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Post by Ossular on Mar 17, 2019 1:04:13 GMT
The early morning of the fifteen day of Tarsakh (the fourth month) welcomed Waterdeep with a surprise storm that rolled up from the south, battering the City of Splendors. Lightning danced overhead like dueling serpents, each lunge a clap of thunder, each rattle the echoes. The waters rocked boats, flooding several docks and testing the bilges of most of the seaworthy ships in the Docks Ward in a way that would even give the High Captains of Luskan a challenge, and plenty of buildings found they had leaks in their roofs, though whether or not they had been there before came down to the integrity of the roofs. Today was a reminder of why the month of Tarsakh was known as "The Claw of the Storms," especially this year, 1490, the Year of the Star Walker's Return.
Despite the rains, there was a single hooded figure moving down The High Road, turning onto Slipstone Street, then to the Wide Way, until it stopped, looking over a single magic shop: The Little Shop of Wonders. It would stand there, briefly, in the rain before moving in. The door's bell would jingle, and the figure would walk into the shop where a bored teenager moved around the shop, reorganizing various bowls of magical ingredients. She would sigh, probably wondering who in the hell would be entering her shop at this time of the day, before turning and stopping, careful not to drop a jar of blue dart-wing antennae. Her eyes widened, and surprise overtook her features as the figure removed it's hood, revealing a tall, haggard man with long, black hair, and piercing orange eyes that slowly looked the witch over.
The mutt that had been following her around sat at Susie's feet, his tail slowly shaking back and forth, keeping eyes on the man as well as he moved across the shop to the counter-top. Reaching over with a gloved hand, he would pick up a single piece of white chalk- the kind that Susie would use for portals when she sent adventurers through her own portals. "I need this," a hoarse voice would escape him before he coughed, patting the top of his chest through the cloak and leathers he had on underneath. A couple of coughs later, a clearing of the throat, the man would speak again. "Thanks, Fair Lady." That would be it, he would move toward the door, throw his hood back up and walk back out into the pouring rain outside.
"Puppers," the young witch would speak, the dog looking up to its master. "Is that, like, who I think it is?"
A yip would be her response.
"Mom-!?"
The rumor that a man with orange eyes would appear in the middle of the Court of the White Bull on the fifteen day of the month was true. This had been the second month, with this man causing enough commotion that the rumor mill surged after the various adventurers had made it back from their respective quests, and several more rumors about the people that didn't make it back alive sprung up as well. This month, more of the City Guard had been stationed around the area, but by the time the rain cleared up and the fog had begun to roll out back to the sea, the man was there, standing in the middle of the courtyard.
The man stood a couple inches over six feet tall. Worn black hair with a streak of gray shooting down one strand of hair was combed backwards. A black cloak with a clasp of what appeared to be a seafoam-shaded adamantine, etched with mithril hung over an adventurer's frame lined with leather armor, heavy boots and thick clothing, but for the amount it had been raining, the man remained perfectly dry. A layer of scruffy beard lined his jawline, and his eyes simply observed the guards with rings of oranges that glowed like the fires of the morning sunrise.
The City of Splendors was starting to stir. No doubt that the first adventurers would show up soon to investigate the rumor. The promise of gold and treasure was too great, and the man with the orange eyes had more jobs for those that thought themselves worthy.
[Quick Edit: This thread is for Zedd, Lucy, and Laurelai. Please approach the situation how you see fit.]
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Post by Laurelai on Mar 17, 2019 6:52:56 GMT
Yesterday“Nobody knows a damn thing about him, Lau. It’s driving my contacts crazy. Some guy turns up, no respect for the magical protections we’ve got around the City, brazen as you like, with creepy orange eyes and a list of things to kill? You better believe there’s a fat payday in it for you if you’re the one who figures out what’s going on.” The aging half-orc was swigging from a brown bottle, slumped in a chair in Laurelai’s shack. She, meanwhile, was crushing the dark petals that would form the basis of her next unfair advantage, white gloves pulled tight on her hands so that she could be sure no residue reached her bare skin. “Orange eyes, huh?” She mused. “Not exactly much to go on. Might even be a cover. That’s exactly the kind of flashy detail I’d want to make to throw people off the scent.” Zam shrugged, “Maybe. But he’s got people spooked, Lau. Real spooked. Besides, the guy’s offering work, and from what I hear, the pay isn’t bad…” Laurelai let her gaze drift around the shack. It’d been a useful place to stash her gear, quiet, small, in a terrible neighbourhood nobody in their right mind would want to visit. But people knew she lived here, now, and all those qualities which had made it perfect for going unnoticed now made it uncomfortable to live in. The significance of the location wasn’t lost on her, either. Part of the City that had been the site of a spellslinging competition that had rent the planar boundaries apart? It sure was a coincidence that, shortly before her own banishment to the City, there was another individual with possible links to extraplanar spaces drumming up work in the region. She never liked coincidences. “Alright.” She conceded, “I’ll see what I can do.” The PresentBooted feet trod light across the packed-dirt courtyard. The rain had left the ground soft and wet underfoot. Laurelai wore her bright hair long, with her tam o’ shanter tucked low over her ears. With the matching cloak in tribal colours of tan and bright brown, it’d be easy to, potentially, mistake her for a particularly tall, thin and graceful example of one of the tribal humans… at least until one caught the angular cast to her features. The patterned clothing worked as a disguise at a long distance, and had the added advantage of breaking up her silhouette quite nicely in most terrain; she wasn’t really trying to hide who she was, though. Perhaps this man, whoever he was, had heard of her. Perhaps he could help her get back in to the Game proper. When you’re approaching a client, it is important to judge what they’re after. You don’t tell a member of the Watch that you’re happy to murder on demand, and you don’t gossip about other work you’ve done to a criminal.
Say you’ve got an enigmatic figure who is trying to cultivate an aura of mystery and wants adventurers. It’s important that you look like you can handle yourself. You don’t want to look curious, especially if you are, and you don’t want to undercut their presence.
At the end of the day, it’s about making the person paying you feel comfortable. When they feel comfortable, they feel like they’re in control; and that makes them more likely to retain your services. Once they’ve done that, it is much easier to work backwards and figure out who they are and why they want the things they want.
As she approached, Laurelai gave the man a quick look up and down. He didn’t immediately look like any of the devils she had dealt with previously, which was a definite plus in her mind. Those eyes could mean any number of things, though. Possession, supernatural heritage, magical power, or just a simple set of enchanted glass contacts to make sure people were paying attention to the wrong things. Hard to tell at just a quick glance. She had to appreciate his flare for the dramatic. She stopped a short distance from the figure, and gave a loose salute, touching two fingers to the brim of her hat and dipping her head in a gesture of respect. “Name’s Laurelai Stargrove.” She said, keeping her eyes on his face for any flicker of recognition that might evoke – hey, you never know. It’d sure make her life a lot easier if he had the full story on recent events to have afflicted her. “I hear you’ve got work for the right sort of people?” And at that, she drew the cloak back far enough to show off the bright steel rapier at her hip. The elegant length of razor-sharp metal, coming to a deadly point, decidedly a functional piece of murder, wrapped in leather and beauty. Some things spoke louder to one's competence than words ever could. (Wordcount: 815)
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Post by leegrug on Mar 17, 2019 13:39:06 GMT
Lucy Greencobble was new in town, having arrived the day before. A country girl, she felt overwhelmed by the flood of people around her, and not knowing how to deal with such a quantity of beings, she felt alone. She had spent yesterday afternoon wandering through the streets, trying to stay out of the way, trying to remain unnoticed. By early evening she had found a cheap inn, (being wary of her light coin pouch,) booked a night’s stay, and found an out of the way corner of the common room for a mug of ale and a meal of meat stew. It was a meat she didn’t recognise, and it took effort to not speculate on its origins.
Lucy picked up snatches of conversation through the evening. ‘… a man with orange eyes…Court of the White Bull…large reward for large risk…fifteenth day of the month…’ Uzinken, the demon who haunted Lucy’s thoughts and gave her magical abilities hissed in her head in his reptilian voice, ‘you need money, child, and I thirst for blood. Find this orange eyed one.’
As much as Lucy hated Uziken, she knew he was correct about her finances, and Uziken did have a knack for knowing which rumours to follow. And the fifteenth day of the month was tomorrow… Lucy made some discreet enquiries as to the location of the Court of the White Bull, and headed to her shabby room for a good night’s sleep.
The next morning Lucy set out nice and early with a determined attitude, not really knowing what to expect, and decided it would be best to get there early. She found the Court of the White Bull easily enough, and saw a conspicuous looking figure. She studied him for a little while before catching a glimpse of orange eyes when he turned his face. She hesitated, feeling overwhelmed by the city, and unsure of the man. She knew that her eyes glowed yellow; a result of Uziken’s presence, and was worried at how this strange figure would react to her.
‘Have faith, child,’ Uziken hissed in her mind. ‘There is power within you. Never doubt that.’ Lucy was about to approach, when she saw another do so first. She couldn’t make much out from her position; maybe an elf or a human? She saw this figure approach the orange eyed one, and decided to be bold, approaching also, meeting the man less than a minute after the first. She steeled herself to show confidence she didn’t feel, and looked the man right in his orange eyes.
‘The rumour is you have gold to offer in exchange for work.’
(word count 440)
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Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2019 8:13:28 GMT
Zedd stands in the middle of the street, nervous and hungry. His journey to Waterdeep hasn't been the easiest. A brown trench coat, tattered and worn at the bottom, was the only thing that shielded him from the elements during his travels. Exhausted and alone he needed to find food an shelter.
"Fresh meats!" Shouted a butcher. "The best deals in the city" yelled another vendor. Following his nose Zedd wandered into a busy tavern. Among the chaos a halfling woman, stout but quick rushes up to Zedd. "What'll it be darlin?" She asked. "..oh..ah...I..I'll take a piece of bacon and a pint please" mumbled Zedd handing her the rest of his money. "Comin up" retorted the barmaid.
Zedd sat quietly in the corner of the tavern, waiting for his meal. One of the patrons stumbled over to Zedd. "Your not from around here are ye?" He stuttered. "Uhhh, no....I'm not" replied Zedd. "Well than, let me give you a tour of the city?...For a price of course." As he reached out his hand. "Ah thank you, but I don't have any more money." answered Zedd. "If its money your after, than your in luck." As the man moves in closer. "Rumor has it a white haired man has a job and pays well too. It is said that he stands in the center of the Court of the White Bull. On the fifteenth day of the month."
"What are you blabbering on about?" The barmaid interrupted, putting my plate of food on the table. "Don't go spreading that gossip again Herald or you'll have to pay your tab." She threatened. "It's all trouble if you ask me." "And ah...I don't want any trouble" stated Zedd, but in the back of his mind he was thinking if the job pays well, maybe he would be able to get out of this rut he was in. Thinking it over while eating Zedd made up his mind. Finishing his pint he left the tavern to meet this white haired man.
Arriving at the White Bull, standing in the center is a hooded figure. Zedd cautiously approaching him asks "Heard you ah...got some work? Maybe you could use a bit of..." Zedd reaches his hand out and produces a flame that seems to dance along his fingers. "...magic".
(Word Count: 381)
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Post by Ossular on Mar 18, 2019 23:25:19 GMT
The first person to approach him was Lourelai Stargrove, an Elvish woman just as tall as he was. Lithe, as her race was, with a rapier, the Man with the Orange Eyes would look from her introduction to another as he spoke. "For the right sort of people, yes." A simple acknowledgement to Laurelai's introduction. His voice was pleasant, if not a little tired, with no real accent to place from other races, like how dragons usually drug the Ss and devils would sometimes allure people with cold, proper, beautiful inflections of the Infernal tongue.
The second person to approach him this morning: Lucy Greencobble, a halfling with a presence of magic that reeked of the Abyss. Youthful in appearance, small in stature, even for her kind, but the borrowed power caught his attention well enough. She had seen a lot in her relatively small amount of time, and the gaunt Man dressed in leathers under his robes would nod, his orange eyes like the fire of the sun on a dry, summer day. The longer one stared into them, the more the intensity would build up. "The rumor is correct," he would continue. Apparently, with the first adventurers of the day, he was less intrusive with his insights and queries. After all, the day was just beginning.
The third person was a human, a human wizard named Zeddicus, who would see that, while the man's hair was mostly black, there was a single, wide white-gray streak that was pulled tightly backwards. The Man with the Orange Eyes would direct his vision to him, and instead of looking at the fire, the man would look at Zedd himself, his lips flat as he observed, watching before pulling down the hood of his cloak.
Granted, these adventurers were... newer than the first adventurers he had seen last month, but they would do. He had just the task in mind for them, but first, a small test of their patience. The Man with the Orange Eyes simply... stood there for a quiet minute, as if he was thinking of something. Not looking at anything in particular, he slowly turned his head to the south, then a different direction. Another direction. Then rested back on the south. The fiery eyes would close, and he would inhale deeply, then turn his head in one direction very quickly, with a satisfying pop from his neck, then to the other side, hissing to himself that he couldn't get that side to pop before he spoke again to the three adventurers that had approached him.
"I do have work, if you are interested, adventurers, but it will require the three of you to work together, along with a little bit of luck," the Man spoke. "But first, I have to warn you. There is a chance that you may die, common for adventurers. The task that I ask is no easy thing.
"In this realm of Faerun, there is a mountain range some distance to the south, further than Candlekeep but just north of Murann, known as the Small Teeth," he would start. "Lightly forested, heavy snow in the winter. The southern feet of the mountains grows wild grapes," he would cough. "I digress, though. This mountain was home to a blue dragon named Iryklathagra, but eventually, she moved to a different lair after adventurers drove her out. Now, a bastard half-breed takes residence in the cliffs there, a harpy by the name of Voloe. This is the monster that I need killed," the man spoke.
"I can provide each of you with a single potion of healing as well-" the Man with the Orange Eyes spoke, but didn't have anything resembling a potion bottle anywhere on him. "Then I can teleport you near the monster's location. After that, it'll be up to you to find and slay this creature." He maintained his composure as he spoke, his eyes shifting between the three of them, from Laurelai to Lucy, from Lucy to Zedd, and from Zedd back to Laurelai, paying no attention to the guards or anyone else in the area, now including a couple more people that looked like adventurers in their own ways. "Your reward, should you choose to accept, will be whatever you find there, in Iryklathagra's old lair, as well as gold to be determined upon your return. [OoC Note: This is the gold that you will earn via word count alongside experience for this adventure thread.] Some people seem to like taking trophies from the monster. That is up to you," the man would speak.
"Do you choose to accept my quest?" the Man would ask, looking over each one of them once more.
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Post by leegrug on Mar 19, 2019 3:37:01 GMT
Lucy Greencobble met the strange man’s gaze as she listened to his offer. She held a calm, almost disinterested expression while she thought things through. This was not why she came to Waterdeep. She had fled the destruction of her homelands vowing to use her magic to help the oppressed, not to slay some random monster for some random man in the street.
‘Build your strength and your experience,’ Uziken hissed inside her head. ‘You can’t do much to those of power yet. You need to develop these gifts I’ve given you if you ever want to make a true difference in the world.’
‘Gifts?’ Lucy thought back to Uziken. ‘More like a curse.’ Lucy was sorely tempted to simply walk away, but she knew the demon in her head was right. Despite his hideous motives, he was, unfortunately, often right. She had only recently managed to take control of her powers, and could use some practice. Plus, she could really use the money.
Lucy studied the two others standing there with her. The female Elf seemed confident enough, with the rapier at her hip. And the human male… seemed a bit timid. But the burn marks briefly glimpsed on his hands suggested he had been in tough situations before and made it out alive.
Lucy made a decision. Affecting an air of nonchalance, and pushing down the anxiety she felt, she spoke. ‘Well, I s’pose I could do it. After all, I’ve nothing better to do today.’ She looked the strange man in the eye, and gave a confident nod of the head.
(word count 264)
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Post by Laurelai on Mar 19, 2019 8:25:08 GMT
Laurelai knew accents. She’d heard countless of them in her time, and the fact that she couldn’t place his was interesting. It probably meant that he was deliberately obfuscating it. The content of his words was curious too; he didn’t have the bizarre nonsensical lurch from one topic to another that the more … removed, extraplanar entities had; nor was he trying to convince them of anything. In her experience, most of the more talkative outsiders tended to treat conversations like an attempt to assail the listener with their philosophical viewpoint. He was to the point, without being unpleasant. It was, in general, a very human way to talk.
She also knew better than to try and probe too deeply in her very first conversation, though; whoever this guy was, he likely had his reasons for the secrecy. Better to inveigle herself into his trust, first, and then risk asking a few questions about who he was and why he wanted all of this done, assuming she couldn’t figure it out from any hints she found in the work and the repercussions of it.
A soft smile spread across her lips as she inclined her head to the orange-eyed man, “That’s why we’re worth paying at all.” She said, easily, “I’m sure none of us are afraid of death. Though, it’d be a good idea for us to cover our bases before we head out. Any information you have about the harpy’s capabilities would also be good to know. You said it is a half-breed. Are we looking at a half-dragon harpy? Should I be expecting it to spit lightning at us the moment it sees we’re there?”
She’d never heard of such a thing, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Dragons seemed to be compatible with basically anything, so it wouldn’t surprise her if one had gotten frisky with a harpy somehow. Not, a train of thought she wanted to carry on down.
Her gaze drifted back across the other two, taking them in.
“I’m a skirmisher.” She said, to the pair, “I can fight up close, but I prefer to be at range. I’m good with my eyes, and I can usually get the drop on someone. Depending on where we’re dropped in, I’ll probably take point. And I’m guessing I’m probably the closest to a front line we’ve got.”
That was an assumption; the halfling didn’t look like she was going to sprout armour and a shield, though, and Zed also didn’t look like he could take a punch worth a damn. Maybe she was wrong; she dearly hoped she would be, because Gods knew she was a lot more comfortable working from the shadows. But, sometimes, you had to take the role that the job demanded. She could be flexible, if she needed to be.
A nod to Zed, then. “You’ve got magic. That’s good. Any sort of specialism?”
And to Lucy, “And what’re you bringing to the party?”
She hadn’t actually said she was accepting the job yet, though it was heavily implied. Another little test. If this was magically bound, her overt and clear assent would normally be required to seal the deal. Of course, it wasn’t incontrovertible proof that it was definitely a magical compact if he insisted on clearer consent, but it would be another tick in the ‘this is actually supernatural’ column, rather than the ‘this is a very theatrical but ultimately human magic user’ column.
((OOC Note - In order to avoid delaying things by another post round, if he does need her to say 'yes' before teleporting her and the others away, Laurelai will obviously do that!))
(Wordcount - 1391)
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Post by leegrug on Mar 19, 2019 13:31:11 GMT
Lucy looked at Laurelai, trying to get a feel for her. Was her arrogance a show, or was she justifiably confident? ‘You’re right,’ she said to Laurelai in a calm voice, ‘I don’t like being in the front line.’ She casually stretched her fingers in front of herself. ‘That’s because I either blast anyone who means me harm with a beam of energy before they get to me, or charm them into thinking I’m their best friend. And if they do manage to get close? I engulf them with fire. That’s what I bring: my magic.’
Lucy was doing her best to come across as confidently nonchalant, letting the Elf know she could handle herself. Uziken did his part, causing her eyes to glow brighter at the mention of her magic.
‘Don’t go too far, Uziken,’ Lucy thought to the demon. ‘We don’t want to scare them off. I’d rather work with these two than alone.’
She looked at Zedd. ‘I haven’t worked with too many other magic users. Let’s see what we can do.’
(wordcount total 879)
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Post by Deleted on Mar 20, 2019 3:49:54 GMT
Taking in the man's words Zedd thought on the idea of having to slay a harpy. Only reading about them in books and hearing stories from traveling merchants and drunkards Zedd was aware of the danger that stood before him. He cleared his throat at the thought of dying, but curiosity always took the better of him. His time in the order only expanded his insatiable appetite for knowledge and the opportunity to study the corpse of a harpy doesn’t happen everyday, granted that we kill it.
"I accept!" Zedd proclaimed pulling out his journal, "…Voloe….Small Teeth" murmured Zedd quickly jotting down the details of the job. "I don’t mind working with others" Zedd started "as long as they don’t bite….heh" he awkwardly added.
Looking at Laurelai admiring her take charge attitude, "I don’t particularly specialize in anything, but I have done some…ah…research into evocation magic." Zedd answered. "And I may not be much of a frontline man, but I do have some tricks up my sleeve." confidently gesturing to his wrists.
Noticing the halfling girl beside him Zedd felt something different about her. The feeling was arcane but there was something more. He recognized this feeling, but he couldn’t quite place it. "Yes. Lets!" he responded "and how about you? Do you specialize in any kind of magic? He asked.
(Word Count: 607)
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Post by leegrug on Mar 20, 2019 14:28:09 GMT
Lucy felt a bit annoyed by Zedd’s question. She wasn’t used to explaining herself; she could thank her years of solitude for that.
Uziken hissed in her head ‘show the fool your true strength! Make him suffer!’
‘Shut up,’ Lucy thought to Uziken. She decided to give Zedd the benefit of the doubt, and assume he was asking out of genuine curiosity. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t specialise in any kind of magic. I use whatever I’m given, which usually serves to keep me alive. And,’ she added, softening her tone to a more companionable one, ‘I’m living proof that it works.’
(word count 981)
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Post by Deleted on Mar 20, 2019 22:23:54 GMT
"That you are." Zedd said to Lucy still curious of the feeling he was getting. Putting those thoughts behind him he turned to Laruelai and the orange-eyed man. "Well I think I'm ready to go if everyone else is." He said adjusting his backpack.
(Word Count: 651)
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Post by Ossular on Mar 21, 2019 16:49:33 GMT
As Lucy, Laurelai and Zedd spoke, only Laurelai asked about the creature they were going to face. Orange eyes of fire locked on to her, and he would nod in agreement to her assumption. "I wouldn't say immediately when you get there, but yes, I would expect her to breath lightning. I'd recommend not standing in any sort of line.
"Don't forget that harpies, like sirens, are excellent singers, either," he would continue. "They're known to lure people, animals, even giants over cliffs and into rocky crags below. Once they expire, they are easy pickings for the harpy's sharp talons. I would beware the harpy's song. That is all I have to offer," The Man with the Orange Eyes would nod.
They spoke, and the Man with the Orange Eyes would turn around. Holding a hand out, a greatsword would appear, as black as the space between stars in the night sky, and all into his grip. Spinning it to rest across a forearm, he would take a piece of chalk and etch a series of symbols across it. Writing the last bit of his markings, he would proceed to spin it once more, in the shape of a circle, before stabbing it into the ground. A flicker of magic would appear, and the circle that he had outlined with the motion of the blade would pulse before collapsing in on itself, becoming a portal of swirling dark, light distorting through the rift before him now. Some of the guards across the area would get nervous, looking to each other, as if trying to figure out what was happening. The Man with the Orange Eyes would step to the side.
"Hold your breath as you go through. It helps," the Man would say, motioning to the portal behind him.
As each one of them entered through the portal, they would spend close to a moment, colors whirling around them in a wild, prismatic fashion. Energies of all kinds would weave and lead them, spiraling into a multi-rainbow kaleidoscope. Scents would change quickly from the drenched vendors and early-morning bakeries and fest-halls to a chilled Spring frost. They would feel as if they were walking forward, wind blowing past them that quickly became thinner and colder. As they moved, a white light would appear in their vision. That white light would grow larger, and larger, and larger before enveloping their eyes, their bodies, and their perceptions. From there, it would feel, for a moment, like they were flung in a direction, and the impressions of flying would overtake them-
-before they would open their eyes and it would all be over. It was like being in the dark and stepping out into the light. Eyes had to readjust to the light, and their bodies would adjust to the cool air of the mountains. It was like they had stepped back to a winter day, with the crunch of frozen ground beneath their feet. Instead of city, their eyes would see a mountainside to their back. They were on a landing, surrounded by old trees that had bent and broke scattered between trees that were smaller but showed signs of life through the branches that still held leaves.
They would be able to take a moment, though, to recollect themselves. On the wind came a song that initially sounded peaceful but was quickly recognized as sad, it's morose Elvish melancholy carrying on the breeze. The direction they would hear it from would be along a cliff-side that stretched across the mountain, a path just wide enough for them to fit in a single row for about fifteen feet before it widened back out and continued forward, curving around a bend in the stone.
The opposite direction from the song would be a path that led to a single tent campsite set next to a fire. The tent, long worn and covered in frost, the fire long dead and cold, blew eerily in the wind. Beyond that, they could see a possible traveled path down the mountain, though it was easy to decipher that their monster would not be in that direction.
Also, within their pockets, would be a single vial- a potion of healing, just as the Man with the Orange Eyes had promised.
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Post by Laurelai on Mar 21, 2019 18:38:32 GMT
Pre-rolling: OH|89KwM1d20+21d20+2
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Post by Laurelai on Mar 21, 2019 18:54:21 GMT
Laurelai whistled appreciatively at the arrival of the greatsword, and the display of power it evoked. Now that was interesting. Most truly extraplanar beings didn’t bother with chalk and material components, they acted through will, intent, and the force of their magical composition upon the skein of reality. That sword was clearly some sort of potent magical item too; if it were a mere expression of magical force, he’d have had a tough time writing on it – at least in her experience. Shard of void-energy were usually pretty inimical to chalk.
“Well. Colour me impressed, bossman.” She said, with a smirk, and a loose salute – touching two fingers to the brim of her hat. “Thanks for the groundwork, too. You’d be surprised how many employers seem to want to leave everything as a surprise.”
She turned and gave a quick nod to the other adventurers.
“Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”
And with that, she jumped through the portal.
Once she landed on the other side of the portal, Laurelai took a moment to steady her gut, quickly scan the surroundings, and then – when she was fairly sure they hadn’t been ‘ported directly into an ambush – she unslung her backpack and began rooting around, producing from within two long red candles and a tinderbox. She lit the first candle, and began to use it to warm the second.
She’d then wait for the other two to appear before explaining:
“Okay, I’m guessing you two can hear that? I’m going to make us each a set of earplugs. It’ll be a pain in the ass for communication, but better than any of us deciding to take a long jump off a short cliff. I don’t know how much experience you guys have doing this sort of thing. Either of you worked with a team that used standard hand gestures before?”
(Wordcount: 1893)
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Post by leegrug on Mar 21, 2019 21:53:06 GMT
Pre-rolling : LuZeb4L31d20+2 1d20+2
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