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Messages - Johan

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In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: September 21, 2012, 08:27:38 AM »
Jarmok recognized the banter that the Arch Duke shared with the four giants; he had seen similar play among the residents of Threshold routinely, especially in watching (from a distance) the brothers from the Hunter's Lodge. He recognized it, but he didn't understand it. That was one of the many things that made Jarmok feel very much outside the normal population: everyone else seemed to understand this play, and many used it often, but to Jarmok it was a mystery. This was also one of the reasons that he was so fond of Maal: the young wildlander lass seemed to be more of a kind with Jarmok in this regard.

Upon introduction, Jarmok grasped the closest hand in greeting. "Am Jarmok." He said simply. "Am honored meet." He added as he moved through the rank of elite guards. As he greeted them, each in turn, something from Threshold entered his nose. He sniffed at the air.

"Smell Threshold." He said, with an odd look on his face.

I think that Jarmok's next feat is going to be "Scent"

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: September 18, 2012, 11:03:20 AM »
"Hrung. Good horse." Jarmok admired the animal. He wasn't necessarily a great judge of horseflesh (as he had heard stable hands refer to it), but there was always a difference in an animal of quality as compared to others of its kind. Jarmok noted in that odd moment that the same was really true of people.

You might not know a person, but still be able to spot in a person whether they are a person of quality. It was something in their bearing. The Arch-Duke Corwynn had such a bearing. Jarmok didn't know the fellow really at all, but he sensed something in the man that told Jarmok that Corwynn was a man who knew how to be a friend. He hoped he was right.

Jarmok looked up at the pre-dawn sky. They might have a hand or so, he guessed, before dawn. "Where go?" He asked.

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: September 11, 2012, 02:07:05 PM »
Duly noted. Thanks. Your serve. :)

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: September 11, 2012, 08:50:54 AM »
"Hrung." Jarmok responded, nodding in simultaneous confirmation. He was grateful that Sargent Radmun had found a new focus for his curiosity. "Is Bronzewood. Is special axe made at Threshold. Is gift."

As they made their way around the wall, Jamok perked up noticeably at the sounds of the horse. He sniffed at the air to try to determine whether a stable was near by, or was this a singular horse. He tensed up a bit, not sure of what to expect...horses, while children of Mahiya, were under the control of men, and men were not necessarily children of Mahiya.

A slight growl escaped his throat.

BTW, is this clopping on cobble stones, padding on sod, or jingle of harness...?

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: September 03, 2012, 08:47:55 PM »
Jarmok was grateful for the escort, though in the back of his mind he had to also keep sight of the fact that he did not know any of these people; he kept his ears closely on those who followed behind.

He also understood what Sargent Radmun was getting at, and he hoped that he would be able to avoid the protracted conversation that would no doubt follow. "Threshold." He answered. "Am try protect Threshold."

In Character Discussions / To the Vallenbrush
« on: September 02, 2012, 02:34:00 PM »
Duthash Gyth Arkus VY. 237 (May 28)

“Well, then,” Shankaria said, “let us take to the air and be on our way.” Her little form blurred and shifted until a small brown-and-white sparrow hopped into the air and fluttered off northwesterly, twittering an uplifting song that bespoke Shankaria’s obvious love of her life.

Ashe reveled in being out of familiar territory. He didn’t quite know what to expect and for him there was comfort there. He was embarking on a new aspect of Mahiya that he had not yet seen and there was excitement in that! He followed her lead and shifted to the same animal form as she.

She flew low among the trees as they went erratically along through the forest while the trees became larger, thicker, and denser. After about a hand of this travel, Ashe noted that the forest had become more coniferous. The needled branches of the evergreens reached out for each other, as though they craved to hold hands, knitting together in such a tight mesh that no animal larger than a small bird could navigate through them; so tight that it arrested the very winds and the air was heavy and stagnant.

Beneath it all the ground was hidden, underpinned with a low-laying thorny and knotted bramble, and above, the early afternoon sky was lost to their sight. Time seemed to not move in this thick forest.

Had Ashe been less experienced with the forest and its veil he would have been completely lost. The thickness of the wood was remarkable, inspirational, and altogether mysterious. It was a deep and primal forest that Ashe knew could have at one time, and may be still, been a birthplace of fey folk…the wee folk as Ashe called them. The age of the forest stretched back probably beyond the memory of most.

Shankaria flitted in a seemingly random manner, weaving through the network of boughs while Ashe trailed along directly behind. As often as not, they were forced to hop from one branch to another as they made their way forward. Shankaria didn’t stop her joyful tune, however.

Ashe could detect that they were gradually making their way upward towards the sky, although rather suddenly he found that they were also settling onto the mossy ground as well. Shankaria hopped along a moment and then disappeared inside a fold in the trunk of one of the mighty trees. The sparrow disappeared and was replaced by a beautiful though tiny pygmy shrew.

This animal would be no larger than Ashe’s thumbnail, were he to take his human form.

Looking about, Ashe realized that in this place, even above ground, he would not be able to take his human form, as the tangle of low-hanging branches, roots, and underbrush would not afford him the space that he would need. As a human, he would be a prisoner to the trees and brush.

Ashe’s eagerness was almost too much for him to bear! He wanted to see the Vallenbrush but knew that patience was required. ‘Mahiya is never impatient yet everything is done’ his father would tell him when he was a boy. For many years that statement flummoxed Ashe. He felt that if nature was always changing then how could it ever be done? The answer was in the question he came to realize. Once he came to accept that, so much more opened up for him…just as it would open up for him now. He too shifted into the tiny shrew and diligently followed.

Together they descended through the trunk of the tree and down into the soil. Shankaria’s sharp, tiny claws moved the soil at a surprising rate, and Ashe followed along, moving the soil that she had moved only a moment ahead of him.
“Not long now, revered brother, and we shall enter into a small subterranean rivulet.” Shankaria’s voice entered Ashe’s mind. ”The roots of these trees delve down into it for their water, and we will have to swim among those roots and under the mount that we have approached. We shall assume the form of a small fish…I recommend the White Dama…and we shall swim the rest of the way to my Vallenbrush. Follow the current until you hear the song of the Vallenbrush.”

The water was so cold as to be frigid, and it was completely clean and pure. As a tiny fish, Ashe could detect the minute current that flowed among the countless roots that drank from the subterranean water system. The two swam along with the current in the darkness for a surprisingly short while before Ashe detected the slight rhythm that was similar to that of the Vallenwood tree. It was different, though: if the Vallenwood was the harmony, the Vallenbrush would have filled the background, adding dimension and depth to the song of the Vallenwood.

Shankaria’s mind infiltrated Ashe’s again. “I have ached to once again hear the song of the Vallenwood together with the Vallenbrush.” She said. “The brush has a deep ken…a knowledge of things past and present, and can show the way in the now, it is a compliment to the Vallenwood, and to hear those songs together is to hear the oldest and deepest wisdom, and to grasp the heart that allows one to truly grow in that wisdom.”

They surfaced together in a sheltered wetland, guided by the whisper of the Vallenbrush. They were in a deep wood. Like before, high above them the evergreen trees joined their branches such that they could not see the sky, though Ashe knew that the day was getting on, and it was well past mid-day by then. But these trees didn’t carry the low-laying branches that they had in that area where Ashe had followed Shankaria into the tree, and the underbrush was sparser here, allowing him to resume his human form (should he wish) with comfort. Little sound penetrated this sacred place, and the voice of the Vallenbrush was clear in Ashe’s mind.

“We are in a crater, of sorts.” Shankaria said in their cant. “Surrounded by mountains, and capped with these sentient evergreens who keep out all invaders, even direct sunlight.” Ashe cast about; all around him was a vast setting of the vallenbrush: small, juniper-looking brush with red berries hanging like decorations. As darkness was descending, early as it would in such a crater, the vallenbrush had already begun to glow it’s multi-colored lighting that clung to the soil like a thick, heavy fog. It was a light very much like the vallenwood, but instead of raining down, the vallenbrush lights crept out from the plant and billowed in cloudy exploration. Ashe knew the lightshow that he would witness as proper night plunged them into otherwise total darkness.

Game Log / Episode 08: Fires in the Night
« on: September 02, 2012, 09:04:51 AM »
Just Shy of Seven Years Later...

Sythus [Spring]
Valley Year 237
Duthash Zinnyas Basque [11 May]


Please note: it is Sunday, September 2 2012 as I try to capture what went on that fateful night. Sorry about the lag, and therefore the must-be-expected vague details…

Please, anyone feel free to add details that are now lost to my dementia-addled mind

The usual nighttime peace of Threshold was shattered by calls for help. More specifically, help with fire.

On the east side of town, a small number of residences that were situated against the hills were ablaze. Citizens were rushing to help in any way they could, and they were joined by those members of the newly-formed Protectorate as were on-hand.

However, as the Companions raced to the conflagration, it became apparent that this was no accidental fire, and that those who were responsible for it were still about. Killing.

As the townsfolk went about their civic duty, they came under attack from two sources: one from unseen archers in the hills. The other from huge wolf-sized rat-like creatures that were roaming the chaotic streets attacking at will.

A significant fight ensured between the Protectorate and these evil-doers, with much in the way of casualty suffered by the Protectorate. One of the hidden archers was captured, all the others (that we know of) were killed, and all of what later came to be known by the Companions as "Carrion Eaters" were slain.

Note: it is this session and combat that birthed the now-legendary crossbow bolt with the attached note that says "Sorry!", complete with a heart. Fired from Kit's crossbow, of course.

Related ICDs:

The Young Girl Limps Away
The Walking Wounded
Writing a Report
Dark Servant, Good Deed
Jarmok's Interrogation

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: August 31, 2012, 09:13:14 PM »
"Hng". Jarmok acknowledged the Sargent. "Am Jarmok." He repeated. "Sayer friend am here with." He extended his own long hand to receive the sergeant's. He was glad to have met city folk who would be helpful; for some reason, he had expected them to be adversarial. To hear both Laren and Kit talk, he assumed that there was nothing buy villainy to be had in these cities.

"Am not live in big build-ins." He explained. "Escort welcome, please."

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: August 28, 2012, 08:51:00 PM »
Jarmok was caught by surprise by that authoritative voice, and its proximity. This city threw his senses off a bit, it seemed.

Sayre had explained enough to Jarmok of living in this foul place that Jarmok could at least guess the source: city guard. Or perhaps a palace guard? No...this was no palace, Sayre had been careful to explain.

Whatever the case, this was a guard - a person much like Jarmok himself, except a city one.

Jarmok stood straight up and spoke clearly. "Is Jarmok." He said. "Am look for front gate."

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: August 14, 2012, 12:47:10 PM »
Jarmok was reaching for his leather armor even before the door had closed fully. He donned it, as well as the rest of his gear (leaving nothing whatever in the room) and all but leapt at the door.

Inside the huge manor of the Arch Duke Jarmok became a bit disoriented. He found himself wondering whether this was a palace, or what Jullian sometimes referred to as an 'estate'...or what the difference was, exactly.

It didn't matter though. What mattered was getting as quickly and quietly as possible to the gate where Corwynn suggested that they meet. He could see it quite clearly in his mind's eye, from when the company of the Protectorate had yesterday arrived. But since then, they had been led in a number of different directions to waiting chambers, baths, audience chambers, and ultimately to their assigned sleeping quarters. Being in the city itself was bad enough, but when once Jarmok was inside this labyrinth, he couldn't even see the sky to help him know his way.

He fumbled for too long among the corridors of the building. One path looked very much like another. He took a very narrow stairway that led down, knowing at least that he'd eventually have to get to the ground-level floor. The stair left him in another very odd corridor that looked very different from anything that he had seen up to that point. This passage was narrow and very bland, where most other passageways had been wide, tall, and well appointed by what Jarmok was coming to think of as "city standards".

One thing that this little hallway did have, which had been non-existent in the other hallways that Jarmok had been passing through, was a window. It wasn't opened, but that was easy enough to change.

Once his feet touched the ground outside he felt immeasurably better. In the pre-dawn morning the thick grass was wet with dew that, Jarmok realized, was probably the cleanest water in the city just then. He couldn't resist running his hands along the thick grass, skimming it to collect a handful of water before moving on.

At this point, it was a small matter to circumnavigate the manor (or palace, if that's what it was) to get to the gate. Naturally, Jarmok chose the longer way around the building...

Game Log / Session 24-A Up the Mountain Over the Chasm
« on: March 17, 2012, 12:05:43 PM »
Kossuth breached to find Wolf watching Maccabeus capering about in his typical salute to the Divinities. Today would begin the last leg to the journey that would culminate in the little gnome's arrival at the sconce of his faith.

The companions met the morning by setting out through the small shanty town that spread out before the great wall, it's dual ramps still under construction (the work for which a multitude of craftsmen and laborers bent), that would put them on the last road to the Valley of Mists. In between those ramps a tall waterfall that crashed to the floor of this approach. There was also an older spiral-wound roadway, which the two ramps being built would replace, up to the broad avenue that would bring them south.

The road at the top of the wall was a broad throughway that could accommodate two lines of carts, at least, to go to and from the Valley. On the right was a steep drop of dizzying heights at the bottom of which was a river that flowed northely to tumble into the plain just the north side of the wall and slithered north from there.

To the left a wall rose up steep to varying heights along their journey. The broad road had clearly been carved from the rising wall of a great chasm.

The day hadn't proceeded long, however, when the group was beset upon by a small band of what appeared to be the exact nettle demons that Maccabeus and his other companions had fought when first they began working in Whisper's behalf. Their appearance here disconcerted the gnome; if these foullings were here as well as there...well, it could be no coincidence.

The companions fought these demons quickly and efficiently; the nettle demons were vanquished, leaving Maccabeus more nervous than not. He had just been nearly successful in banishing the ghost of the mysterious attacker from the previous night - Maccabeus thought that it must be that the attacker was a servant of the Ash Lords, and that of course would mean that their enemies knew exactly where the companions were and what might be their goal. These nettle demons enfirmed this fear in Maccabeus.

The group continued on...

The sun had not set, however, when a new foe made itself known. A huge boulder descended from the wall above and crashed into Wolf and Maccabeus as they ranged ahead of the group. Strange battle ensued.

Their foe, it turned out, was a cowardly (though clever for the race) ogre who, from a hiding spot above, dropped small boulders upon the group and hid out of easy bow shot of the group. At this point of the passage, a few tens of feet above the roadway the chasm wall fell back into a bit of a copse where the ogre had set his ambush.

Maccabeus drew upon mysteries recently opened to him by Vallen and summoned forth a hippogrif to assist in this combat. All the rest of us could do was to cast sling stones and javelins at the brute.

The combat was short, the ogre defeated. Maal and Hafaveral climbed to where the ogre had been to investigate the area, but found nothing of interest.

The companions pushed further south.

General Info / Saving the Fey
« on: February 16, 2012, 05:18:59 PM »
errrr....I'm going to have to poke around. I had my laptop crap out on my about a year ago and lost access to a TON of info. I don't recall not documenting something; sorry. I WILL poke around though.

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: February 10, 2012, 07:58:09 PM »
How high off the ground is this room? Is the window a viable means of exit?

Game Log / Game Session 4A - War Games
« on: February 10, 2012, 07:47:55 PM »
I'm sorry, guys. I've  been mulling this around and around, and in my over-thinking self, I've got nothing.

My thinking is that here's Temmit sitting in the can and watching Marcus and his thugs exit a party that they are NOT supposed to be able to exit, (I'm hoping to be able to) watch them claim weapons from out their butts, and I'm supposed to what? Creep out of the latrine to follow along?

Ok, that would work, but I think that I heard that as long as Temmit is in that can, no one else is allowed to go. I think that Temmit would be missed by a guard after what? Three, four minutes? So if he runs off, there will be a guard knocking on the door of the latrine in a moment to haul his ass back to the party, and he won't be there. Big Trouble in Little Save Haven.

Great kudos to Wildflower for the brilliant distraction and getting tossed out!

Overall my creativity is lacking still, and I just can't see how to wander off without being missed. In fact, if there are...what...a few hundred teenagers in the party, well I'm thinking that Temmit is already being missed. I don't think that there are three minutes in a row where there won't be SOMEone who needs to bleed the lizard or pinch a loaf (or squirt the solids). Whenever I go into a bathroom there is pretty much ALWAYS one or four other folks there. How can this work?

I'll keep on it, but at the end of two months...I got nothing.

Good bye, River, I knew thee well.

In Character Discussions / Following the Trail
« on: January 21, 2012, 05:29:13 PM »
So how long have we been in this place at this point? It seems like the next day, eh? I'm not sure that Jarmok would know the way to the stables, but it'd make for interesting posting on him finding it.

" is needed?" He asked anxiously, bobbing his head. "Can ride, but not ride...much. Can am fast run, mostly."

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