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Topics - Johan

#21
Game Log / Episode 19: The Cliffside Crypts Part 4
November 15, 2008, 03:12:42 PM
Note: Some revisionist history took place to account for missing members of the Protectorate.

Lander Leofric's wife, Frenzoria, was attacked in the basement of the Cliffsie inn- the home and business. Julius called upon the protectorate to investigate the attack. Upon searching around in the basement an opening at the top of the wall was discovered. The wall was dismantled and behind it was a forgotten hallway. The halwway lead into a crypt where the protectorate explored. During their exploration they were attacked by a living shadow. The shadow was powerful enough for the Protectorate to retreat and heal

The next day prompted further investigation. Towards the end of the crypt was an ancient burial site of Galavan MacConnel a renowned Wildlander hero. Inaddition to that was a dilapidated embalming table and makeshift temple, with the trappings of a Shadow Rider ritual, that had seen recent use.

In looking around, a trap door was found that lead out to the river but another was found that lead to a very long hallway that ended at door above. When opening the door three pairs of glowing purple eyes were seen and it was decided to return the following day with help.

The following day Severen and the new arrival, Bastion went with the Protectorate to continue the discovery of where this mysterious hallway went to. Entering the first large chamber 3 of the Living Shadows immediately attacked, Severen, using his dark power over the undead, and bastion invoking the power of Sardior, defeated the free floating full torso vaporous apparitions. Severen and Maal returned to the Temple of Shadows with the apparitions where Severen could bend them to his will.

Although eager to continue, it was decided that until Severen returned, it would be futile to pursue the mystery of this haunted place.


Saturday November 1, 2008


Qwydeon Albyr Voldyn [June 1] Morning:
Bastion: Matt
Maccabeus: Johan
Ragnor: Hemo
Severen: NPC

Maccabeus:

Wolf's reaction in the underground upon seeing tracks of shadwolves fills you with both excitement and regret. The shadewolves, your natural enemy, have proven to be valiant adversaries in the past. You find it unfortunate that such a twisted strain of your brother could exist. Are they beyond saving you wonder. Are they misunderstood as so many wolves often are and if so, does that mean you do not understand wolves the way you thought? Kym has deep understanding of wolves in a way you can only hope. Would she do no less in killing shadewolves?
Glancing over at your brother playfully minding the pups of the pack you are reminded that creatures are more like us than most would care to admit. Would a mother shadewolf defend her young any less? Is that love or just survival? If they do, in fact, love, are they really evil?

Regardless, the wolves that Wolf sensed will attack if prompted to by their masters...and defend your kindred you will...for both love and survival.

Bastion:

Your time in Threshold has been brief...but so far, exciting! Your sworn acolytes are busy cleaning the Temple of Crimson Eyes in preparation for the opening ceremony. They attack their hard work with such fervor and devotion it makes you proud to guide them. Perhaps your example of wielding divine power against the dark minions will inspire them further. In addition you've seen the power that Sardior grants you when you call upon it...power beyond that of healing. This application of divine backing has bolstered your faith in a way that Jonak, your once mentor, would be filled with pride.

Severen has proven to be a curious individual to you. He his akin to the darkness and has power over the risen spirits but in speaking with him you find he has certain nobility about him. It's not often you've had any contact with a dark priest but if others are as he is then one would have to wonder what people are so fearful of. After all, everyone has their own point of view and who is to say who has a monopoly on truth? What's more, he is frighteningly familiar with the rituals, particularly with the death rituals, of the Sadiorian Order.

Everyone has their own path and far be it for anyone to dictate to another what that path might be. Though you have come in the hopes of teaching, learning never stops.

Ragnor:

The idea of revenge upon your once slavers fills with you an overdue satisfaction. The prospect of mercy towards them is non-existent as they had not shown you any when you were captive. Yes, revenge is a dish best served cold.

As was revealed, it was a Shadow Rider ritual that brought forth the phantoms in the underground. They must be here...somewhere! So close you can taste the delicious backlash that you will deliver upon them. The suspense of such a return is frustrating but the delivery of it you will savor.

********

Protectorate gets paid today! 15G!!
Members meet at the Cliffside Inn for breakfast.
Wait for Bastion to select his spells.
During our protracted conversations, the realization comes to us collectively that Galivan McConnel's Tomb is under the Circle of All, and there must be a clear significance to that. The nature of that significance eludes us though.

After food, conversation, and spell selection, we troupe back into the underground, following the paths to where we collectively left off.

Up into the large room, there is an opening to the NE. There is a hallway that leads to another chamber, and in that chamber are two more of the phantoms that we fought last session (these phantoms have been nick-named "Mistberries").
FIGHT – Ragnar gains aggro quickly. And the mistberries are pretty quickly defeated.

Wildfire: Please describe this room? My notes are a bit sparse, but they speak about a door that we "placed the bar upon". My recollection is that there was this large door that was closed; it had grips on it that would enable us to place a wooden lock-bar on it, preventing it's opening (fearing that there were other baddies behind said door).

There was also another corridor that, looking down, we could see two other mistberries. We voted to put the bar on the door and deal with the mistberries.

As that fight begins, Sevren charms one of them and uses it to fight the other one (along with us fighting the other one). We win (Like there was any other option – we rock)!

Need another description here, Wildflower!

Going through the next door, we come to realize that we're in the Formount! YIKES!! There's shadowrider & mistberry presence in the Fortmount!!
Conundrum: How many shadowriders might be present here at the Fortmount? Scads! More then we're likely to be able to handle. Retreat back to Julius to convene.

Thoughts: They can send the Thornbramble twins in to reconnoiter the place. Julius states that there is another, MORE secret entrance to the Fortmount.

We need info, and that will hopefully come by the next session!
#22
Character Info / Trillomore
October 19, 2008, 10:03:03 AM
These are pasted descriptions from ICDs:

The elf was fairly nondescript, as elves tended to be, and was dressed is a very utilitarian manner in shades of gray and olive.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++
The real story is that Trillomore is a slender High Elf with light brown hair and green eyes. He is very neat, and well-groomed. He stands about 5 feet tall.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The particular apartment to which the elf went was, Belwar noted, the exact one that he had heard Dannobar conspiring with the traitorous guard. Was it only a few short weeks ago?

The appartment was small, as it ever had been, and sparsely furnished with basic, functional chairs and a table, all of which were made of stout wood. The walls of this small apartment were barren. It was clear to Belwar that this was either a vacant apartment - which was unlikely as the keep was so full of residents these days - or it was in fact at the disposal of this elf, but he didn't live here. No one could; there was no bed, no couch, no dishwares or utensils or even so much as a coat rack. The only touch of personalization in the room was the form, apparently burned into the wooden surface of the round table, of an owl in flight.
#23
Hey folks. I've been giving FK some thought, and as I've reviewed what's been going on, I realize that I feel that the scenario and RP ball is in my thinking in the Player's court.

If anyone is interested in playing, please read the log, as it is current and reflected of the status of the game. I'd be interested in hearing the following:

1) Wanna play?
2) Given the latest developments and current thoughts, what are people going to be doing to get things moving in the direction that they want them to move in?
3) Anyone doing anything additional that might not be on my radar at all?
4) Are there ICDs that folks think need to happen?
5) Is there anybody out there?
#24
In Character Discussions / 12.27.2132 - A New Cell
June 30, 2008, 11:02:19 PM
Temmit waited for Renee and Leslie to disappear into the catacombs that would lead them back to Renee's secret chamber, Whisper's storage closet, and would eventually return Leslie safe and sound. Once the dark had swallowed his two best friends, Temmit pulled the lever that lowered the granite block from the cieling, blocking the corridor that led into Whisper's new cell.

The block ground it's way into place with an ominous finality.  "I hope that Leslie will be safe from here on out." He remarked to Smokey.

"She's with Renee." Smokey pointed out. "How much more safe can she be?"

"Good point." Temmit conceded.

"Who's going to protect you, though?"

Temmit grasped that point very quickly. He was now completely alone in Whisper's new cell, with Damien Starke. A moment of fear and panic splashed upon his chest, but his intellect quickly reasserted itself. Damien was unconscious, and would remain so for at least the next day.

"Or so you believe. Renee is no doctor, you know."

Damien was also well tied up.

"But which of you is really any good with a rope?"

He was blindfolded and gagged as well.

"But again..."

"SHUT UP, DAMN YOU!!!"

For a moment, there was silence in Temmit's mind, then a small, contrite voice whispered, "It wasn't me." He knew that there would be no further issues.

Temmit made his way back to the room where Damien lay unconscious and immobile. To his relief the traitorous sorcerer remained as incapacitated as he had been when they tied him there.

Temmit checked the ropes, the gag (which wasn't tight enough to suit Temmit's sense of vengeance), and the blindfold; all were satisfactorily held fast. Nevertheless, Temmit drew his sword and sat in the chair facing the sorcerer, standing vigil until that night, when Renee should return.

"You should really learn a little more about tying knots."
#25
To say that Temmit was anxious would be an understatement. Like calling the Karh'Thul a bit of a threat to humanity. "The humanity of Safe Haven, that is." Smokey reminded him.

As soon as Hopeday classes were done, he dropped his student-gear in his dorm, went through the cafeteria for a small sandwich and a large coffee, and headed out into the streets.

It was a cloudless night; cold and brisk. The sort that turned your cheeks to thick clay (since there's no such thing as rubber). Temmit's long legs made short work of the trek from the dorms to the Can't Get There From Here.

He entered the main lobby, and while he turned immediately to his right, he glanced about the lobby on the off chance that Leslie was there.
#26
At long last Temmit was alone. He had spent the bulk of the afternoon and evening in Shantytown listening to Leslie and Mia go over suppositions of how life was going to be from here on out.

It was clear to Temmit that Mia was an excellent addition to their clan. He looked forward to working with her in the future.

The three had made their way to the Artificer's House, where Leslie and Temmit had left Mia, and then to the Actor's House, where Leslie stayed during the school week.

Although they had been careful to not speak in public about their business, Temmit reminded Leslie that they would need to meet the following evening at the Marks' tavern.

"Sure thing, Slick." Leslie quipped as she entered the Girls' dorm. Temmit heard her giggling as the door closed behind her.

"I wonder how long that will go on." Smokey pondered. Temmit didn't answer, but walked on through the winter night, shaking his head. He was on his way to see River.

Step by step, he made his coffeeless way to the boys' dorms of the Clergy House. He estimated that it was at that point a bit before 10 night-hand. River had said that he should be there by 9. Hopefully he had been correct.
#27
Lunch at the cafeteria was never truly satisfying, but it was Temmit's favorite price: free. He had filled his over-sized ceramic stein with coffee before heading back out into the winter streets and made his way to the Marks' Tavern. Hopefully Leslie would be there, and if not, Mr. Marks might know where the little sprite had gotten off to.

He entered the inn, but there was no one in the main lobby, where guests and tenents rented the rooms of the inn. He turned to the right and passed through the narrow swinging doors and into the tavern. He cast about for Leslie, preferrably, but failing that, for Mr. Marks.
#28
In Character Discussions / 12.23.2132 - Speculation
June 19, 2008, 10:02:39 PM
"Let's start with facts." Temmit addressed Smokey as they lay on the floor of Renee's chamber.

"Agreed, as usual." Smokey accommodated him.

"Marcus is certainly an unusual 15-year old."

"Yep"

"Parents are divorced or at least separated."

"Rich mother in the city, Dad in Southaven."

"Area, at least." Temmit corrected. "When not in school, seems to normally live with this father. Was there last FallEnd, disappeared for nearly two weeks (reports vary a bit). Shows up rather suddenly unharmed and says that he simply got lost in the forest and 'survived off the land', as it were."

"Correct." Smokey returned. "On to Hearsay?"

"Verily." Temmit agreed, having re-trod all that seemed to be factual in this case.

"Not only did he show up unharmed, but by all accounts he was none the worse for wear."

"I believe the phrase that was used was 'Not a hair out of place'.

"Yes, I think that phrase was used." Temmit agreed. "And that suggests that he certainly wasn't sleeping on the floor of an autumn forest."

"Sure. He would have had a nice, clean place to stay."

"Then there's Emma's reiteration of Marcus's mother's written statement in the medical priests' records including the following symptoms: increased physical strength; increased energy; a far greater degree of extroversion; an unruly nature; flamboyancy."

"Seems that his adventure in the forest changed his whole persona."

"Aye."

"What of our own observations?" Smokey prompted.

"He isn't aware of the social etiquette here in Our Commons...likely in Safe Haven at all."

"Concluded based upon...?"

"He didn't know enough to give his age and house when greeting me...or Fresenius, for that matter."

"Good spot." Smokey congratulated him. "Seems that you've actually learned a thing or two about paying attention to detail."

"He is certainly unruly."

"He sure did try to incite you to trash Shanteel's office."

"Any additional oddities?"

"Well, he did give me a cover story about a girl named Sarah, but then recanted and delivered a far more innocuous story."

"Ok...I can see that. If the truth of his story was that he was lost in the woods, and only that, he wouldn't have had a cover story at all." Smokey summed up Temmit's point.

"Exactly."

"What else?"

"It was obvious that Fresenius had never before today met Marcus. Why would he clear the schedule of the Quintescant for a child that he doesn't know? Also, why does he not seem to mind when Marcus fails to observe social conventions?"

"Why indeed?"

"All right...I think that's about everything."

"Now to sew it all together."

"The kid clearly wasn't lost in the forest at all. He was staying with someone...perhaps this person named Sarah."

"Let's take an assumption that his mother's observations are valid; he is stronger, more energetic, more flamboyant, more unruly, and suddenly extroverted. We've certainly seen evidence of a child who is unruly, extroverted, and energetic.


"If these are all changes that occurred within the span of a week, then what might cause that?"

"For one thing, as speculated by some: emergence of a gift."

"Nnnneeeeyyyaaaa..." Smokey made his 'I'm not so sure of that' sound.

"I didn't think so either." Temmit agreed. "Seems to me that you can explain some of those changes, but not a whole-sale change in character."

"So let's do away with the Gift emergence idea."

"Agreed. What other theory do you have?"

"Alchemy." Smokey supplied.

"But if it were alchemy, he'd have to be taking the draught on a regular basis. Every day at least. Likely more often than that."

"Presumably." Smokey agreed.

"Alchemy might also account for his lack of social etiquette." Temmit said. "You know, he's pretty quick though. I'll bet you he only added 'My Grace' because River did, and he was imitating River."

"Good thing you didn't go first. Aren't you glad that I held you back?"

Temmit smirked. "But that gives us a fellow who isn't aware of things that are ingrained in every one of us from a very early age."

"And given that his mother is so pious, she would likely have taught him proprieties."


"So how does it come to pass that he doesn't know?"

"Only one way that I can think of." Temmit returned. "This isn't Marcus, and as ludicrous as it sounds, this Marcus isn't from Safe Haven."

The two were silent for a long moment, allowing this staggering thought to gain hold in their minds.

"So if we take this to be our working theory," Temmit explored cautiously. "The reason that Fresenius isn't concerned that Marcus doesn't know the social platitudes is that Fresenius doesn't expect Marcus to know them."

"And that would mean..."

"That Fresenius knows that Marcus is from outside of Safe Haven."

There was another long moment of mutual solitude. "So let's say that our theory from last night holds true, and Karh'Thul are hunting gifted." Temmit ventured at last. "I'm going to assume that it's also true that Fresenius is working with the Karh'Thul in order to wipe out what he considers to be a more onerous threat: the gifted. I'm willing to bet you that Marcus is indeed gifted. But his power, whatever it may be, is only just now manifesting."

"I'll bet that his mother is close to Fresenius, and speaks to him of the troubles of having a teen-yeared son. She is, as I've heard, clueless. But Fresenius is not. He can identify by her stories that Marcus is gifted."


"Listening."

"He passes this information on to his Karh'Thul contact, who in turn arranges to have Marcus abducted and replaced with a simulacrum."

"They release the bastard into Our Commons to see what he can find out; to learn about more gifted kids. To get close to the resistance cells that he so cleverly asked me about. Over the course of the next month, our Outlands visitor has trouble fitting in, being a chaotic individual as he is. His mother notices the changes, and becomes frightened. She requests that the Quintescant try to 'cure' her beloved son. They arrange an audience for such a wealthy benefactor."

"Fresenius learns of this audience, and decides to take his opportunity to conduct their one-month debriefing."


"Why keep Marcus on the Quintescant's schedule for the day?" Smokey asked.

"To use him to kill them?" Temmit suggested. "If he can replace one person, he can replace many."

Temmit sat up then. He had no idea how long he had held council with Smokey. "Renee," he said. "I have sort of an...Outlandish theory."
#29
Temmit jumped up from where had fallen asleep at the table, and fell shaking to the floor. His telling Renee of the day his family died had brought his personal tragedy up in his mind, and it in turn had presented the story to him again in his sleep.

He was crying again, as he always was. He was holding Smokey tightly again, as he always was. Except this time he was shaking on the floor of a hidden bedroom in Lowtown. The lantern still glowed dimly in the subterranean room.

He fought to gain control of himself. "Your safe." Smokey said to him. He breathed deeply, trying to focus past the gaping maw that consumed his vision.
#30
Characters / Temmit Janalinus
March 22, 2008, 09:55:13 PM
NAME: Temmit Janalinus
AGE: 15
SEX: M
CLASS: Psion (Clairsentient) / Psychic Warrior
HOUSE: The Scribes

ATTRIBUTES: Temmit stands 5'9" tall and weighs 130lbs. It is clear that he's not quite done growing, though. He is neither particularly strong nor weak. He has thick dark hair and has begun to sprout a sparse beard that he shaves every three or four days. Temmit's back, chest, and buttock are all heavily scarred. His upper arms and thighs bear lighter scars.

Left to his own, Temmit is quiet and a bit isolationist. He is always willing to help, should anyone ask. He is thoughful and introverted.

APPEARANCE: Temmit does not have too many personal belongings to speak of. He wears his school uniform at all times; claiming the convenience of having only one thing to wear...no fuss. Temmit is clean and variably shaven. He is well-organized and a bit meticulous regarding the condition of those few things that he does own. He wears a pendant about his neck: it is a smokey quartz crystal on a leather thong.

REMARKS:

Temmit is a difficult person to lie to. He seems to know what's going on, and what people are thining although how he knows is often a mystery. He occasionally thinks out loud, supposing various causes for one thing or another.

Roumor has it that Temmit does not sleep at all, and in fact he always looks tired and sleep deprived. He is not a very capable combatant, seeming clumsy and slow in his attacks. Critics say that he telegraphs his attacks.


FAMILY: Temmit has been in the orphanages since he was younger than 4 years old. He has no known family, though he doesn't talk about them at all. No one knows what happened to his family (why he has none)
#31
Players Forum / A Typical Dream
March 02, 2008, 03:40:30 PM
The sun danced with the clouds in the sky as Temmit bounced along nestled in front of his sister on her tall spotted horse. Nalla had come home from school only days before and their parents took the opportunity to ride out to the forest as a family to check their traps and to hunt for food and skins.

Temmit's father was a bit ahead of them, his mother just in back of them, and Nalla kept poking Temmit in his ribs, raising continuous guffaws from her little brother.

Then all at once they were setting up their camp. Mother and Father hanging lines, rubbing down horses, and toiling as they needed. Temmit's job was to occupy Nalla, and he did that with focused and energetic glee.

The food was good, but gone too fast. The play was good too, but exhausting. Sleep was the merest of moments, but he awakened to his mother and sister tending his whims. And yet, it seemed that there was never enough time. They were always doing something else at the same time.

Then his father was there, hiding his eyes in the crease of his hairy elbow while Temmit peered furtively out through the prickly bush that he had carefully climbed into. It had scratched him pretty badly, but at least his father, if he spotted Temmit in his hiding place, would have trouble extracting him from that tangled mass of shrub.

His father was counting slowly. Temmit watched with gleeful anticipation; the shadows of the swaying trees behind his father caught at Temmit's young imagination and he fancied that the very trees themselves had come to walk about, helping his father to locate Temmit. It seemed that one of the trees was reaching for his father, who still stood, counting loudly for Temmit's benefit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Temmit spotted his mother and sister running towards them from the camp. They pointed and yelled incomprehensibly, and Temmit pulled back a little so that they would not be able to see him.

Then time slowed to a crawl and Temmit found that he was keenly aware of everything that was transpiring. His father called out the last few numbers that signified that he would now begin searching for Temmit. His large, powerful arm came off of his eyes so that he could look about. Nalla and Temmit's mother screamed...it sounded like they were afraid.

The tree's shadow touched Temmit's father's back. The man's eyes widened impossibly large and his back arched, his broad chest pushing forward. Gleaming white spikes erupted from Temmit's father's chest: three of them, long and wicked. Blood spattered across the several feet that separated them, covering Temmit and soaking his few clothes. It was warm blood. Temmit's heart pounded forcibly as cold understanding crept upon him.

Temmit realized several things. There was danger. His father was in a lot of pain. There was a lot of danger. The tree was an enormous Kulh'Thul, who was now holding Temmit's father above his bestial head. The monster pulled and twisted at Temmit's father, ripped him in half, and threw him through the air. His legs, at any rate.

Pain erupted through Temmit's terror. Something heavy fell upon the child and as he was under the prickly shrub, hundreds of thorns punctured him and tore at his flesh. He struggled, making the situation worse, but what else was there to do?

Temmit was suddenly aware that his mother and sister were in combat with the beast. They were both trained fighters, but Temmit was frightened anyway. Noise filled the forest. The cacophony of arms and melee. The roars – both pained and angered – of a demon. Temmit clawed his way out of the shrubs; out from under his father's legs. The thorns tore open more and more of his flesh.

His mother fell, her face clawed and chewed from her head. As his mother fell, Nalla lunged at the monster, burying her long blood-covered sword into its middle. It screamed - or howled - and reached for her. Then Nalla screamed, but Temmit was screaming too. Fear-driven anger swelled in Temmit's breast. Nalla's head hit him in the stomach, and he fell back into the prickly bush.

The Karh'Thul pulled Nalla's sword from its middle and snapped it in two. It turned its white, glowing malevolent eyes upon Temmit. The first step it took towards him was on his mother's stilled body. He could hear it break and crack.

Then he was picked up by the demon. The rough skin and bristly hair of the beast scratched him deeply. The beast drew him slowly to its fanged and hideous maw, and Temmit's mind snapped.

In the darkness of his dorm room, Temmit awoke in the oft-visited depths of misery. He had awakened to this dream countless times over the last dozen years. When it was a new dream it only got so far as the attack on his father, and at that time he had relived it every single night. Over the years it became less frequent, but progressed further and further until now, at last, the dream would progress until he could just about smell the fetid breath of the monster. Of course, it was only once every few weeks that he was able to sleep deeply enough to have any dreams, but this was what his mind invariably presented for a dream. Other nights deep sleep eluded him entirely.

He was shaking, as he always was. He was crying, as he always was. He was as scared as he had been on the day that it happened. In the lonely dark he gripped Smokey so tightly that the little crystal hurt his hand. Smokey was silent, but his presence was undeniable and calming.

Temmit wished that he didn't have the need to sleep ever again.
#32
House Rules / Character Development Questions
January 24, 2008, 01:31:37 PM
(OOC: Thread was renamed from Eberron Questions (Galore))

So as I consider this new setting, and wonder on the mertis of one class or another, I find that I have many questions, and some of those beget questions that, while not necessarily pertinent to my prospective toon future, beget other questions that are.

hehe

All classes are open, but finger wiggling best be done in private.
What does this mean for a Paladin (or a cleric, for that matter)? Convention would have us believe that these classes need gods, and there's only one of them. Can Paladin / Cleric of Kaine use their VooDoo any time, safe in the light of Our Father? Is that what the Council of 5 is (are)? Clerics and Pallies?

Let's say that I decide that I want to play a ranger-type (or a druid for the matter of this particular question). Are there wild lands that would be my home / playground? Of course, I'm still in school during the day (which I assume is mandatory...are there truant officers?), so how does that work out?

What is the climate of Safe Haven? I know that it's a half mile above sea level, and ringed by some serious mountains. A ringing of mountains tends to have a stabilizing effect on geography. Seattle is thus ringed, and a result is that temperatures stay warm enough for folks to live on small boats year-round (they are roughly at our latitude, and you know how cold it gets here). It seldom snows there, but it's often rainy.

What is the terrain between Safe Haven and the Holy Flame (The Rim? The Outlands? I forget...)?
Do they keep that well-mowed like a PGA Golf course, so as to see any issues coming along?
Are there hunting grounds?
Is there anything that approached game-playing? R&R?
Do we go for swims in that big ol' lake?
Is school a seven-day-a-week activity (do your weeks have seven days?)? How many hours per day (both the day itself and the school day)?
Is "school" along the lines of "Reading, Riting, and Rithmatic" or more like "Swinging, Poking, and Archery"?
Is there a black market for teaching VooDoo?
Exactly how long ago did Kaine decide to sleep in the same spot twice? "Decades" is the only answer that I can recall seeing.
What is local faire like? Fish and meats? There's a farm, at least, and some orchards, I think I read. If we eat meat, where does that come from (the King's forest)?
What are building made from? What is their architecture like (German rustic or Manhatten rusty)?
What's the technology level? I think that Eberron was made for combustion engines and roughly modern day technology; what are you using?


I've got to get back to work, but those queries should seed more questions.

Thanks
#33
In Character Discussions / More and more like Home
September 07, 2007, 03:13:42 PM
This thread starts on Sprouting Grass / Egg 25, during the day after arriving at the Forest Keep, having recovered the remains of Dannobar.

The inn at the Forest Keep was more crowded than Belwar had ever seen it. It looked to him like they were also hard at work - and well on the way to - adding a second level to it. He had been thinking more and more lately that the Forest Keep seemed more like home to him than Eastwold had, especially since his father had died. He drank another quaff to his sire's memory.

There was a lot of talk and hammering and whatnot going on at the inn today. But under it all, Belwar thought that he detected a note that felt like mountains. He couldn't be sure whether it was a breath of air, or a scent or a sound amidst the cacophony of humans, or what. But there was a tremor - or a vitality that he sensed. As though the high plateau upon which the keep sat was quaking slightly. Or settling perhaps. Like the shivering feeling that one got on the eve before a battle, only deeper and more profound. It was a sensation that only a dwarf could appreciate. Very likely one that only a dwarf would be aware of.

There had been one day in Eastwold that Belwar had felt this sort of sensation, but that had been only once, and many years ago. The entire mountain's clans rejoiced then for a full week. The elders said that Moradin was walking the deepest tunnels under the mountain and he was happy. They had said that such an experience might come along once in your life, if you were lucky.

Belwar wasn?t sure why that memory surfaced so vividly today. When he tried to recapture the sensation, it was gone. But the recollections that it incited left Belwar happy. Right down to his axe.
#34
Game Log / Session 8 - Date Unknown
May 09, 2007, 05:54:50 PM
#35
Character Info / Pike
March 15, 2007, 09:55:02 AM
Pike is an aged human who operates the Keep's weapons depot / shop (which is small) as well as the Keep's Smithy (which is also small and is just next to the weapons depot / shop).

He is portly, has whispy blond hair and fat, hammy hands.

His accent and dialect are akin to Zurn's:

+++++++++++++++++
"Hallo?" A burly voice hailed from beyond an open doorway in the back of the weaponer's. A portly aging fellow with whispy light blond hair emerged from beyond that doorway wiping his thick hands upon a heavy, dirty apron.

"Aye, one o' th' dwaves th' people be talkin' about! Welcome master." The man exclaimed. "What c'n I do fer you?"
++++++++++++++++++++++
"Is all a matter-a feel." Pike explained. "Th' rabbit's a bit more supple and will t'row a heavier stone not quite so fast, and th' cowhide'll break if ye tries t' t'row a heavier stone, but ye git more speed onna lighter stone, so they do about th' same damage-wise." Pike pulled on a rabbit-skin sling for effect, demonstrating that the skin had a little more pull to it than one of the others.
++++++++++++++++++++++

Pike is not a craftsman, perse, but can make simple weapons that are functional and durable, and can affect repairs to most kinds of armor and weapons.

Pike's Weapon Depot / Shop:

The Weapon Depot / Shop is barely five paces in any direction. It is also cluttered. Not one piece of the room has gone to waste. Upon the walls are hung countless shelves, which bear all manner of simple weapons. To the right of the door as one entered are the slings and stones.

Next to the slings is an array of short and long bows. The bows rest horizontally upon sets of peg in the wall, and below them are canisters in which stood countless loose arrows. Short sheaf and long sheaf arrows are naturally organized into their own groups.

This whole corner of the small shop was dedicated to ranged weaponry. Crossbows, light and heavy cling to the wall next to the other bows, and the bolts stand in their own small canisters next to the arrows.

Next to the door that lead to the back room, pikes, spears, and a few other poles adorn racks that serve to keep the poles standing. There is an assortment of spears and a few halberds among the assortment of staves and pikes.

Against the rear wall of the little shop there is a counter from which Pike obviously performes his haggling and selling. Behind that counter, again hanging from the wall, are stacks of small bladed weapons. Daggers, dirks, short swords and the like are displayed there.

On the left wall of the shop, both hanging and sitting upon the floor are swords. In the rear corner of that wall, near to the counter, are long swords, and there are many of them. There are six stacks of long swords: three hung high, and three low. Next to them, as one moved towards the front wall of the shop are larger sword varieties: bastard to claymore. There is even a double-bladed sword that hangs high on that wall, near the ceiling. Then axes, maces, and flails clutter the front corner of that wall.

The front wall, to the immediate left as you enter the shop, are weapon accessories, such as bow strings, waxes, sling repair kits, oils and cloths for the care of blades, and such items.
#36
In Character Discussions / Nettle Remains
March 13, 2007, 12:47:09 PM
Duthash Gyth Voldyn 237 (May 25) - Upon the closure of Session 15 - The Nettle Demons

Maccabeus was gladdened that Whisper was feeling better, and that he could have played a hand in the thus-far half salvation of her splendid grove. He wondered whether Mahiya had heard his yearning to travel to the Valley and recover another Vallenwood Acorn, and this was her way of incentivizing him. The good that can come from the vile Nettle Lord and his little demon-like minions.

The thought of the thorny Bulb recollected to Maccabeus that black, pulsing heart that had throbbed in the twisted botanical breast. "OH!" He came upright suddenly. "Ashe, I nearly forgot, ninny that I am!" He pulled his leather bag from its place as it slung across his chest. "I took samples of the Nettled Ones for you. I thought that you might be able to make use of some of their remains." He reached into his bag and produced the pieces that he had wrapped in his own torn shirt. "Ah, yes...and I need a new shirt too." He remarked. "Actually, I was in need of one of those anyway." He conceded. "This one I've been wearing and washing for a long while, and was in need of some replacing."

As he spoke, he handed the wrapped samples up to Ashe. "There was also this...thing." He added. "Umm...how do I...I don't really want to...hmmmm..." He seemed to stumble around upon himself and eventually upended his bag onto the floor of Ashe's home.

Out pored his tobacco sack, his pipe, some samples of cheese and dried fish, and a small roundish marbled rock, smooth as though it had spent a millennia being caressed by waters. "Feh!" He huffed and shook the bag a little until with a dull thud that Nettle Lord's black pulsing heart fell upon the floor.

Maccabeus reached for the little bit of fish that had emptied from his satchel, but Wolf was quicker. Maccabeus glared playfully at his companion and settled upon the cheese. He looked up at Ashe then...
#37
Game Log / Session 15 - The Nettle Demons
March 13, 2007, 10:13:50 AM
#38
Game Log / Interlude 3 - Divine Will
February 02, 2007, 03:50:13 PM
Morning, the 14th day of the Sprouting Grass/Egg moon.

Corryn watched the five companions embark upon their quest to save Dannobar. It was not long before they were swallowed whole by the dense forest that was home to the Keep. Coris knew, of course, that Corryn had never supported the decision to build the keep and populate it with soldiers. That plan had been promolgated in the name of "Establishing a presence" in the forest.

She had long considered whether there weren't some ulterior motive for this effort. Of course, there had to be. Money, she had thought. Surely it was greed that motivated this occupation. But for what? Did they think that there was gold to be had? From where?

But watching her new friends embark upon their holy mission, it dawned upon Lady Corryn that this was the will of Ehlonna. It was Her will to save Dannobar, and From Vorntoque, no less.

A deep conviction settled upon Lady Corryn as she came to the realization that this keep had been placed here to combat the growing threat of Vorntoque. She would have known that he was growing to power in those mountains.

Why else would Corris have been selected as Captain of this place? He was far more than a mere captain. But they had selected him for this post, and he had manned it well. She wondered whether he was aware of Ehlonna's hand in this keep.

With a wry smile on her pretty face, she dismounted the wall of the keep and proceeded towards the Inner Bailey.
#39
In Character Discussions / Ambush Site
September 05, 2006, 01:55:21 PM
Duthash Dracum Syncath [15 May]

Kossuth was still far beyond the east wall when Jarmok stepped lightly onto his porch. A light misty rain hung in the false dawn air, which was crisp and cool. The fogveil rumbled invisible in the distance. On this day he had resigned himself to missing his customary greeting of the morning. He had a lot of territory to cover, and wanted it behind him before Kossuth was too low in the west.

He cinched the straps of his tall leather boots one last time and adjusted his axes, his bow and quiver, and the bag that hung across his back and carried enough venison to see him through.

He shook the last motes of sleep from his mind and jumped down the few stairs to the ground and struck out northeasterly through the forest towards the road that led through Little Threshold and beyond.

He had to restrain himself a bit. Today would be a test of endurance, not of speed. Pace would be his ally, and he needed to mind it closely. As much as he wanted to push his speed, he knew that speed came at the cost of longevity. It also came at the cost of secrecy, and with all the Shadow Rider activity hereabouts of late, secrecy was another ally that he could not afford to offend.

Leaving the protection of Threshold to the rest of the Protectorate, he ran on, near soundless, through the morning and was past Little Threshold before anyone was about. He wasn't invisible, however, and one of the farmer's dogs barked in the night at his intrusion. He wondered whether the animal knew at what it was barking. Then he wondered whether the animal was truly barking at his presence, or was there something else up so early as well.

He sped up a little.
#40
Out of Character Discussions / Quick Question:
July 24, 2006, 05:50:55 PM
Hey I have a rudimentary logistics question regarding the return the Threshold after "Return to River Cliff Keep"

How are we getting the dead priests back to Threshold?

We had suggested that we could rig litters for them from sticks and blankets or cloaks or cloth of some sort. But in so doing, who's carrying?

If we carry two per litter, how does that work exactly?

Carriers could include anybody, but can Laren or Sayer make it to Threshold carrying a body (this is an actual question, since I don't know the respective strengths of those people)? Jarmok himself has only a 13 Strength. Although his Con is rather high, and this would seem to be an endurance test, so he might be able to carry half a litter for that length.

Priest 1: Dale and Aelath'Ha
Priest 2: Maal and Jarmok
Priest 3: Ragnor and ...? Sayer and Laren?

Perhaps is Ragnor (Mr. Universe) were to be in the middle of a tandem?

Maal...priest...Ragnor...priest...Jarmok?

Does Maal want another heal potion so as to make that trek less arduous?

Thoughts?

Also, upon arriving back in Threshold, it is going to be past sun-down. I would expect that most of us will be due in for a conversation with Julius, at least. Severen perhaps as well.

Jarmok will want after that to go and talk to Ashe too.

For this run back to Threshold, we don't have an outrunner either. Not that this really matters, but it would bother Jarmok to not have a scout up ahead...can Laren fill that capacity?