
Later that evening, those who are at the barracks see the priestess return with a full backpack worn over her cloak. She is not wearing her dress anymore, but rather is dressed in a dark blue long-sleeved blouse and lighter blue pants that stopped just below her knees. She smiles at anyone present. She sets her backpack near her bunk and removes her cloak and hangs it off the bunks, spreading it out to dry. Taking a cloth from her bag, she wets it and sits down at a nearby table and chairs and wipes the wet dirt from her feet. She then spreads out the cloth to also dry. She rustles through her hair, shaking out some of the dampness.
Moving over to the bunks, she will set up several of the privacy screens that separate the women's bunks from those of the men. Sitting down on her own bunk she pulls out a set of leather armor from her backpack and checks it over, then places each piece into the footlocker nearby. Finally she will take a seat near the fireplace. The chill of the day did not bother her overly, but the warmth of the flames was cozy and reminded her of her homeland.
Fate. It was said that Zakhara was the Land of Fate. And yet fate had transpired to remove her from that land. "Good evening to you as well. My name is Erisciana Iltani of the temple of Ishtar. Fate certainly has seemed to conspire for many of us," she says looking about the room. For the moment, she has nothing further to say.
"I must say I have not heard your accent before. From where do you hail Eriscianca Iltani of Ishtar?
"My home is Zakhara, the Land of Fate. Far to the west. Past the mountains of Hule. I am from the city of Huzuz, the City of Delights," she will answer with a smile. "From where do you hail, warrior?"
-----------------------------
The priestess finds herself approached several times by the local menfolk looking for evening companionship. Surely these people have seen women before?! Those that are rude louts, she will ignore with a disdainful, pained look on her face, while those with some manners, she will politely decline. She wanders the bazaar area looking for useful items. The bazaar here is much smaller than her home city, but adequate. In truth the bazaar of Huzuz was possibly larger than all of Crossroads.
She buys a new leather backpack to store her gear and clothes for the trip. The wooden crate she received from the kind caravan leaders from her homeland was not practical for their upcoming travels. It was unusual to her that the merchants here did not want to seem to haggle. That was natural for her people. Eventually the merchant she purchased from was willing to give her a slight discount.
Erisci will collect her gear from the inn and pack in her new items as well and return to the barracks after an evening meal. The thought of eating at an establishment named the Fat Cyclops was not at all appealing and she wondered how she even ended up at such a place. She remembered hearing that the Blushing Maiden Inn was recommended for food and she will stop there as well for her own meal.
-----------------------------
Later that evening, those who are at the barracks see the priestess return with a full backpack worn over her cloak. She is not wearing her dress anymore, but rather is dressed in a dark blue long-sleeved blouse and lighter blue pants that stopped just below her knees. She smiles at anyone present. She sets her backpack near her bunk and removes her cloak and hangs it off the bunks, spreading it out to dry. Taking a cloth from her bag, she wets it and sits down at a nearby table and chairs and wipes the wet dirt from her feet. She then spreads out the cloth to also dry. She rustles through her hair, shaking out some of the dampness.
Moving over to the bunks, she will set up several of the privacy screens that separate the women's bunks from those of the men. Sitting down on her own bunk she pulls out a set of leather armor from her backpack and checks it over, then places each piece into the footlocker nearby. Finally she will take a seat near the fireplace. The chill of the day did not bother her overly, but the warmth of the flames was cozy and reminded her of her homeland.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Butternut:
The halfling listens to the discussion between Vernar and Erisciana. Butternut has never heard of this Zakhara; perhaps they all dress that way there. "Was your village also beyond the border of Cynallon, like this Zakhara, Vernar? The Shire is to the south and west of here and somewhat east of Athenos, though my clan lived in the hills to the west of Kingsport."
Several of the others have departed by time Butternut is ready to leave. On the way out, she asks one of the soldiers about an inn, and is given directions to the Blushing Maiden - which draws a sharp bark of laughter from the halfling woman. Figuring that she can get everything she needs at the central market, she heads that way first. It is still afternoon, still raining, and there are still way too many people about. She does her best to avoid the worst of the crowds, and repeatedly reminds herself that they will be out on the open road tomorrow.
She had intended to spend most of her money on a crossbow and bolts, but since the army has so conveniently provided that, Butternut focuses on smaller items. Her clothes are in fairly bad shape, so her first goal is to replace them, including an extra set. Nothing fancy or girly, just some clothes that are well-made of good fabric are all she needs. If she can find some decent rock-climbing equipment, she'll pick that up, along with a lantern and some oil. She will finish up by getting a selection of minor travel gear, such as a whetstone, and some personal items including soap and a washcloth.
With her shopping done, Butternut makes her way to the Blushing Maiden. It's too early for dinner at this point, so she has a small snack, then arranges for a bath. Butternut cannot even remember the last time she had a proper bath, but she's not going to miss the opportunity now. Sliding into the steaming water is almost more than she can bear, and soon she is struggling to remain awake enough to enjoy the experience.
Slipping into a set of new clothes when she finally drags herself out of the rapidly-cooling tub, Butternut arranges for the old clothes to be disposed of. She then heads down to the main room of the inn and takes the most secluded table she can find. Time for a proper meal!
__________________________________________________________________________
The poster looks beautiful. Great work, Scott!
The halfling listens to the discussion between Vernar and Erisciana. Butternut has never heard of this Zakhara; perhaps they all dress that way there. "Was your village also beyond the border of Cynallon, like this Zakhara, Vernar? The Shire is to the south and west of here and somewhat east of Athenos, though my clan lived in the hills to the west of Kingsport."
The large warrior's initial comment draws an odd and somewhat puzzled look from the halfling. However, he quickly puts the clues together and addresses her with greater comprehension. "No offence taken, Lucyus," Butternut replies, her voice only betraying a hint of exasperation. "I am indeed a halfling, and I am told that it is not unusual for humans to confuse us with children of your own race."Lucyus wrote:Lucyus looks at the child before him,"Thank you for your kind words and you are? Are you a squire?" he asks curiously and realizes his mistake upon second glance. "My apologizes, I did not mean to offend. I have heard of your kind, a halfling are you not?" he asks curiously as he fights to overcome his embarrassment.
Several of the others have departed by time Butternut is ready to leave. On the way out, she asks one of the soldiers about an inn, and is given directions to the Blushing Maiden - which draws a sharp bark of laughter from the halfling woman. Figuring that she can get everything she needs at the central market, she heads that way first. It is still afternoon, still raining, and there are still way too many people about. She does her best to avoid the worst of the crowds, and repeatedly reminds herself that they will be out on the open road tomorrow.
She had intended to spend most of her money on a crossbow and bolts, but since the army has so conveniently provided that, Butternut focuses on smaller items. Her clothes are in fairly bad shape, so her first goal is to replace them, including an extra set. Nothing fancy or girly, just some clothes that are well-made of good fabric are all she needs. If she can find some decent rock-climbing equipment, she'll pick that up, along with a lantern and some oil. She will finish up by getting a selection of minor travel gear, such as a whetstone, and some personal items including soap and a washcloth.
With her shopping done, Butternut makes her way to the Blushing Maiden. It's too early for dinner at this point, so she has a small snack, then arranges for a bath. Butternut cannot even remember the last time she had a proper bath, but she's not going to miss the opportunity now. Sliding into the steaming water is almost more than she can bear, and soon she is struggling to remain awake enough to enjoy the experience.
Slipping into a set of new clothes when she finally drags herself out of the rapidly-cooling tub, Butternut arranges for the old clothes to be disposed of. She then heads down to the main room of the inn and takes the most secluded table she can find. Time for a proper meal!
__________________________________________________________________________
The poster looks beautiful. Great work, Scott!
Gordon (fanchergw AKA Kylie, Grondar, Yusef, Lily Pak / Menagerie, Butternut, Onas, and Vardra)
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Post Continued:
April 10th, CR 569
The first members of Wyvern Squad are gathered in their barracks in the Army District in Crossroads. Some converse with Sergeant Traken, the units Commanding Officer.
The members of Wyvern Squad are informed that they can take what they need from the limited amount of armor and weapons on the racks in the barracks. Furthermore they may either spend the night here, or in town if they have other quarters. Tonight is theirs to enjoy, being in the army will start tomorrow. The squad will be moving out with part of the army after breakfast tomorrow morning.
Many of Wyvern Squad head off into Crossroads to pick up gear, to have a good meal and run other miscellaneous errands. Many visit the huge open market in the center of town. Several ask for meal recommendations and are directed to the Blushing Maiden inn.
Butternut is at the Blushing Maiden Inn a bit early for dinner after completing her shopping. She rents the Inn's bathing area for half an hour. They'll ask if she would like a fragrant scent to be added to the bath as well such as rose or strawberry. By the time she is done with her bath, dried off and wearing a fresh set of clothes, the Inn is starting to fill up with customers including a few familiar faces. Vernar and then later on Erisciana also arrive to have their evening meals.
Elsewhere, Lucyus goes off in search of a suitable suit of chain mail armor. It is the lesser of the preferred armor a follower of Heironeous can wear. Lucyus remembers that such armor is available from the nearby Temple of Heinousness. The master blacksmith at the temple's work is beyond reproach. There are several suits of chain mail ready to be tried out.
Lucyus slips into the armor and is immediately struck by how heavy it is. The armor essentially dangles down the wearer much like a robe. Thus it''s weight is most felt on the shoulders. A thick padded shirt is worn under the armor to prevent it from cutting into exposed skin. Wearing this armor will take some getting used to.
Several of Wyvern Squad return to the units barracks for the evening, while others remain elsewhere in Crossroads. Erisciana has unfolded several privacy screens and used them to isolate the girls bunks form the rest of the room. Rest eventually comes this night as all wonder what lies ahead in the days to come.
April 11th, CR 569
Morning arrives and everyone is up early. There is breakfast to be had for those at the barracks. After eating and making sure everyone is present, Sergeant Traken leads Wyvern Squad to the stables where numerous horses are present. Most of the horses present are riding horses, but there are some ponies and mules as well. Basic riding gear is provided.
April 10th, CR 569
The first members of Wyvern Squad are gathered in their barracks in the Army District in Crossroads. Some converse with Sergeant Traken, the units Commanding Officer.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Traken notes approvingly. “There shall be much 'improvements' in the days and weeks to come.”Butternut wrote:"I'm only sick of the live ones, Sergeant, and I do my best to improve them rapidly."
“I don't know,” Sergeant Traken answers. “Trolls are ferocious and savage in battle. Those are not bad traits. Unless you are on the receiving end of them.”Lucyus wrote:"Better than Troll, I guess," he says evenly.
“Thank you.”Lucyus wrote:"Then may your first command meet much success, Sgt!" he says back a grin upon his face.
The members of Wyvern Squad are informed that they can take what they need from the limited amount of armor and weapons on the racks in the barracks. Furthermore they may either spend the night here, or in town if they have other quarters. Tonight is theirs to enjoy, being in the army will start tomorrow. The squad will be moving out with part of the army after breakfast tomorrow morning.
Many of Wyvern Squad head off into Crossroads to pick up gear, to have a good meal and run other miscellaneous errands. Many visit the huge open market in the center of town. Several ask for meal recommendations and are directed to the Blushing Maiden inn.
Butternut is at the Blushing Maiden Inn a bit early for dinner after completing her shopping. She rents the Inn's bathing area for half an hour. They'll ask if she would like a fragrant scent to be added to the bath as well such as rose or strawberry. By the time she is done with her bath, dried off and wearing a fresh set of clothes, the Inn is starting to fill up with customers including a few familiar faces. Vernar and then later on Erisciana also arrive to have their evening meals.
Elsewhere, Lucyus goes off in search of a suitable suit of chain mail armor. It is the lesser of the preferred armor a follower of Heironeous can wear. Lucyus remembers that such armor is available from the nearby Temple of Heinousness. The master blacksmith at the temple's work is beyond reproach. There are several suits of chain mail ready to be tried out.
Lucyus slips into the armor and is immediately struck by how heavy it is. The armor essentially dangles down the wearer much like a robe. Thus it''s weight is most felt on the shoulders. A thick padded shirt is worn under the armor to prevent it from cutting into exposed skin. Wearing this armor will take some getting used to.
Several of Wyvern Squad return to the units barracks for the evening, while others remain elsewhere in Crossroads. Erisciana has unfolded several privacy screens and used them to isolate the girls bunks form the rest of the room. Rest eventually comes this night as all wonder what lies ahead in the days to come.
April 11th, CR 569
Morning arrives and everyone is up early. There is breakfast to be had for those at the barracks. After eating and making sure everyone is present, Sergeant Traken leads Wyvern Squad to the stables where numerous horses are present. Most of the horses present are riding horses, but there are some ponies and mules as well. Basic riding gear is provided.
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
GM Notes:
Lucyus is encumbered while wearing the chain mail armor, thus slowing his movement rate. A few others are encumbered as well, to varying degrees, due to the weight of their gear. It's not a huge issue, just an FYI.
Let's wrap up our business in Crossroads with this post, as next post we start the trip to Fort Graystone! All purchase noted have been done.
Now what?
Lucyus is encumbered while wearing the chain mail armor, thus slowing his movement rate. A few others are encumbered as well, to varying degrees, due to the weight of their gear. It's not a huge issue, just an FYI.
Let's wrap up our business in Crossroads with this post, as next post we start the trip to Fort Graystone! All purchase noted have been done.
Now what?
Try it and find out!
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Vernar -
If anyone from our group speaks with Vernar while he is at the inn enjoying his meal, he will be friendly, offering them a seat should they choose to join the dwarf. Otherwise he will simply think on everything that has brought him to this point, and the fond memories of those humans who helped him and welcomed him into their tiny hamlet. Before the hour gets too late, with or without company, Vernar returns to the bunkroom, and seeing a partition now in place, will choose a bottom bunk on the correct side to get a few hours of sleep.
"Not quite a' far as that," Vernar says, noting that he had never encountered a woman dressed as elaborate as Erisciana. "The folk I lived among were simple with little need nor care for such fancy attire."The halfling listens to the discussion between Vernar and Erisciana. Butternut has never heard of this Zakhara; perhaps they all dress that way there. "Was your village also beyond the border of Cynallon, like this Zakhara, Vernar? The Shire is to the south and west of here and somewhat east of Athenos, though my clan lived in the hills to the west of Kingsport."
If anyone from our group speaks with Vernar while he is at the inn enjoying his meal, he will be friendly, offering them a seat should they choose to join the dwarf. Otherwise he will simply think on everything that has brought him to this point, and the fond memories of those humans who helped him and welcomed him into their tiny hamlet. Before the hour gets too late, with or without company, Vernar returns to the bunkroom, and seeing a partition now in place, will choose a bottom bunk on the correct side to get a few hours of sleep.
"Here I go again on my own..." ~the Bard Whitesnake
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
The halfling listens to the discussion between Vernar and Erisciana. Butternut has never heard of this Zakhara; perhaps they all dress that way there. "Was your village also beyond the border of Cynallon, like this Zakhara, Vernar? The Shire is to the south and west of here and somewhat east of Athenos, though my clan lived in the hills to the west of Kingsport."
"Not quite a' far as that," Vernar says, noting that he had never encountered a woman dressed as elaborate as Erisciana. "The folk I lived among were simple with little need nor care for such fancy attire."
"Zakhara is very, very far indeed," Erisci will add. When the dwarven warrior comments about her garb, she looks herself over for a moment, considering what to say. An embarrassed smile fleetingly plays on her lips just a moment. "This would be considered 'simple attire' in my home city," she says with a simple smile. "I imagine I was lucky that the caravan I met after the attack in Elcadan was from my homeland and able to barter for some replacement supplies and extra attire." She will leave any additional explanation for further questions if anyone is even interested. No reason to detail one's problems to acquaintances, she muses.
When the priestess arrives at the Blushing Maiden Inn for her meal, she sees two of her new companions already there. She approaches the Dwarf, Vernar, as the two of them had some brief conversation already in the barracks. He graciously offers a seat and she will take it, engaging in small talk for a time.
Eventually she will excuse herself and retrieve her things from the other Inn and head back to the barracks (as above).
The halfling listens to the discussion between Vernar and Erisciana. Butternut has never heard of this Zakhara; perhaps they all dress that way there. "Was your village also beyond the border of Cynallon, like this Zakhara, Vernar? The Shire is to the south and west of here and somewhat east of Athenos, though my clan lived in the hills to the west of Kingsport."
"Not quite a' far as that," Vernar says, noting that he had never encountered a woman dressed as elaborate as Erisciana. "The folk I lived among were simple with little need nor care for such fancy attire."
"Zakhara is very, very far indeed," Erisci will add. When the dwarven warrior comments about her garb, she looks herself over for a moment, considering what to say. An embarrassed smile fleetingly plays on her lips just a moment. "This would be considered 'simple attire' in my home city," she says with a simple smile. "I imagine I was lucky that the caravan I met after the attack in Elcadan was from my homeland and able to barter for some replacement supplies and extra attire." She will leave any additional explanation for further questions if anyone is even interested. No reason to detail one's problems to acquaintances, she muses.
When the priestess arrives at the Blushing Maiden Inn for her meal, she sees two of her new companions already there. She approaches the Dwarf, Vernar, as the two of them had some brief conversation already in the barracks. He graciously offers a seat and she will take it, engaging in small talk for a time.
Eventually she will excuse herself and retrieve her things from the other Inn and head back to the barracks (as above).
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Lucyus
Stepping out from the market, Lucyus’ stomach rumbles in protest, as thunder soon after tears across the sky. He walks past several inns but nothing tickles his fancy. He makes his way to the barracks and steps inside. Seeing that there is not many of the others back yet. He removes his chainmail, then the padded shirt and places them in the trunk. Removing his tunic he wets a cloth and rinses the sweat and rain of the day from his chest and wets his hair that he ties back so only a few strands fall into his face.
Taking out a pack of dry rations, Lucyus eats, sitting on his bottom bunk. Once finished, Lucyus silently prays to Heironeous and his blessings. Afterward, he sees Erisciana sitting by the flame. Lucyus walks to the fireplace and put another log in the hearth. Feeling the flames of the fire, he gets lost for several moments as he watches the flames dance across the new log. He sees Erisciana sitting by the flames. “I fear nights such as this will be few and far between.” He says as he adjusts a long in the flames so it catches flame all the more. “Yet, the excitement and adventure of the unknown is all too compelling to go unanswered,” he says evenly. He looks briefly to the Zakharian? Then looks back to the other bunks, the thought of protecting and guiding his companions comes to mind and how many of his squad’s beds would remain empty upon return.
‘Best not to think of such things,’ he chides himself. ‘You were trained well and will see them and you through it.’
Seeing a dwarf walk in, one he has not met before, Lucyus rises to his feet and walks toward the dwarf as he chooses a bottom bunk. “I do not believe I had the pleasure,” he says extending his right arm to the dwarf in greeting. “I am Lucyus of Heironeous,” he introduces himself. Seeing the dwarf wishes to rest, Lucyus does not linger but moves back to his bunk, lays down and closes his eyes.
Morning comes far too soon as Lucyus gets up fairly early. He goes through his gear and makes sure it’s organized and packed. He dons his padded shirt and chain-mail armor, swings his battleaxe and shield upon his back. One dagger rests at the small of his back and the other within his black boot.
Once ready, Lucyus slowly moves to the table where breakfast sits. He sees various foods before him as he takes a seat. Taking fruit, cheeses and some smoked sausage, Lucyus silently prays to Heironeous then digs in.
Sometime afterward, Sergeant Traken leads them to the stables. Basic riding gear is found. Walking up to several of the horses. “Noblest of beasts,” he says evenly, albeit softly, as he sees a few mules and donkeys. He spots a chestnut mare with a blonde main that catches his eye. He watches silently for a few moments enjoying the moment.
(Lucyus is not being rude to anyone when he first comes in. He is merely being respectful and observing.)
“To my error,” Lucyus says to the halfling, “Truth be told, I have not met your kind before. I had only heard stories till now. What is truth and tale I would not know, but you do resemble a child.”----- The large warrior's initial comment draws an odd and somewhat puzzled look from the halfling. However, he quickly puts the clues together and addresses her with greater comprehension. "No offence taken, Lucyus," Butternut replies, her voice only betraying a hint of exasperation. "I am indeed a halfling, and I am told that it is not unusual for humans to confuse us with children of your own race."
Putting on the the padded shirt, Lucyus tests his motor skills then dons the chainmail armor. As it lays across his shoulders he feels the weight of the armor. He secures the the armor with talon-like clips. Once done he can feel the full weight as he staggers a little getting used to the armor. “I will definitely have to get used to this. There will be no all out swings of the battleaxe,” he says to himself more then to anyone around him. Reaching into his money pouch, Lucyus takes out the gold the master blacksmith is asking for and hands it to him. “Thank you. It is a bit heavier than I am used too but I am sure I will grow into it,” he says with a slight grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Your work is a marvel. Curiosity, how much would you ask for a suit of Plate mail?”Lucyus slips into the armor and is immediately struck by how heavy it is. The armor essentially dangles down the wearer much like a robe. Thus it's weight is most felt on the shoulders. A thick padded shirt is worn under the armor to prevent it from cutting into exposed skin. Wearing this armor will take some getting used to.
Stepping out from the market, Lucyus’ stomach rumbles in protest, as thunder soon after tears across the sky. He walks past several inns but nothing tickles his fancy. He makes his way to the barracks and steps inside. Seeing that there is not many of the others back yet. He removes his chainmail, then the padded shirt and places them in the trunk. Removing his tunic he wets a cloth and rinses the sweat and rain of the day from his chest and wets his hair that he ties back so only a few strands fall into his face.
Taking out a pack of dry rations, Lucyus eats, sitting on his bottom bunk. Once finished, Lucyus silently prays to Heironeous and his blessings. Afterward, he sees Erisciana sitting by the flame. Lucyus walks to the fireplace and put another log in the hearth. Feeling the flames of the fire, he gets lost for several moments as he watches the flames dance across the new log. He sees Erisciana sitting by the flames. “I fear nights such as this will be few and far between.” He says as he adjusts a long in the flames so it catches flame all the more. “Yet, the excitement and adventure of the unknown is all too compelling to go unanswered,” he says evenly. He looks briefly to the Zakharian? Then looks back to the other bunks, the thought of protecting and guiding his companions comes to mind and how many of his squad’s beds would remain empty upon return.
‘Best not to think of such things,’ he chides himself. ‘You were trained well and will see them and you through it.’
Seeing a dwarf walk in, one he has not met before, Lucyus rises to his feet and walks toward the dwarf as he chooses a bottom bunk. “I do not believe I had the pleasure,” he says extending his right arm to the dwarf in greeting. “I am Lucyus of Heironeous,” he introduces himself. Seeing the dwarf wishes to rest, Lucyus does not linger but moves back to his bunk, lays down and closes his eyes.
Morning comes far too soon as Lucyus gets up fairly early. He goes through his gear and makes sure it’s organized and packed. He dons his padded shirt and chain-mail armor, swings his battleaxe and shield upon his back. One dagger rests at the small of his back and the other within his black boot.
Once ready, Lucyus slowly moves to the table where breakfast sits. He sees various foods before him as he takes a seat. Taking fruit, cheeses and some smoked sausage, Lucyus silently prays to Heironeous then digs in.
Sometime afterward, Sergeant Traken leads them to the stables. Basic riding gear is found. Walking up to several of the horses. “Noblest of beasts,” he says evenly, albeit softly, as he sees a few mules and donkeys. He spots a chestnut mare with a blonde main that catches his eye. He watches silently for a few moments enjoying the moment.
(Lucyus is not being rude to anyone when he first comes in. He is merely being respectful and observing.)
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Vernar -
After sharing a meal and some small talk with Erisciana, Vernar is approached when he returns to the bunkroom by one of the other of his group that he had not truly met as everyone was coming in earlier.
"Mind?" Vernar asks, as he walks over towards the weapon. If Lucyus prefers that the dwarf does not handle the weapon, Vernar will merely look over it. "Impressive," he replies once finished, one hand resting on his own hand axe.
"Never had a chance to learn, as the humans I was with suffered from too few fightin' men," the dwarf reveals. "Depending on how all this works out," he continues, meaning the upcoming military operation, "maybe you can show me a thing or two." Vernar says the last with a twinkle in his eye as he looks to Lucyus.
After sharing a meal and some small talk with Erisciana, Vernar is approached when he returns to the bunkroom by one of the other of his group that he had not truly met as everyone was coming in earlier.
"Pleasure," Vernar says in that manner that makes other people wonder if it really is a pleasure for him, even though the word seems genuine enough. The dwarf takes the offered arm in greeting and spots the man's battle axe.Seeing a dwarf walk in, one he has not met before. Lucyus rises to his feet and walks toward the dwarf as he chooses a bottom bunk. “I do not believe I had the pleasure.”he says extending his right arm to the dwarf in greeting. “I am Lucyus of Herionious.”
"Mind?" Vernar asks, as he walks over towards the weapon. If Lucyus prefers that the dwarf does not handle the weapon, Vernar will merely look over it. "Impressive," he replies once finished, one hand resting on his own hand axe.
"Never had a chance to learn, as the humans I was with suffered from too few fightin' men," the dwarf reveals. "Depending on how all this works out," he continues, meaning the upcoming military operation, "maybe you can show me a thing or two." Vernar says the last with a twinkle in his eye as he looks to Lucyus.
"Here I go again on my own..." ~the Bard Whitesnake
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Lucyus
"
“By all means.”he says gesturing to the battleaxe. “It is the favored weapon of my patron.” He says evenly as the dwarf looks it over. sees the hand resting on the axe. Silently he wonders if he is doing it out of habit or perhaps he does not trust easy, time would tell."Mind?" Vernar asks, as he walks over towards the weapon. If Lucyus prefers that the dwarf does not handle the weapon, Vernar will merely look over it. "Impressive," he replies once finished, one hand resting on his own hand axe.
"
“I have received some training with it. Were you with the humans long?” he asks curiously as he hears he is not with his kin. “I can show you all that I know, Though, I am not skilled in the way of using it two handed. I much prefer the use of a shield than bringing both butterfly blades to bare. Perhaps there are things that you may teach me as well.” He says back to Vernar.Never had a chance to learn, as the humans I was with suffered from too few fightin' men," the dwarf reveals. "Depending on how all this works out," he continues, meaning the upcoming military operation, "maybe you can show me a thing or two." Vernar says the last with a twinkle in his eye as he looks to Lucyus
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Butternut:
Though not usually given to anything that most would consider "girly", Butternut cannot resist the opportunity to add the strawberry scent to her bath. The smell of fresh fruit just serves to heighten her appetite.
Not long after she settles into a table, Butternut notes the dwarf from their squad enter the inn. She waves him over to join her. "Vernar, wasn't it? Join me for a meal? I haven't smelled anything this good in months!"
A little while later, Butternut sees Erisciana entering and gestures for her to join them, as Vernar does as well. Once pleasantries have been exchanged, she thinks back to the earlier conversation. "You mentioned before that Zakhara was very far away, which I can believe as I had never even heard of it before today. So what brought you so far from home and lead you to join this perilous venture?"
With so much gold jingling in her pocket, Butternut succumbs to the temptation to get a room for the night here at the inn. Once Vernar and Erisciana have left to return to the barracks, Butternut has another drink as she makes arrangements to stay in the best room that is still available. It has been so very long since she has slept in a real bed, it makes her nearly giddy with anticipation. Before retiring, she makes arrangements to be woken early and orders a breakfast for the morning.
The night passes far too quickly. It is a struggle to drag herself from the heavenly comfort of the bed. She takes a bit too long getting ready and eating her breakfast, and as a result is nearly too late in returning. As she arrives, the rest of the team is filing out to mount up. She dashes inside to fetch the rest of her gear and repack a bit as a result of her purchases of the previous day.
Moments later, she rushes back outside to find a mount. Fortunately, she is able to find an unclaimed pony and gathers up a saddle and riding gear. Butternut pauses a moment to regain her calm, then approaches the pony and introduces herself. With her natural affinity for animals, she is able to make friends quickly, and is soon mounted and ready to go. She reaches down and runs her small hand along the pony's neck as she waits for orders to move out.
It seems that the dwarf traveled little farther than she herself had to reach Crossroads. From the description, Butternut suspects that she would like the people of his village. In general, she's had good experiences with humans, particularly when they would visit her clan's village. Butternut ruthlessly clamps down on that line of thought before her emotions run away with her.Vernar wrote:"Not quite a' far as that," Vernar says, noting that he had never encountered a woman dressed as elaborate as Erisciana. "The folk I lived among were simple with little need nor care for such fancy attire."
If this is 'simple attire', then Butternut cannot even imagine what fancy dress there must be like.Erisciana wrote:"Zakhara is very, very far indeed," Erisci will add. When the dwarven warrior comments about her garb, she looks herself over for a moment, considering what to say. An embarrassed smile fleetingly plays on her lips just a moment. "This would be considered 'simple attire' in my home city," she says with a simple smile. "I imagine I was lucky that the caravan I met after the attack in Elcadan was from my homeland and able to barter for some replacement supplies and extra attire."
Butternut glances down at herself. While admittedly about the height of a human child, those she has met were usually soft and youthful in appearance - neither of which describes the halfling woman as she now appears after so many years of living off the land and hunting goblins. "I have not met that many human children, so I will take your word for it," she replies with a shrug.Lucyus wrote:“To my error.” Lucyus says to the halfling, “Truth be told, I have not met your kind before. I had only heard stories till now.What is truth and tale I would not know, but you do resemble that of a child.”
Though not usually given to anything that most would consider "girly", Butternut cannot resist the opportunity to add the strawberry scent to her bath. The smell of fresh fruit just serves to heighten her appetite.
Not long after she settles into a table, Butternut notes the dwarf from their squad enter the inn. She waves him over to join her. "Vernar, wasn't it? Join me for a meal? I haven't smelled anything this good in months!"
A little while later, Butternut sees Erisciana entering and gestures for her to join them, as Vernar does as well. Once pleasantries have been exchanged, she thinks back to the earlier conversation. "You mentioned before that Zakhara was very far away, which I can believe as I had never even heard of it before today. So what brought you so far from home and lead you to join this perilous venture?"
With so much gold jingling in her pocket, Butternut succumbs to the temptation to get a room for the night here at the inn. Once Vernar and Erisciana have left to return to the barracks, Butternut has another drink as she makes arrangements to stay in the best room that is still available. It has been so very long since she has slept in a real bed, it makes her nearly giddy with anticipation. Before retiring, she makes arrangements to be woken early and orders a breakfast for the morning.
The night passes far too quickly. It is a struggle to drag herself from the heavenly comfort of the bed. She takes a bit too long getting ready and eating her breakfast, and as a result is nearly too late in returning. As she arrives, the rest of the team is filing out to mount up. She dashes inside to fetch the rest of her gear and repack a bit as a result of her purchases of the previous day.
Moments later, she rushes back outside to find a mount. Fortunately, she is able to find an unclaimed pony and gathers up a saddle and riding gear. Butternut pauses a moment to regain her calm, then approaches the pony and introduces herself. With her natural affinity for animals, she is able to make friends quickly, and is soon mounted and ready to go. She reaches down and runs her small hand along the pony's neck as she waits for orders to move out.
Gordon (fanchergw AKA Kylie, Grondar, Yusef, Lily Pak / Menagerie, Butternut, Onas, and Vardra)
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
At the Blushing Maiden Inn, Erisci chats with the dwarf Vernar and the halfling known as Butternut.
A little while later, Butternut sees Erisciana entering and gestures for her to join them, as Vernar does as well. Once pleasantries have been exchanged, she thinks back to the earlier conversation. "You mentioned before that Zakhara was very far away, which I can believe as I had never even heard of it before today. So what brought you so far from home and lead you to join this perilous venture?"
Erisciana smiles and raises her eyes to the ceiling at the thought of her current situation. "It is a tale, I must say," she says to her companions. "Zakhara is quite far indeed. Past the borders of this country and past the wildlands claimed mostly by humanoid marauders. Past the Eastern Savage Coast and the Lands of Hule is where the golden sands of Zakhara can be found." She smiles to herself as she thinks about her homeland and takes a sip of her drink.
"As for my own story, it is one I would not have expected upon its undertaking. I am the youngest child of the Iltani family. As such I was charged with a dual-purpose mission, one in conjunction with my temple. I was to come here to Cynalon as an unofficial ambassador to attempt to create some strategic alliances for my family and my temple. A number of Zakharan caravans travel here, through the country, trading as they go and bringing back goods to our own lands."
"In addition, we have heard that there has been a rise once more in the vile temples dedicated to Hextor." She sneers as she says the name. "They were once the main power of Keln and the lands to the east and they are gaining power, according to the signs and the portents. I was to learn about their new rise once more to power and report to the Great Temple in Huzuz."
In between bites of her meal, she will continue. "My retinue and I were travelling with a caravan from Huzuz, headed for Elcadan city. Unfortunately, the lands west of the great river are teeming with humanoids and while the caravan was well guarded, we were attacked. The first two nights, the attacks were minor and I believe the retched goblins and orcs were gauging our defenses. On the next they hit the caravan from two directions, setting wagons on fire and slaughtering everyone they could. My two bodyguards spirited me out into the night and we took shelter in the forest. Fortunately, Ishtar was with us and the goddess saw us safely away from the carnage."
Erisci hopes she is not boring her companions with the length of her travails, but they both seem interested enough. "More bad luck was to find us however. Not in the form of humanoid raiders but rather human bandits. We fought hard, but there were too many of them. First one of my guards sold her life in defense and then the second. I was wounded and surrounded and while I was determined to fight to my last breath, they knocked me unconscious and took me prisoner." She thinks back on that moment, sadness filling her face, and shakes her head slightly.
"They took most of my jewels and my gear and my weapons and bound me hand and foot for some dire fate. I was told that when the bandits leader, some fiend named Lothar, arrived they would be taking me to Elcadan to be sold to a noble there." She shuddered at the thought. "I was not about to succumb to such an ignominious fate. Using some of the powers granted me by the goddess, plus my own desperate wiles, I managed to convince one of the bandits that if he freed me, that I would run away with him," she says laughing slightly. "A pretty face can be its own weapon when the opponent is gullible enough," she says smirking.
"Needless to say, I distanced myself from the love-struck bandit-gentleman at the first opportunity. The goddess sustained me until I was able to reach the main road again. I was fortunate enough to find another caravan after many days of wandering the countryside alone. Ishtar managed to lead me to the road and blessed me with my armor, staff and holy symbol. You see, the caravan was also Zakharan and the bandits must have sold my goods at the nearest town. The caravan leader was kind enough to take me in, upon learning I was a priestess. I exchanged some of the goddess' blessings for my equipment that was taken from me and also bartered for these trinkets I wear now. They do not replace those that were taken from me. I will likely never see them again."
She pauses for a short while, thinking back on that misadventure, then sighs. "The caravan traveled to Crossroads and brought me with them. I am unable to return until my mission is complete. To do so would be to lose all honor in the face of my family and my temple." She sets her jaw for a moment. "I had no money. Little of my possessions. And so I am here!" She sits back and rustles her hair with both hands. "And so my mission continues," she says a bit more solemnly.
"I have spoken far too long," she says with an embarrassed smile. "What of each of you? What brings you into this 'soldierly excursion'?" she asks, leaning forward.
-----------------------
Eventually the evening finds Erisciana back at the barracks. The priestess sits by the fire in the barracks after dinner and sees the armored warrior named Lucyus come in an eat a simple meal at his bunk. Eventually, he comes over and tosses another log onto the fire.
“I fear nights such as this will be few and far between.” He says as he adjusts a long in the flames so it catches flame all the more. “Yet, the excitement and adventure of the unknown is all too compelling to go unanswered,” he says evenly.
"That depends on how you look at this evening," she says turning to face him somewhat. "This is a night before a new adventure, indeed. Hopefully it will have some measure of excitement, which we will enjoy and look back upon fondly."
At the Blushing Maiden Inn, Erisci chats with the dwarf Vernar and the halfling known as Butternut.
A little while later, Butternut sees Erisciana entering and gestures for her to join them, as Vernar does as well. Once pleasantries have been exchanged, she thinks back to the earlier conversation. "You mentioned before that Zakhara was very far away, which I can believe as I had never even heard of it before today. So what brought you so far from home and lead you to join this perilous venture?"
Erisciana smiles and raises her eyes to the ceiling at the thought of her current situation. "It is a tale, I must say," she says to her companions. "Zakhara is quite far indeed. Past the borders of this country and past the wildlands claimed mostly by humanoid marauders. Past the Eastern Savage Coast and the Lands of Hule is where the golden sands of Zakhara can be found." She smiles to herself as she thinks about her homeland and takes a sip of her drink.
"As for my own story, it is one I would not have expected upon its undertaking. I am the youngest child of the Iltani family. As such I was charged with a dual-purpose mission, one in conjunction with my temple. I was to come here to Cynalon as an unofficial ambassador to attempt to create some strategic alliances for my family and my temple. A number of Zakharan caravans travel here, through the country, trading as they go and bringing back goods to our own lands."
"In addition, we have heard that there has been a rise once more in the vile temples dedicated to Hextor." She sneers as she says the name. "They were once the main power of Keln and the lands to the east and they are gaining power, according to the signs and the portents. I was to learn about their new rise once more to power and report to the Great Temple in Huzuz."
In between bites of her meal, she will continue. "My retinue and I were travelling with a caravan from Huzuz, headed for Elcadan city. Unfortunately, the lands west of the great river are teeming with humanoids and while the caravan was well guarded, we were attacked. The first two nights, the attacks were minor and I believe the retched goblins and orcs were gauging our defenses. On the next they hit the caravan from two directions, setting wagons on fire and slaughtering everyone they could. My two bodyguards spirited me out into the night and we took shelter in the forest. Fortunately, Ishtar was with us and the goddess saw us safely away from the carnage."
Erisci hopes she is not boring her companions with the length of her travails, but they both seem interested enough. "More bad luck was to find us however. Not in the form of humanoid raiders but rather human bandits. We fought hard, but there were too many of them. First one of my guards sold her life in defense and then the second. I was wounded and surrounded and while I was determined to fight to my last breath, they knocked me unconscious and took me prisoner." She thinks back on that moment, sadness filling her face, and shakes her head slightly.
"They took most of my jewels and my gear and my weapons and bound me hand and foot for some dire fate. I was told that when the bandits leader, some fiend named Lothar, arrived they would be taking me to Elcadan to be sold to a noble there." She shuddered at the thought. "I was not about to succumb to such an ignominious fate. Using some of the powers granted me by the goddess, plus my own desperate wiles, I managed to convince one of the bandits that if he freed me, that I would run away with him," she says laughing slightly. "A pretty face can be its own weapon when the opponent is gullible enough," she says smirking.
"Needless to say, I distanced myself from the love-struck bandit-gentleman at the first opportunity. The goddess sustained me until I was able to reach the main road again. I was fortunate enough to find another caravan after many days of wandering the countryside alone. Ishtar managed to lead me to the road and blessed me with my armor, staff and holy symbol. You see, the caravan was also Zakharan and the bandits must have sold my goods at the nearest town. The caravan leader was kind enough to take me in, upon learning I was a priestess. I exchanged some of the goddess' blessings for my equipment that was taken from me and also bartered for these trinkets I wear now. They do not replace those that were taken from me. I will likely never see them again."
She pauses for a short while, thinking back on that misadventure, then sighs. "The caravan traveled to Crossroads and brought me with them. I am unable to return until my mission is complete. To do so would be to lose all honor in the face of my family and my temple." She sets her jaw for a moment. "I had no money. Little of my possessions. And so I am here!" She sits back and rustles her hair with both hands. "And so my mission continues," she says a bit more solemnly.
"I have spoken far too long," she says with an embarrassed smile. "What of each of you? What brings you into this 'soldierly excursion'?" she asks, leaning forward.
-----------------------
Eventually the evening finds Erisciana back at the barracks. The priestess sits by the fire in the barracks after dinner and sees the armored warrior named Lucyus come in an eat a simple meal at his bunk. Eventually, he comes over and tosses another log onto the fire.
“I fear nights such as this will be few and far between.” He says as he adjusts a long in the flames so it catches flame all the more. “Yet, the excitement and adventure of the unknown is all too compelling to go unanswered,” he says evenly.
"That depends on how you look at this evening," she says turning to face him somewhat. "This is a night before a new adventure, indeed. Hopefully it will have some measure of excitement, which we will enjoy and look back upon fondly."
-
Ren Silvare
- Thief / Shadowmage
- Posts: 33
- Joined: Wed Apr 04, 2018 11:41 pm
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
As the sun begins to rise over the horizon, Ren is already busy flitting about after reviewing his spells, and a quick, light breakfast. He remembers that they are meant to meet at the barracks and arrives as those present are having their breakfast. Putting on a non-chalant front, he makes small-talk with those that will have it and intersperses a joke about gobblin' up goblins. He is excited to get to ride a horse, as he has spent one too many weeks travelling by foot and will relish the chance to get off his feet for a while.
To whomever is present, "Last time I rode a horse was when I was fleeing the city with my Uncle Hermes. Gods, I miss Peppercorn. She was a lovely black and white-speckled Mare with such a calm temperment. It was a shame I couldn't keep her."
Ren cannot sit still till they are on the horses and leaving Crossroads, a sort of nervous and anxious energy permeating the mood of the camp. It can be rather exciting going to war...
To whomever is present, "Last time I rode a horse was when I was fleeing the city with my Uncle Hermes. Gods, I miss Peppercorn. She was a lovely black and white-speckled Mare with such a calm temperment. It was a shame I couldn't keep her."
Ren cannot sit still till they are on the horses and leaving Crossroads, a sort of nervous and anxious energy permeating the mood of the camp. It can be rather exciting going to war...
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Erisciana -
Sleep does not come immediately for the priestess of Ishtar. She doesn't think long on her recent decision however, as there truly were few other viable options that didn't take far too long to initiate. She would be closer to the end prize of one mission and possibly able to complete the other using inside information. Soon she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning she changed from her bed clothes into the same attire she wore the previous evening: dark blue long-sleeved blouse and pants, in a lighter blue shade, which reached just below her knees. Sitting on the edge of her bunk, she took some time to apply a little make-up, while completing her morning prayers to the goddess. Not as much as the previous day, but enough to make herself feel "normal".
She will meet the rest of the group that is there for breakfast and engage in whatever small-talk subjects rule the table this morn. Taking small samples of each of the foods and drink available, she will eat her fill, unsure of when they expect to partake of sustenance again and a longish ride appears before them.
Since the group is moving out with other military units and remain in Cynalon territory, Erisciana will pack her armor in her backpack, along with her other clothes. She wears the silver jewelry she was seen in the other day, in truth, not having removed any of it. A belt pouch contains her personal items. When the time comes to assemble, she will pad out to the street with the others and follow the sergeant to the stables.
Given a choice of mounts, Erisci sees a blue roan mare and introduces herself to the horse. Having experience in riding, she takes a few moments for the beast to become familiar with her and pats its dark black head gently, speaking to it quietly. Erisciana takes the nearby horse tack and prepares her mount, adjusting the bridle and saddle and setting the stirrups where they will fit her most comfortably. Finally she will attach a set of saddlebags to the rear of the saddle and strap her backpack between them as well. Her new shield is hung from a strap on the saddlebags. She keeps her dark blue cloak tied around her shoulders but otherwise open.
Using a mounting block, she easily slips onto the back of the mare. She brushes the straw dust from her soles and hugs her mount with her knees, letting it get used to her presence. Placing her ceremonial staff into a stirrup support, she the nudges the horse with her heels and they trot out of the stables into the stable-yard, where she waits for the rest of the group.
Sleep does not come immediately for the priestess of Ishtar. She doesn't think long on her recent decision however, as there truly were few other viable options that didn't take far too long to initiate. She would be closer to the end prize of one mission and possibly able to complete the other using inside information. Soon she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning she changed from her bed clothes into the same attire she wore the previous evening: dark blue long-sleeved blouse and pants, in a lighter blue shade, which reached just below her knees. Sitting on the edge of her bunk, she took some time to apply a little make-up, while completing her morning prayers to the goddess. Not as much as the previous day, but enough to make herself feel "normal".
She will meet the rest of the group that is there for breakfast and engage in whatever small-talk subjects rule the table this morn. Taking small samples of each of the foods and drink available, she will eat her fill, unsure of when they expect to partake of sustenance again and a longish ride appears before them.
Since the group is moving out with other military units and remain in Cynalon territory, Erisciana will pack her armor in her backpack, along with her other clothes. She wears the silver jewelry she was seen in the other day, in truth, not having removed any of it. A belt pouch contains her personal items. When the time comes to assemble, she will pad out to the street with the others and follow the sergeant to the stables.
Given a choice of mounts, Erisci sees a blue roan mare and introduces herself to the horse. Having experience in riding, she takes a few moments for the beast to become familiar with her and pats its dark black head gently, speaking to it quietly. Erisciana takes the nearby horse tack and prepares her mount, adjusting the bridle and saddle and setting the stirrups where they will fit her most comfortably. Finally she will attach a set of saddlebags to the rear of the saddle and strap her backpack between them as well. Her new shield is hung from a strap on the saddlebags. She keeps her dark blue cloak tied around her shoulders but otherwise open.
Using a mounting block, she easily slips onto the back of the mare. She brushes the straw dust from her soles and hugs her mount with her knees, letting it get used to her presence. Placing her ceremonial staff into a stirrup support, she the nudges the horse with her heels and they trot out of the stables into the stable-yard, where she waits for the rest of the group.
Re: Operation: Graystone #1
Butternut:
Erisciana tells a long story of how she traveled from her home so far away; yet Butternut suspects that there is more to the tale that she is not telling. Nevertheless, that is her business.
Later, once she has selected her pony, Butternut looks over at Ren astride the mount he's picked out. The gnome is practically bouncing in anticipation. She cannot help wondering if he is too high strung for this work.
Erisciana tells a long story of how she traveled from her home so far away; yet Butternut suspects that there is more to the tale that she is not telling. Nevertheless, that is her business.
"My story is much simpler," Butternut says, taking a swig of her drink. "Goblins slaughtered my children, my husband and my entire clan. I only survived because of the intervention of a group of rangers. After completed my training with them, I heard about this mission to rid a castle from the goblins infesting them. Any opportunity to get revenge is welcome."Erisciana wrote:"I have spoken far too long," she says with an embarrassed smile. "What of each of you? What brings you into this 'soldierly excursion'?" she asks, leaning forward.
The flashy gnome is reminiscing about a horse when Butternut rushes in. "Sounds like a great horse. Sometimes horses are easier to get along with than people. Then again, the same can be said of many animals."Ren wrote:To whomever is present, "Last time I rode a horse was when I was fleeing the city with my Uncle Hermes. Gods, I miss Peppercorn. She was a lovely black and white-speckled Mare with such a calm temperament. It was a shame I couldn't keep her."
Later, once she has selected her pony, Butternut looks over at Ren astride the mount he's picked out. The gnome is practically bouncing in anticipation. She cannot help wondering if he is too high strung for this work.
Gordon (fanchergw AKA Kylie, Grondar, Yusef, Lily Pak / Menagerie, Butternut, Onas, and Vardra)