The Way We Were Waylaid, Wayward
Log Info
- Title: the Way We Were Waylaid, Wayward
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: NBraith, Carver, Dirk, Jay, Nemori, Zofija
- Place: Western Alexandros
- Time: Friday, July 08, 2022, 10:06 PM
- Summary: A small scouting party of wilderness folk sent into the western parts of Alexandros have failed to report back, missing their check-in date by more than a day. Concerns have been raised and a sizable search-and-rescue team is being sent to look for them.
Their exact location is unknown but they were expected to visit set markers determined by a cooperative effort between the Silver Circle and Yggdrasil Union. The mercenaries will be checking those points and their immediate surroundings for signs of the troupe.
Notable members of the western districts are donating wagons, horses, and supplies for the road.
Two sets of mercenaries meet and gather up onto their conveyances and mounts. They review missions specifics and setout for the Kultari Waypoint and enjoy some fun getting-to-know-you time on the road.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= At a glance around PrP Room: Five =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Braith 4'4" 196 Lb Storm Dwarf Female Armored Lass with a pair of Warhammers Carver 5'7" 133 Lb Human Female A plain-faced woman with a brown top knot. Dirk 4'11" 295 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A rugged old dwarf, dressed for the outdoors. Jay 5'9" 145 Lb Eaglefolk Male A perky male Blue Jay with a discerning eye. Nemori 4'10" 110 Lb Mul'niessa Female A tall and slender, dark skinned elf. Zofija 5'8" 225 Lb Hobgoblin Female A well-dressed Arvek-Nar with a big hammer. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Major NPCs =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Gitlweet Gobber Male A light-skinned gobber with freckles in dark clothes. Wizard's staff. Heady Wargolem ??? A headless mess of a wargolem covered in rust and patina. Kerry-Anne Human Female One-armed, well-built Eldanari woman with curly hair. Tamzin Human Female Rail-thin rake with a nice new leather jacket. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
It's early. Dark-purple-settled-on-blood-red-sky early. Vendors-pushing-squeaky-wheeled-carts-into-place-and-unpacking-wares-for-sale early. Guards-huddling-around-braziers-sharing-hot-drinks-and-grumbling early. Smarmy-smug-faced-Daeusites-out-to-smile-at-the-sunrise early. How-much-am-I-getting-paid-to-be-here-and-is-it-really-enough? early.
The muster point for the mission is just-outside the Phoenix Gate. The early-morning traffic is anemic and lackadaisical. The guards at the checkpoint only slightly less-so.
Two wagons wait, each behind a simple team of two draft horses. A hostler in patched overalls is onhand nearby with a menagerie tethered to a trio of hitching posts. Two horses, two ponies, a goat... even a shaggy riding dog waits with their tongue lolling out and panting eagerly. The handler chews a bit of straw as he checks saddles, bits, and bridles and soothes the eager animals.
A quartet of mercenaries is already-arrived, swarming on, over, and around one of the carts. A headless wargolem with a battered, patina-riddled armored hide, a glum-faced woman with a wooden arm, a freckle-faced and younger woman with a smart jacket, and a jabbering gobber with a shortstaff of twisted, blue-black metal.
Dirk comes rolling up astride his pony Thistle, decked out for a trip into the wilds. His mithril breastplate glistens like liquid silver in the rising sun, and his brand new thunderbelcher looks sharp from where it's holstered across his back. His owl Lulu perches on his shoulder, her usually wide golden eyes drooping half-lidded. This would -usually- be the time she'd be going to sleep. So for her, at least, the answer is no--no matter how much this job will be paying her master, it will -never- be enough. "And woah," Dirk rumbles, gently tugging back on the reins to bring Thistle's clop-cloppy stride to a halt. He tips back the brim of his tricorne, glancing around. "This all of us then, is it?" he asks, peering at the... eclectic (we'll go with 'eclectic') band of mercs on hand.
GAME: Nemori casts Endure Elements. Caster Level: 5 DC: 14
So early, that the early-bird has yet to show up for his worm. Then he does. Integrity C Truefeather, esquire, the 'C' is for crack-o-dawn, or perhaps coachman, struts through the phoenix gates and approaches the wagons. "Hey! Hey!"
He spots Dirk and waves, "Hey! No, there's a few more. The Lady Nemori is coming."
After this he addresses the other assembled mercenaries, "I'm a driver, if you need one. Integrity of the Wheel. What are your names?" He's not staring at the glum-faced woman's wooden arm like a woodpecker would, largely because he's not a woodpecker. He is staring though.
Braith makes her way to the Phoenix gate. She is humming to herself as she trudges along. She checks her pair of warhammers to make sure they are loose enough to draw when needed after keeping them a little more secured when in the city. She glances around at some of the others and then smiles a bit.
Zofija was not unused to early mornings, work in the skyguard often began before the rest of the city was waking, and the Arvek-nar military was even more strict in its schedules. She was usually up early anyways to tend to her griffon.
So she had combined the two this time, with the Arvek-nar already being present, and brushing the large bird-lion as she waited for everyone else to arrive. Screech was looking around, staring at all the newcomers, but otherwise was well behaved.
<OOC> Jinks says, "So, Jay, Nemori, and Zofi know Git. Nemori has met Tamzin and seen the wargolem before. Zofi can 2+2 and realize the one-armed woman is Kerry-Anne."
So early that the owls haven't gone home to roost. That's the saying as bungled by an incredibly drunk Carver. With her mousy brown hair an utter mess, bleary raccoon-painted eyes, and leathers and fur somewhere between off and half-on, she's a mess. By all rights, she's some befuddled mix of youthful rebellion, desperate middle-aged housewife, and grizzled homeless wino. She wags her wineskin about, her singing scratching at the sensibilities of all those around her. Like two hungry street cat's mid-coitus.
"Weeeee'd be a'right, if'n we had a coin to spaaaare.... roll the dice, oh-ho, roooll those dicies well."
She nearly stumbles right into a passing worker, straightening to stare dumbfounded at the wagons. "Whassis?" Nemori has made herself comfortable with minor abuse of minor magic, as usual. And as Jay said, she is coming. Once upon a time it may have been early for her; these days sometimes the best time of day to work in the smithy is at the earliest hours of the morning, so while it yet remains an unpleasant thing.. it isn't one she is unfamiliar with. As she comes upon the designated muster site, she gravitates towards the blue feathered egalrin while.. acknowledging Dirk. And the others.
Dirk looks over his shoulder as Jay arrives, reaching up to tip his tricorne. "Oy, Jay. All right?" Nemori gets a nod as well. Braith's appearance brings a bright, friendly smile to the old snowbeard's face. "Oy, cousin!" he booms, his mood lightened considerably. There's never a bad time to add more dwarf to a party. "Nice tae see kin comin' along on these journeys!" Carver, however, gets a squint-eyed look as she comes toddling along. "Och, beards o' me -fathers-, lass, stifle yer racket!" he grunts. Lulu fluffs up her feathers, twisting her head around to stare wide-eyed at the singing lass. "Hoo hoo!" she hoots sharply. With a muffled POOF, she fans her wings out behind her and stoops forward. Staring at Carver. -Judging-.
Zofija finishes her preparations, stowing the brush in a saddlebag, and adjusting the saddle itself for the last time. And this gives her time to look at the other mercenaries that were present, which gave them a slight scowl for a moment.
"I wouldn't be drinking before this travel, you know. The last group went missing, so we need to be ready for whatever happened." She warns Carver. "That goes for the rest of you, keep your eyes sharp and ears open. There's no knowing what happened, but we do know is there are lots of undead in the forests. We can't let them catch us off guard."
Braith dips her head, "Ello." she says and then chuckles a bit. She is not used to most calling her that, at least once they know more about her. She shrugs a little and moves a bit closer.
"I'm fine Dwarf! The Soldier's Defense kicked me out, said I was all recovered from the bloodmist." Integrity chirps cheerfully. He's looking around and his head suddenly snaps back to the gobber of the group. There's a lingering stare before he looks away. "Right, no drinking."
A glance at Nemori, checking on her, then his attention returns to the assembled group. "So will this be all of us, are we rolling out?"
The gobber has a goat! He's doing his best to make sense of the animal as he settles into the saddle. His staff is stabbing up into the air behind him, wedged against the seat, and it has his pack draped at an awkward angle that's bound to make one shoulder sore a few hours into a ride. A black shoulder wrap is twisted on top of a baggy purple shirt and his hands are hidden in an oversized pair of gloves. He's currently quite busy making friends with his steed. ("-- best goat, yes you are, yes! I know that man said your name is Jerrireis but I'm going to call you 'Goato.' You look like a 'Goato.'")
The wargolem is all but inert in the wagon bed, wedged in between a bag of supplies, folded blankets, a packed tent, bedrolls, bundles of firewood, and a healer's kit. Considering the creature makes it seem as if it's considering you. A strange little flickering white-blue will-o'-wisp sits in the broken cup of its gorget-neck where a head should be.
The older of the two women-- an Eldanar, likely-- sits staring ahead in the driver's seat with her one flesh-and-blood hand holding onto the reins. She has a strong jaw set into a low-jutting grimace and her shoulders are pushed forward.
The last, pushes away from the wagon to walk back and greet the six of you. Her dark expression turns confused boxed in by her sloppy, uneven haircut. Then, she offers and incredulous laugh and the widest of bewildered smirks. With her freckles and button nose she seems almost too-young to be out here.
"Well... I'll be damned. Are yer stalkin' me, bottle a beer?" she accuses Nemori. She points past the elf at Zofija's mount and marvels, "That's a fuckin' big 'orse."
"Oi, don't go waggin' your whiskers at me, graybeard, I'll dip you backwards in a tar pit an' throw a floff of chicken's at ya, give ya a 'REAL' beard an' a prettier mug!" Carver catcalls back, once she's aware SHE was the lass and it was HER racket that needs to be stifled. It's nonsense, of course. She's actually rather jealous of the older fellow's beard, but he can't know that. She brandishes her wineskin like an overly enthusiastic nun would her ruler, wielding it to emphathize every word, sometimes with a splash of whatever drank that got her drunk. It finally stops when the Arvek Nar speaks. "Wait, what?" She seems bemused by the news that this is a professional gathering but somehow is swept along in Zolfija's wake while biting her thumb at Dirk on the sly. Or maybe his owl, with those eyes a-judging.
Nemori's lips twist into.. something. "You presume stalking you is worth my time," she retorts, touching Jay briefly on his shoulder before climbing into one of the wagons. She's certainly not going to walk.
Dirk gapes at Carver for a moment. Then, his face turns red and his beard bristles menacingly. "Oooooh! You scrawny-arsed twiggy-armed beanpole!" he growls. "Don't you ever threaten a dwarf's beard, if ye know what's good fer ye!" Lulu click-clacks her beak at Carver. The -rudeness-, threatening her master's glorious beard like that! She drops her wing-fan and draws herself up tall and skinny, turning her body in profile as her eyes narrow. She has become the very picture of an Evil Thing That Is Evil, hissing menacingly at the young human lass. With an angry 'harrumph!', Dirk turns to urge Thistle forward. "C'mon, tallfolk, seconds count. We'll be wantin' a fresh trail tae follow."
Braith shakes her head a bit and chuckles to herself. She just moves on with some of the others, absently playing with some of the beads in her braided hair. What she found funny she just keeps to herself.
"Alright, alright, let's not have things fall apart before we're even past the city limits." Zofija grunts, adjusting the hammer on her back in a slightly threatening, mostly idle way. She looks to the girl, and shrugs. Screech meanwhile seems much more insulted, and transfixes the girl with a large yellow eye.
"Easy there, Screech." The Arvek-nar offers placatingly, patting the griffon on the flank. "Sorry, they're not a horse, they're a griffon, and prefer to be recognized as such. Not a horse. We're a day late, so trails aren't going to be fresh anyways most likely, but still, the more daylight left for searching, the better."
"Sure, lets go!" The bluejay says, hopping up beside Nemori on the wagon and settling into the driver's seat. Lulu's antics draw his attention, the owl has some useful skills, especially that glare. He'll have to practice that for the well of the court. "I'm ready."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Dirk and Zofi brought their own mounts. Jay is driving the second wagon and Nemori is in it. Are other folks riding in the wagon or grabbing mounts?" <OOC> Braith says, "jump in wagon" <OOC> Carver says, "Will bow out."
"Is a griffon like a grifter, eh, squire?" the girl wonders of Zofija, scratching at the side of her head and finger-combing her messy hair. "... know a few grifters." She tilts her head and considers the curious mount further. "Won'erful ter meet yer, Reachy. I'm bloody well Tamzin," she adds thumping two fingers to her chest.
Her hands find her pockets and she starts jogging backwards as the wagons and mounts get to moving. "Boss's Kerry-Anne, junkpile's 'eady." She turns and jogs past the gobber, mussing his hair before pointing down at the shrinking fellow. "Blokes call 'im Git."
Of the other three, the goblin is the only one to turn back and wave-- though he double-takes and frowns at Zofija. "HMPH!" He makes a point to grunt as loudly as possible before slapping the reins. "Let's go, Goato!"
The goat doesn't move.
Tamzin jumps up into the driver's bench to Kerry-Anne's left, leaning in and whispering something to the driver.
'Goato' continues to ignore the gobber.
"Does anyone know why we are travelling with that street filth?" Nemori asks, voice pitched low for Jay. "I have little trust for them. Particularly that one," she adds, gesturing with her chin and eyes towards Tamzin. Though she does fabricate a smile for the street girl and her new jacket. "Is this another mission sponsored by their mother?"
"M'arse is NOT scrawny!" Carver's yowled rant is cut off short, as everyone moves away to get to business, leaving her red-faced and angrily asserting as to her well-endowed femininity as she is left in the fading distance by the adventurers. She 'actually' wasn't part of the hired help.
<OOC> Jinks says, "If someone would like to retroactively say they poked around for some info about the job I don't mind accepting a diplomacy roll or two. Probably not from Nemori since she asked the question. ;)" GAME: Jay rolls diplomacy: (8)+0: 8
"I don't," Jay says, leaning towards Nemoria and speaking with a small beak. "Gits committed some serious crimes, allegedly, but may have gotten off with a warning. I don't know the girl; she seems to know you. Who is her mother?"
Commenting on Carver's ass seems like a dangerous trap, so he doesn't. Besides, it lacks feathers. He peers at the golem, "is 'Eady ready? Active?"
"He's fine." Kerry-Anne finally speaks up, a remarkable edge to her voice. She turns to look at Tamzin leaning in close to her so that their noses almost touch. "We're all. Fine."
Tamzin sits back and gives Git a glance. Git's already looking that way and shrugs.
Braith settles into the back of the wagon getting comfortable and watching out the sides...or maybe she is sleeping, hard to tell unless you get close enough. She hasn't fought anything in a while so she is trying to keep herself under control.
"A griffon. It's a magical creature, one of those raised by the skyguard in the myrrish kingdoms. And no, he doesn't have any intentions of trying to con money out of anyone here. Food, maybe, but that's where it ends. And I hope none of your companions have any intent to do that themselves." She adds with a glance back to the gobber.
The Arvek nar hops and pulls herself into the saddle, and with that she's off at the side of the caravan, keeping an eye on one of the flanks. "Talk might not work Git." She grunts. "Try squeezing with the sides of your legs, and keep a firm grip on the reins."
"I'm fine too!" Integrity states happily, "So, who has the list of markers we're supposed to visit? Any idea of how many people we're looking for? Names, professions?"
Dirk hasn't met this particular band of mercs before. But he -does- know Jay and Nemori both. He'll defer to their better judgement. He glances hither and yon, eyes flicking around as they ride along the trail. "So where exactly were these scouts out scoutin'?" he inquires. "Might be helpful tae know exactly where it is we're goin'. As yon lassie says, there's been loads o' deaders shamblin' about lately. Don't want tae get caught wi' our trousers down."
Nemori waves her finger, draped low with her wrist relaxed. "Mama bada or Bada Mama or some such," she answers Jay. "The one she works for. Some street mother or some such." Her narrowed eyes give lie to the casualness to which she refers to Tamzin and her boss. "I would keep my eye on them, Integrity." She avoids looking at Tamzin and her cohorts again.. and avoids warning anyone else who wasn't in earshot of the muffled conversation.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Sense Motives for me, folks." GAME: Jay rolls sense motive: (14)+10: 24 GAME: Zofija rolls sense motive: (9)+1: 10 GAME: Braith rolls sense motive: (6)+1: 7 GAME: Dirk rolls Sense Motive: (4)+2: 6 You paged (Jay, Zofija) with ‘There's obviously some tension between Kerry-Anne and Tamzin.’ You paged Jay with ‘Tamzin seems genuinely worried about Kerry-Anne. Kerry-Anne is mad at Tamzin for something.’ GAME: Nemori rolls sense motive: (6)+3: 9
The bluejay listens to Nemori's quick summary, and indeed keeps an eye on them. His attention focused primarily on Kerry-Anne and Tamzin. He watches them, head tilting to one side, then the other, finally he raises his beak a titch to whisper to Nemori.
"I don't know who Mama Bada is. There's some obvious tension there. Tamzin seems genuinely worried about Kerry-Anne, and she's mad at Tamzin for something."
"Well, we're going out of Alexandria, for sure." Integrity laughs, turning to stare at Git's Goat. He squawks, "Giddyap!"
GAME: Jay rolls profession/teamster: (11)+10: 21
Git frowns at Zofija but accepts her advice grudgingly. The goat beneath him shifts a step. It finally gets to moving when the light-skinned gobber calls it by its actual name (Jerrireis) and urges it on again. He's more than a little crestfallen that 'Goato' seems to be an unacceptable moniker.
As for information? Details? There's a dossier in the form of a scroll. The scroll has the mission vitals. The scroll is clamped down in the wooden hand at the end of the wooden arm folded and resting in Kerry-Anne's lap. Tamzin fishes it out gingerly and rolls back into the wagon over the packed sacks. She moves carefully up onto a crouched stance and navigates to the back edge of the wagon.
The young woman telegraphs the toss more than once before throwing the scroll back to be caught.
There are three names and brief descriptions:
Oncith Jocan, Sylvanori Hunter. Blonde-hair and gold-eyes.
Ilythyrra, Sylvanori Warden. Brown-hair and green-eyes.
Corhim Peddleleddelle, Gnome Essence. Green-hair and hazel-eyes.
There route is also described by a list of markers:
Kultari Waypoint
Dern Gorge
Coastal Head
The circuit usually takes them three days at speed. You're leaving on the morning of the fifth day since their most-recent departure.
<OOC> Jinks says, "And now Kn.Geography and Kn.Local" <OOC> Jinks says, "Kn.Religion" GAME: Zofija rolls knowledge/local: (14)+8: 22 GAME: Jay rolls knowledge/local: (14)+10: 24 GAME: Nemori rolls knowledge/religion: (17)+6: 23 GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Geography: (16)+8: 24 You paged (Jay, Zofija) with ‘Everyone who's been west outside of the city knows the Kultari Waypoint. It's impossible to miss and is currently serving as a major point of interdimensional travel with the wards up in the city. 'Dern Gorge' is a bit of a local legend: rumor has it that a gnome exploded a cave system to kill a dragon and ended up collapsing the whole thing into a gorge. This opened up a path into the underworld that caused all kinds of problems.’ You paged Nemori with ‘The Hunter and Warden are servants of Gilead. The Essence follows Dana.’ You paged Dirk with ‘The Kultari Waypoint is right on the western road outside of the city. The Dern Gorge is a recently-named feature but you can find it. The Coastal Head are cliffs overlooking the inmost sea near the Mythwood.’
Dirk studies that list of directions, tugging thoughtfully at his beard. "We'll hit the Kultari Waypoint first," he muses. "Dern Gorge might be a wee bit of a challenge wi' the wagons an' our beasts. Might could be one of 'em had nasty fall. Same wi' the cliffs at Coastal Head. Hopefully we can pick up their trail. If we can do that, I can track 'em."
You paged Nemori with ‘Addendum: it will likely be very hard to track this trio if they don't want to be tracked. Given their specialties.’
"Gilead and Dana's do...." Nemori catches herself, taking a second to adjust her tone. Erase the almost sneer. "Devoted. If they do not wish to be found... this group is unlikely to find them," Nemori warns, her voice raised for general conversation now. Perhaps even a bit higher so it can carry further. "Even with your.. vaunted skills, Dirk."
"If they went missing near the kultari waypoint, someone probably will have seen them. There's a rest stop there, and lost of traders and diplomats use the area for teleportation, since it's outside of the Alexandria wards." Zofija points out. "So, we can ask the people there if they saw anyone matching those names or descriptions."
"As for Dern Gorge, sounds like your usual gnome boasting, acting like they killed a dragon as a way to explain a natural cave in. No way to tell for certain what happened, but I doubt it still. What I do know is that all sorts of nasty creatures can show up in the area from the collapsed caves, so the group may have ran into something bad there."
"We have a long way to go, lots of days on the road. That's good, the two people over there have time to talk over what's bothering them. Seriously, just using words and talking over your problems can go a long way."
"I've been to the Kultari Waypoint a bunch of times, going back to Blar." The bluejay adds, "Before it was used for the teleportation hub, it was a medical quarantine camp, a bunch of soldiers from Blar and Bludgun were brought there. Allegedly."
"I haven't been since the wight flight happened, did that make it abandoned?" He muses. "Well, I guess we'll find out if we're going ther. Coastal Head I've never heard about, but it sounds like a peninsula on the coast."
"Anyone know what these Scouts were looking for in the first place? Checking for Heth's forces? Something else?"
Tamzin crouches at the back of the other group's wagon now, leering and grinning at Nemori as if the pair are sharing some sort on inside joke. She looks at Jay driving, Dirk and Zofija on their mounts, and cranes her neck to consider Braith hunched down in the bed.
"Them right do sound like a bunch of 'do-devoted,' right, don't they?"
A thick eyebrow quirks up at Zofija. "I knew a gnome gnamed long-legged Larry, right? He could jump so 'igh 'e'd grow a strange-and-weird--" she strokes at her chin-- "in the air. Yer can't 'ave a knees-up wivout a joanna. Are yer sayin' that's a boast? Ain't true?"
"No you didn't!" Balks Git, turning wide-eyed at Tamzin. "Did you? She didn't, right?" He looks back at the five (mostly-)strangers. "Is there one of those big rocks that look like a head at the last place?" He turns to face ahead after almost falling out of the saddle. "I've never been outside of Alexandria before..."
Kerry-Anne draws in a deep breath and sighs. This draws a concerned look from Tamzin- distracting her from answering Jay for a moment. Ultimately, she manages a side-eyed look at the egalrin: "I fink they were 'ave a lookin' for corpses, yes."
Dirk gives Nemori the hairy eyeball, those shaggy caterpillars he has for brows furrowing. "You've not yet seen me in me element, lassie," he grumbles. "When I'm in the wood, on the hunt, I can track better'n any hound who ever lived! An' we've got Lulu tae help us spot 'em, if needs must." Lulu, who has been busily trying to get some owlish beauty sleep, hoo-hoo's wearily. No, they are most -certainly- not getting paid enough for this. "But aye, inquirin' at the waypoint seems like a good place tae get started, I'll warrant."
"Okay then, Into the Woods!" Integrity says cheerfully, setting his wagon in motion. "Lady Nemori, did you bring a crossbow, for riding crossbow?"
Looking ahead, he sounds serious, "Collecting bodies seems like a good idea, mostly to keep them out of the wights' hands, and hopefully not for 'projects'."
He looks at Gits for some reason. "I don't remember a big head. What sort of head? Human head, egalrin head? They look quite different."
"Well, Kultari waypoint is a good place to start." Zofija shrugs. "It's on the way, and we can decide where to go from there. Wouldn't be surprised if it's still running, for people that are looking to get out of Alexandria with magic. If that's the case, it'll be heavily fortified."
"And if not, well, we can figure out what happened there, and go from that. Remember, we might run into undead out here. Always be ready to run if we have to."
Nemori gives Jay a slow shake of her head. "I did not. I would probably injure someone accidentally if I did," she adds. Then very carefully doesn't look at a specific few people. "Accidentally." She tips the brim of her hat down a little, in preparation of shielding her eyes from the sun should it make an appearance later in the day, then folds her hands in her lap. Dirk just gets a toothy smile, white teeth set against dark skin, in response to her confidence, then she looks ahead. "I agree. The way point sounds like the best place to begin."
Git doesn't know but he's happy to explore the possibilities with Jay. When he's not trapped in a basement in need of a wee and threatened by a disarmed zombie the curious little man isn't the worst conversationalist. He decides his favorite two options would be 1) a golem head or 2) a dragon head. (since Zofija brought up dragons)
Tamzin seems to be disappointed she didn't get a rise out of Nemori with her latest jab and retreats back towards the driver's seat. She settles in next to Kerry-Anne and rides in silence.
...
The sun is well in sight and still-climbing when the two-wagon caravan carries the group into view of the Kultari Waypoint and those familiar with the place are in for a surprise. More than a half-dozen suits of armor glint and gleam in the morning sun near the road. A new jagged stone feature juts up to barricade the backside of the encampment while fresh and sturdy palisades encircle the flanks.
Smoke from several fires within the space climb lazily into the air and banners of the Society for Progressive Arcanists, Alexandria's regular military, and a handful of knightly Orders flap from within.
There's an electric-blue flash as the most recent teleportation spell is completed and the world temporarily shifts into black-and-white. Someone from within the fort begins calling out for the next scheduled transport.
A massive, armored thing in a plumed helmet comes pounding across the road on a destrier layered with plated barding and decorative caparisons. The figure considers your approach for a moment before deciding you need not be challenged. They turn and the horse pounds down the road in the opposite direction. They lift a jeweled gauntlet and two archers overlooking the palisade lower their weapons.
End Part One
Dramatis Personae
Braith, Armored Lass with a pair of Warhammers
This young dwarven lass stands just over four feet in height and bears a strong muscular build, the kind that her people are known for. While not overly muscular, she is hearty looking and stocky. Her skin is a rich copper in color, looking like she spends a lot of time out under the sun, burnished by its rays. A thick mane of red caresses the top of her head, streak of black running through it here and there. The locks are pulled back and braided into easily a dozen different braids, three to either side and the rest running down her back. There are intricate white beads woven into each braid, not a lot of them, but each braid has a few. A pair of golden brown orbs dart about taking in the details of her surroundings.
She wears a well made breastplate that covers her chest and back, leaving her arms bare. Resting on each hip is a finely crafted warhammer.
Dirk, A rugged old dwarf, dressed for the outdoors.
Here stands a sturdy, solid example of the Khazad people. He's big and broad for his race, standing just under the five foot mark, yet is half again as broad as the average human. He's clearly gotten on in years, yet he carries himself with all the spry vigor of a youth. A snowy white mane of hair tumbles to his shoulders, while his majestic beard is worn gathered into two tails that reach his barrel chest. His deepset eyes of rich honey brown are framed by deep, craggy lines and shadowed by shaggy brows. A set of three thick scar-lines track down the right side of his face, cutting a notch out of his brow and lending a slight squint to his eye. His voice is a deep, gravelly baritone, and he speaks with the typical dwarven brogue.
His clothing and accouterments mark him as a man of the outdoors. He wears a sturdy, well-forged breastplate over a heavy cable-knit sweater of a deep hunter green. Over his shoulders, he wears a heavy cloak and mantle of deep blue. Sturdy brown trousers are tucked into heavy hobnailed boots. An embroidered blue scarf is worn around his bull neck. Atop his head he wears a well-worn old tricorne hat cocked at a jaunty angle, with a small golden cockade pinning a white plume to the brim. He carries an immaculately maintained thunderbelcher slung over his shoulder. A leather satchel is slung over his chest, resting against his left hip, while a smaller hip satchel is hung from his belt on the right. A keenly sharpened handaxe is tucked into his belt within easy reach. He's rarely seen without his broad-bowled pipe tucked in the side of his mouth.
He lumbers about his business with a broad, easy-going smile creasing his features. Despite his rugged appearance, he's quite polite, quick to tip his hat and offer a boisterous greeting. Despite his thickset appearance, he's light on his feet and moves with practiced grace.
Jay, A perky male Blue Jay with a discerning eye.
Integrity C. Truefeather, esquire and supra-genius is a Blue Jay Egalrin lawyer. He stands tall and proud, sharply looking around for a situation he can jump into and provide counsel. His leather armour is padded and puffed, cut for avian lines, with bolas and a rapier on his belt. He wears a blue lupin on his lapel. His crest is long, ready to pop up at any objectionable thing. He is full of energy, standing and strutting about with style and flourish.
Jay looks at you.
Nemori, A tall and slender, dark skinned elf.
The long pointed ear marks this woman as an elf. The deep brown colour of her skin and the uneasy aura about her mark her as mul'niessa. She stands a few fingerwidths short of five feet tall making her slender build look almost, but not quite, gaunt. Her shoulders are narrow, her hips are barely pronounced, but there is enough definition to keep her from being mistaken as a male. All in all, 'skinny elf lass' wouldn't be an unfair description.
Her pale grey hair has been sharply plaited into three braids running from her temple to coil with the hair at the nape of her neck to form a thicker, mixed braid, making the sharp, tapered ear all the more visible. The rest of her hair is pulled over to the other side, shielding the right side of her head and a small portion of the right side of her face from view. The rest of her features fall short of beauty thanks to a nose that's a touch too long, pale blue eyes that are a fraction too wide, cheeks that are just a little bit too sharp. Faint lines around her mouth do indicate a habit of smiling, but the way her eyes tend to narrow when she does so one could be forgiven for wondering if she smiles for the right reasons.
She wears a bright white collared blouse underneath a sleeveless black leather vest. Both are unlaced to a half-handspan below her collarbone, revealing the silvery metal of a mithral shirt beneath. A pair of snug, walnut-hued leather trousers tuck into a pair of knee-high, black leather boots which are secured to her lower legs with a pair of steel buckles. The soles are thick, adding perhaps a thumb-width to her height. A black swordbelt supports a rather plain looking rapier at her hip and a handful of small pouches. Pockets at either of her hips provide a little bit of additional storage. Lastly, a wide-brimed, slightly pinched at the top hat helps provide some shelter from both the sun and lighter rains. She typically wears it slightly tilted to provide a little more room for her exposed ear. The hat itself is black, with a blue ribbon tied around the crown.
Zofija, A well-dressed Arvek-Nar with a big hammer.
Zofija stands at slightly above average for an Arvek-nar, but she is even more muscular than most, which is an impressive feat for the military minded race. Their skin is a light orange-brown, brightening to almost white at the tip of their nose. Their hair is short length and brow, and just a bit wild when not covered by a hat. The arvek-nar usually has a stern look to them, with yellow eyes that almost seem to be judging the person looking at them.
She is usually dressed much how one would expect arvek-nar cavalry to be. A fur lined black jacket draped over her right arm like a cloak, over top of a dark red coat hiding the chainmail underneath. A pair of cream colored slacks accompany the outfit, but they are covered up partially by a pair of almost knee height riding boots of oiled black leather.
