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Post by Gilgamesh on Jan 30, 2015 16:30:40 GMT
The inside of the house is cramped and dusty. Books and papers cluttered on creaking old shelves cover the walls. In the center of the room, on a small bed, is your employer. Barama Daas is a shell of his former self. If you didn't know of his illustrious adventuring past, you might have thought him only a withered old man, were it not for the fiery spark that still remains in his eyes. The five of you are crowded the old dwarf's bed, waiting for him to muster up the strength to speak. At last he stops coughing long enough to address you.
"Thomas. Would you please leave the room?" asks the old man. His red-haired grandson, the owner of the house, who has been standing in the corner, hat in hand, reluctantly scurries out the door.
He turns his attention now to his guests. Suddenly, his face breaks out in a wide, pained smile, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
"I'm so glad you're here." he says, "My whole life I've been searching, and now, thanks to you, the Garden of Proserpine is finally within my grasp. Surely you've all heard the stories? A garden, created by the ancient god Nergal in a rare display of generosity for his mortal servant, Proserpine, a powerful sorcerer. The god is dead, of course, but I believe that the garden lives on, if only I could find it. I'd almost given up on trying, too. Until..."
The old man struggles in his excitement to sit up, propping himself up on a pillow as his rasping voice continues.
"Until I received information. On one of the last of Nergal's clerics, still worshiping the dead power. I happen to know that he knows personally how to find the Garden. He's hiding in a small town called Uruc, on the banks of the River Alamber, a few days from here on horseback. This is what I want you to do: Find him, find the garden, and bring me the Fruit of Life. And then you'll have your payment and... and I can be young again." His face morphs into an expression of nostalgic bliss, before hardening again as another coughing fit overtakes him.
"Your horses are outside. If you have any questions, ask them now or not at all."
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Post by keamazin on Jan 30, 2015 19:45:33 GMT
Keama has been absent-mindedly pawing himself before he realises what he was doing. He hides his hand before it becomes too apparent.
It's just one of the fruits you want then? Nothing else? I assume your not overly bothered by how exactly we get any information out of this cleric?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2015 20:29:03 GMT
Siegbeort stands to one side propping up the wall with his arms crossed. At the end of the old man's speech, he speaks only a few words.
I have no questions old man. In fact, I am eager to be off. I will take my leave and see to my horse."
He leaves, choosing the stoutest of the horses offered by their patron and saddling it.
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saraquiel
New Member
slowly plotting an invasion :)
Posts: 9
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Post by saraquiel on Jan 31, 2015 15:31:56 GMT
Saraquiel stood much at the centre of the dusty room, all war-worn full plate, sheathed sword and blond hair. Her arms were crossed. As the ailing dwarf spoke, eyes of gold weighed him as carefully as scales did coins. But her judgement conceded to a concerned frown as the last coughing fit near consumed him.
“I am no mercenary to be bought,” Saraquiel chastised gently. “You need pay me nothing. This matter is easily worthy of kings.” Her arms unfolded, and gingerly a gauntleted finger poked under the silver string around her neck, to draw out a silver chalice on its end. She let the symbol hang openly. “Regardless, I must push you further, sir. Do you have a description of this priest? A name? Anything that might hasten us.”
OOC knowledge check:
[spoilers]
Knowledge Religion: Please Take 10. Result of 15.
Please tell me about Negral. I don't know what kind of detail a 15 can give about a dead god almost no one worships any more, but if I can learn anything about what we're dealing with and how to better find the cleric, it can't hurt.
[/spoilers]
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Post by Allamir d'Lyrandar on Jan 31, 2015 17:46:53 GMT
Allamir offers the man a smile in return. "Surely, good sir, it would be no trouble to receive a bit of payment up front? Such information may require, ah, a bit of persuasion on our part, and I find tongues wag much more freely with a bit of incentive." diplomacy Tpravcm|1d20+38
1d20+38
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Post by Gilgamesh on Jan 31, 2015 19:10:09 GMT
The old man looks at Saraquiel with a cautious respect.
"Your piety is appreciated. I'm sorry to have insulted you with offerings of material wealth. Regarding the priest, I do not know his true name. He is a slippery man. However, I can describe him to you, to the best of my ability. I know he is human, or was at least. He's most likely very old, and I know he has been going by the assumed name of Beler Madrell. I'm sorry, I don't know any more than that."
He turns now to Keama, his look of respect vanishing quickly as his lip curls at the gnome.
"Yes. In the center of the garden there is a tree which grows one fruit every thousand years. You'll know it when you see it, trust me. Pick the fruit and bring it back to me. I couldn't care less about any other fruit in the garden, nor could I care less exactly how you choose to extract the information from our friend 'Beler'"
His eyes turn at last to Allamir, his eyes narrowing in thought.
"Yes, I suppose this is a task that merits some payment up front. Thomas!"
His grandson scurries back into the room.
"Would you please add an advance payment of twenty five gold pieces to our guest's saddle bags," He says, then, with a quick glance up at Sawaquiel, adds "Excepting of course this noble young lady."
Thomas nods, leaving the room once again.
"But now you must go. Time is of the essence, and I am growing tired. Good luck, and safe travel to you all." He pauses, and for a second it looks like he is about to have another coughing fit. "May the gods be with you."
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Post by keamazin on Jan 31, 2015 23:19:42 GMT
Keama's jaw hits the floor.
He follows the group out the door, numb with shock.
Finally, as they are being led to their steeds, he blurts out...
Why didn't you give us the money?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Feb 1, 2015 0:16:39 GMT
When his companions finally exited the home of their employer, he climbs into the saddle an waits quietly for the group to get underway.
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saraquiel
New Member
slowly plotting an invasion :)
Posts: 9
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Post by saraquiel on Feb 1, 2015 15:03:12 GMT
Saraquiel wished the the dwarf kind rest when she departed. Outside, her head near snapped to the attention of the outburst's perpetrator. The knee high gnome with his once-beige clothing now torn and tawny with dirty, with the strong bearing of a vagabond. She arched a brow before slowly swallowing down her irritation.
“You have the look of a well-travelled soul. When there is time, do me a kindest, and dwell on why that is not your place to ask. Now let us to this task.”
Saraquiel marched to the horse line. She paused momentarily and gave a glance at the red-headed teenager. A heavy-eyed skinny girl, she would need protecting the most. Considering what words might dissuade that one from following them further, Saraquiel drew towards a grey-coated mare a good fourteen hands tall, with a large head and quarter, but with powerful legs. Brown eyes told of a creature docile. After something of a clumsy misstep, she stepped up and into the saddle.
“The township is Uruc, as before, but our priest is an elderly Beler Madrell,” she said, informing the impatient brute with animal tattoos roving across broad shoulders and arms seated to her left. “He is the key.”
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Post by Allamir d'Lyrandar on Feb 1, 2015 19:44:55 GMT
Allamir dips into a respectful bow, before taking his leave of the elderly dwarf. Finding his companions mounted and waiting, he quickly, if clumsily, follows suit. "Well then, my boon companions, shall we be off?" he asks with a smile, leading his horse out toward the front of the group before pausing and looking back. "Oh, and uh, which way is Uruc?"
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Ava
New Member
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Post by Ava on Feb 1, 2015 19:55:48 GMT
Having remained silent through the entirety of the elderly adventurer's speech, Ava tries her best to blend in with the background of the cramped, cluttered house. She nurses the remains of an apple, a generous gift from the farmer whose barn she'd been staying in. Lazily staring at the dwarf through half-lidded eyes, she spends a couple of moments picking a bit of stray hay out of her hair. It's clear to anyone looking at her that she just woke up, although how she got here in such a state is anyone's guess.
Ava's rather worn clothing is masked by a thick, green cloak, wrapped tightly around the diminutive adventurer's form, obscuring her features. Around her neck, she wears a pendant, on the end of which rests a small metal orb. She blinks in surprise as the gnome's piercing voice seems to penetrate the fog in her head, waking her from her half-slumber. She listens silently to Saraquiel's rather terse response, and just begins to move to the door before stopping again, interrupted by her thoughts once more.
"Wait... shouldn't we like, introduce ourselves? Somethin' tells me that'd be a bit helpful, seein' as we're gonna be adventurin' together," she suddenly interjects. She hoped she hadn't missed the introductions. That would just be embarrassing. "I'm Ava. That's... all ya' need to know, really." She seems to perk up a bit as she exits the building, invigorated by the fresh air and the prospect of new companions.
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Post by Allamir d'Lyrandar on Feb 1, 2015 20:50:12 GMT
Allamir stops, growing pale(-er), and swiftly dismounts his beast of choice.
"Brightness be!" he exclaims, taken aback at his own lack of manners, "Please, madame, do forgive me my impropriety!" He dips into an elegant, albeit flamboyant, bow, with one hand extended toward Ava. "Allamir d'Lyrandar, at your service."
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Post by Gilgamesh on Feb 1, 2015 21:07:15 GMT
Outside the cabin there are five horses, two now saddled and mounted. Though Thomas seems to have maintained a small amount of arable farmland, likely through magic, the desert stretches out as far as the eye can see. In the horses saddle bags are water rations enough for two full weeks, a small handmade map of the area, and, as promised, twenty five shining gold coins. A glance at the map will reveal that the township of Uruc is a short two day trip away, in a small dip of the flowing River Alamber. The region is hilly and difficult to traverse, and you'll have to set up camp in the desert, as the sun will go down far before the journey's end.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Feb 1, 2015 22:03:57 GMT
I am Siegbeort Gormrsson, vanquisher of Ohrgazz, who was Warchief of the Broken Hand Orcs. Are you coming along, little one? I didn't realize the old man was sending his great granddaughter along to keep an eye on us.
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Post by keamazin on Feb 2, 2015 19:58:13 GMT
Keama simply looks on as one half of the party starts wandering off into the wilderness and the other starts faffing about and bowing to everyone.
Then he looks at the horse.
Ah crap.
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saraquiel
New Member
slowly plotting an invasion :)
Posts: 9
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Post by saraquiel on Feb 3, 2015 23:27:14 GMT
A pleased smile threatened to touch otherworldly eyes as Allamir bounced off his mount and bent into a bow at their starry-eyed red-head. Saraquiel raised a gauntleted fist to hid it. Encouraging Ava with overpolite theatrics would lull her into dreams of secret gardens bearing century-old cabbages, and spoke nothing of the threats in the land. So it was not wholly unwelcome when Siegbeort made his fun. Yet, for this truth, she found herself ever unprepared to side with taunting weedy teens, and tsked. “Saraquiel,” the angel-blooded announced from atop her mount. “If any here have need of my protection, call, and I will come. Now, the journey is two days ride. Are you all ready?”
Very aware there's a few interactions that haven't yet happened like Ava, so by all means, go for it. Posted now because I'm unsure if you still want to speak up or are just very busy?
Also Keama has a problem with his horse?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Feb 4, 2015 0:52:34 GMT
OOC: I agree with saraquiel's sentiments. I think we all forgot that this is a site devoted to fast paced games. Roleplay is nice but it's getting in the way of progress. I, for one, would like to actually get to the tree.
Also, Sieg isn't joking. He sees young, unarmed girl trying to tag along and assumes she just lives there.
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Post by keamazin on Feb 4, 2015 10:40:16 GMT
Keama eventually manages to climb (literally) up into the saddle. His legs dangle uselessy down the sides, nowhere near long enough to reach the stirrups. He holds onto the saddle with a whiteknuckle grip. His eyes constantly flit to the ground, under those hooves, all the way down there.
Right, he almost squeaks with fear.
Let's go!
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Post by Gilgamesh on Feb 4, 2015 15:37:48 GMT
The unlikely assortment of adventurers ride off into the wastes. The journey is hard, but the horses provided by the once great Barama Daas are strong and easily carry you far and fast. However, they are not fast enough to outrun the sun. About six hours into your journey, night falls. Though you can ride for a small time after that, the horses start to falter. The burning sun sets and the heat of the desert rapidly fades into the freezing cold of night. When you stop, it is in a place filled with massive sandy hills. As good a place to set up camp as any. The cold desert dunes stretch as far as the eye can see. But something is wrong. You can't help but feel a persistent sense of loss, as if someone close to you has passed on, though to your knowledge no one has.
But more importantly, you can't shake the prickling feeling on the back of your neck that someone or something is watching you.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Feb 4, 2015 22:20:50 GMT
Dismounting, Sieg relieves his horse of the saddle and bags, then digs out a flat box, made of an untreated grey wood and carved with runes and sigils. He opens it revealing a matched pair worn leather gauntlets, the metal plates on the backs scratched and dinged. From the back of each hand extends 3 claws of a lusterless grey metal. He carefully removes both and begins tending to them, oiling the leather and metal plates, then running a fine whetstone over the blades in an almost religious fashion.
He speaks, almost as an afterthought, "I am glad to be away from that house. It reeked of old memories, long rotted and decayed. When I first heard our patron was searching for adventures for hire, I was eager to join, thinking I'd stand beside him as he brought his great Saga to a Heroic end. But instead I found a bitter old man, long robbed of the great strength and quick mind for which he was renowned. It was truly a disgusting sight."
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