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Post by sojourn on Jul 7, 2019 19:34:52 GMT
"L isten—I don't disagree with that, t' be fair, but only 'cause that's all I've been able t' do in m' life: Make my own godsbedamned way through it, oft' in spite o' th' decisions 'f others." Kieran gestured with his fork, using it to point with as he spoke, his tone of voice making it obvious he'd never wanted anyone's opinion on how he should be living it, nor did he want anyone else making decisions for him when it came to shaping the path his lithe, dark form carved into the world. Of course he was fucking ignorant! "Too drow for jus' 'bout everyone an' too human for th' drow, d' y' think anyone's bothered t' sit me down an' tell me anythin'? No. Have I really bothered t' ask? No. Why? In both lifespan an' significance, I mean very little t' any elf. I'm not stupid." He didn't need a history lesson—he could've gone and read up on the exhaustively long legacy of elves any time he wanted, should he have actually chosen to do so. But he didn't. It wasn't as though elves wanted him. It wasn't as though he wanted to be one of those Dark Elves Rinn spoke of, one of those Dark Elves Dhuanmyr was apparently on the surface to avoid becoming. He didn't want to necessarily be just human, either. He chose not to take the emphasis that elves were closely linked with their gods as a questioning of his own faith or a put down that he was somehow not as worthy, but it was difficult not to bristle at the accusation that perhaps he was incapable of sharing some kind of relationship with a greater power in any way comparable to the pure-blooded elves that made up half of his lineage. His lip curled at the idea of civilized harmony, but he simply chose to hide the expression of doubt behind eating more food while their high elf charge and employer continued. A perfect society sounded somewhat boring—it also sounded better than his life spent on the streets of Waterdeep, had anyone wanted to ask his opinion—but he was quite sure that Rinn was simply naive about how everything in the world really, truly, honestly worked outside of the gilded, protected boundaries of Evermeet. He couldn't really take her criticism of his existence worth the salt it felt like she so desperately wanted to rub in old wounds. Even Solstice had her fey-inspired addition to the conversation and then Dhaun spoke up, Kieran admittedly unable to do anything but give the drow more of his attention than he had to Rinn, though he hid his interest in the sway the Spider Queen had over the darker half of his heritage behind as deadpan an expression as he could muster. He set what was left of his food down, violet gaze flicking down at it with the realization that he really didn't want any more anyway, shoulders sagging. Amid the inked lines and somewhat abstract patterns that decorated the left side of his body in tattoos, Eilistraee's symbol was there. He knew the goddess to whom he gave his devotion to; he knew well enough her place among the pantheon of elves; but most of all, he knew where his own heart of faith belonged. That said, Kieran had no real interest in sharing such knowledge with the high elf who'd already made her decisions about who he was and what he was capable of, but he swallowed the bitter taste all of this better-than-thou talk had left against the back of his tongue, "In m' unfortunate ignorance, I still chose Eilistraee, an' she has never judged m' equally unfortunate mixed blood. Thus far, anyways."Listless and annoyed at his own personal weaknesses that in the presence of both elves, he felt so horribly compelled to prove himself just as capable, Kieran knew it didn't matter. It would never matter. He didn't matter. As if they cared or would ever. Rinn certainly didn't, and while Dhaunmyr had proven himself at least a friend, Kieran was always more aware of what he wasn't the drow's company. There wasn't much for him to say on the matter of history he was only an accidental part of, anyway, for he knew nothing of his parents' or their intentions. He only knew that they'd chosen to let him live and for whatever reason, the streets had been kinder to him than countless others. Solstice didn't stir such competitive need because she seemed to have no interest in being burdened by assumptions or century-long old histories. Thus far, she seemed content to allow everyone to simply be who they were and the half-drow appreciated that immensely. Honestly, at this point, he'd rather be in the firbolg's shadow than anyone else's, but instead he stretched and sighed, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his bare arms around his knees, staring at the fire instead. Unrelated to elvish politics, he was more than content to clean up after their meal and to take first watch, always amicable about staying out of everyone else's way as much as possible when he wasn't attempting to shove a foot in his mouth by awkward accident.
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Rinn
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Post by Rinn on Jul 8, 2019 20:00:12 GMT
“Our people have been at peace for a long time.” Rinn said, slowly, to Solstice. “But it is worth remembering that the Eladrin and the Elves have a very long history, and much of it bloody.”
Dhaunmyr’s begging brought an expression of deeper displeasure to her features. She held her thoughts through Kieran’s own complaining, but the half-drow was quite correct in many ways; now that she had imparted what she had to say, she didn’t really have much more to add. How hard his upbringing was seemed entirely irrelevant to her. What mattered was that he understood the truth of things as they were, regardless of whatever hardships his life might have entailed to date.
She wanted to tell Dhaunmyr that she wouldn’t be intimidated by the monster that Lolth had become; that she had no respect for the ancient enemy of her people and that it was almost a duty to show brazen disregard for her power.
But there was something in the man’s earnestness which spoke to her. Whilst she was incredibly self-centred, she had always had a knack for reading people, and she could see that Dhaunmyr wasn’t exaggerating his fear.
What kind of monster would she be to play on his phobia?
“I’d just as soon not speak of her at all.” She said, at last. As close to a compromise as she could allow herself to get. “In fact, I think I’m done for tonight. I will retire to the carriage. I bid you all a good night’s rest.”
And with that, she was good to her word, returning to the relative safety and solitude of her uncomfortable, self-imposed prison.
(Kieran, give me a perception check for the day’s scouting after your next post)
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Jarovbees
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Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
Posts: 706
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Post by Jarovbees on Jul 8, 2019 21:43:15 GMT
While Rinn's expression had been one of displeasure upon listening to the others, Solstice's own was open and sympathetic. She responded to the request about Lolth's name with an understanding nod and apologetic smile; she had been following precedent, but it wouldn't hurt to be more considerate. Kieran earned his share of sympathetic gazes, but she also smiled encouragingly at his forthright and outspoken demeanor. One didn't have to guess with him where he stood or what he thought, and she found that a refreshing change of pace. His caught between too worlds perspective was a unique and invaluable one for this party, too, and Solstice found herself hoping she'd share more on that as time passed.
"As you say. Good night, milady." Solstice gave a polite nod as the woman departed; she was both encouraged and relieved, by the end of the conversation. There was undeniable tension, to be sure, but the fact that she had joined them at all? It was progress of some kind, hopefully. Perspectives were shared, and all things considered it was a pretty civil exchange. Even so, there was something to be said not overdoing it, and the firbolg woman hoped for Dhaunmyr's and Kieran's sake that they could have a more relaxing evening now that they weren't under such scrutiny and judgment. They wouldn't be getting any of the latter from her, and that question about Eilistraee was as much as she was willing to go for the former.
After helping clean up, she took out a cleaning rag and her birdpipes, giving them a good polishing as she spoke in that Sylvan brogue of hers. "Enough of that for one evening, aye? I'd like to end the night with a little music, if you don't mind. Or if you care to join in, by all means please go ahead. I'll never say no to a little jam session, even out here." Some music before she turned in wasn't an uncommon thing, whether light and merry or with a melancholic tinge. Neither a rapt audience nor a partner in music was ever required, though as one might come to expect, the paladin never shunned company.
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Post by enchilada on Jul 11, 2019 11:01:27 GMT
“That would be far more desirable. I shall see you at another stage, then.”
Speaking nothing of the Spider Queen was much better than speaking of her with a different name slapped on the top as though it fixed the problem. Like she still wasn’t, somehow, here. Definitely. Even if it were just in the whispers of the wind or scurrying up the walls and spreading webs. Dust got everywhere, you couldn’t simply remove it, it was almost an abstract idea, rather than something exact.
Dhaunmyr, visually, relaxed. His shoulders slumped, he smiled just slightly. In the kindest way possible, Rinn leaving loosened the corset strings a little, enough to stop counting blades of grass, at least. Had he miscounted yet? Dhaunmyr supposed he could never quite be sure.
Curiously, he watched Solstice with her pipes. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were until she elaborated. Dhaunmyr pushed his hair behind his ear, and leaned towards her slightly. “I must say, I am not in a position to join you, I’m afraid. Music has always eluded me a little, I can appreciate it, follow the rhythm, but to play it? Never. But if you wish to play, I certainly wish to listen, my dear.”
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Post by sojourn on Jul 19, 2019 4:39:45 GMT
K ieran didn't even look up from finishing his meal, really, quite aware of where he stood on the whole circular conversation he felt they were having about elvish history and Rinn's superiority. In all honesty, short of eventually using his knuckles to drive his ingrained opinions known, the half-drow had very little else to contribute that wouldn't have simply continued to make him appear blunt, ignorant, or worse. So, he simply nodded when the full-of-herself and her own carefully constructed vision of the world high elf bid her hasty retreat back to the carriage. It was for the best, really. Once it was back to the three of them, Kieran's frown faded and his body language, hunched over his meal as it had been, drained of tension. To say that he was relaxed would have been giving him far too much credit, but once he realized he was no longer defending his broken, half-blooded ego from any more godsbedamned assumptions, it was quite obvious that he felt safe again to let some of his thick-skinned guard down. Without his hackles raised, he shifted into a more comfortable seated position and poked at the fire, waking it back up again while his violet gaze watched the sparks and embers. Solstice's support wasn't alien so much as unexpected, Kieran hardly used to the sudden solidarity from strangers. To say that he appreciated such a thing would have been an understatement, but it wasn't as though he had the words to say otherwise. He was grateful, also, that he'd met Dhaunmyr previously, that he knew in some ways what to expect out of the other man regardless of just how much his pure-blooded heritage made him nervous or uncomfortable, reminded him of what he'd supposedly missed or supposedly could have been. Unlike what Rinn obviously thought, he had no interest in falling into anyone's expectations of who he should be. The firbolg had pulled out a pair of birdpipes and he smiled, though his expression warmed into a more humored smirk at the drow's admission, "I've not got any musical talent, either, but I know a good tune when I hear 't an' I can definitely dance. Not that here's th' place, but 't seems 's though you've got a captive audience b'tween th' two 'f us."He'd make sure to gather things up for cleaning before settling to listen to the kind of music Solstice had to share with them. Admittedly, it made the sounds of a wilderness he wasn't familiar with briefly feel less pressing, which was a very real comfort for the half-drow who'd lived most of his life in Waterdeep and on the streets instead of on the open road. Once entertainment, praise for Solstice's talent, and finally any lingering conversation wound down, Kieran made good on his offer of service, making sure everything was cleaned and packed up for the night and organizing watch schedules. Unlike his full-elvish companions, he still needed his sleep. It was just far more difficult than he expected when so far from what he was used to. Not one to really need excessive amounts of rest simply by his street urchin upbringing, he was of course up early again and ready to move on when everyone had broken their fast. It was, in his opinion, simply better for him to stay out of everyone's way. Keeping watch, scouting, and just not inserting himself into unnecessary conversation made the day go by at a much less stressful pace.
Perception: qLpOVIgz1d20+4Stealth: 1d20+5 1d20+4·1d20+5
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Rinn
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Post by Rinn on Jul 19, 2019 13:36:31 GMT
As Kieran ranged ahead of the group, it seemed at first that it was going to be another dull day where little of important occurred.
Around midday, though, the half-elf spotted a pair of men stood brazenly in the middle of the road. Both were human, one tall and broad-shouldered, clad in scale mail which had been painted a gleaming, shining black. The other wore studded leathers. Both had a symbol on their chest; a white dragon on a field of golden flames and darkness.
They each had the look about them of trained mercenaries, hard-faced and harder eyed. The man with scale mail carried a sword and shield, both brutally functional, whilst his comrade carried a pair of daggers. And if Kieran had been a less experienced adventurer, that might have been the end of it.
But his instinct told him that this was an ambush. Two mercenaries simply did not stand on the road alone. And indeed, as he squinted into the bushes and undergrowth at the side of the road, he saw that there were a half dozen other individuals of a variety of races and genders, all carefully camouflaged in quite ingenious ways; dirt, mud, even wads of turf and branches having been attached to them as they hunkered down. He could even make out brutal crossbows, light and easy to manoeuvre, waiting to be put into action against their intended target.
Unfortunately, whilst he was scoping them out, the experienced mercenaries were not so bored that they failed to note their new observer.
“Hail. You there.” The shorter man said, raising his hand. “No need to fret. You’re with the carriage coming this way, yes? Come. Let’s have words. My name is Seneca.”
(We'll break post order; Kieran can have a little interaction with these guys before y'all will be catching up)
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Post by sojourn on Jul 20, 2019 3:30:58 GMT
T he wilderness outside of Waterdeep's familiar streets and alleys, buildings and walls was so very different from what Kieran knew best. There were strange noises to get used to—even the rustle of the wind sounded odd over grasses and through leaves and tangled up in bushes. The weather was warm enough that there were insects and small wildlife, some of which was as much of a pest as others were interesting. Needless to say, while the half-drow's keen senses felt as though they were on overdrive, the lithe creature was so far out of his comfort zone of creeping through city shadows that he was hardly capable of moving quietly or even staying unseen. He even felt exposed—as if he didn't feel exposed enough already under the judgmental glare of Rinn or in the well-meaning and wanted company of Dhaunmyr or the far warmer, kinder understanding of Solstice—but Kieran wasn't knowledgeable enough about the so-called great outdoors to really know how to correct his rather noisy behavior. Not yet, anyway, but he was keen to learn. Or would have been, had his thoughts on the matter not been interrupted. His violet gaze swept over men in the road standing about as obviously as he was traveling. It looked as though they were fucking waiting and such a thought immediately set the half-drow at unease. His stomach tightened and steps slowed, one hand coming to rest on the hilt of the curved shortsword that was tucked against his back. The shorter, darker creature took in the scale mail and the studded leather, eyes traveling over the white dragon and the purposeful use of gold and black. The bounty hunter knew hired hands when he saw them and he might have even recognized the symbols had he not been far too distracted taking note of the hidden bodies lying in wait in the undergrowth. Fuck—a godsbedamned ambush! Something else to blame his incompetence for, obviously: he could hear it in Rinn's haughty tone of voice already and the very thought made a well-carved jaw clench with tension. Kieran came to a halt, his body language obviously threatening, obviously aware, coiled for combat and not ashamed to make sure the two men in the middle of the road knew that he knew—an unspoken acknowledgement of both a trap as well as being trapped. He made no further movement to draw his weapon, calloused fingers curling around the leather-bound hilt a little tighter as his feet found a comfortably defensive position. He inhaled slowly, breathing in calm, and exhaled slowly, breathing out preparedness, "I'll give y' an' your lot o'er there a few words, yeah. Fine day an' all that, after all. Might 's well enjoy 't. Shall we? What is it you've got on your mind?" Did he acknowledge the carriage? Hells no. Did he give his name? Of course not.
Insight check to discern whether these unsavory folks are hiding anything in conversation: K6NfKgzc1d20+2 1d20+2
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Rinn
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Post by Rinn on Jul 22, 2019 18:05:07 GMT
Kieran had to know the reputation of the Zhentarim, even if he’d never dealt with them directly. The marks they wore were clear and obvious. These men were mercenaries, not simple footpads; soldiers of fortune whose reputation for brutal efficiency was as pervasive as the rumours that they trafficked with dark and dangerous powers.
The shorter of the pair seemed to be the one who was tasked with doing all the talking. He kept his hands studiously away from his weapons, though that was likely of little comfort given that Kieran knew how badly he was outnumbered in the event Seneca decided that he ought not to be leaving this place alive.
“Waste.” Seneca said, smiling his viper’s smile. “See, I can’t abide waste. It’s a terrible thing when something is lost that doesn’t have to be.”
He nodded behind Kieran, indicating the road the man had walked down.
“Me and my companion here have been given a contract. We want the head of the woman who hired that carriage. Just her head, mind. And we don’t have to hurt a hair on anyone else’s, unless they have a mind to stop us. Now you can try, but it’d be a terrible waste.”
The larger man gave a long, slow nod of his head. When he spoke, his accent was thick, from the barbarian tribes in the north most likely.
“Terrible waste.” He echoed, “I do not like to work for free.” And then he pursed his lips, as though considering.
“But then. It pays to advertise, yes, my friend? And dead men are fine advertising.”
(No indication they are lying; if you sell Rinn out they probably will let you go.)
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Post by sojourn on Jul 23, 2019 17:47:02 GMT
T he half-drow sniggered, his inappropriate timing for humor covering the chilled touch of nervousness that trailed its way down his spine like the beads of sweat that traced down charcoal skin beneath his shirt in the midday sun. His lip curled into a sneer and he couldn't necessarily argue with Seneca's sentiment so much as feel the foreboding sense of danger that raced with his pulse at the recognition of their insignias. His violet gaze drifted back toward the places he knew other mercenaries were lying in covered wait for a brief moment, making sure the two men on the road knew that he knew, teeth toying with the ring through his lip as if he was considering his options. Outnumbered and out-armored, he'd taken plenty of beatings in his time: the streets weren't kind to any orphaned child, let alone an orphaned child with too much drow in their veins. He did, however, have outrunning most likely in his pocket, fully aware of how swift he was on his feet and fully prepared to leave his attackers in the dust should he be able to get the drop on any of them, given their apparent confidence in just how trapped they had the half-elf. Had he admitted to having a connection to the carriage and its contents? No. Did he really need to? Probably not. Their awareness let him know that either he'd been very poor at paying the right kind of attention in noticing they'd been observing their progress from Waterdeep this whole time or that they'd known long before that Rinn was making this journey. Someone else had probably sold her loud-mouthed, uptight ass out before they even left the safety of the City of Splendors. Damn it all. At the word contract, Kieran's attention snapped back to the more conversational asshole's face, eyes narrowing once he said the words just her head. He would have laughed, loudly, too, had he at all thought it appropriate to do so. They were welcome to have it, but did they know what kind of useless noise her lips were capable of when left to carry on with her opinions? He wouldn't be surprised if she continued to complain even after death. Gods, for a moment, the thought was so damn tempting. As in, really fucking tempting. Hand over the judgmental high elf who'd yet to truly make any attempts to see past anyone's perspective but her own all easy-like to this lot of well-paid individuals and their promises of leaving his otherwise amicable companions unharmed? Forget this mistake of an accepted job ever happened and not even care about getting paid? Go home with only the regret that comes with an empty coin purse and perhaps a bit of judgment from Dhaunmyr and Solstice to worry about? Yeah, right. They'd all be dead bodies on the side of the road in the end. He exhaled slowly, choosing not to answer right away while the bigger, better armored one repeated his dislike for wasted opportunities, weighing his options of either escape or combat. There was no way he could fend off so many opponents alone, and while his diversion might have lasted a few moments, it wouldn't warn his companions. He needed to give everyone else time to prepare for the inevitable, but everyone back down the road behind him also needed to know what was waiting for them, what was waiting for Rinn's head. The hand that had come to rest on the hilt of his blade slid away, Kieran shifting on his feet and sucking in a breath through his teeth before he replied in a quiet, even sort of tone, "Y' don't say? Well ... truth be told, I don't really like t' work for free, neither." The half-drow was honest, speaking above the sound of his own heartbeat and willingly admitting to his connection with all the bravado of a street kid holding stolen goods in front of the Waterdhavian City Watch, just like he was used to. There was no groveling, no apologizing, no flinching, and no fear. The rush of adrenaline and the chill of his own personal set of rules and convictions sharp in the writhing darkness of his mind. Not an inexperienced bounty hunter and not unfamiliar with how to haggle or negotiate his way into a better contract or into slightly better terms for any given job, his real problem wasn't that he couldn't be charming so much as he preferred to be blunt and honest whenever he could. Lying always left a sour taste in his mouth, and so he just stuck to the truth, "An' here y' are tryin' t' behead me out 'f a payin' client—a client far too stuck 'n her own damn imaginary an' self-centered world t' be th' type that pays a deposit, y' get me?" A pale eyebrow arched and Kieran smirked, now quite aware of just how truthful he was being, even if it was only to conceal his intentions of warning the others should he not end up with a few blades and bolts in his body before it would even be too late, "If you're feelin' so generous as t' be askin' for m' assistance, which 't sounds like y' may be, then you'd best be willin' t' cover m' losses, too."Shoulder muscles tightened, tensing with anticipation of refusal and retaliation, but on the outside, he attempted to appear as calm and comfortable as possible.
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Post by sojourn on Jul 23, 2019 17:49:45 GMT
Gonna go for a big fat Persuasion roll for that speech. Gosh, I'm so nervous:
jjwl2|_81d20+21d20+2
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Rinn
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Post by Rinn on Jul 24, 2019 6:30:00 GMT
The two Zhentarim agents shared a look between each other, then the taller one shrugged his shoulders, and Seneca pursed his lips.
"Well then." The shorter man said, "I suppose we can cut you a deal. You can take the elf's coin purse. That'll have your payment, and probably more besides. We wouldn't want to cheat a fellow man of the world out of his fair pay."
He smiled ingratiatingly, and offered his hand, "Deal?"
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Post by sojourn on Jul 24, 2019 15:59:48 GMT
S urely, they knew that he was bluffing. Somewhere inside, that cold, sharp edge of fear dug a little deeper between his shoulder blades as Kieran watched the pair who seemed to be in charge of their well-armed entourage hidden from view exchange glances. He held his breath, quite certain they'd laugh at him and at least one of them would end up with his blades through the half-drow's dark skin, but instead, they shrugged and agreed. It was probably just another trap. It wasn't as though he trusted them to honor that flimsy promise of keeping any of his companions alive—did they really trust him to bring the high elf's head (just her head!) right to them for the contents of her coin purse singlehandedly? "Sounds fair 'nough t' me." He smiled, disguising his nervousness at it all behind the lopsided expression of shared humor, calloused hand reaching to shake the one that was offered to him as if this was the most natural and inherently genius idea he'd ever experienced out here on the open road under the employ of a stranger as an escort to keep her safe, not to behead her, no matter how godsbedamned annoying and infuriatingly biased she might have been. Playing into his own stereotype like a real underdark-bred asshole. Just another back-stabbing, murderous drow despite knowing so very little about his own heritage, half-blooded though he was. This was easy, right? Who didn't already think of him as incapable of mercy or kindness? Who didn't already assume him to stoop to this sort of savage level of breaking trust? It was perhaps too easy, really. This was the best protection he could offer and he'd already wasted precious time to warn them in uneasy conversation, but had he attempted to run, how far would he have made it at all? Releasing the shorter man's hand with a nod toward his taller counterpart, Kieran hooked a thumb over his shoulder and made an awkward, dismissive nod as if attempting to dismiss himself back the way he'd come from, "Alright. I'm jus' gonna act like I've not seen a thing, eh? Y' just go back t' hidin' an' we'll be sorted shortly. If not, I'll be dead an' you'll all get your way an' a bit 'f extra coin. Win win, that."
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Rinn
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Posts: 36
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Post by Rinn on Jul 27, 2019 13:05:52 GMT
That seems to win the Zhentarim over. They nod agreeably and let Kieran go, seemingly content to believe that the half-drow will sell out his fellows.
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Post by sojourn on Jul 28, 2019 13:35:17 GMT
K ieran walked away quickly, maintaining a confident sort of swagger until he was out of immediate view, keeping a watchful eye out to see if he was followed by any of the bodies he'd seen hidden by the road or trailed by someone he'd missed along the way. Eventually, his walking became jogging and then an open run, the half-drow swift-footed even here so far outside of familiar city walls.He'd been far enough ahead of their little traveling party and his companions that he was somewhat winded upon arriving, waving for the carriage driver to slow down but not at all asking him to stop, concerned to draw any suspicion should they stop traveling altogether. While he did a decent job of hiding too much worry from his face, panting as he stood in the road, there was plenty of worry in his tone of voice once he approached closer,"We've got a bit 'f a complication—" He announced with a huff, desperate to get all of the words out in the right order with the right sort of emphasis, calloused fingers curling into pale hair, before one of them made a gesture in the air, fingers pinching in an understated expression of just how big their problem actually was, "—an' one I'm not quite sure how t' solve. I bought us some time, m'haps, but not much else. I'm not even sure how much." He'd wait, holding his words like liquid fire behind his teeth, burning the back of his throat in their urgency, until the half-drow had the attention of not only Dhaunmyr and Solstice, but also an opportunity to make very stern, almost accusatory eye contact with Rinn,"Seems our precious cargo's pretty self be wanted by th' Zhentarim."He'd explain everything once asked, of course, without a hint of deception at all, breathless and obviously concerned, once he had the full attention of his companions. He'd counted their number, he knew their insignia, he'd struck his false deal, and he'd shook their hands. Kieran didn't have any shame about his deception of the mercenaries, not painting himself as a hero so much as a pragmatist. He'd not saved anyone. He'd just earned them a few extra moments to defend themselves, perhaps. If anything, much like his well-disciplined body, the half-drow's words were blunt and bludgeoning in their directness. He hid nothing, not wanting to waste time with suspicion in hopes of gaining trust with his transparency, all too aware of the assumptions already made about who he was and uncaring about the picture he painted of himself in the process. He might have smirked (just a little) when he admitted to agreeing to bring mercenaries Rinn's head for the mere reward of her coin purse as if he found it hilarious as well as totally unsavory, but then his violet eyes narrowed and his well-carved jaw set firmly, wanting to make sure it was clear to everyone he had no such intentions of betrayal:"They're not gonna keep any 'f their promises, but I've already decided where m' loyalties lie. Don't make me regret th' risks I took." And they were with the drow and the firbolg more than their employer, but he wasn't about to breathe that out loud. For all his dislike of the woman, he wasn't about to do the dirty work of the Zhentarim. No fucking way, "M'haps we can fight 'em, but it'll be a rough battle. I think we'll have t' get creative."
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Jarovbees
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Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
Posts: 706
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Post by Jarovbees on Jul 28, 2019 15:45:44 GMT
Solstice, awaiting the results of Kieran's scouting patiently, straightens and turns her full attention on him when he returns. His gait and general demeanor told her that he'd found out something before he opened his mouth to confirm it. At mention of the Zhentarim, her mouth curved in a rare frown, her eyes losing their merriment as she listened without interruption. Kieran's 'deal' was met with an approving nod; he'd bought them enough time to give proper notice and that was something she could appreciate. Transparency was definitely the right approach with her, and she flashed him a quick, grateful smile for his efforts.
Before he even finished speaking, Solstice held her holy symbol and concentrated. Casting Aid on herself and her allies, she filled them with a little extra toughness and resolve, courtesy of Mielikki and her oath. Another spell lingered in her mind as a means of further bolstering them, but given its shorter timespan and the need for her to concentrate, she decided to wait for the perfect moment to cast it.
"Well done, lad. It's not easy to pull one over on such ruthless folk. As for creativity...my people have a talent for illusion. I can disguise myself to appear as Rinn, down to the last detail. The issue is that it's a visual deception only and I'm considerably larger than her; the moment they touched me, they would realize the falsehood. Still, it could buy us some precious moments as a diversionary tactic, unless you've a better notion?" She glanced to either of them, open to suggestions.
(So, she cast Aid. Kieran, Dhaunmyr and herself have five extra hp.)
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