Whuridred

2017-04-01T18:53:07Z

Sebropert:

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<p style="color: #cc5511; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: 10px solid #664433; text-align: center; font-size: 300%;">Whuridred: The Maiden of Iron
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<p style="color:#cc5511; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">About My Character</p>
Dwarves are notoriously difficult to kill. A hardy race, they are known for their skill in taking down foes much larger than themselves. Indeed in the War of the Three Anvils the Khazad-Ur had to build golems specifically to slaughter their own brethren. Dark iron constructs designed to kill, and even capture, any mountain dwarf they came across. Few were built, and in five hundred years time these creations were but a foot note in a greater conflict where Iron allied with Shadow.

One such metal hunter resurfaced thirteen years ago, its visage only recognizable to the most ancient of Khazadi, as it spent the better part of five centuries dormate beneath the halls of Khazad Duin. As it slumbered amidst the old wealth and magic of the Khazadi-Aul, it took within itself life. Remembering bare snippets and flashes of memory from its past, it named itself Whuridred, the maiden of iron.

Even though it was awake, it spent several years resting where it woke, buried beneath rubble and a fallen stone column. In quiet contemplation, pinned to the ground, it watched the small creatures of nature scurry about and live in the underground place. Glowing fungi grew, and small pools of water gave life to tadpoles. Good and ill, they lived and died under its studious eye. Unseen was within itself, as its innards quietly repaired themselves.

When one day it could move all its limbs again, it dug itself out of the pile. Time and memory remained shattered in its mind, and the length it spent wandering the tunnels immeasurable. In the dark it came upon one of its masters, and in recognition he commanded it to obey. Want for purpose was not enough to make it do as it was told. It killed the Ur and continued to wander, for it was as now free as the creatures that lived in its resting place.

Once topside, it came to find that many living things populated the surface. Some squat and ornery as its former masters, and some of a myriad other forms. It watched and learned. Thinking beings do not kill without cause, unless they themselves perish. Thinking beings congregate, as to increase their odds of survival. Life is a many splendered thing.

With these thoughts in mind, and a very loose sense of time, Whuridred has become a more full being. It has grown a fondness for discovering what makes things tick, but instead of the mechanical as much of her brethren, the organic is its focus. It takes detailed notes of flora and fauna it has studied, and has even taken to using the defense mechanicisms of these creatures to protect itself.


[[image:Whuridred1.png‎|750|right]]

<p style="color:#cc5511; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Roleplay Hooks</p>
* While Whuridred does not really speak, she is an accomplished scribe, and literate in many languages.
* Has some memories of the War of the Three Anvils: Were you alive then?
* She keeps detailed notes on magical creatures: Environs, habits, capabilities, and even medical dissections.
* Khazad-Ur built war golem designed to kill Khazad-Aul: Do you hate her just for being made?

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[[Category:Player]]


[[Category:Getting_Started]]
[[Category:War_Golem]][[Category:Khazad_Duin]][[Category:Druid]][[Category:Danan]]

File:Whuridred1.png

2017-04-01T18:42:18Z

Sebropert:

Whuridred

2017-04-01T18:41:17Z

Sebropert: Created page with " <div style="clear:both;"></div> <div style="padding-top:20px;">center</div> <div style="position:relative; top:-280..."

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<p style="color: #cc5511; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: 10px solid #664433; text-align: center; font-size: 300%;">Whuridred: The Maiden of Iron
</p>

<div style="margin: 5px;">
<p style="color:#cc5511; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">About My Character</p>
Dwarves are notoriously difficult to kill. A hardy race, they are known for their skill in taking down foes much larger than themselves. Indeed in the War of the Three Anvils the Khazad-Ur had to build golems specifically to slaughter their own brethren. Dark iron constructs designed to kill, and even capture, any mountain dwarf they came across. Few were built, and in five hundred years time these creations were but a foot note in a greater conflict where Iron allied with Shadow.

One such metal hunter resurfaced thirteen years ago, its visage only recognizable to the most ancient of Khazadi, as it spent the better part of five centuries dormate beneath the halls of Khazad Duin. As it slumbered amidst the old wealth and magic of the Khazadi-Aul, it took within itself life. Remembering bare snippets and flashes of memory from its past, it named itself Whuridred, the maiden of iron.

Even though it was awake, it spent several years resting where it woke, buried beneath rubble and a fallen stone column. In quiet contemplation, pinned to the ground, it watched the small creatures of nature scurry about and live in the underground place. Glowing fungi grew, and small pools of water gave life to tadpoles. Good and ill, they lived and died under its studious eye. Unseen was within itself, as its innards quietly repaired themselves.

When one day it could move all its limbs again, it dug itself out of the pile. Time and memory remained shattered in its mind, and the length it spent wandering the tunnels immeasurable. In the dark it came upon one of its masters, and in recognition he commanded it to obey. Want for purpose was not enough to make it do as it was told. It killed the Ur and continued to wander, for it was as now free as the creatures that lived in its resting place.

Once topside, it came to find that many living things populated the surface. Some squat and ornery as its former masters, and some of a myriad other forms. It watched and learned. Thinking beings do not kill without cause, unless they themselves perish. Thinking beings congregate, as to increase their odds of survival. Life is a many splendered thing.

With these thoughts in mind, and a very loose sense of time, Whuridred has become a more full being. It has grown a fondness for discovering what makes things tick, but instead of the mechanical as much of her brethren, the organic is its focus. It takes detailed notes of flora and fauna it has studied, and has even taken to using the defense mechanicisms of these creatures to protect itself.


[[image:my character.jpg|thumb|right]]

<p style="color:#cc5511; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Roleplay Hooks</p>
* Roleplay hook
* Roleplay hook

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[[Category:Player]]


[[Category:Getting_Started]]

Character Pages

2017-04-01T18:35:25Z

Sebropert:

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{{CompactTOC}}

[[Category:Player]]

==A==
* [[Aasir]]
* [[Abigail]]
* [[Abrahil]]
* [[Aenyn]]
* [[Aegremar]]
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==B==
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* [[Bennet]]
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==C==
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==D==
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==M==
* [[Margaret]]
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==N==
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==O==
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==S==
* [[Lady Sandiel]]
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==T==
* [[Tak]]
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==U==

==V==
* [[Vasya]]
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* [[Vennan|Vennan Hartose]]
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* [[Vuk]]
* [[Verna]]
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==W==
* [[Whuridred]]

==X==
* [[Xiuhcoatl]]

==Y==
* [[Younger, Bruce The|Bruce the Younger]]
* [[Yngvild]]
* [[Yelrona]]

==Z==
* [[Zahara]]
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[[Category:Community]]

PrP: Silent Incursion - LTP

2017-03-17T00:39:20Z

Sebropert: Created page with "=======================> 16) Silent Incursion - LTP <======================= Open/Closed: CLOSED: This event is only for the Confirmed players below. However, you can still ..."

=======================> 16) Silent Incursion - LTP <=======================
Open/Closed: CLOSED: This event is only for the Confirmed players below.
However, you can still sign up for this event with +event/signup,
to let the GM know that you're available if one of the
Confirmed players doesn't show up.
Poster: Sebropert*
Start Time: 05:00:00 PM (LOCAL), Saturday, March 04, 2017 (14m 22s)
Location: RP2 - Hextus
Level Range: 2-3

Long Term Party - Plot to begin for those that showed interest in a long term party for weekend
play (with occasional weekdays).

Out of the frying pan, into the fire, a group of unknowns find themselves in the middle of a meal
they might not be able to swallow.

[[Sebropert]] GM, [[Donna]], [[Orenthal]], [[Delilah]], [[Miriai]]

Violet lights now hang over a plain near distant Alexandria, the ground wrecked and ravaged by creations unknown. Distant rumors across the many nations have sent forth explorers, adventurers, mercenaries, and those of less good intent seeking another such find. Each with their own purpose or story.
Hextus. A small port nation sitting in a most opportune, but dangerous local. Squashed between the Dreadlands, the sandsea of Veyshan, and the infamous Charn Dominion, Hextus has become a place of trade, wealth, and shady dealings. Ships land from all across the Inmost Sea. The sun stands just passed noon, the ocean winds fights the desert sands that spray in from the south. The Bazaar is in full swing, people and beings milling about, haggling, and shouting. Tents display brightly colored cloths, foods, and jewels while their owners shout out deals and offers.
Orenthal originally came here to see about the trade opportunities, but the risk vs reward doesn't look like it's going to work out. The place is a little too shady for a businessman like his father. But there's always opportunities for someone with quick hands and a glib tongue, and so Orenthal is listening to the goings on and trying to locate some of those opportunities.
Normally, Miriai would not be anywhere without His Lady Aznara present. But she was perfectly safe where she was currently at and she asked him to scout ahead and investigate whether there was a need for the two of them to operate together in this new area. The trip here was one where Miriai kept to himself, kept quiet and mostly just watched everything and everyone. He stands in the Bazaar and lets his ember-like eyes slowly swivel left then right then left then right. He's a bit different a model as many of the other golems out there. Sure, he's large and bulky, but he looks more like a magically animated statue than a clockwork man. . . covered in armor, carrying a shield and his axe slung at his waist.
Through the markets, a pair of nearly-identical young woman walk, by dress and mannerisms alone clearly not from this part of the world. "...Sorry, D," says the black-haired twin. "I thought this *was* the right ship, I think we turned too soon on the docks." She brings an oversized, spike-knuckled gauntlet comes up to scratch at the back of her neck. "Shouldn't be too hard to get back though, right? Just a job or something to get passage fare."
"Honestly," replies the second of the two twins, "This is hardly the first time we've taken a wrong turn, in some form or another. Remember a certain forest, after we left Rune? ...I'm sure that was my fault somehow, anyway." She brushes her fingertips through her golden hair, which aside from the colors of their respective getups is really the best way to tell them apart. "A job or two should cover passage though, definitely. Maybe a little extra. ...Which would be good, because I'm hungry, and I'm betting you are too, Donna."
Hunger, business, scouting. The best place for all the bazaar. Titillating scents travel on the wind and drag at the tightening coil in the pits of the stomach. Hunger growls. Hunger makes one do things one normally wouldn't.
Moving swiftly through the crowd, a boy no taller than four feet, bumps into Orenthal as he calls out to a distant friend. "Many apologies good sir," he says, whipping off a large floppy hat to give a bow, with the hat to his chest, and his other hand behind his back. He sweeps the hat back on, and then continues his swift path away... but not before Orenthal notices the weight on his own belt has gotten significantly lighter. Gold lighter. Thief.
Orenthal grah, pickpocketed! Normally he doesn't carry his cash there, but he's a merchant's son just now, and not working for the Explorer's Guild on some dark plot. "Stop, thief!" he calls out, and attempts to run after the thief.
The cries of 'Stop Thief!' get Miriai's attention. He turns his head and diverts his attention towards the crier. But then he attempts to track the thief. His eyes rove about, trying to pick out details such as... whomever might be moving through the crowd with haste as if trying to escape. But he does not -move- so much as just... look. It's not like he is the most perceptive individual. But he does try.
Donna's head perks. Thief? Frowning, she narrows her eyes, scanning the bazaar on the lookout for the disturbances that a running thief would naturally cut in crowds this packed and vocal. "...Keep your gun tied, D," she mutters. "Last thing we want is for *that* to get stolen too."
Turning, Miriai begins moving. His plan is to plot an intercept course. To reach a location where this kid happens to be moving towards. If he plans it correctly, he'll be stepping into the kid's path moments before said thief gets there... blocking and looming over him. "Stop. Thief." he states emotionlessly.
Delilah sucks in her breath, then heaves a great sigh. "Yeah, that'd be inconvenient," she agrees, making sure the knot on her holster is good and properly tied. She stands up on tip-toes, trying to get a better look as if that would help her clap eyeballs on what was going on. "...Oh, look," she points out, "The golem over there seems to have things well in hand."
Orenthal skips through the crowd with surprising agility ... for a merchant. He skips around a cart, and tries to go around... no, that doesn't work. Two fat men meet right in his path, and as he attempts to shove his way through, he gets exactly nowhere.
"Pardon me." says Miriai as he moves through the crowd. As gently as possible, he uses his shield or his right hand to lever people aside. But after a few times doing this, he raises the tone of his voice and yells, "EVERYBODY MOVE!" And it's like a moment out of a romantic action comedy fantasy movie as the crowd parts like the red sea.
That reveals a row of carts with boxes atop them. He moves... walking and then jogging before trying to go up and over the boxes. He clears the carts and smashes through the boxes. Pieces of wood and contents of said boxes crash to the ground as he keeps moving along.
The chase is on, the youth ducks down, his floppy hat and feather a banner atop his head, flapping in the breeze. He clears the crowd, slips through the tents, but an attempt to swing up onto a ledge leaves him rolling in the dirt. Forced to take a new path.
Orenthal scrambles up some boxes, sending them tumbling down behind him as he gains altitude. He spots a path between two tents, but it looks too small for him. He growls a quiet curse and looks around for his quarry.
There. Donna's head whips toward the furrow in the crowd leading the two larger, and thus more visible, chasers, and claps Delilah's shoulder. "There," she says, nodding in the direction, and speeds away. Weaving through the crowd, she spots the running child and lowers her shoulder to plow into him... But gets jostled aside, sending her stumbling past the thief with a growl of annoyance.
Orenthal spots an alternate route and hustles through a flap, emerging on the other side and looking for his quarry, trying to gauge his progress.
Delilah rushes off after Donna, threading her way through the crowds, though she skids to a halt further back. Undoing the knot on her pistol doesn't take long; and as she draws it she pulls back the hammer with a loud click. "I think this whole thing's gone far enough," loudly declares the golden haired twin, after the thief manages to avoid getting flattened by her sister. She lifts the weapon and levels it square at the approaching thief's forehead, right between the eyes. "How about you stop right there and nothing bad happens to you? Better odds than you'll get from the guard, kid. Better take 'em."
Seeing the kid up ahead, Miriai turns his head left, then right. Kids to the right. He turns left and begins running. His feet step over the lip and he tromps through the water. Splash Splash Splash... and then he crests the other edge and skids to a stop, dripping water everywhere as he turns to face the thief. "STOP. THIEF. You may return what you stole and depart. Or you can resist and I will hold you for the local constables."
The thief seems to be making good speed after his tumble, but the wily golem finds the best shortcuts. In the crowd two sisters stand, and one makes a move to stop the thief. With a stiff arm and a spin he moves around her, rolling back to back with her before heading forward straight into... the barrel of a firearm.
Whelp! Time to turn around. Right into the big golem that has been chasing him. And not too far behind the man he stole from. Crud.
Orenthal and these other helpful people have run down this little bilge rat, and as he catches his breath, he holds his staff threateningly. "You can return my coin now, guttersnipe, or I'll beat your backside like you've never had before and you won't be able to sit for the rest of your life." He'll reach out to try and take it from the kid, now that he's got his breath back.
"He's got a gun in his face," says the dark-haired twin, pushing off the edge of the cart that she'd folded herself over after her aborted tackle. "Pretty sure he's not going anywhere." Dusting herself off, she moves back to stand next to her sister. "C'mon, kid. Game's over."
The young 'guttersnipe' lifts both hands up in the air, a small pouch of coin held in the left. The right is missing both a pinky and a ring finger. "Okay, okay. Anything but the guards. There is nothing you can do sir that they ain't already did," the thief says as he waggles the two little stumps at his captors. "It’s all der," he says as he gives a short move of his wrist to toss the bag on the ground. "I swears I was only trying to eat."
Delilah isn't about to keep a gun on the kid for overly long; she gives it a quick spin and shoves it back down into the holster. She opens her mouth to say something, before clamping it shut at the sight of the two excised fingers. "Yeah, well, we might understand a thing or two about trying to eat." She reaches behind her back, under her cloak, and her hand reappears holding a reddish apple, that admittedly does have a small bruise on one side, which she tosses to the kid. "I know that's just an apple, but it'll push the hunger back while you can figure out a better plan."
Orenthal grumbles as he picks his purse up off the ground. As Delilah gives the child an apple, he says, "I'd have given you some coin /if you'd asked/. And now, if I catch you again, you'll -wish- I was the guards." He snarls threateningly, though he can't really match a gun to the face. To the saviors of his purse, he says, "Allow me to treat you all to dinner, then, in thanks for your help."
Lifting a silver coin from a slot where he keeps his coins, Miriai says, "You should not steal. But you should eat." That said, he turns his head, eyes angling towards Orenthal. "I accept." he states emotionlessly.
Donna glances at the apple Delilah tosses to the kid, then up at Orenthal, visible eye narrowing briefly in thought. "One condition," she grunts. "Get the kid something to fill his belly for the day too."
The thief, no more than thirteen, catches the apple with what looks to be passion. A rare fresh treat the likes he does not see often. Such sudden changes to kindness he has never seen. "Um," he pauses. "Thank you! I don't..." He looks both ways, and the sight of guards pushing through the crowd to investigate the commotion sets him scrambling. He bolts, but he calls over the crowd. "I'll pay you back! Abrosh pays back his debts!" And he ducks into the crowd.
Orenthal says to Donna. "If that is your wish, how can I refuse?" He goes to lead the child to a nearby food stall, but the child is gone as quick as that. He can only shrug to Donna, and Miriai gets a quizzical look. But he says, "My inn is this way. The food there is very good. For here, anyhow...."
Emotion is something Miriai is not familiar with. But he shrugs his large shoulder. Then he merely nods and moves to fall in behind Orenthal.
Delilah holds up a hand, "Wait--" And then, the kid is gone. She swiftly reties the knot on her pistol, since there's absolutely nothing to be gained by getting into trouble for that. "Well... so much for that, then. An Inn sounds nice; certainly beats sleeping in the streets."
Donna grunts her agreement, lifting a shoulder as the kid runs off without getting his meal. "Lead the way, then."
Orenthal will lead the way back to his inn. It turns out to be quite a nice one, in a slightly more upscale area. As upscale as the area provides, at least. His Tradespeak carries an Alexandrian accent, and he admits, "I am not from here, as you may have guessed. My name is Orenthal, though I would be pleased if you called me Ren as my friends do."
Not far from where they stand now, the Three Trumpeters Inn sits. It is a relatively nice place, with two stories, and a balcony on the back that faces the bazaar.
Within there is a small hall, filled with merchants taking it easy from the day. A stairwell at the back of the room leads up to a common area for those that have rented rooms, and further in there are rooms.
The innkeeper is serving lunch. A simple, but heavily spiced stew, and a brew made from fermented fruits. "Sit sit, I will be with you!" A fat cook calls, as he starts filling bowls with the fragrant mixture.
Following inside, Miriai steps aside from the door. He holds position there and theni says simply, "I am Miriai." It is an Elven word meaning Guard. Yeah, that's all. He's a golem, totally emotion free for the most part. "I will have some stew. Some mass for maintaining my body." he adds.
Orenthal arches a brow at Miriai, and says, "I wasn't sure if we were gonna have to find you oil or what, but I'm glad to share a meal with you. And glad that you helped run down that scamp. My father would have been quite upset had I lost it. It's not his money, it's mine, but that's how he is." He sighs a bit and heads into the dining area, finding a table that will fit us all. He smiles at the cook and says, "The food really -is- good here, surprisingly."
"Donna," The dark-haired twin says as they're waved to their seats. Nodding to the blond next to her, she continues. "Delilah. Not from around here either, looking to get home once we've scraped up some money."
"He was a thief. He needed to be stopped." offers Miriai simply. No comment on the oil or whatever. He definitely doesn't appear to be a machine. As indicated, he looks like a magically animated statue. But deep down? Who knows?!
"At least it's been fun so far," Delilah points out. "We ran down a thief, and nobody got hurt. All in all a pretty good day, I'd think." She clasps her hands behind her head, and hmmms, "But before we go any further, stew and a brew would be fantastic, I think. What do you think, Donna?"
A grunt comes from the dark-haired twin. Clearly, it's easy to see which one does the talking of the pair.
Orenthal smiles at his new friends, and says, "Well met! And fortune favors me at last, after a week of dismal prospects. Meeting you three has been the high point of my week. This area has many riches
I could sell in Alexandria, but there are too many like the boy, who would steal the green off gold if he could for half a groat." He sighs. "The risk outweighs the profit, in that, so I guess I shall have to return home empty-handed, myself."
"My Lady may be joining us soon." offers Miriai. He merely stands there and watches while he speaks… sparingly. He steps forward when food comes out, and takes a bowl of simple stew. "Thank... you..." he states, still learning manners it seems.
Aaaaand now the talky one has gone to freshen up. Donna slumps briefly, not happy at the prospect of having to carry conversation, but rallies. "...Supposed to be in Gustav by now," she says, sipping from the cup handed to her. "Got on the wrong ship."
Orenthal pushes a chair out with his foot, and says to Miriai, "You're welcome to sit down with us, if it won't break the chair. And your lady is welcome to join us. I didn't know golems ... were like that." He apparently is assuming Miriai is referring to a wife, or someone like that. To Donna, he says, "That's a tough break. If I may ask, did you have business in Gustav, or... ?"
"I may be too heavy for your chair. But I thank you for your invite." says Miriai as he moves forward. But he pauses, "Were like what?" he asks. "She is My Lady whom I serve. She woke me from my long sleep and I keep her safe when she is adventuring."
The cook places bowls and mugs before each member of the party, his apron barely containing the girth of his waist. Oiled stains mark the apron, and he smells heavily of spices and smoked meats. He leaves them to their food. Small groups throughout talk. One about trade, another about mercenary companies. Yet another about a lack of mail out east. Messages go out, but don't return. Of course oddities from Charn are nothing new. There is even a young couple having a semi-romantic lunch at a table alone.
Donna lifts a shoulder. "Guild bill, not much else. Probably they've already got more to fill it, but still gonna need work if we want to get back to Alexandria."
Orenthal nods to Miriai, looking a bit puzzled, but nodding along. "Ah, I see. You must be an esteemable companion, then," he decides. He mmms as the food arrives, and serves himself and passes the dishes along as he nods to Donna. "Explorers' Guild? I am sure they will have some work here - there is always work for adventurers, I have found. And if not, there are certainly bandits, and stealing from them is fair game."
"I am loyal." says Miriai as he eats. He does so slowly and methodically. "While I await My Lady, I will do my best to protect those I travel with. I am a guard golem. It is my design to protect others."
"Bandits," Donna snorts, one corner of her mouth curling up. "Not stealing if it's bandits. They deserve what they get, too."
Orenthal grins widely to Donna, and agrees, "It's just as you say." As a merchant's son, he's got a special grudge against bandits in general. "My father would give a bonus for each bandit killed on all his caravans." He nods slowly to Miriai. "That's good, then! I'm glad you were close by, and were able to protect me today." To protect his money, anyhow.
"Bandits most definitely deserve what they've invariably got coming to them," agrees the returning Delilah. She grabs a chair and drags it up to the table to sit beside her sister, whom she gives a playful swat on the shoulder. "That might not be a bad line of work, up here, you think? Go take care of a few bandits, swipe their ill-gotten clobber and get paid for it?"
"Bandits most definitely deserve what they've invariably got coming to them," agrees the returning Delilah. She grabs a chair and drags it up to the table to sit beside her sister, whom she gives a playful swat on the shoulder. "That might not be a bad line of work, up here, you think? Go take care of a few bandits, swipe their ill-gotten clobber and get paid for it?" She leans back in her chair, and stretches lightly. "Don't worry about it, Ren," she adds. "Always a pleasure."
"Those who prey upon others illegally should be stopped." says Miriai as he destroys more of the stew. "I and my axe will lend themselves to this task." he states.
"....Clobber," Donna sighs. "You've been hanging around the Oxley place again, haven't you? Like a fight as much as anyone, but that place'll just get you mashed under a chair, D."
Orenthal nods to the others, and says thoughtfully, "You know. We might turn a nice profit out of this little trip after all. If we choose our quarry carefully." He winces at the mention of the Oxley place. "That place is awful on so many levels."
The sun pulls across the sky in its heavenly chariot. The dark comes as they while away the hours, the small group talking amongst themselves. So much passes around them, the lunch crowd leaves and the dinner arrives. A new meal arrives. Bandits and brew, the patron of the inn comes to the table. "Meal, meal, all to the room friend? I think your guests will be needed a room too, yes?"
Donna sets down her spoon, the bulk of her stew finished off in silence and speed, and looks from the patron to the merchant, one eyebrow rising. "Hunh? Oh, right." She digs into a pouch, spends a half a moment checking to see how many coins are (or more accurately, are not) left inside, and produces a couple. "Yes, we'll definitely be needing a room," she agrees. "My sister and I will share one."
"Not profit what is important to me." there is a pause after Miriai says that. "Upholding the codes and laws is." His head turns and he says, "I would appreciate a place that I can rest."
Orenthal nods to supper, and nods at rooms for his guests. "Two rooms, I think," he guesses, one for the sisters and one for the golem and his mistress if she arrives? "Next to mine if you have them.
On my tab, indeed. These are my close friends!" He smiles to the others. "The first batch of bandits we take down will certainly pay this bill and more besides, do not feel indebted to me. We will all make money together!"
A friendly agreement to work together for fun, law, and profit. A recipe for trouble if ever one had been made in an inn. But for now, sleep. The sun set, and rooms purchased, the weary comrades move upstairs. Up the staircase, past the common area and its balcony. The rooms are spacious, and well decored. The Three Trumpeters does not disappoint. Wash basins and beds of real down feathers bring swift sleep to all involved.
Eluna sits high in the sky, shining her cheshire smile down upon Ea, but her peace is interrupted in the deep night. Calls in the air. Faint at first. Lights flickering in the distance. While this town has its nightlife, this takes a tone decidedly away from fun. They are screams of fear and agony. Loud enough that even the densest creature would be woken in their night clothes to hear it.
Orenthal wakes up in his nightclothes. "Huh? What?" he asks the darkness, reaching for his sword to fend off the demons attacking him. Or something. He rubs sleep from his eyes.
Donna shoots upright at the piercing scream, kicking off her sheets and darting to the window. Heedless of the fact that only a thin, light nightdress separates her from the cooler evening air, she sticks her head out well past the windowsill, eyes flickering back and forth for the source of the trouble.
Delilah, predictably, pulls the pillow over her head and mumbles something about making porridge for the neighbor’s crocodiles in the morning. Then there's a louder scream, and her eyes snap open; she bolts out of bed so fast she falls on the floor, then reaches for her pistol which isn't handy, and then by the look of the runes flaring to life on her arm, very nearly sets the interior of the Inn on fire. "What in hell?!" She scrabbles back up to her feet and, wearing a nightgown quite similar to Donna's, rushes to the window. "What's going on?"
Going from inactive to active, Miriai tromps his way to the door. He doesn't say a word at this time, but he's armored, has his shield and axe at the ready as he tromps down the stairs from the sleeping rooms. Golems don't really sleep after all.... they just take some downtime state. He's heading out the front door if he can make it that far without a fight.
The twins standing at the window dressed as they are might normally rally cheers and catcalls, but the sight outside speaks to the locals being a bit preoccupied. Fires burn through the eastern side of the city while people flee this way and that, seemingly without order or direction. Humanoid figures march behind them, hoods and masks hiding their faces, and their blades slaked with recently spilled blood. The bazaar below has become chaos.
Outside in the hallway of the inn one can hear the tromping of the large golem, working his way towards the stairwell. The building seems unmolested by troops yet, but a broken window and a fire burning the stairwell to ash alludes to the use of alchemist's fire.
Of course there are no demons in Orenthal's room, but the flickering of red through the window might lead one to believe demons were outside. The screams of anguish certainly confirmed the theory.
Feet tromping on the flames, Miriai tries to stamp out whatever flames might be present. But then it's downstairs and out into the streets. He's looking for friendlies that he might be able to assist… or enemies who require trouncing.
With a muttered curse, Donna pushes away from the window. Her trousers are snatched up from her pile on the floor and pulled on, the nightdress deemed sufficient enough for the moment. "Delilah," she says, snatching her heavy gauntlets from the end-table and shoving them over her hands, "get your gun. *Hurry.*" With that, the dark-haired twin seems to eschew the stairs altogether, taking hold of the windowsill and vaulting over, waiting until she's at the full length of her arms before dropping to the ground.
Orenthal recovers his wits quickly enough, and pulls his chain shirt over his head, straps on his sword belt, and goes out in his nightclothes apart from that. He heads down to see what might be done about whatever's going on.
Delilah dashes back from the window, hurriedly shoving her feet into her boots and snatching up her pistol. "Yeah, I'm definitely getting that impression," she agrees, after echoing Donna's curse.
For once, there's no snarky or vainglorious comment from the golden haired twin; she just slings her ammunition bandoleer over her shoulder and following suit with her sister, out the window and lowering herself until she can drop safely to the ground.
The 'men' take to the hallway, their path blocked by the raging fire that nips and bites at banister and step alike. The common room is empty, and the doors to the balcony hang open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. Still, they are armed and armored and ready for a fight.
The twins work to take the more direct route, armed but certainly not armored in the nightclothes plus either a pair of pants or a pair of boots. The trip out the window is cut short by the fact that the balcony extends across the entire back of the building. From the railing they can see better the raid that sets the city ablaze. The wind whips in their air, and smells of ash and decay.
A nearby rooftop is only meters away, and a ladder to their right. But down, down is the problem.
Silent troops slaughter civilians, and city guard fight with what little skill they have. A solitary figure stands at the opening of the main road, his wrinkled skin lit by fires. Purple robes flap against the breeze, and piercing blue eyes watch the carnage with glee before he turns and walks away.

[[Category:Logs]]

Recent Logs

2017-03-17T00:33:31Z

Sebropert: /* March */

A Fault in the Plan

2017-01-27T16:51:30Z

Sebropert: Created page with "{{DivGray-Start}} ========================> 13) A fault in the plan <========================= Open/Closed: OPEN: This event is open to any player who wants to sign up using..."

{{DivGray-Start}} ========================> 13) A fault in the plan <=========================
Open/Closed: OPEN: This event is open to any player who wants to sign up
using +event/signup. There may be limited space, so signing
up does NOT guarantee you a spot in the event.
Poster: Bjoric*
Start Time: 09:00:00 PM (EST), Thursday, January 26, 2017 (6m 42s)
Location: rp2
Level Range: 6-10

The earth shook and cracked, and the moan of the deep cried out. What was that flash of light?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= At a glance around Plot Room: Two =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Aya 55s 4'7" 105 Lb Shadow Elf Female
Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing.
Bjoric 0s 6'0" 195 Lb Human Male
An aged Aesir with many tattoos, and a beard of white.
Elisabeth 32s 4'8" 100 Lb Human Female
http://tenebraemush.net/images/c/c7/Elisabeth.jpg
Selerik 3m 6'0" 150 Lb Human Male
Spoony. So spoony.
Stjepan 1m 8'0" 534 Lb Giantborn Male
Big, blonde jotun.
Whirlpool 3m Lb Otyugh
I am stinky!
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

=================================================================================

No guild called. No bulletin board with flyers. The world demands aid sometimes with no notice.
First the earth trembled. Trees dropped their leaves, and wild life fled. The ground opened its maw,
and through the gash let forth the howl of the gods themselves. Light from within the cavern below
wells, and sends a purple flash high into the night, cascading off particles of dust to leave an
aurora high in the sky.
Adventurers, treasure seeks, the good, and the bad sped to the disaster. Each for their own
purposes. Atop a cliff one small group, built by plan or happenstance, looks down at the chasm in
the distance, the deep purple light pulsing within. The aurora lights their faces in violet glow. {{DivEnd}}

Fresh from the workshop, where he was rengineering his armor, Fazahd arrives at the rise while
having run here from the city's lower quarter. He is, one can imagine, very tired in the moment -
but he does not let it keep him . "Well, then," he says, voice echoing through amplified vents in
his helmet. "That is...unusual."

Elisabeth eyes the chasm from the cliff atop which she stands. "Very", she replies, simply, as she
eyes the purple-lit area between the cliff and the chasm. "Have either of you heard or noticed if
anything came -out- of there?", she asks of the others with her.

Selerik is actually on his way to try finding Fazahd. "Hey Faz, I had been thinking about that other
day with the barrel and..." He glances over, following Fazahd's gaze. "When did that happen." Yeah
he has no idea.

{{DivGray-Start}} Deep in the distance, at the far end of the crack, several dome shaped objects crawl out of the
ground. In the dark they seem black, but once fully out the flashes of light reveal shiny and chrome.
The distance is deceptive, but they are large. Several arms reach out of each, and sparks of
mauveine light in short bursts at their ends. Across the great vast several more can be seen working
in different areas of the newly created valley. {{DivEnd}}

Pulling off her helmet, as if doing so will get her a better look at what she sees, Elisabeth asks,
"... Do you see them?", as she uses one hand to point at the things. "They appear to be some sort of.
.. artifice...?"

{{DivGray-Start}} You paged Fazahd with 'From this distance it is hard to see, but they are most certainly tearing
apart the ground. The arms have saw blades, earthmovers, and the sparks are some sort of
arcanolectric discharge. Welding tools perhaps. Tough construction. Large constructs. Very old
school.

You paged Selerik with 'Once in a tavern, a particularly drunk dwarf raved about the ancient
builders. Mad mages built diggers that could change a landscape in mere weeks. He wove a tale of
cold mechanical swiftness.' He called them Formers. {{DivEnd}}

"They're construciton engines," Fazahd says, frowning at the machines that emerge from the earth.
"Quite old. Their tools are going to be quite lethal, however, should we have to deal with them in
combat." A beat. "Though they might be old enough that I can speak with them in the tongue of
Kulthus. Shall we go down?"

{{DivGray-Start}} You paged Elisabeth with 'It is a distance so you can't read, or make it out, but lines on the
silver domes is not separations in the metal, but large writing splashed across them. {{DivEnd}}

Selerik squints at what is taking place. "Is that... Really?" He looks over to the others. "I think
those might be Formers, a type of ancient creation by mad mages used to reshape the world. In, uh,
the image as imagined by mad mages. So don't expect them to be sane, Faz."

"There seems to be some kind of writing on their backs, although I can't quite make out what it
says", Elisabeth adds.

"Because naturally the only constructs that we would meet in the wild would be crazy," Fazahd
mutters. "I'll leap down and then try and talk to them, if you don't mind?"

"Perhaps we should stay together, rather than split up like that?", Elisabeth suggests.

"Fair enough," says Fazahd. "Let's get going." He leads the way, activating machines on his person
as he goes - and using a wand, it appears, which is socketed into one gauntlet for ease of use.

Elisabeth nods, then tugs her helmet back down onto her head as she follows after Fazahd. Hurrying
to catch up to him, she asks, "It appears that those things make use of constrained lightning. Shall
I ward you against such, as preparation for possible combat?", of the artificer.

As she walks along, Elisabeth lays a hand on Fazahd's shoulder and speaks a prayer: "Morning Lord,
as your light brings peace to still mornings and shines through to signal the end of a storm, I ask
that you grant this man a measure of that peace and tranquility, that the energy of the storm's
lightning find less purchase upon him."

Selerik stays a short distance behind Fazahd. Not that they're a body shield, or anything. "I've got
your back." Certainly not that.

Staying behind Fazahd, but before Selerik, Elisabeth utters another prayer, as the group grows
closer: "Lord of Light, grant me your wisdom and insight, that I may understand the words I see."

{{DivGray-Start}} As Fazhad approaches the Formers, they show little to no reaction. A single stalk rises on one to
turn a crystal eye towards the adventurer. Its arms continue to work the earth, and it does not seem
to care that the artificer is approaching. Rocks and trees are consumed, disappearing within its
body. Only the dregs are pushed out the back, leaving a trail of useless refuse.
Centipede like legs move the construct about. When Selerik and Elisabeth are notice they start
moving faster as one of the two Formers turns in lace. Its arms pull back in a defensive position. A
series of whistles and clicks rises from its innards.

You paged Elisabeth with 'The words seem to be instructions. One line lists types of precious metals.
Another describes in detail how to separate gemstones from ore. One section discusses combat, and
another alternative functions. There is a part about day and nighttime activities.
The whistles and clicks were speaking. It said "What are your intentions? Unit 82 is currently commencing
with construction. This area is dangerous. Please exit." The section on combat discusses its tactics in
actual combat. Including calling for assistance from actual combative Formers. This Former's man purpose
is work.' {{DivEnd}}

"Thank you, Unit 82, for your caution for our safety. May I ask what it is you and the others are
constructing, here?", Elisabeth asks, as she comes to a halt, raising her voice so as to be clearly
heard. She's speaking... to the big, mechanical centipede thing, too. "Or is there a foreman
available to whom I can direct my question, so as to not delay you in your purpose?"

Selerik also has Elisabeth's back, as it works out. He speaks quietly to her. "You're doing great.
They're used to mages, to authority from superiors. Be sure to show control."

{{DivGray-Start}} The domed artifice is silent for a long moment, as if processing Elisabeth's words. Finally with a
whir the unit speaks again, whistling and clicking rapidly. Its many arms pull into its body with a
hiss. Centipede legs wriggle and writhe under the dome, like a artifice rolly-polly. Turning the
shining thing moves towards the crack in the ground at a reasonable clip. The other unit continues
its work, ignoring the group completely. {{DivEnd}}

Stjepan watches with interest, taking the most care not to step on anything or anybeing. "What're
they for?"

"They're... building. It didn't say what, but I think it's taking us to visit with a foreman, as I
requested of it, who can answer our questions", Elisabeth says, starting out after the mechanical
critter.

{{DivGray-Start}} You paged Elisabeth with 'Unit 80 through 90 are collecting materials for repairs. Unit Alpha must b
repaired. Foreman... *bzzzt* Fo-foreman. Are you foreman? This way please Foreman. Progress at two
percent of required activity."' {{DivEnd}}

"... and I think it's mistaken me for a foreman, actually...", Elisabeth adds, quietly, after
listening to the thing's whistles and clicks.

{{DivGray-Start}} The lights within the chasm flicker and shine. Inside the hole a large number of small constructs
collect the materials the larger Formers are dropping down to them. A line almost like ants forms
downward to something deep at the bottom.

You paged Selerik with 'There is a path that is been roughly cut into the side of the chasm off to
the right.'

You paged Elisabeth with 'From behind you can read more of the script. This thing can fly.' {{DivEnd}}

Selerik looks between the others a few moments before pointing off to the side. "I see a path there,
over to the right. We could walk down instead of... Whatever the alternative is."

Stjepan squints for a moment, watching. "I do, too." He nods. "I can fall lightly, but I'd rather
not have to." He turns off towards the path, and makes to lead the way.

"Unit 82", calls out Elisabeth. "We will take the path down. Please await us at the bottom", she
says to it, before turning to head for the path the others have pointed out to her.

{{DivGray-Start}} The dome opens up along a seam along the center of Unit 82. Beneath the two half-shells thin
gossamer wings made of golden fabric extend and begin to flap. The construct's flight is clumsy and
slow, but its descent will bring it to the bottom long before the walkers will get there.
The path is coiling, but relatively safe. The smaller creatures move out of the way as the
adventurer's walk, as they seem to have little use for the path. Climbing down the sides of the
drops with ease. Half-way down a small portion of the path has collapsed. In the distance you can
see that this has happened several times, leaving empty space between where they stand and the next
portion of the path. About six feet separates this first jump. {{DivEnd}}

Elisabeth pulls her shield from her arm and stows it on her back, to free both hands. Ushering the
others back a bit, she clears a little distance before the gap... then trots forward before leaping
across to the other side of it.

Stjepan cheats, just a little, since he's a bit bigger than the others. Relatively speaking, even if
he totters a little, he's just taking a hop-step. Up in space.

{{DivGray-Start}} You paged Selerik with 'You hear a sound directly above you. One of the Formers is dumping a load
straight at you. Roll a reflex.' {{DivEnd}}

Selerik claps his hands together. "That's it, just have to judge the distance and not hold back when
you commit." He glances upwards a moment, suddenly moving forward with urgency. "Like this!" Off he
goes through the air, evading falling debris gifted directly from a helpful Former above.

{{DivGray-Start}} The earthquake had opened a chasm in the ground, forming a valley. Many had come to investigate
long before the guild would offer work. Having passed their first true obstacle, the adventurers
come across a pile of debris that seems to have grown some braided hair. A groan comes from
underneath of another adventurer that had tried to search the chasm on their own. {{DivEnd}}

Elisabeth goes quickly to the pile of debris, saying "I'm here to help. Are you awake in there?",
as she reaches down to pull up some piece of debris to toss aside, trying to free the covered-up
person enough to let him/her breathe.

Stjepan grunts. "Here." Then, he gets to freeing the person underneath. Two people, better than one.
Especially when one of them is a giantborn.

Selerik doesn't help. Probably because he has spindly little spoon arms. Instead, he keeps his eyes
to the sky for more falling debris. "Have to say this is a first..."

Aya would have been perfectly fine, if not for the shoddy construction. That accounts for the
timbers which fell upon her and graced her into semi-consciousness. Whether they fell on her here,
beneath the surface, or she and they fell through a crack above... isn't immediately apparent.
Now able to see and stands, Aya rises to her feet with a grimace and brushes bits of debris from her
clothing. "I'm fine," she insists.

"You aren't badly injured, then? Are you well enough to continue on with us to the bottom?", asks
Elisabeth of Aya, once the woman's been freed of the debris that'd buried her.

{{DivGray-Start}} Deeper down the thing at the bottom of the chasm can be seen. Massive and chrome it looks to be a
partial constructed scorpion. Gargantuan in size it bristles with tubes, rods, and what looks to be
cannons. The small bots collecting the debris are bringing it here to be welded back in place. Unit
82 sits silently waiting at the massive monstrosity's immobile feat.
Again a bit of collapsed path blocks the way, much further than the rest. A steady stream of sand
pours from the edge into the depths below.

You paged Selerik with 'There are a few rock columns that are getting pretty slender from the
digging. Probably why the path is crumbling. This place is not very structurally sound.' {{DivEnd}}

Selerik eyes the area, gesturing to a few spots in the nearby rocks. "This isn't going to be good if
we linger, the natural supports are all thinned from the digging. We need to go deeper or turn
around." He glances around. "And I know which way you're going to choose.

Stjepan looks over the side, and watches the the scorpion for a long moment. "That's going to be
interesting." He gestures. "We'll need to jump, though."

"Well", Elisabeth says, pursing her lips. "Do we have time to set in pitons and rope?", she asks
after a heartbeat or two, directing the question to Selerik.

Selerik glances back to Elisabeth. "They won't hold here. Up or down, choose quickly."

"Well... let's back up and make the jump then!", Elisabeth says.

Aya shakes her head and rolls a shoulder. No sever injuries, but not quite severe interest. She
stops with the others at the minor obstruction. "After you," she steps back to give Elisabeth room
and gestures to the gap.

Stjepan springs over the next gap, knees flexing.

Elisabeth trots towards the gap... and, on her second to last step, her foot skids six inches. She
gets the other foot down and heaves heavily off of it. She lands on the edge, just barely, and
pinwheels her arms a bit to catch her balance and, successfully, avoiding falling backwards and off
after the leap.

Since rope can't be anchored in the soft, sandy walls, they are of little help. Fortunately, Aya
could easily jump the distance. Could, but she doesn't.
Why? Because she can cross more just as easily. Her form darkens in an instant to utter shadow
before discorporating into wisps. The reverse occurs near Unit 82, as she coalesces anew.

{{DivGray-Start}} The rest of the path is uneventful for the others. Of course Aya took the shortcut. Unit 82
suddenly comes alive at the arrival of an unknown. Its many arms rise out of its body in a defensive
stance. Whirs and clicks rise in the cavern, bringing the attention of another artifice construct
that until now didn't seem to be doing much of anything. An almost crab-like creature, its single
crystal eye glows dimly with periwinkle light. A large clawed hand clacks menacingly as it moves in
Aya's direction, who of course is still quite a distance from her fellows.

You paged Elisabeth with 'Unit 82 calls out. "Unknown. Unknown. Protect Unit Alpha. Foreman,
Foreman!"' {{DivEnd}}

"Unit 82! Stand down! No threat posed!", Elisabeth calls down from up on the path, cupping her
hands around her mouth to project her voice towards the caterpillar-like Unit 82.

Stjepan watches, carefully, to see if the units obey their forewoman.

{{DivGray-Start}} The bug-like unit chitters at the crab, which closes its claw and settles down into position. The
Unit clicks and whirrs at Aya and then pulls its many arms into its body. Moving forward it heads to
what looks like a small hut built under a rock overhang, and waits. {{DivEnd}}

Stjepan turns, and keeps descending, after seeing that.

Selerik just focuses on trying to make sure nothing else falls on them. After that near miss earlier,
he is looking up like a worried field mouse.

Aya steps back from the automaton as it threatens; wary, but not fearful. After the call from above
and the standing down, she, too, now waits. Once the others get nearer, she admits, "It takes orders
rather well. Where did you find this thing?"

Elisabeth, too, resumes heading down towards the bottom. "Good thing it actually listened to me...
!", she comments, quietly. "It's one of the worker drones from above. Daeus lent me enough of his
wisdom to, for the time being, understand its language. Luckily, it understands me, as well", she
explains once at the bottom and Aya's asked her question. Turning to look up at Unit 82, she says,
"82, take us to the Alpha Unit, then instruct workers to shore up and strengthen the walkway down
which we came, using least-needed materials for that purpose."

{{DivGray-Start}} The unit's eye stalk rises and turns to the little hut. A whistling sound that seems almost sad
comes out of its innards. Finally a few whirs and clicks and it crawls away to send small workers to
shore up the pathway.
The hut itself is made of scrap metal, with a small window and door cut into it. More of a way to
have personal space than to be a shelter. It smells odd. Acrid. Dusty.

You paged Elisabeth with 'Unit Alpha is inside Foreman. This Unit will get the path fixed. There are
non-essential workers not fulfilling the primary objective.' {{DivEnd}}

Stjepan shakes his head as he follows, "It was tired?" He scratches his chin, and continues to
descend.

"82", says Elisabeth before the machine can move away, to get its attention. "What is your primary
purpose?", she asks of it.

{{DivGray-Start}} The unit pauses to click at Elisabeth before continuing to fulfill her request.

You paged Elisabeth with 'Finishing the construction of the Annihilator Unit of course, Foreman.'{{DivEnd}}

Selerik is keeping focused on keeping the others safe, not paying attention to the interactions with
82 so much. He glances over to Stjepan. "The next one might not buy what she is selling, be alert."
After Unit 82 leaves, Elisabeth quietly asks, "... anyone know what 'the Annihilator Unit' is?...",
as she turns to moves towards the little hut. "Unit 82 says their primary purpose is to finish its
contstruction."

Selerik says, "Going on a limb that it isn't to deliver hugs and kittens."

Aya's eyes shift from the unit, to the now-still crab-like one, to the nearby hut. Her gaze makes a
slow survey back and further until it reaches the others. "It may only be following her commands
because it was told to... or not told to ignore them." A shoulder rolls and she gestures to the hut.
"It doesn't sound inviting, even less than that looks." Of course, that's where it seems somone, or
something that may know could be.

{{DivGray-Start}} The door to the hut opens easily, almost falling off its hinge. Rust has turned it to dust. Inside
is a small office, perhaps that of the original foreman. Who is still inside. A decrepit skeleton
sits in a chair, laying face first on a desk. Rotting papers, and documents with blurred writing are
stained a dusky brown. Two small drones sit beside the skeleton, ineffectively trying to figure out
how to repair the skeleton with metal parts.

You paged Selerik with 'While everyone looks at the skeleton, on the back wall is barely legible
plans. You can roughly make out a picture of the hulk of junk out in the cavern. You may not
understand it all, but it is obvious it can eat the landscape and use it as ammunition. A machine of
unending destruction.' {{DivEnd}}

Stjepan pauses, then considers. "Someone better with being careful might want to look at those
papers."

One snowy brow arches at the sight. "Well, that could explain the lack of competing orders..." She
steps up towards the table, opposite the alleged foreman and would-be repairers to look to the
table's contents.

Selerik winces at the sight. He sidesteps the table and the corpse, heading to examine the back wall.
"Hrmm... Okay..." He squints at the details on the faded picture there, tracing lines in the air
with his finger. "So the thing outside must be what they were talking about. It looks like it eats
the ground." He tilts his head. "Aaaand uses it as some sort of ammo. That doesn't sound good." He
glances back to the others.

"Drones... report to Unit 82 for instructions on construction detail", Elisabeth says, after a
moment's pause on seeing the skeleton. "Daeus, lends us your light", she then requests... and the
inside of the hut brightens, so that it's easy to see inside it, now. "...and, Morning Lord, lend
the breath of life to these things, that they might not suffer the ravages of time so badly", she
adds, before leaning down to, lightly, blow air across the papers on the desk.

Stjepan nods, waiting for the magic to happen, arms folded across his chest. He stations himself at
the door -- he's security for this salvage operation.

{{DivGray-Start}} You paged Elisabeth with 'The documents restore a little bit. They are really old and damaged. The
rough gist of them is missives ordering the construction of a massive weapon. Once finished it would
cleanse the topside.'

You paged Stjepan with 'Now that you are looking out, the crab 'robot' is standing outside the hut.
Waiting silently.' {{DivEnd}}

Aya's eyes narrow at the sudden brightness. "I could read just fine, before... and, no, that doesn't
sound good at all." She keeps her eyes lowered to the table, but she is not an expert at artifice,
and technical drawings would mean little to her.
page Sure, why not.

After about ten minutes of blowing on, looking at, and setting aside the paperwork, one page at a
time, Elisabeth says, "It seems they were to build a massive weapon to 'cleanse the topside'...
probably for the wars of long ago. Perhaps, though... perhaps we can repurpose these beings, give
them new purpose so to speak, by taking them to Alexandria's guild of artificers, so that they and
the Annihilator can be studied, and so that they can find new purpose in helping to maintain the
city's primary weapon of defense against Heth?" She says it all in a tone of question, as if she's
suggesting it as an option and asking for other ideas, as well. Then, she uses the last of her spell
of mending to carefully remove a necklace, Daeus' magic repairing it as she touches it, from the
skeletal remains of the foreman. "This appears to be his badge of rank... it may give us enough
authority with the ... work golems to be able to make it happen."

Stjepan tilts his head, and looks straight at the crab. "Patience," he says to it. He pauses,
turning back. "What is the Annihilator? The scorpion?"

Stjepan pauses. "Ask the workers. Are they tired? Do they need to rest?"

{{DivGray-Start}} You paged Stjepan with 'You see a lot of the small workers that seem to be rushing away from the
path and to the scorpion. They are covering it with their bodies if protecting it.'

You paged Aya with 'Your sensitive ears can hear the telltale sounds of a cave-in beginning.' {{DivEnd}}

Stjepan gestures. "Look," he points, "The small ones are shielding the scorpion-thing." A pause.
"Maybe we should just close up the crack in the earth and reseal it."

"I'm not in any hurry to see the city annihilated," Aya agrees with the general concensus, "So
there's no reason to rush or-" Her words stop suddenly and her head tilts; then her eyes widen.
"Hurry! More earth is collapsing!" She steps outside, the better to see any falling objects before
they decide to crush her.

{{DivGray-Start}} Outside the hut you see that the path has been restored. Unfortunately the workers had been pulling
it from the columns that Selerik had mentioned earlier. The ones that seemed a bit weak. And holding
up the ceiling. The walls begin to moan, and small rocks area already falling. {{DivEnd}}

Elisabeth grabs the papers, rolling them up and hurriedly stuffing them into her pack to present to
the artificers of the city, hurrying out of the hut. "Is it safe to go back up the walkway?", she
asks. "... have we even a choice but to try?"

{{DivGray-Start}} You paged Elisabeth with 'Foreman, foreman. Cave in. Get to safety!' {{DivEnd}}

Selerik doesn't need to be told twice. He is already hoofing it up and out of the chasm. "Not the
tiem to dawdle, get a digger and chat with them later. Hop to it."

Stjepan rumbles upwards. "Let's just go." Arms and legs pumping, he runs.

{{DivGray-Start}} The path is clean and clear, well built and secure. Hundreds of the small workers swarm the
Annihilator, shielding it protectively. Even the Formers have descended into the hole, their
sparking arms fending off debris has it falls. As the adventurers ascend rocks pour from above,
threatening to bury them beneath the earth forever.
Unit 82, in its clumsy way, blocks the falling rocks with its body. The group barely escapes with
their lives as 82 falls to the depths of the chasm. Topside the ground begins to collapse towards
the center. Beating feet for all their worth brings them to the edge of disaster. Fortunately it is
the safe side of it. All that is left is a destroyed landscape, and the violet glow of the still
existent aurora above. {{DivEnd}}

"A burial in tons of rock would slow down any annihilating," Aya points out curtly and succinctly
before evacuating rapidly. Fortunately for her, she has shortcuts available.

"For all that it was designed to build a weapon, Unit 82 wasn't at all 'bad', was it?", Elisabeth
says, quietly.

Stjepan nods. "It seemed like it was ready to be done. And the units didn't seem to want us to take
the weapon." He gestures at the crater, wiping his brow. "This is what success looks like."

"Success in keeping a weapon buried and forgotten... but at what cost in life?", Elisabeth quietly
adds.

Aya shrugs. "From what I saw, only the one, and it ended a long time ago."

[[Category:Logs]]

Recent Logs

2017-01-27T16:44:16Z

Sebropert: /* January */

Ladislaus

2017-01-24T01:13:26Z

Sebropert:

<div style="padding-bottom: 20px;">[[image:lad7.jpg|500px|center]]</div>


<div style="min-height: 50px; color: #000; font-weight: bold; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; font-size: 300%;">Ladislaus</div>

{{LineLance|300px}}

<div style="width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 20px;">

<p style="color:#554433; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">About My Character</p>
Ladislaus Netzke is a proud bear cavalryman, and knight of the Purple Rose. Within the last decade or so of his life he has gone through some major changes, and is still evolving as an Arvek Nar. While his view points and religion have changed, he did once worship Thul and thus his perspectives can still sometimes be pretty grim. Once a member of the Bludgun military, he fought on the side of Blar during the battle for independence. He wields a military man's mustache and dark wit; crude and blunt. He is the practical sort tactically, but he will often choose excitement over the prudent path. Glory is not gained by cautious action. He considers himself a seasoned campaigner, and will provide apt advice when needed.


[[image:lad8.jpg|thumb|right|Painting of Ladislaus Netzke, yr. 1002]]

<p style="color:#554433; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Roleplay Hooks</p>
* Ladislaus is a Cavalier in the Order of the Purple Rose. He also is a huge fan of drunken bar brawls. Great way to let off some steam.
* He is particularly fond of large flashy hats, and will collect them from powerful foes.
* He is loyal subject of Blar and its experimental government, but he was born and raised in Bludgun. For or against independence?
* He rides a bear named Zofija.
* He was a Sub-lieutenant and cook for his old cavalry company the 27th "Growlers" Mountain Irregulars. Military?
* The 27th used to defend the line between Bludgun and Khazad Duin. Old war buddy, or foe from the good ol' days?
* He is fond of poetry, but is absolutely horrible at it.
* His father was a Crimson Templar, and his mother a Pale of Thul. Got a problem with that?
* He is newly a follower of Serriel, so he doesn't have things down pat quite yet. He might need some help here and there.
* He speaks Tradespeak, Goblin-Talk (which he insists on calling Nari), and knows military Handspeech.

</div>


<div style="clear:both;"></div>
<div style="padding-top:20px;">[[image:winterwolf_footer.png|center]]</div>


<div style="position:relative; top:-170px; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-size: 140%;"><p style="padding-right: 140px; padding-left: 90px; color:#778899;">"Henny plan vere hyu lose you het iz a bad plan."</p></div>

<div style="clear:both;"></div>

{{Badge}}
{{Badge-Icon|Arvek_solo.png}}
{{Badge-Content}}
{{Badge-Title|Arvek Nar PC Badge}}
{{Badge-Entry|Family Heritage}}A family of Bludgun warriors and Priestesses of Thul.
{{Badge-Entry|Military Role}} Sub-Lt. Ladislaus Netzke of the 27th Mountain Irregular Cavalry, Company Cook, Blood traitor to Bludgun and the Undead Lord, Defender of Blar, Knight of the Purple Rose, and supplicant of the Maiden of Battles.
{{Badge-Entry|Faith}}Serriel (Former worshipper of Thul)
{{Badge-Entry|The Dawn}} The 27th Irregulars are traitors to the Cockatrice, having actively participated in the Independence of Blar. Those that remain still defend Blar, or travel the land as knight errant to prove the mettle of the new Arvek Nar nation.

{{Badge-End}}

{{LineLance|300px}}

{{Badge}}
{{Badge-Icon|Cavalier04.jpg}}
{{Badge-Content}}
{{Badge-Title|Cavalier PC Badge}}
{{Badge-Entry|Order}} Order of the Purple Rose
{{Badge-Entry|Mount}}Zofija the Bear
{{Badge-Entry|Code}} Loyalty, Order, Rank, Word, Honor.
{{Badge-Entry|Oath}} "To serff Blar in valour und faith. To keep de order uf de realm. To proteck de pipple uf de lunds. To obey doze placed in auddority. T liff by honour und for de glory. To fight for de velfare uf hall. To guard de honour uf odder knights. To keep faith. At hall times to schpeak honest like. To endure to de end in henny enterprise begun. To respeck de honour uf vimmens. Never refuse a challenge from an eqval (schpecially for you het). Never turn hyu back upon a foe. "

{{Badge-End}}


[[Category:Player]][[Category:Cavalier]][[Category:Monk]][[Category:Arvek Nar]][[Category:Serrielite]][[Category:Blarite]]


[[Category:Getting_Started]]

PrP: Winter Raids

2017-01-03T05:27:12Z

Sebropert: /* > 16) Winter Raids < */

============================> 16) Winter Raids <============================
Open/Closed: CLOSED: This event is only for the Confirmed players below.
However, you can still sign up for this event with +event/signup,
to let the GM know that you're available if one of the
Confirmed players doesn't show up.
Poster: Sebropert*
Start Time: 03:30:00 PM (LOCAL), Monday, January 02, 2017 (7h 13m past date)
Location: rp2
Level Range: 4-8

The desperate months of the winter season bring raiders. Northmen come on their winged boats to take the bounty of others.

Signed up: none
Confirmed: Selerik (Bard5)* Blauensturm (Art3) Astaren (Clr3/Wiz3)* Zenia (Art3)* Malorn (Mnk4) Josselyn (Ftr5) Albain (Ftr1/Wiz3)*
----------------------------- Config parameters ------------------------------
not yet implemented

===========================================================( Connected* )=====
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Josselyn Ordinary city guard, with a crossbow. 4m 45m
Zenia Disheveled woman in mechanic's outfit 2m 41m
Malorn A white haired Mul'niessa Monk 1m 34m
Selerik A tall and thin man dressed as an artist. 56s 2d
Astaren A tall man wearing dark blue robes. 6m 1h
Sebropert A black and copper Sith'Makar with burn scars. 0s 2h
Blauensturm Silver plated Golem w/a blue visor 3m 22m
Albain Dark-haired blue-eyed young man 3m 12m
Whirlpool I am stinky! 3m 1d

On they swept with threshing oar, their dragon headed ships piercing the winter mists. From the lands of ice and snow they drove their ships to new lands. Thrice they have struck the western shore, pillaging and raiding small hamlets. None paid the guild this time. The guild itself seeing the need for action. The coffers would open to save innocent seaside villagers.
A watch tower, far up the coast sent word. Sightings of dragons in the mist, heading towards a fishing village further down the coast. A horde of adventurers ride forth to the rescue. Mounts provided and ridden hard until the seasalt air breathes against their faces. Smoke tinges their air, and distant cries carry on the wind. From a high hill where your mounts stop, the village can be seen. Fires burn huts, and raiders chase villagers with hoops and hollers.

Malorn gets down from his mount and he reaches down to pick up some of the fallen snow and he rubs it in between his hands. He clenches his fists, "Let's go down there and stop them before anyone else gets hurt." He says as he starts off down towards the village.

Josselyn stiffles a yelp as she sees the village burn from the hill. "Oh dear Daeus, I hope we can still save some people." she says loading up her standard guard issue light crossbow after dismounting.

One adventurer uses a cart, cuz no horse is smart enough to carry a war golem. especially one this big. However, once said war golem stands up, he begins to walk it's way down the hill towards the village. "Priority: evacuate townspeople."

Astaren shakes his head slowly and sighs, "Such things..." reaching up to rub his head, and then glances around, "Shall we?" turning to start heading towards the village.

Zenia gets off of her horse, the artificer's armor she's wearing thunking hard against the ground and sinking a bit into the snow. "Agreed." she says, charging off full tilt as she pulls her death ray off her back and begins charging it up, ready to fire. Some might note the orange-red glow suggestive of fire coming from it this time, rather than the electrical blue glow. Pressing a button next to her helmet's lower portion she then calls out in a slightly mechanical voice, "We're here to aid in the village's defense! Head to the end of the village furthest from the coast and stay together!"

Albain was quiet through-out most of the journey here, his head down in books both mundane and eldritch in nature, though it seems he was more satisfied with the former than the latter. The young man - whether scholar, outdoorsman, or both - also spent his time tending to a magical pistol, a dragonspitter of notable craftsmanship, and to a cornucopia of strange metal and paper cartridges of which most bore packets of strange materials rather than lead bullets. But now that action is called for, the books are stored away and the pistol and knife are readied, along with a selection of cartridges to choose from. "Right then, the task at hand." he says aloud as he moves with the others.

Selerik follows along with the rest of the adventurers, looking distraught. A village under attack is never a joyful occasion for him, but unlike the others he isn't armed to fight. He seems focused on just helping the people in need.

The village is spread out, covering a haphazard pattern. Fires blaze starting from the shore to inland. The inland most areas not damaged as of yet. Cross streets form and lead out on two main roads, one south, one east. Raiders spread through out, moving in groups. The run past villagers and then herd them back towards the shores. Killing those that fight, and herding those that cower.

Glancing left and right quickly, Zenia nods. "Our first priority is the lives of the villagers. The ones that are being herded towards the shores are likely being sold into slavery, or kept as personal trophies. I advise the more combat capable of us go to intercept the bulk of their fighters, while others go to sabotage the warships to cut off their escape. We needn't slaughter the raiders wholesale, but I'm more concerned about what would happen if the villagers are allowed to be sailed off with."

Josselyn rubs her chin "You sure you want to split up? I think we should get those villagers by the coast out and more than like the vikings will come back to us, seeing as thats where the boats are, right?" she offers as a suggestion. "Either way, houses can be rebuilt but people cannot."

"I would advise against cutting off their escape; if we bloody their noses, they might run without too much effort on our part." Albain suggests as he loads a live cartridge into the breach. "But if prevent their escape, they will fight all the more."

Malorn looks over to Zenia, "There is an old saying, don't split up your fighting force. We should just go after the larger force of raiders to the south and fight them."

Astaren closes his eyes as he considers a moment, "The raid is happening, we do not have the forces needed to stop that, only to end the raid from continuing. We need to hit them hard, and hit them fast, and force a retreat." Eyes opening, "That is my advice. Lead the way, and do not split."

Nodding, Zenia sighs. "...Regrettable, but a solid point. They didn't come here to fight armed individuals, merely the helpless." she explains. "Right. To the bulk then." as she begins to head off to where the fighting is most prevalent."

Selerik steadies his mount, looking between everyone there. He squints over towards the village, then back at the ground. "Just make up your minds." Seems he'll just go with the group.
Josselyn nods and follows Zenia with her crossbow ready, stock resting in the crook of her arm. "Right, lets get going already before more people get hurt through indecision."

Albain follows after Zenia without hesitation, and glances at the others expectantly as he silently goads them to come along. "No plan ever survived contact with the enemy anyways, if I remember that saying right." he adds with a half-grin.

The southern road leads to a small square. Fires burn brightly against the night. Wood cracks and splinters in echo to the screams of villagers. Paltry defenses exist, strewn about. Thatch walls for archers to hide behind, abandoned in the onslaught. A group of raiders have their backs to the adventurers, their axes gleaming as they clash them against shields. Herding the villagers. Five raiders in total, herding west.

Selerik takes one hand off his reins, gesturing to the raider on the left end while speaking low. "I'll charm that one, get him to talk to me about the plan for the villagers. I leave the rest to you."

Malorn heads along the southern road and he looks to Selerik, "As you wish." He looks towards the far one on the right and he makes himself ready to go after the raider.

Astaren closes his eyes as he considers and whispers a few words. Holding ou this left hand a moon bubble forms and then quickly expands and surronnds the man, covering him in mage armor. "Indeed." his voice is quiet, none of the usual joy or easy going attitude about him.

Albain pauses once the first group of raiders is spotted, withdrawing a paper cartridge that is jammed into his pistol and fired into the air. Instead of a loud bang, the contents are consumed in a puff of sparkling light that lands upon him, adding a faint shimmer to his clothing.

Josselyn has well and truly decided what needs to be done with the raiders, raising her crossbow "Halt in the name of the law!" she calls out, mindfull of the one that Selerik pointed out.

Malorn lets the others shoot as he charges to get right into the middle of fray. He goes to kick the one in the middle, but as he plants his foot he slips on a patch of snow and his kick goes wide.

Blauensturm watches as Zenia shoot at one of the raiders, and rather than spread the damage around, he focuses his fire on the same target, making it hurt a lot worse than what it was.

The raider on the far right turns as he is pummeled with shots from the artificers. With a howl he starts running towards Zenia, his small axe thrown through the air. The spinning blade goes wide. His forward moment is stopped by Josselyn's arrow, knocking him flat on his back with an arrow protruding from his throat.
The second from the left raider starts to move towards Selerik, but is stopped by the farthest left. He waves his arms and shouts as if to convince the other to go after someone else.

Josselyn is true to her warning, letting a bolt fly on the focused target before shifting her aim to the one engaging her fellow party member. Deft fingers reload and fire two more bolt from her standard issue guard crossbow. "I will not warn again! Stop in the name of the law!"

Astaren hopes off his horse and moves to hide behind a building. Glancing around the corner he watches the fight for a moment and hmmms. Then holds up his hand as a small bubble forms. Pointing to the middle raider he lets it go flying out and smack the raider. The wizard though appears to be focusing more on keeping an eye out on things.

Albain loads a bright orange-coloured paper cartridge into his pistol, takes aim, and lets loose a crackling bolt of flame that leaves a heat haze in the air, but does nothing but singe the hair of one of the raiders; just an inch to the left, and it would've impacted the miscreant's face.

Albain loads a bright orange-coloured paper cartridge into his pistol, takes aim, and utters eldritch words as he pulls the trigger. A crackling bolt of flame is fired from the weapon that leaves a heat haze in the air, and slams with both fiery and physical force into a raider.

Selerik casts an incantation with a few gestures while he starts talking to the guy on the far left. "Hail, friend! Town isn't the opportunity it seemed to be, is it? Come speak with me, your old friend. I'll keep your fate a good one, just put away your blade and tell me about the plans today." He gives his best winning smile.

One dead, and two gravely wounded, the raiders give pause. Selerik's words brings a halt to the raider on the far left. "Hold," he yells to the others. "Hold!" The others are on guard, but wait to see how it plays out.
"...Willing to negotiate then?" Zenia asks, death ray slightly lowered. She's certainly not moving it so far away as to not be un-readied for another shot but she's waiting. If someone resumes aggressions, the flaming lasers are gonna fly.

Malorn holds himself ready to attack, "Speak quickly." He does not like the idea of letting these raiders get away with the damage they have done, but he's willing to see where this will play out.

The raiders lower their weapons, but keep their shields up. The others back away from their targets and move to collect near the charmed raider. The chatter amongst themselves in their northern tongue, looking up at Selerik a few times. "Not telling your our plans," he says. Friendly, but not without self-preservation. "Will trade you for them. What do you offer?"

Selerik rides closer to the raiders, still with no weapon drawn. He inclines his head to them, gesturing off to the side. "Alexandria has dispatched forces to stop this raid, we are just the tip of that iceberg. If even a single villager is taken, I can assure you that you will be pursued at sea. It is not something any of you want, but for a friend I'm willing to make this advantageous to us both." Selerik gestures towards the coast. "I'm offering you a chance to leave, without being followed, and without retaliation." He glances towards the dead raider. "Further, retaliation. Decide quickly, the others are not as forgiving as I am."

Albain makes a show of slowly re-loading his dragonspitter with another brightly coloured cartridge, as if impressing upon them that there are more fiery bolts like the last one in store for them.

Zenia opens her mouth to speak beneath her full-face helmet, but then stops as Selerik seems to be taking the lead in the diplomatic resolution.

Astaren stays quiet as he puts his back against the building he is hiding around watches the area around him quietly. Leaving the talking to others for now.

"Were up to me, I'd agree," the raider says to Selerik. "I can only speak for my men here. We will leave for trade. Your weight in food, and we will take no slaves. The rest have their own boats."

Malorn shakes his head, "No, you will get nothing, you are are a bunch of thieves and do not even deserve your life. Leave now and never return or you will never leave here." His fists clench as he is holding himself back from attacking.

Selerik waves a hand to suggest that deal is no good. "You're from the north, I've been there. I know the troubles. I'll give you this counter offer, sail back to meet me at (Insert neutral port) in two weeks and I'll get you equipped for fishing work. Honest work. Those who want the thrill of battle, I'll put in a good word to get you naval work with better pay. You know I'm a reliable man." He kicks his horse to speed it up. "You clearly need to think about it, so we're moving on to make an example of others." Selerik gestures to the villagers who were being herded, gesturing to the right, where the soldier fell. "You lot, clear off to safety."

Josselyn grimaces "These men are guilty of theft, looting, pillaging, slaving and quite likely murder. If they were lucky they would be sentences to life in prison in any city I know of,

Alexandria definitely. This is not justice, I say we lock them in irons and drag them before a proper court."

"...Preferable in some respects." Zenia says, "But a little sympathy here. People break the law for all sorts of reasons... It doesn't sit right with me that we let scum go, but all the same. Where did their lives go to lead them to this point?" she asks, "Here and now. What went into it?" she asks. "Maybe... Maybe they could do good if only given the chance."

"Always wanted to visit that port, but kept on by-passing it due to bad weather." Albain remarks, idly fidgeting with his gun as he watches the negotiations. "You really should take that offer, it's fair, which is more than I can say for the fight you're in for if you don't." he adds, addressing the raiders.

Josselyn raises an eyebrow "Theres no excuse for this. I understand the street urchin might steal bread because he's hungry but he doesn't burn the bakery down and kill or torture the baker. This is nothing less than unnecisary and wanton destruction." she says raising her crossbow.

Malorn looks to the others, "We were sent here to save this village and the surest way to save this village is to end these raiders. Let them be an example for any that would think to plunder these shores. It will not stand, you will be met and defeated."

Between Selerik's promises of work, and Malorn's threats, the raiders frantically chatter in their native tongue. One seems unconvinced, but the other three practically drag him away. They start to back away, but Josselyn's raised crossbow and Malorn's further words bring their shields up again.

"And now a fleeing enemy." Zenia says, "It feels wrong to me, but I know we did the right thing. Satisfying vengeance wouldn't have done anything for these people, only hurt someone who was hurting them. Now come on, we have some other people to save." she observes.

"Justice is a luxury, what part of this situation gives us luxury. People band together for survival, with what resources they can. This was planned, motivated, and multiple groups. Let that group go, give them a chance. Merch, forgivenes, are some of the precepts of good. We also do less good standing here arguing it when they no longer wish to fight." Glancing around as he walks past the group, "last I checked, people were still being dragged onto boats. I am heading the ships." A few flickers of flames around his hands, clear on what his intent is. A glance to the men, "I suggest you set sail quickly."

Selerik looks over to the others, considering them a bit before responding. "People do what they must to survive. They are taken advantage of, every day. Every single day. These men do not want slaves, they want survival and the thrill of a challenge. Others ask for slaves, and they are not here to be met with justice." Selerik looks towards the ships. "But I have a feeling I know where we'll find them, if you want to wet your blades."

Malorn gives the raiders a cold look, "Run and never come back." He looks over at his companions. "As much as I enjoy a debate about the philosophies of justice, let's save it for when we are back in Alexandria over a warm meal. Let's stop talking and deal with the rest of these raiders."

"In absolute agreement." Albain replies to Malorn, turning to head further into the town before pausing to look back at Malorn. "Also I really would like to debate that topic when we're back home; I am quite rusty on ethics, and a sound thrashing by a Mul'niessa would be entertaining!" he adds with a gleeful tone.

The four raiders grab their fallen companion, and flee. As they go one of them blows into a horn made from a two year bull. The tooting bellow draws away several other raiders with shields with the same black cross on a green field. They flee, mostly with bags over their shoulders, and the occasional sparkly thing.
Their path clears the southern side of the village, leaving most of the distance to the beach clear. Voices still call from the northern half of the village, but the sounds at the beach certainly drown them out. From the path the beach can be seen, and the green shield men clambering into their longboats to depart. Insults and arrows fly at them from out of view to the right. A few houses all that stands between the beach and our plucky, ethically conflicted, adventurers.

"Hmph." Zenia says, "No love for the sensible." she observes, then looks about for a new group of raiders to drive off, particularly looking for signs of chaos that might indicate their presence. Where there's smoke, after all...

Josselyn continues to follow the others with her crossbow at the ready. "Lets see who else we can round up. Perhaps deliver some proper justice." she grouses.

Blauensturm also follows the others, keeping his cannon-port open....

Malorn nods, "I agree let's head to the northern side of the village and rid this village of the raiders once and for all."

Taking the corner of the house first reveals the boats. Several Longboats with men clamoring aboard them. Both northman and tied up villager. Further around the corner reveals a mass of men, bedecked with shields and axes. Many furs and colors decorate the war party, though not a single green and black shield remains save for the slain. A goodly thirty men stand on the beach, with more coming in from the northern side of the village. Already, in the distance one can see two boats sailing off with their chattel.
Within the hut Zenia creeps, to reveal no one inside. Its safety from the fire because of its closeness to the ships. Two windows look upon the beach, one to the boats, and one to the shore. Creeping in she trips over a rug and knocks over a bookcase. The loud noise draws attention to the house. "Ambush!" Yells the largest man, himself standing separate from the troops.

Josselyn raises her crossbow to her shoulder and lets go at the nearest group. "Raiders... slavers. Not much choice here." her fingers load another bolt after another as she continues to fire into the crowd.

Selerik calls out as they near the enemies. "I know I made some of you cross, sparing those others. The opportunity came up to change lives, but those opportunities are rare! With so many before us we've no recourse. They will bleed, they will break, they will be mourned, and it is a price too small to be justice for the wrong they bring. Our only mercy we can give is to end them swiftly. So aim true!" He shouts to the others. "Let none have time for regrets!"

Blauensturm waits for Selerik to start his ballad before he fires. The lightning bolt strikes home all right, blasting one man out of existence....

There is a mighty clash. Twenty men charge forward to attack. Malorn meets the charge head on, his weapon taking down a raging warrior. The third troop remains behind. "Shields!" They cry and draw javelins. The giant, smarter than the rest heads for the hut, his battleaxe at the ready as he hunts for Zenia.

Albain ducks and weaves from the men that rushed him, loading a white-coloured cartridge and levelling his pistol at the group as a whole. The crack of gunfire is muted, but the muzzle flash is intense and dazzling to those facing the barrel, disorienting his attackers and making them stumble.

"SHIT!" Zenia says, then glances at the possibility of a child being nearby, "...Sorry, don't say that word, it's a bad word." she notes, if there happens to be one. Really? Being concerned about language in the middle of a raider attack? Still, she does go outside and close the door behind her provided there's no raiders IN the house per se. And then charges up her death ray, waiting for the giant raider to come around the corner so she can shoot him in the face. The /moment/ he steps in front of her, she's going to have a wicked grin plastered on her face as she fires.

Selerik weaves a few quick gestures, pointing at one of the attackers on Blauensturm. "Hey! Did you hear about the giant who wanted his bust as the ship's figurehead? They had to put his ass on the back so it wouldn't tip over."

Josselyn takes a step back and snaps off two more expertly aimed shots, Selerik's song helping her shots along into the crowd.

Watching the troop advance, Blauensturm can do nothing but wait for his cannon to recharge. But when it fully recharges....another blast comes from his cannon, wiping another of the troop out of existence.

The troops press forth, both seeking to surround their foes. Their numbers dwindle at the skill of the adventurers. One man even falling to the ground in gales of uncontrolled laughter. A chopping sound is heard from the house, and the giantborn raider barrels through the wall of the house, splinters flying through the air as he comes to be standing point blank in from of Zenia. "Raaaaagh!"

"SURPRISE!" Zenia shouts as the deathray fires off at the giant raider and smacks him in the shoulder. It's not quite the direct hit to the vitals she'd prefer, but it's a good hit nevertheless. "How's the whole raiding business working out for ya?" she asks.

Malorn hits the raiders that surround him with his fists and feet. He is putting up a good fight even as he misses ones.

Albain sees the raiders organizing a flank on him - a smart move, as his pistol is doing far more than just launching bullets - and does the expected; he loads another cartridge. "Look away!" he quickly shouts to his comrades, before uttering a word in eldritch and pulling the trigger. This one actually does fire a projectile of sorts, a glowing little bad that unerringly seeks out a torch held aloft by one of the raiders. Upon impact, crackling pops of fire, thunderous cracks, and brilliant gouts of flame erupt in all directions; seemingly harmless, except for uncovered retinas.

As a result, both groups of the flanking enemies reel from the assault on their senses, scattering from the fireworks, and appear to be dazzled and blinded.

"Oh look, pity about the fire yeah." Zenia says, "Maybe you shouldn't have attacked a helpless village? I mean really, where's the glory in that? I'm not a betting woman, but if I were? I'd put money on Angoron being ashamed of you." she notes, firing another blast at the giant.

Josselyn continues to dispense justice from behind her crossbow, walnut stock at her shoulder she deflty takes two more in the group down with her bolts, one right through the noggin.

Despite the numerous units in the area, Blauensturm could hear the giant being a rather large pain in the butt. So...Blauensturm ignores the smaller foes and fires his death ray at the giant.....and hits it right in the chest.

"Withdraw!" The giant yells, taking a stumbling withdrawal away from Zenia and her clanking help. "To the boats!" The remaining melee troop, hearing their boss' command don't hesitate to break away, having taken more than half their forces in casualties. "To the boats!" They cry so that the third troop will start to pushing the longboats into the water.

"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT YOU PISS-POOR SONS OF OGRES!" Zenia calls out, "GET OUT OF HERE AND DON'T COME WITHIN SEVEN LEAGUES OF IT EVER AGAIN!" she shouts, firing a couple of shots out into the air as an intimidation tactic.

Albain sees the raiders routed before his group, grinning from ear to ear. "They're fleeing!" he shouts triumphantly.

Selerik kicks up some momentum and tries to get another cast off on the jolly Seaweed Giant. He has a big, silly grin on his face. Like this is some sort of game. Maybe it is? But the results don't slow the giant, not in the least. Aww, there goes his grin.

Blauensturm watches as the leader tries to get away. Thanks to the glue he's using on his death ray, he can't go very far. "Primary target......not getting away." He says in a flat tone as he closes the distance and fires his death ray again....this time gluing the giant to the ground. "Surrender yourself......."

Malorn turns on the speed as he has to race through the troops to get to the boat first. He manages to make his way through them and although they try to hit him it's Malorn who gets in a strike thanks to the style of fighting he uses. He manages to get to the boat first just before the troops do.

Wait remains of troop one reaches the boat moments after Malorn. Troop three had already began pushing them into the water. They clamor aboard in fear of the blazing guns and arrows of the attacks. So shaken they are that they ignore the fact that their leader remains on shore. The giant viking bellows, flexing his muscles as he rips himself free of the glue. He begins to run towards the second ship, greatly slowed by his fight with the sticky substance.

Albain sees his colleagues rushing to pursue the routed enemy, in an attempt to rescue any prisoners aboard their ship. But it's the struggling giant that draws his attention, as it's continued defiance will be a problem. The spell cartridge he loads and fires launches a large fiery ball that lands with a thump right next to the giant, before rolling into him, causing him to succumb to the flames and fall.

Nodding, Zenia looks over at any of the ships in an attempt to figure out if any of them have particularly large quantities of prisoners on them and haven't pushed off yet. Picking one at random, she speeds off as fast as her armor will allow her. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" she's swearing along the way. "Why didn't I make anything for movement today?!" she asks herself.

Blauensturm walks his way up next to Selerik and holds his position....

Bravely the monk fought on board, holding true to his ideals. Left and right vikings fell to his bare-fisted fury. So ferocious his onslaught that even the oarman needed join the fray, wailing at him with their oars. Finally a telling blow knocks him down to the chagrin of the captives. Two raiders pick the monk up by arm and foot, swinging his body and tossing him overboard. The tide washes his beaten body to shore.

The locals rush about, putting out fires and comforting the injured and dying. Several join the rest of the adventurers to aid others. Fishermen drag the courageous monk fully on to land, offering to him one of their precious and few healing potions.

[[Category:Logs]]

PrP: Winter Raids

2017-01-03T05:26:57Z

Sebropert: /* > 16) Winter Raids < */

============================> 16) Winter Raids <============================
Open/Closed: CLOSED: This event is only for the Confirmed players below.
However, you can still sign up for this event with +event/signup,
to let the GM know that you're available if one of the
Confirmed players doesn't show up.
Poster: Sebropert*
Start Time: 03:30:00 PM (LOCAL), Monday, January 02, 2017 (7h 13m past date)
Location: rp2
Level Range: 4-8

The desperate months of the winter season bring raiders. Northmen come on their winged boats to take the bounty of others.

Signed up: none
Confirmed: Selerik (Bard5)* Blauensturm (Art3) Astaren (Clr3/Wiz3)* Zenia (Art3)* Malorn
(Mnk4) Josselyn (Ftr5) Albain (Ftr1/Wiz3)*
----------------------------- Config parameters ------------------------------
not yet implemented

===========================================================( Connected* )=====
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Josselyn Ordinary city guard, with a crossbow. 4m 45m
Zenia Disheveled woman in mechanic's outfit 2m 41m
Malorn A white haired Mul'niessa Monk 1m 34m
Selerik A tall and thin man dressed as an artist. 56s 2d
Astaren A tall man wearing dark blue robes. 6m 1h
Sebropert A black and copper Sith'Makar with burn scars. 0s 2h
Blauensturm Silver plated Golem w/a blue visor 3m 22m
Albain Dark-haired blue-eyed young man 3m 12m
Whirlpool I am stinky! 3m 1d

On they swept with threshing oar, their dragon headed ships piercing the winter mists. From the lands of ice and snow they drove their ships to new lands. Thrice they have struck the western shore, pillaging and raiding small hamlets. None paid the guild this time. The guild itself seeing the need for action. The coffers would open to save innocent seaside villagers.
A watch tower, far up the coast sent word. Sightings of dragons in the mist, heading towards a fishing village further down the coast. A horde of adventurers ride forth to the rescue. Mounts provided and ridden hard until the seasalt air breathes against their faces. Smoke tinges their air, and distant cries carry on the wind. From a high hill where your mounts stop, the village can be seen. Fires burn huts, and raiders chase villagers with hoops and hollers.

Malorn gets down from his mount and he reaches down to pick up some of the fallen snow and he rubs it in between his hands. He clenches his fists, "Let's go down there and stop them before anyone else gets hurt." He says as he starts off down towards the village.

Josselyn stiffles a yelp as she sees the village burn from the hill. "Oh dear Daeus, I hope we can still save some people." she says loading up her standard guard issue light crossbow after dismounting.

One adventurer uses a cart, cuz no horse is smart enough to carry a war golem. especially one this big. However, once said war golem stands up, he begins to walk it's way down the hill towards the village. "Priority: evacuate townspeople."

Astaren shakes his head slowly and sighs, "Such things..." reaching up to rub his head, and then glances around, "Shall we?" turning to start heading towards the village.

Zenia gets off of her horse, the artificer's armor she's wearing thunking hard against the ground and sinking a bit into the snow. "Agreed." she says, charging off full tilt as she pulls her death ray off her back and begins charging it up, ready to fire. Some might note the orange-red glow suggestive of fire coming from it this time, rather than the electrical blue glow. Pressing a button next to her helmet's lower portion she then calls out in a slightly mechanical voice, "We're here to aid in the village's defense! Head to the end of the village furthest from the coast and stay together!"

Albain was quiet through-out most of the journey here, his head down in books both mundane and eldritch in nature, though it seems he was more satisfied with the former than the latter. The young man - whether scholar, outdoorsman, or both - also spent his time tending to a magical pistol, a dragonspitter of notable craftsmanship, and to a cornucopia of strange metal and paper cartridges of which most bore packets of strange materials rather than lead bullets. But now that action is called for, the books are stored away and the pistol and knife are readied, along with a selection of cartridges to choose from. "Right then, the task at hand." he says aloud as he moves with the others.

Selerik follows along with the rest of the adventurers, looking distraught. A village under attack is never a joyful occasion for him, but unlike the others he isn't armed to fight. He seems focused on just helping the people in need.

The village is spread out, covering a haphazard pattern. Fires blaze starting from the shore to inland. The inland most areas not damaged as of yet. Cross streets form and lead out on two main roads, one south, one east. Raiders spread through out, moving in groups. The run past villagers and then herd them back towards the shores. Killing those that fight, and herding those that cower.

Glancing left and right quickly, Zenia nods. "Our first priority is the lives of the villagers. The ones that are being herded towards the shores are likely being sold into slavery, or kept as personal trophies. I advise the more combat capable of us go to intercept the bulk of their fighters, while others go to sabotage the warships to cut off their escape. We needn't slaughter the raiders wholesale, but I'm more concerned about what would happen if the villagers are allowed to be sailed off with."

Josselyn rubs her chin "You sure you want to split up? I think we should get those villagers by the coast out and more than like the vikings will come back to us, seeing as thats where the boats are, right?" she offers as a suggestion. "Either way, houses can be rebuilt but people cannot."

"I would advise against cutting off their escape; if we bloody their noses, they might run without too much effort on our part." Albain suggests as he loads a live cartridge into the breach. "But if prevent their escape, they will fight all the more."

Malorn looks over to Zenia, "There is an old saying, don't split up your fighting force. We should just go after the larger force of raiders to the south and fight them."

Astaren closes his eyes as he considers a moment, "The raid is happening, we do not have the forces needed to stop that, only to end the raid from continuing. We need to hit them hard, and hit them fast, and force a retreat." Eyes opening, "That is my advice. Lead the way, and do not split."

Nodding, Zenia sighs. "...Regrettable, but a solid point. They didn't come here to fight armed individuals, merely the helpless." she explains. "Right. To the bulk then." as she begins to head off to where the fighting is most prevalent."

Selerik steadies his mount, looking between everyone there. He squints over towards the village, then back at the ground. "Just make up your minds." Seems he'll just go with the group.
Josselyn nods and follows Zenia with her crossbow ready, stock resting in the crook of her arm. "Right, lets get going already before more people get hurt through indecision."

Albain follows after Zenia without hesitation, and glances at the others expectantly as he silently goads them to come along. "No plan ever survived contact with the enemy anyways, if I remember that saying right." he adds with a half-grin.

The southern road leads to a small square. Fires burn brightly against the night. Wood cracks and splinters in echo to the screams of villagers. Paltry defenses exist, strewn about. Thatch walls for archers to hide behind, abandoned in the onslaught. A group of raiders have their backs to the adventurers, their axes gleaming as they clash them against shields. Herding the villagers. Five raiders in total, herding west.

Selerik takes one hand off his reins, gesturing to the raider on the left end while speaking low. "I'll charm that one, get him to talk to me about the plan for the villagers. I leave the rest to you."

Malorn heads along the southern road and he looks to Selerik, "As you wish." He looks towards the far one on the right and he makes himself ready to go after the raider.

Astaren closes his eyes as he considers and whispers a few words. Holding ou this left hand a moon bubble forms and then quickly expands and surronnds the man, covering him in mage armor. "Indeed." his voice is quiet, none of the usual joy or easy going attitude about him.

Albain pauses once the first group of raiders is spotted, withdrawing a paper cartridge that is jammed into his pistol and fired into the air. Instead of a loud bang, the contents are consumed in a puff of sparkling light that lands upon him, adding a faint shimmer to his clothing.

Josselyn has well and truly decided what needs to be done with the raiders, raising her crossbow "Halt in the name of the law!" she calls out, mindfull of the one that Selerik pointed out.

Malorn lets the others shoot as he charges to get right into the middle of fray. He goes to kick the one in the middle, but as he plants his foot he slips on a patch of snow and his kick goes wide.

Blauensturm watches as Zenia shoot at one of the raiders, and rather than spread the damage around, he focuses his fire on the same target, making it hurt a lot worse than what it was.

The raider on the far right turns as he is pummeled with shots from the artificers. With a howl he starts running towards Zenia, his small axe thrown through the air. The spinning blade goes wide. His forward moment is stopped by Josselyn's arrow, knocking him flat on his back with an arrow protruding from his throat.
The second from the left raider starts to move towards Selerik, but is stopped by the farthest left. He waves his arms and shouts as if to convince the other to go after someone else.

Josselyn is true to her warning, letting a bolt fly on the focused target before shifting her aim to the one engaging her fellow party member. Deft fingers reload and fire two more bolt from her standard issue guard crossbow. "I will not warn again! Stop in the name of the law!"

Astaren hopes off his horse and moves to hide behind a building. Glancing around the corner he watches the fight for a moment and hmmms. Then holds up his hand as a small bubble forms. Pointing to the middle raider he lets it go flying out and smack the raider. The wizard though appears to be focusing more on keeping an eye out on things.

Albain loads a bright orange-coloured paper cartridge into his pistol, takes aim, and lets loose a crackling bolt of flame that leaves a heat haze in the air, but does nothing but singe the hair of one of the raiders; just an inch to the left, and it would've impacted the miscreant's face.

Albain loads a bright orange-coloured paper cartridge into his pistol, takes aim, and utters eldritch words as he pulls the trigger. A crackling bolt of flame is fired from the weapon that leaves a heat haze in the air, and slams with both fiery and physical force into a raider.

Selerik casts an incantation with a few gestures while he starts talking to the guy on the far left. "Hail, friend! Town isn't the opportunity it seemed to be, is it? Come speak with me, your old friend. I'll keep your fate a good one, just put away your blade and tell me about the plans today." He gives his best winning smile.

One dead, and two gravely wounded, the raiders give pause. Selerik's words brings a halt to the raider on the far left. "Hold," he yells to the others. "Hold!" The others are on guard, but wait to see how it plays out.
"...Willing to negotiate then?" Zenia asks, death ray slightly lowered. She's certainly not moving it so far away as to not be un-readied for another shot but she's waiting. If someone resumes aggressions, the flaming lasers are gonna fly.

Malorn holds himself ready to attack, "Speak quickly." He does not like the idea of letting these raiders get away with the damage they have done, but he's willing to see where this will play out.

The raiders lower their weapons, but keep their shields up. The others back away from their targets and move to collect near the charmed raider. The chatter amongst themselves in their northern tongue, looking up at Selerik a few times. "Not telling your our plans," he says. Friendly, but not without self-preservation. "Will trade you for them. What do you offer?"

Selerik rides closer to the raiders, still with no weapon drawn. He inclines his head to them, gesturing off to the side. "Alexandria has dispatched forces to stop this raid, we are just the tip of that iceberg. If even a single villager is taken, I can assure you that you will be pursued at sea. It is not something any of you want, but for a friend I'm willing to make this advantageous to us both." Selerik gestures towards the coast. "I'm offering you a chance to leave, without being followed, and without retaliation." He glances towards the dead raider. "Further, retaliation. Decide quickly, the others are not as forgiving as I am."

Albain makes a show of slowly re-loading his dragonspitter with another brightly coloured cartridge, as if impressing upon them that there are more fiery bolts like the last one in store for them.

Zenia opens her mouth to speak beneath her full-face helmet, but then stops as Selerik seems to be taking the lead in the diplomatic resolution.

Astaren stays quiet as he puts his back against the building he is hiding around watches the area around him quietly. Leaving the talking to others for now.

"Were up to me, I'd agree," the raider says to Selerik. "I can only speak for my men here. We will leave for trade. Your weight in food, and we will take no slaves. The rest have their own boats."

Malorn shakes his head, "No, you will get nothing, you are are a bunch of thieves and do not even deserve your life. Leave now and never return or you will never leave here." His fists clench as he is holding himself back from attacking.

Selerik waves a hand to suggest that deal is no good. "You're from the north, I've been there. I know the troubles. I'll give you this counter offer, sail back to meet me at (Insert neutral port) in two weeks and I'll get you equipped for fishing work. Honest work. Those who want the thrill of battle, I'll put in a good word to get you naval work with better pay. You know I'm a reliable man." He kicks his horse to speed it up. "You clearly need to think about it, so we're moving on to make an example of others." Selerik gestures to the villagers who were being herded, gesturing to the right, where the soldier fell. "You lot, clear off to safety."

Josselyn grimaces "These men are guilty of theft, looting, pillaging, slaving and quite likely murder. If they were lucky they would be sentences to life in prison in any city I know of,

Alexandria definitely. This is not justice, I say we lock them in irons and drag them before a proper court."

"...Preferable in some respects." Zenia says, "But a little sympathy here. People break the law for all sorts of reasons... It doesn't sit right with me that we let scum go, but all the same. Where did their lives go to lead them to this point?" she asks, "Here and now. What went into it?" she asks. "Maybe... Maybe they could do good if only given the chance."

"Always wanted to visit that port, but kept on by-passing it due to bad weather." Albain remarks, idly fidgeting with his gun as he watches the negotiations. "You really should take that offer, it's fair, which is more than I can say for the fight you're in for if you don't." he adds, addressing the raiders.

Josselyn raises an eyebrow "Theres no excuse for this. I understand the street urchin might steal bread because he's hungry but he doesn't burn the bakery down and kill or torture the baker. This is nothing less than unnecisary and wanton destruction." she says raising her crossbow.

Malorn looks to the others, "We were sent here to save this village and the surest way to save this village is to end these raiders. Let them be an example for any that would think to plunder these shores. It will not stand, you will be met and defeated."

Between Selerik's promises of work, and Malorn's threats, the raiders frantically chatter in their native tongue. One seems unconvinced, but the other three practically drag him away. They start to back away, but Josselyn's raised crossbow and Malorn's further words bring their shields up again.

"And now a fleeing enemy." Zenia says, "It feels wrong to me, but I know we did the right thing. Satisfying vengeance wouldn't have done anything for these people, only hurt someone who was hurting them. Now come on, we have some other people to save." she observes.

"Justice is a luxury, what part of this situation gives us luxury. People band together for survival, with what resources they can. This was planned, motivated, and multiple groups. Let that group go, give them a chance. Merch, forgivenes, are some of the precepts of good. We also do less good standing here arguing it when they no longer wish to fight." Glancing around as he walks past the group, "last I checked, people were still being dragged onto boats. I am heading the ships." A few flickers of flames around his hands, clear on what his intent is. A glance to the men, "I suggest you set sail quickly."

Selerik looks over to the others, considering them a bit before responding. "People do what they must to survive. They are taken advantage of, every day. Every single day. These men do not want slaves, they want survival and the thrill of a challenge. Others ask for slaves, and they are not here to be met with justice." Selerik looks towards the ships. "But I have a feeling I know where we'll find them, if you want to wet your blades."

Malorn gives the raiders a cold look, "Run and never come back." He looks over at his companions. "As much as I enjoy a debate about the philosophies of justice, let's save it for when we are back in Alexandria over a warm meal. Let's stop talking and deal with the rest of these raiders."

"In absolute agreement." Albain replies to Malorn, turning to head further into the town before pausing to look back at Malorn. "Also I really would like to debate that topic when we're back home; I am quite rusty on ethics, and a sound thrashing by a Mul'niessa would be entertaining!" he adds with a gleeful tone.

The four raiders grab their fallen companion, and flee. As they go one of them blows into a horn made from a two year bull. The tooting bellow draws away several other raiders with shields with the same black cross on a green field. They flee, mostly with bags over their shoulders, and the occasional sparkly thing.
Their path clears the southern side of the village, leaving most of the distance to the beach clear. Voices still call from the northern half of the village, but the sounds at the beach certainly drown them out. From the path the beach can be seen, and the green shield men clambering into their longboats to depart. Insults and arrows fly at them from out of view to the right. A few houses all that stands between the beach and our plucky, ethically conflicted, adventurers.

"Hmph." Zenia says, "No love for the sensible." she observes, then looks about for a new group of raiders to drive off, particularly looking for signs of chaos that might indicate their presence. Where there's smoke, after all...

Josselyn continues to follow the others with her crossbow at the ready. "Lets see who else we can round up. Perhaps deliver some proper justice." she grouses.

Blauensturm also follows the others, keeping his cannon-port open....

Malorn nods, "I agree let's head to the northern side of the village and rid this village of the raiders once and for all."

Taking the corner of the house first reveals the boats. Several Longboats with men clamoring aboard them. Both northman and tied up villager. Further around the corner reveals a mass of men, bedecked with shields and axes. Many furs and colors decorate the war party, though not a single green and black shield remains save for the slain. A goodly thirty men stand on the beach, with more coming in from the northern side of the village. Already, in the distance one can see two boats sailing off with their chattel.
Within the hut Zenia creeps, to reveal no one inside. Its safety from the fire because of its closeness to the ships. Two windows look upon the beach, one to the boats, and one to the shore. Creeping in she trips over a rug and knocks over a bookcase. The loud noise draws attention to the house. "Ambush!" Yells the largest man, himself standing separate from the troops.

Josselyn raises her crossbow to her shoulder and lets go at the nearest group. "Raiders... slavers. Not much choice here." her fingers load another bolt after another as she continues to fire into the crowd.

Selerik calls out as they near the enemies. "I know I made some of you cross, sparing those others. The opportunity came up to change lives, but those opportunities are rare! With so many before us we've no recourse. They will bleed, they will break, they will be mourned, and it is a price too small to be justice for the wrong they bring. Our only mercy we can give is to end them swiftly. So aim true!" He shouts to the others. "Let none have time for regrets!"

Blauensturm waits for Selerik to start his ballad before he fires. The lightning bolt strikes home all right, blasting one man out of existence....

There is a mighty clash. Twenty men charge forward to attack. Malorn meets the charge head on, his weapon taking down a raging warrior. The third troop remains behind. "Shields!" They cry and draw javelins. The giant, smarter than the rest heads for the hut, his battleaxe at the ready as he hunts for Zenia.

Albain ducks and weaves from the men that rushed him, loading a white-coloured cartridge and levelling his pistol at the group as a whole. The crack of gunfire is muted, but the muzzle flash is intense and dazzling to those facing the barrel, disorienting his attackers and making them stumble.

"SHIT!" Zenia says, then glances at the possibility of a child being nearby, "...Sorry, don't say that word, it's a bad word." she notes, if there happens to be one. Really? Being concerned about language in the middle of a raider attack? Still, she does go outside and close the door behind her provided there's no raiders IN the house per se. And then charges up her death ray, waiting for the giant raider to come around the corner so she can shoot him in the face. The /moment/ he steps in front of her, she's going to have a wicked grin plastered on her face as she fires.

Selerik weaves a few quick gestures, pointing at one of the attackers on Blauensturm. "Hey! Did you hear about the giant who wanted his bust as the ship's figurehead? They had to put his ass on the back so it wouldn't tip over."

Josselyn takes a step back and snaps off two more expertly aimed shots, Selerik's song helping her shots along into the crowd.

Watching the troop advance, Blauensturm can do nothing but wait for his cannon to recharge. But when it fully recharges....another blast comes from his cannon, wiping another of the troop out of existence.

The troops press forth, both seeking to surround their foes. Their numbers dwindle at the skill of the adventurers. One man even falling to the ground in gales of uncontrolled laughter. A chopping sound is heard from the house, and the giantborn raider barrels through the wall of the house, splinters flying through the air as he comes to be standing point blank in from of Zenia. "Raaaaagh!"

"SURPRISE!" Zenia shouts as the deathray fires off at the giant raider and smacks him in the shoulder. It's not quite the direct hit to the vitals she'd prefer, but it's a good hit nevertheless. "How's the whole raiding business working out for ya?" she asks.

Malorn hits the raiders that surround him with his fists and feet. He is putting up a good fight even as he misses ones.

Albain sees the raiders organizing a flank on him - a smart move, as his pistol is doing far more than just launching bullets - and does the expected; he loads another cartridge. "Look away!" he quickly shouts to his comrades, before uttering a word in eldritch and pulling the trigger. This one actually does fire a projectile of sorts, a glowing little bad that unerringly seeks out a torch held aloft by one of the raiders. Upon impact, crackling pops of fire, thunderous cracks, and brilliant gouts of flame erupt in all directions; seemingly harmless, except for uncovered retinas.

As a result, both groups of the flanking enemies reel from the assault on their senses, scattering from the fireworks, and appear to be dazzled and blinded.

"Oh look, pity about the fire yeah." Zenia says, "Maybe you shouldn't have attacked a helpless village? I mean really, where's the glory in that? I'm not a betting woman, but if I were? I'd put money on Angoron being ashamed of you." she notes, firing another blast at the giant.

Josselyn continues to dispense justice from behind her crossbow, walnut stock at her shoulder she deflty takes two more in the group down with her bolts, one right through the noggin.

Despite the numerous units in the area, Blauensturm could hear the giant being a rather large pain in the butt. So...Blauensturm ignores the smaller foes and fires his death ray at the giant.....and hits it right in the chest.

"Withdraw!" The giant yells, taking a stumbling withdrawal away from Zenia and her clanking help. "To the boats!" The remaining melee troop, hearing their boss' command don't hesitate to break away, having taken more than half their forces in casualties. "To the boats!" They cry so that the third troop will start to pushing the longboats into the water.

"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT YOU PISS-POOR SONS OF OGRES!" Zenia calls out, "GET OUT OF HERE AND DON'T COME WITHIN SEVEN LEAGUES OF IT EVER AGAIN!" she shouts, firing a couple of shots out into the air as an intimidation tactic.

Albain sees the raiders routed before his group, grinning from ear to ear. "They're fleeing!" he shouts triumphantly.

Selerik kicks up some momentum and tries to get another cast off on the jolly Seaweed Giant. He has a big, silly grin on his face. Like this is some sort of game. Maybe it is? But the results don't slow the giant, not in the least. Aww, there goes his grin.

Blauensturm watches as the leader tries to get away. Thanks to the glue he's using on his death ray, he can't go very far. "Primary target......not getting away." He says in a flat tone as he closes the distance and fires his death ray again....this time gluing the giant to the ground. "Surrender yourself......."

Malorn turns on the speed as he has to race through the troops to get to the boat first. He manages to make his way through them and although they try to hit him it's Malorn who gets in a strike thanks to the style of fighting he uses. He manages to get to the boat first just before the troops do.

Wait remains of troop one reaches the boat moments after Malorn. Troop three had already began pushing them into the water. They clamor aboard in fear of the blazing guns and arrows of the attacks. So shaken they are that they ignore the fact that their leader remains on shore. The giant viking bellows, flexing his muscles as he rips himself free of the glue. He begins to run towards the second ship, greatly slowed by his fight with the sticky substance.

Albain sees his colleagues rushing to pursue the routed enemy, in an attempt to rescue any prisoners aboard their ship. But it's the struggling giant that draws his attention, as it's continued defiance will be a problem. The spell cartridge he loads and fires launches a large fiery ball that lands with a thump right next to the giant, before rolling into him, causing him to succumb to the flames and fall.

Nodding, Zenia looks over at any of the ships in an attempt to figure out if any of them have particularly large quantities of prisoners on them and haven't pushed off yet. Picking one at random, she speeds off as fast as her armor will allow her. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" she's swearing along the way. "Why didn't I make anything for movement today?!" she asks herself.

Blauensturm walks his way up next to Selerik and holds his position....

Bravely the monk fought on board, holding true to his ideals. Left and right vikings fell to his bare-fisted fury. So ferocious his onslaught that even the oarman needed join the fray, wailing at him with their oars. Finally a telling blow knocks him down to the chagrin of the captives. Two raiders pick the monk up by arm and foot, swinging his body and tossing him overboard. The tide washes his beaten body to shore.

The locals rush about, putting out fires and comforting the injured and dying. Several join the rest of the adventurers to aid others. Fishermen drag the courageous monk fully on to land, offering to him one of their precious and few healing potions.

[[Category:Logs]]

PrP: Winter Raids

2017-01-03T05:26:35Z

Sebropert: Created page with "============================> 16) Winter Raids <============================ Open/Closed: CLOSED: This event is only for the Confirmed players below. However,..."

============================> 16) Winter Raids <============================
Open/Closed: CLOSED: This event is only for the Confirmed players below.
However, you can still sign up for this event with +event/signup,
to let the GM know that you're available if one of the
Confirmed players doesn't show up.
Poster: Sebropert*
Start Time: 03:30:00 PM (LOCAL), Monday, January 02, 2017 (7h 13m past date)
Location: rp2
Level Range: 4-8

The desperate months of the winter season bring raiders. Northmen come on their winged boats to
take the bounty of others.

Signed up: none
Confirmed: Selerik (Bard5)* Blauensturm (Art3) Astaren (Clr3/Wiz3)* Zenia (Art3)* Malorn
(Mnk4) Josselyn (Ftr5) Albain (Ftr1/Wiz3)*
----------------------------- Config parameters ------------------------------
not yet implemented
===========================================================( Connected* )=====
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Josselyn Ordinary city guard, with a crossbow. 4m 45m
Zenia Disheveled woman in mechanic's outfit 2m 41m
Malorn A white haired Mul'niessa Monk 1m 34m
Selerik A tall and thin man dressed as an artist. 56s 2d
Astaren A tall man wearing dark blue robes. 6m 1h
Sebropert A black and copper Sith'Makar with burn scars. 0s 2h
Blauensturm Silver plated Golem w/a blue visor 3m 22m
Albain Dark-haired blue-eyed young man 3m 12m
Whirlpool I am stinky! 3m 1d

On they swept with threshing oar, their dragon headed ships piercing the winter mists. From the lands of ice and snow they drove their ships to new lands. Thrice they have struck the western shore, pillaging and raiding small hamlets. None paid the guild this time. The guild itself seeing the need for action. The coffers would open to save innocent seaside villagers.
A watch tower, far up the coast sent word. Sightings of dragons in the mist, heading towards a fishing village further down the coast. A horde of adventurers ride forth to the rescue. Mounts provided and ridden hard until the seasalt air breathes against their faces. Smoke tinges their air, and distant cries carry on the wind. From a high hill where your mounts stop, the village can be seen. Fires burn huts, and raiders chase villagers with hoops and hollers.

Malorn gets down from his mount and he reaches down to pick up some of the fallen snow and he rubs it in between his hands. He clenches his fists, "Let's go down there and stop them before anyone else gets hurt." He says as he starts off down towards the village.

Josselyn stiffles a yelp as she sees the village burn from the hill. "Oh dear Daeus, I hope we can still save some people." she says loading up her standard guard issue light crossbow after dismounting.

One adventurer uses a cart, cuz no horse is smart enough to carry a war golem. especially one this big. However, once said war golem stands up, he begins to walk it's way down the hill towards the village. "Priority: evacuate townspeople."

Astaren shakes his head slowly and sighs, "Such things..." reaching up to rub his head, and then glances around, "Shall we?" turning to start heading towards the village.

Zenia gets off of her horse, the artificer's armor she's wearing thunking hard against the ground and sinking a bit into the snow. "Agreed." she says, charging off full tilt as she pulls her death ray off her back and begins charging it up, ready to fire. Some might note the orange-red glow suggestive of fire coming from it this time, rather than the electrical blue glow. Pressing a button next to her helmet's lower portion she then calls out in a slightly mechanical voice, "We're here to aid in the village's defense! Head to the end of the village furthest from the coast and stay together!"

Albain was quiet through-out most of the journey here, his head down in books both mundane and eldritch in nature, though it seems he was more satisfied with the former than the latter. The young man - whether scholar, outdoorsman, or both - also spent his time tending to a magical pistol, a dragonspitter of notable craftsmanship, and to a cornucopia of strange metal and paper cartridges of which most bore packets of strange materials rather than lead bullets. But now that action is called for, the books are stored away and the pistol and knife are readied, along with a selection of cartridges to choose from. "Right then, the task at hand." he says aloud as he moves with the others.

Selerik follows along with the rest of the adventurers, looking distraught. A village under attack is never a joyful occasion for him, but unlike the others he isn't armed to fight. He seems focused on just helping the people in need.

The village is spread out, covering a haphazard pattern. Fires blaze starting from the shore to inland. The inland most areas not damaged as of yet. Cross streets form and lead out on two main roads, one south, one east. Raiders spread through out, moving in groups. The run past villagers and then herd them back towards the shores. Killing those that fight, and herding those that cower.

Glancing left and right quickly, Zenia nods. "Our first priority is the lives of the villagers. The ones that are being herded towards the shores are likely being sold into slavery, or kept as personal trophies. I advise the more combat capable of us go to intercept the bulk of their fighters, while others go to sabotage the warships to cut off their escape. We needn't slaughter the raiders wholesale, but I'm more concerned about what would happen if the villagers are allowed to be sailed off with."

Josselyn rubs her chin "You sure you want to split up? I think we should get those villagers by the coast out and more than like the vikings will come back to us, seeing as thats where the boats are, right?" she offers as a suggestion. "Either way, houses can be rebuilt but people cannot."

"I would advise against cutting off their escape; if we bloody their noses, they might run without too much effort on our part." Albain suggests as he loads a live cartridge into the breach. "But if prevent their escape, they will fight all the more."

Malorn looks over to Zenia, "There is an old saying, don't split up your fighting force. We should just go after the larger force of raiders to the south and fight them."

Astaren closes his eyes as he considers a moment, "The raid is happening, we do not have the forces needed to stop that, only to end the raid from continuing. We need to hit them hard, and hit them fast, and force a retreat." Eyes opening, "That is my advice. Lead the way, and do not split."

Nodding, Zenia sighs. "...Regrettable, but a solid point. They didn't come here to fight armed individuals, merely the helpless." she explains. "Right. To the bulk then." as she begins to head off to where the fighting is most prevalent."

Selerik steadies his mount, looking between everyone there. He squints over towards the village, then back at the ground. "Just make up your minds." Seems he'll just go with the group.
Josselyn nods and follows Zenia with her crossbow ready, stock resting in the crook of her arm. "Right, lets get going already before more people get hurt through indecision."

Albain follows after Zenia without hesitation, and glances at the others expectantly as he silently goads them to come along. "No plan ever survived contact with the enemy anyways, if I remember that saying right." he adds with a half-grin.

The southern road leads to a small square. Fires burn brightly against the night. Wood cracks and splinters in echo to the screams of villagers. Paltry defenses exist, strewn about. Thatch walls for archers to hide behind, abandoned in the onslaught. A group of raiders have their backs to the adventurers, their axes gleaming as they clash them against shields. Herding the villagers. Five raiders in total, herding west.

Selerik takes one hand off his reins, gesturing to the raider on the left end while speaking low. "I'll charm that one, get him to talk to me about the plan for the villagers. I leave the rest to you."

Malorn heads along the southern road and he looks to Selerik, "As you wish." He looks towards the far one on the right and he makes himself ready to go after the raider.

Astaren closes his eyes as he considers and whispers a few words. Holding ou this left hand a moon bubble forms and then quickly expands and surronnds the man, covering him in mage armor. "Indeed." his voice is quiet, none of the usual joy or easy going attitude about him.

Albain pauses once the first group of raiders is spotted, withdrawing a paper cartridge that is jammed into his pistol and fired into the air. Instead of a loud bang, the contents are consumed in a puff of sparkling light that lands upon him, adding a faint shimmer to his clothing.

Josselyn has well and truly decided what needs to be done with the raiders, raising her crossbow "Halt in the name of the law!" she calls out, mindfull of the one that Selerik pointed out.

Malorn lets the others shoot as he charges to get right into the middle of fray. He goes to kick the one in the middle, but as he plants his foot he slips on a patch of snow and his kick goes wide.

Blauensturm watches as Zenia shoot at one of the raiders, and rather than spread the damage around, he focuses his fire on the same target, making it hurt a lot worse than what it was.

The raider on the far right turns as he is pummeled with shots from the artificers. With a howl he starts running towards Zenia, his small axe thrown through the air. The spinning blade goes wide. His forward moment is stopped by Josselyn's arrow, knocking him flat on his back with an arrow protruding from his throat.
The second from the left raider starts to move towards Selerik, but is stopped by the farthest left. He waves his arms and shouts as if to convince the other to go after someone else.

Josselyn is true to her warning, letting a bolt fly on the focused target before shifting her aim to the one engaging her fellow party member. Deft fingers reload and fire two more bolt from her standard issue guard crossbow. "I will not warn again! Stop in the name of the law!"

Astaren hopes off his horse and moves to hide behind a building. Glancing around the corner he watches the fight for a moment and hmmms. Then holds up his hand as a small bubble forms. Pointing to the middle raider he lets it go flying out and smack the raider. The wizard though appears to be focusing more on keeping an eye out on things.

Albain loads a bright orange-coloured paper cartridge into his pistol, takes aim, and lets loose a crackling bolt of flame that leaves a heat haze in the air, but does nothing but singe the hair of one of the raiders; just an inch to the left, and it would've impacted the miscreant's face.

Albain loads a bright orange-coloured paper cartridge into his pistol, takes aim, and utters eldritch words as he pulls the trigger. A crackling bolt of flame is fired from the weapon that leaves a heat haze in the air, and slams with both fiery and physical force into a raider.

Selerik casts an incantation with a few gestures while he starts talking to the guy on the far left. "Hail, friend! Town isn't the opportunity it seemed to be, is it? Come speak with me, your old friend. I'll keep your fate a good one, just put away your blade and tell me about the plans today." He gives his best winning smile.

One dead, and two gravely wounded, the raiders give pause. Selerik's words brings a halt to the raider on the far left. "Hold," he yells to the others. "Hold!" The others are on guard, but wait to see how it plays out.
"...Willing to negotiate then?" Zenia asks, death ray slightly lowered. She's certainly not moving it so far away as to not be un-readied for another shot but she's waiting. If someone resumes aggressions, the flaming lasers are gonna fly.

Malorn holds himself ready to attack, "Speak quickly." He does not like the idea of letting these raiders get away with the damage they have done, but he's willing to see where this will play out.

The raiders lower their weapons, but keep their shields up. The others back away from their targets and move to collect near the charmed raider. The chatter amongst themselves in their northern tongue, looking up at Selerik a few times. "Not telling your our plans," he says. Friendly, but not without self-preservation. "Will trade you for them. What do you offer?"

Selerik rides closer to the raiders, still with no weapon drawn. He inclines his head to them, gesturing off to the side. "Alexandria has dispatched forces to stop this raid, we are just the tip of that iceberg. If even a single villager is taken, I can assure you that you will be pursued at sea. It is not something any of you want, but for a friend I'm willing to make this advantageous to us both." Selerik gestures towards the coast. "I'm offering you a chance to leave, without being followed, and without retaliation." He glances towards the dead raider. "Further, retaliation. Decide quickly, the others are not as forgiving as I am."

Albain makes a show of slowly re-loading his dragonspitter with another brightly coloured cartridge, as if impressing upon them that there are more fiery bolts like the last one in store for them.

Zenia opens her mouth to speak beneath her full-face helmet, but then stops as Selerik seems to be taking the lead in the diplomatic resolution.

Astaren stays quiet as he puts his back against the building he is hiding around watches the area around him quietly. Leaving the talking to others for now.

"Were up to me, I'd agree," the raider says to Selerik. "I can only speak for my men here. We will leave for trade. Your weight in food, and we will take no slaves. The rest have their own boats."

Malorn shakes his head, "No, you will get nothing, you are are a bunch of thieves and do not even deserve your life. Leave now and never return or you will never leave here." His fists clench as he is holding himself back from attacking.

Selerik waves a hand to suggest that deal is no good. "You're from the north, I've been there. I know the troubles. I'll give you this counter offer, sail back to meet me at (Insert neutral port) in two weeks and I'll get you equipped for fishing work. Honest work. Those who want the thrill of battle, I'll put in a good word to get you naval work with better pay. You know I'm a reliable man." He kicks his horse to speed it up. "You clearly need to think about it, so we're moving on to make an example of others." Selerik gestures to the villagers who were being herded, gesturing to the right, where the soldier fell. "You lot, clear off to safety."

Josselyn grimaces "These men are guilty of theft, looting, pillaging, slaving and quite likely murder. If they were lucky they would be sentences to life in prison in any city I know of,

Alexandria definitely. This is not justice, I say we lock them in irons and drag them before a proper court."

"...Preferable in some respects." Zenia says, "But a little sympathy here. People break the law for all sorts of reasons... It doesn't sit right with me that we let scum go, but all the same. Where did their lives go to lead them to this point?" she asks, "Here and now. What went into it?" she asks. "Maybe... Maybe they could do good if only given the chance."

"Always wanted to visit that port, but kept on by-passing it due to bad weather." Albain remarks, idly fidgeting with his gun as he watches the negotiations. "You really should take that offer, it's fair, which is more than I can say for the fight you're in for if you don't." he adds, addressing the raiders.

Josselyn raises an eyebrow "Theres no excuse for this. I understand the street urchin might steal bread because he's hungry but he doesn't burn the bakery down and kill or torture the baker. This is nothing less than unnecisary and wanton destruction." she says raising her crossbow.

Malorn looks to the others, "We were sent here to save this village and the surest way to save this village is to end these raiders. Let them be an example for any that would think to plunder these shores. It will not stand, you will be met and defeated."

Between Selerik's promises of work, and Malorn's threats, the raiders frantically chatter in their native tongue. One seems unconvinced, but the other three practically drag him away. They start to back away, but Josselyn's raised crossbow and Malorn's further words bring their shields up again.

"And now a fleeing enemy." Zenia says, "It feels wrong to me, but I know we did the right thing. Satisfying vengeance wouldn't have done anything for these people, only hurt someone who was hurting them. Now come on, we have some other people to save." she observes.

"Justice is a luxury, what part of this situation gives us luxury. People band together for survival, with what resources they can. This was planned, motivated, and multiple groups. Let that group go, give them a chance. Merch, forgivenes, are some of the precepts of good. We also do less good standing here arguing it when they no longer wish to fight." Glancing around as he walks past the group, "last I checked, people were still being dragged onto boats. I am heading the ships." A few flickers of flames around his hands, clear on what his intent is. A glance to the men, "I suggest you set sail quickly."

Selerik looks over to the others, considering them a bit before responding. "People do what they must to survive. They are taken advantage of, every day. Every single day. These men do not want slaves, they want survival and the thrill of a challenge. Others ask for slaves, and they are not here to be met with justice." Selerik looks towards the ships. "But I have a feeling I know where we'll find them, if you want to wet your blades."

Malorn gives the raiders a cold look, "Run and never come back." He looks over at his companions. "As much as I enjoy a debate about the philosophies of justice, let's save it for when we are back in Alexandria over a warm meal. Let's stop talking and deal with the rest of these raiders."

"In absolute agreement." Albain replies to Malorn, turning to head further into the town before pausing to look back at Malorn. "Also I really would like to debate that topic when we're back home; I am quite rusty on ethics, and a sound thrashing by a Mul'niessa would be entertaining!" he adds with a gleeful tone.

The four raiders grab their fallen companion, and flee. As they go one of them blows into a horn made from a two year bull. The tooting bellow draws away several other raiders with shields with the same black cross on a green field. They flee, mostly with bags over their shoulders, and the occasional sparkly thing.
Their path clears the southern side of the village, leaving most of the distance to the beach clear. Voices still call from the northern half of the village, but the sounds at the beach certainly drown them out. From the path the beach can be seen, and the green shield men clambering into their longboats to depart. Insults and arrows fly at them from out of view to the right. A few houses all that stands between the beach and our plucky, ethically conflicted, adventurers.

"Hmph." Zenia says, "No love for the sensible." she observes, then looks about for a new group of raiders to drive off, particularly looking for signs of chaos that might indicate their presence. Where there's smoke, after all...

Josselyn continues to follow the others with her crossbow at the ready. "Lets see who else we can round up. Perhaps deliver some proper justice." she grouses.

Blauensturm also follows the others, keeping his cannon-port open....

Malorn nods, "I agree let's head to the northern side of the village and rid this village of the raiders once and for all."

Taking the corner of the house first reveals the boats. Several Longboats with men clamoring aboard them. Both northman and tied up villager. Further around the corner reveals a mass of men, bedecked with shields and axes. Many furs and colors decorate the war party, though not a single green and black shield remains save for the slain. A goodly thirty men stand on the beach, with more coming in from the northern side of the village. Already, in the distance one can see two boats sailing off with their chattel.
Within the hut Zenia creeps, to reveal no one inside. Its safety from the fire because of its closeness to the ships. Two windows look upon the beach, one to the boats, and one to the shore. Creeping in she trips over a rug and knocks over a bookcase. The loud noise draws attention to the house. "Ambush!" Yells the largest man, himself standing separate from the troops.

Josselyn raises her crossbow to her shoulder and lets go at the nearest group. "Raiders... slavers. Not much choice here." her fingers load another bolt after another as she continues to fire into the crowd.

Selerik calls out as they near the enemies. "I know I made some of you cross, sparing those others. The opportunity came up to change lives, but those opportunities are rare! With so many before us we've no recourse. They will bleed, they will break, they will be mourned, and it is a price too small to be justice for the wrong they bring. Our only mercy we can give is to end them swiftly. So aim true!" He shouts to the others. "Let none have time for regrets!"

Blauensturm waits for Selerik to start his ballad before he fires. The lightning bolt strikes home all right, blasting one man out of existence....

There is a mighty clash. Twenty men charge forward to attack. Malorn meets the charge head on, his weapon taking down a raging warrior. The third troop remains behind. "Shields!" They cry and draw javelins. The giant, smarter than the rest heads for the hut, his battleaxe at the ready as he hunts for Zenia.

Albain ducks and weaves from the men that rushed him, loading a white-coloured cartridge and levelling his pistol at the group as a whole. The crack of gunfire is muted, but the muzzle flash is intense and dazzling to those facing the barrel, disorienting his attackers and making them stumble.

"SHIT!" Zenia says, then glances at the possibility of a child being nearby, "...Sorry, don't say that word, it's a bad word." she notes, if there happens to be one. Really? Being concerned about language in the middle of a raider attack? Still, she does go outside and close the door behind her provided there's no raiders IN the house per se. And then charges up her death ray, waiting for the giant raider to come around the corner so she can shoot him in the face. The /moment/ he steps in front of her, she's going to have a wicked grin plastered on her face as she fires.

Selerik weaves a few quick gestures, pointing at one of the attackers on Blauensturm. "Hey! Did you hear about the giant who wanted his bust as the ship's figurehead? They had to put his ass on the back so it wouldn't tip over."

Josselyn takes a step back and snaps off two more expertly aimed shots, Selerik's song helping her shots along into the crowd.

Watching the troop advance, Blauensturm can do nothing but wait for his cannon to recharge. But when it fully recharges....another blast comes from his cannon, wiping another of the troop out of existence.

The troops press forth, both seeking to surround their foes. Their numbers dwindle at the skill of the adventurers. One man even falling to the ground in gales of uncontrolled laughter. A chopping sound is heard from the house, and the giantborn raider barrels through the wall of the house, splinters flying through the air as he comes to be standing point blank in from of Zenia. "Raaaaagh!"

"SURPRISE!" Zenia shouts as the deathray fires off at the giant raider and smacks him in the shoulder. It's not quite the direct hit to the vitals she'd prefer, but it's a good hit nevertheless. "How's the whole raiding business working out for ya?" she asks.

Malorn hits the raiders that surround him with his fists and feet. He is putting up a good fight even as he misses ones.

Albain sees the raiders organizing a flank on him - a smart move, as his pistol is doing far more than just launching bullets - and does the expected; he loads another cartridge. "Look away!" he quickly shouts to his comrades, before uttering a word in eldritch and pulling the trigger. This one actually does fire a projectile of sorts, a glowing little bad that unerringly seeks out a torch held aloft by one of the raiders. Upon impact, crackling pops of fire, thunderous cracks, and brilliant gouts of flame erupt in all directions; seemingly harmless, except for uncovered retinas.

As a result, both groups of the flanking enemies reel from the assault on their senses, scattering from the fireworks, and appear to be dazzled and blinded.

"Oh look, pity about the fire yeah." Zenia says, "Maybe you shouldn't have attacked a helpless village? I mean really, where's the glory in that? I'm not a betting woman, but if I were? I'd put money on Angoron being ashamed of you." she notes, firing another blast at the giant.

Josselyn continues to dispense justice from behind her crossbow, walnut stock at her shoulder she deflty takes two more in the group down with her bolts, one right through the noggin.

Despite the numerous units in the area, Blauensturm could hear the giant being a rather large pain in the butt. So...Blauensturm ignores the smaller foes and fires his death ray at the giant.....and hits it right in the chest.

"Withdraw!" The giant yells, taking a stumbling withdrawal away from Zenia and her clanking help. "To the boats!" The remaining melee troop, hearing their boss' command don't hesitate to break away, having taken more than half their forces in casualties. "To the boats!" They cry so that the third troop will start to pushing the longboats into the water.

"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT YOU PISS-POOR SONS OF OGRES!" Zenia calls out, "GET OUT OF HERE AND DON'T COME WITHIN SEVEN LEAGUES OF IT EVER AGAIN!" she shouts, firing a couple of shots out into the air as an intimidation tactic.

Albain sees the raiders routed before his group, grinning from ear to ear. "They're fleeing!" he shouts triumphantly.

Selerik kicks up some momentum and tries to get another cast off on the jolly Seaweed Giant. He has a big, silly grin on his face. Like this is some sort of game. Maybe it is? But the results don't slow the giant, not in the least. Aww, there goes his grin.

Blauensturm watches as the leader tries to get away. Thanks to the glue he's using on his death ray, he can't go very far. "Primary target......not getting away." He says in a flat tone as he closes the distance and fires his death ray again....this time gluing the giant to the ground. "Surrender yourself......."

Malorn turns on the speed as he has to race through the troops to get to the boat first. He manages to make his way through them and although they try to hit him it's Malorn who gets in a strike thanks to the style of fighting he uses. He manages to get to the boat first just before the troops do.

Wait remains of troop one reaches the boat moments after Malorn. Troop three had already began pushing them into the water. They clamor aboard in fear of the blazing guns and arrows of the attacks. So shaken they are that they ignore the fact that their leader remains on shore. The giant viking bellows, flexing his muscles as he rips himself free of the glue. He begins to run towards the second ship, greatly slowed by his fight with the sticky substance.

Albain sees his colleagues rushing to pursue the routed enemy, in an attempt to rescue any prisoners aboard their ship. But it's the struggling giant that draws his attention, as it's continued defiance will be a problem. The spell cartridge he loads and fires launches a large fiery ball that lands with a thump right next to the giant, before rolling into him, causing him to succumb to the flames and fall.

Nodding, Zenia looks over at any of the ships in an attempt to figure out if any of them have particularly large quantities of prisoners on them and haven't pushed off yet. Picking one at random, she speeds off as fast as her armor will allow her. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" she's swearing along the way. "Why didn't I make anything for movement today?!" she asks herself.

Blauensturm walks his way up next to Selerik and holds his position....

Bravely the monk fought on board, holding true to his ideals. Left and right vikings fell to his bare-fisted fury. So ferocious his onslaught that even the oarman needed join the fray, wailing at him with their oars. Finally a telling blow knocks him down to the chagrin of the captives. Two raiders pick the monk up by arm and foot, swinging his body and tossing him overboard. The tide washes his beaten body to shore.

The locals rush about, putting out fires and comforting the injured and dying. Several join the rest of the adventurers to aid others. Fishermen drag the courageous monk fully on to land, offering to him one of their precious and few healing potions.

[[Category:Logs]]

2016-05-28T21:55:11Z

Sebropert:

<div style="clear:both;"></div>
<div style="padding-top:20px;">[[image:samurai_banner.jpg|center]]</div>

<div style="position:relative; top:-280px; min-height: 60px; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; ">
<p style="color: #ccddee; font-weight: bold; text-shadow: 2px 2px #D20F07; border-bottom: 10px solid #D20F07; text-align: center; font-size: 300%;">Shaoqing Hitori
</p>

<div style="width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 20px;">
[[image:Shaoqing.jpg|thumb|right|Shaoqing - Hitori Handmaiden]]

<p style="color:#D20F07; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Roleplay Hooks</p>
* Shaoqing is from the Empire of Tsang Lun in the Jade Islands. Have you been to the Deep East?
* Shaoqing is a trained handmaiden, and tutor for young nobles. Do you need a vassal or etiquette lessons?
* Shaoqing plays an instrument from Tsang Lun, and sings as well. Entertainment or ensemble?
* Shaoqing is an adherent of the Guardian Sentinel (Serriel), and believes in honor and service. Have a good cause?
* Shaoqing practices a sword form based on agility, misdirection, and contemplative meditation.

<p style="color:#D20F07; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Description</p>

This human is long and slender, with an appearance that is a mix of delicate finery and controlled chaos. A bun barely contains long strands of coal black hair tied with a bow of vermilion cloth. Escaped tresses hang like willow branches to the small of the back. Sharp features are made delicate by the addition of kohl, eyeshadow, and red lip stain. The lightest of rouge accents high cheekbones. Thin eyebrows arc at a haughty angle above large almond eyes of marigold and auburn. The carmine petals of tattoos trace down an overly long throat, and down the line between shoulder blades.
A sleeveless gown of unstained white hangs from a single strap collar. The back of the gown dives severely to reveal inked markings of rich reds etched into dusky skin. A striped pastel sash cinches around the waist and dangles down the back of the ankle length skirt. Cords of braided white rope hold deep swooping sleeves onto bony arms, just above the mid-upper arm. Lily white star-bursts decorate the back of the deep red fabric. At the wrist the sleeves collect at white cuffs, the left longer than the right, and reinforced along the forearm. Tufts of jet black fur sprout from the cuffs and cradle long fingered hands, marred with dotted swirls of bloody ink. The patterns seem to blend into long painted fingernails kept at sharp points. A corded strap holds a wrapped object across Shaoqing's back, shaped like a long and narrow box.
Tucked within the folds of the striped sash, over the right hip, hangs a looped string of stone beads attached to a golden Guiding Sentinel. Two slender black-stained sheathes rest over the left hip, crossing in a lopsided X. One blade is little more than two hands in length, with hilt wraps of white and cardinal. Its over-sized twin is more than an arm's length, with an overly long hilt and a slight curve to the blade.
l



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<div style="clear:both;"></div>
<div style="padding-top:20px;">[[image:samurai_art.jpg|center]]</div>


<div style="position:relative; top:-110px; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-size: 140%;"><p style="padding-right: 250px;">"It does not matter where I have come from, or who I was. What matters is what I have become, and that duty only ends in death."</p></div>

<div style="clear:both;"></div>


[[Category:Player]]


[[Category:Getting_Started]]

{{Badge}}
{{Badge-Icon|Humans07_aesir.png}}
{{Badge-Content}}
{{Badge-Title|Human PC Badge}}
{{Badge-Entry|Ancestry}}From where do your ancestors hail? Where do you?
{{Badge-Entry|Associated With}}Are you particularly supportive of a nation, a temple, a group? Talk about them here! You may want to use the Homeland badge, below.
{{Badge-Entry|Faith}}Your Faith

{{Badge-End}}

{{Badge}}
{{Badge-Icon|Scroll_med.png}}
{{Badge-Content}}
{{Badge-Title|Homeland PC Badge}}
{{Badge-Entry|Homeland}}Jade Islands - Tsang Lun
{{Badge-Entry|Family History}}Shaoqing belongs to a distant branch family of the Hitori clan. The family still resides in the Deep East.
{{Badge-Entry|Politics}}There are certainly things that could be better; but it could always be worse.

{{Badge-End}}

Shaoqing

2016-05-28T21:53:52Z

Sebropert:

Shaoqing

2016-05-28T21:53:29Z

Frozen Mountain Advanced Character Template

2016-05-28T15:55:17Z

Sebropert:

<div style="clear:both;"></div>
<div style="padding-top:20px;">[[image:Frozen_mountain_cp_header.png|center]]</div>

<div style="position:relative; top:-280px; min-height: 60px; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; ">
<p style="color: #ccddee; font-weight: bold; text-shadow: 2px 2px #FF0000; border-bottom: 10px solid #443355; text-align: center; font-size: 300%;">PUT CHARACTER NAME HERE
</p>

<div style="margin: 5px;">
<p style="color:#443355; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">About My Character</p>
TYPE STUFF ABOUT CHARACTER HERE. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras libero ante, imperdiet sollicitudin neque vitae, imperdiet tempor dui. Suspendisse ornare sed massa sit amet pharetra. Vivamus sed quam lacus. Integer aliquet enim orci, consequat imperdiet ex vulputate quis. Vestibulum ultricies nisi eget neque eleifend venenatis. Mauris pharetra, urna sed congue dignissim, sapien felis efficitur nulla, vitae convallis nisi nibh sed elit. Etiam eget tempus neque, et fringilla odio. Donec pharetra ipsum a erat efficitur, in ornare enim interdum. Mauris libero ipsum, hendrerit nec sapien vitae, sollicitudin porttitor velit. Morbi pulvinar cursus sodales. Cras ultricies dignissim mi non gravida. Nunc et suscipit nulla, id faucibus orci.


[[image:my character.jpg|thumb|right]]

<p style="color:#443355; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Roleplay Hooks</p>
* Roleplay hook
* Roleplay hook

</div>
</div>


<div style="clear:both;"></div>

[[image:Frozen_mountain_cp_footer.png|center]]


[[Category:Player]]


[[Category:Getting_Started]]

Shaoqing

2016-05-28T15:50:56Z

Sebropert:

<div style="clear:both;"></div>
<div style="padding-top:20px;">[[image:Samurai_banner.jpg|center]]</div>

<div style="position:relative; top:-280px; min-height: 60px; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; ">
<p style="color: #cc5511; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: 10px solid #664433; text-align: center; font-size: 300%;">Shaoqing
</p>

<div style="width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 20px;">
[[image:Shaoqing.png|thumb|right|Shaoqing, Hitori Handmaiden]]

<p style="color:#b10e08; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Roleplay Hooks</p>
* Auk is a former Air-Pirate. Do you ride the skies, or have a past that is a less than savory?
* Auk's right leg is a creation of artifice that he designed himself. Ideas for upgrades?
* Auk is an adherent of Tarien, and enjoys games of chance and honest pranks.
* Auk is not only an Artificer, but a crafter of rare and dangerous firearms.
* Auk loves a good jig, and with his handy concertina he will help play most any lively shanty. His singing though is the absolute worst.

<p style="color:#b10e08; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Background</p>
In the high reaches at the Roof of the World, the Egalrin roost and rule the air. The morning after a fierce storm was hatched Auk, son to Pestrel and Razorbill. That storm that his egg rocked in would come to define much of his life, its rise and falls a chaos that he would flow with as only those with wings could. His mother Pestrel was a strong willed priestess of Ceiwen the Huntress, who strove to ensure her hatchling revered the natural world. His father Razorbill was a warrior of no small repute, who knew that his son's mastery of his wings would help him survive and defend their mountain Aerie. While over the next few years Auk had several siblings hatched, his parents were always sure to pride themselves on the first born son. Quick of mind, and wing, Auk became a paragon of what a young Egalrin should be at ten years of age. Unfortunately Auk was aware of his status and allowed arrogance to cloud his judgment. Many hatchlings attempt to fly early, but their wings are too under-developed to hold their bodies aloft. Climbing too far out, Auk's attempt to fly ended in disaster, his descent into the mists below the mountain top bringing him far below the world of the Egalrin.

This fated fall began a downward spiral of life for Auk, for below his high mountain home were colonies belonging to the Empire of Charn. Fifteen years away from being a adult, injured, and unable to climb or fly himself back home Auk did not remain a free creature for long. A passing caravan picked up the injured chick and brought him along, all be it in chains. A rarity, he sold for a decent price to a local country noble, a creator of Charn's chief perversion, Artifice.

While he was injured Auk needed to make himself useful to his new master to ensure his survival. His Egalrin dexterity and his own swift mind found him a spot assisting his master with his diabolic creations. As young as he was, Auk did not do much. Measuring something here, labeling a jar there. But fear of the rod kept him diligent and on task. As long as he worked his master was not unduly cruel, but punishment when it came was swift and brutal.

Long lived are the Egalrin, and his first Master was already long in the tooth. After twelve years his first master died, and the master's son took his place. Having grown into adulthood with his new Master made his life significantly easier than that of a field slave, or a worker. He was a house slave, a special servant, and with that came a measure of arrogance towards the others. Years in that environment had in small part made him like his masters. Taking out his small concerns on those beneath him so he could feel better about his own plight.

Under his new Master he learned more of the cursed art of Artifice, even lending a hand in minor creations. Lenses that could see better than the eye. Balls that exploded in bursts of brilliant light. But this life of learning and eking by as slightly better than nothing did not last. As a
rarity and now a great deal bigger than he was, Auk was soon noticed by a noble higher than his master, who was persuaded to hand Auk over has a gift. No longer a favored servant Auk now was lower than he was before. A slave for labor that was occasionally spruced up to be put on display for some rival. Cruelty was more this master's style, but Auk persevered through the life of his human master and into the service of his daughter, his only remaining heir. Seventeen years he had served her father, and it would be ten more before the next upheaval in Auk's life.

To keep her families house alive Auk's mistress needed to marry into another house. A powerful house. And of course that meant a dowry. Almost fifty, and Auk found himself being loaded aboard an airship along with a myriad of other slaves, devices of artiface, and treasures bound for the Charn mainland to buy the mistress a husband. Aboard that ship Auk met another slave from below the ground. His name was Corail. Despite his frail size, the dark skinned Sildanyar had a viciousness that not even his masters could rival. With his forceful words and actions, the subservient slaves followed him quickly into a complete massacre of the airship's crew. This began what Auk considered his darkest years. After several duels to the death, and several more lives lost to discovering how their newly obtained airship worked, the slave crew made their way to the east.

In the east they found the Jade Islands, a place with a culture the former slaves' impromptu leader relished in. With few other options Auk and others remained aboard the airship, and turned their life to piracy. At first they preyed only on ships and airships of the Charn Empire, murdering and pillaging wantonly. But soon greed and a loss of moral standards led them to prey on others. Merchants, and anyone who showed weakness be they on water or sky. Throughout their travels Corail kept Auk as his first mate, and for over a decade they were a force of evil in the southern lands.

Soon though it became too much for Auk. At the age of sixty six, the souls of the many that had fallen before the weapons of Auk and his fellow crew members had reached their peak. The nightmares and moral dilemmas began to clash with the few precious memories Auk retained from his childhood. Soon in secret Auk would neglect to mention people hiding in rooms he was suppose to search, or a captive would miraculously escape once they made it to land. Of course such activity does not go unnoticed long. After a few years Auk had no choice but to abandon ship.

It took several years, wandering on foot, and working passage on ships but Auk finally put as much land as he possibly could between himself and the places that he thought had made him a monster. Auk doesn't abhor killing, or dark deeds, but to do these things wantonly, and only for self gain are now a thing of his past. It is his nature to be gruff and hard, but if Auk polishes hard enough he hopes to find a heart of gold where his old captain only had a heart of coal. At the age of seventy six, Auk is only just beginning his new life.


</div>


<div style="clear:both;"></div>
<div style="padding-top:20px;">[[image:gobberpirate_cp_footer.jpg|center]]</div>


<div style="position:relative; top:-110px; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-size: 140%;"><p style="padding-right: 250px;">"Don't be crackin on me now. Good or ill, no one wants a parcel of hen-pecked numbskulls on the job. Now pick yeself up by the bootstraps. Tis guild work, and good or no, tat means pay. The shiny bits. And if nuttin' makes you do nuttin, it should be gold."</p></div>

<div style="clear:both;"></div>


[[Category:Player]]


[[Category:Getting_Started]]

{{Badge}}
{{Badge-Icon|Humans07_aesir.png}}
{{Badge-Content}}
{{Badge-Title|Human PC Badge}}
{{Badge-Entry|Ancestry}}From where do your ancestors hail? Where do you?
{{Badge-Entry|Associated With}}Are you particularly supportive of a nation, a temple, a group? Talk about them here! You may want to use the Homeland badge, below.
{{Badge-Entry|Faith}}Your Faith

{{Badge}}
{{Badge-Icon|Scroll_med.png}}
{{Badge-Content}}
{{Badge-Title|Homeland PC Badge}}
{{Badge-Entry|Homeland}}Tsang Lun
{{Badge-Entry|Family History}}Shaoqing belongs to a distant branch family of the Hitori clan. The family still resides in the Deep East.
{{Badge-Entry|Politics}}There are certainly things that could be better; but it could always be worse.

{{Badge-End}}

File:Samurai art.jpg

2016-05-28T15:47:04Z

Sebropert:

Shaoqing

2016-05-28T15:46:28Z

Sebropert: Created page with " <div style="padding-bottom: 20px;">center</div>  <div style="min-height..."

<div style="padding-bottom: 20px;">[[image:samurai_banner.jpg|center]]</div>


<div style="min-height: 50px; color: #000; font-weight: bold; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; font-size: 300%;">Auk</div>

<div style="width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 20px;">
[[image:Auk.png|thumb|right|Auk, age 45]]

<p style="color:#b10e08; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Roleplay Hooks</p>
* Auk is a former Air-Pirate. Do you ride the skies, or have a past that is a less than savory?
* Auk's right leg is a creation of artifice that he designed himself. Ideas for upgrades?
* Auk is an adherent of Tarien, and enjoys games of chance and honest pranks.
* Auk is not only an Artificer, but a crafter of rare and dangerous firearms.
* Auk loves a good jig, and with his handy concertina he will help play most any lively shanty. His singing though is the absolute worst.

<p style="color:#b10e08; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;">Background</p>
In the high reaches at the Roof of the World, the Egalrin roost and rule the air. The morning after a fierce storm was hatched Auk, son to Pestrel and Razorbill. That storm that his egg rocked in would come to define much of his life, its rise and falls a chaos that he would flow with as only those with wings could. His mother Pestrel was a strong willed priestess of Ceiwen the Huntress, who strove to ensure her hatchling revered the natural world. His father Razorbill was a warrior of no small repute, who knew that his son's mastery of his wings would help him survive and defend their mountain Aerie. While over the next few years Auk had several siblings hatched, his parents were always sure to pride themselves on the first born son. Quick of mind, and wing, Auk became a paragon of what a young Egalrin should be at ten years of age. Unfortunately Auk was aware of his status and allowed arrogance to cloud his judgment. Many hatchlings attempt to fly early, but their wings are too under-developed to hold their bodies aloft. Climbing too far out, Auk's attempt to fly ended in disaster, his descent into the mists below the mountain top bringing him far below the world of the Egalrin.

This fated fall began a downward spiral of life for Auk, for below his high mountain home were colonies belonging to the Empire of Charn. Fifteen years away from being a adult, injured, and unable to climb or fly himself back home Auk did not remain a free creature for long. A passing caravan picked up the injured chick and brought him along, all be it in chains. A rarity, he sold for a decent price to a local country noble, a creator of Charn's chief perversion, Artifice.

While he was injured Auk needed to make himself useful to his new master to ensure his survival. His Egalrin dexterity and his own swift mind found him a spot assisting his master with his diabolic creations. As young as he was, Auk did not do much. Measuring something here, labeling a jar there. But fear of the rod kept him diligent and on task. As long as he worked his master was not unduly cruel, but punishment when it came was swift and brutal.

Long lived are the Egalrin, and his first Master was already long in the tooth. After twelve years his first master died, and the master's son took his place. Having grown into adulthood with his new Master made his life significantly easier than that of a field slave, or a worker. He was a house slave, a special servant, and with that came a measure of arrogance towards the others. Years in that environment had in small part made him like his masters. Taking out his small concerns on those beneath him so he could feel better about his own plight.

Under his new Master he learned more of the cursed art of Artifice, even lending a hand in minor creations. Lenses that could see better than the eye. Balls that exploded in bursts of brilliant light. But this life of learning and eking by as slightly better than nothing did not last. As a
rarity and now a great deal bigger than he was, Auk was soon noticed by a noble higher than his master, who was persuaded to hand Auk over has a gift. No longer a favored servant Auk now was lower than he was before. A slave for labor that was occasionally spruced up to be put on display for some rival. Cruelty was more this master's style, but Auk persevered through the life of his human master and into the service of his daughter, his only remaining heir. Seventeen years he had served her father, and it would be ten more before the next upheaval in Auk's life.

To keep her families house alive Auk's mistress needed to marry into another house. A powerful house. And of course that meant a dowry. Almost fifty, and Auk found himself being loaded aboard an airship along with a myriad of other slaves, devices of artiface, and treasures bound for the Charn mainland to buy the mistress a husband. Aboard that ship Auk met another slave from below the ground. His name was Corail. Despite his frail size, the dark skinned Sildanyar had a viciousness that not even his masters could rival. With his forceful words and actions, the subservient slaves followed him quickly into a complete massacre of the airship's crew. This began what Auk considered his darkest years. After several duels to the death, and several more lives lost to discovering how their newly obtained airship worked, the slave crew made their way to the east.

In the east they found the Jade Islands, a place with a culture the former slaves' impromptu leader relished in. With few other options Auk and others remained aboard the airship, and turned their life to piracy. At first they preyed only on ships and airships of the Charn Empire, murdering and pillaging wantonly. But soon greed and a loss of moral standards led them to prey on others. Merchants, and anyone who showed weakness be they on water or sky. Throughout their travels Corail kept Auk as his first mate, and for over a decade they were a force of evil in the southern lands.

Soon though it became too much for Auk. At the age of sixty six, the souls of the many that had fallen before the weapons of Auk and his fellow crew members had reached their peak. The nightmares and moral dilemmas began to clash with the few precious memories Auk retained from his childhood. Soon in secret Auk would neglect to mention people hiding in rooms he was suppose to search, or a captive would miraculously escape once they made it to land. Of course such activity does not go unnoticed long. After a few years Auk had no choice but to abandon ship.

It took several years, wandering on foot, and working passage on ships but Auk finally put as much land as he possibly could between himself and the places that he thought had made him a monster. Auk doesn't abhor killing, or dark deeds, but to do these things wantonly, and only for self gain are now a thing of his past. It is his nature to be gruff and hard, but if Auk polishes hard enough he hopes to find a heart of gold where his old captain only had a heart of coal. At the age of seventy six, Auk is only just beginning his new life.


</div>


<div style="clear:both;"></div>
<div style="padding-top:20px;">[[image:gobberpirate_cp_footer.jpg|center]]</div>


<div style="position:relative; top:-110px; width: 775px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-size: 140%;"><p style="padding-right: 250px;">"Don't be crackin on me now. Good or ill, no one wants a parcel of hen-pecked numbskulls on the job. Now pick yeself up by the bootstraps. Tis guild work, and good or no, tat means pay. The shiny bits. And if nuttin' makes you do nuttin, it should be gold."</p></div>

<div style="clear:both;"></div>


[[Category:Player]]


[[Category:Getting_Started]]

{{Badge}}
{{Badge-Icon|Humans07_aesir.png}}
{{Badge-Content}}
{{Badge-Title|Human PC Badge}}
{{Badge-Entry|Ancestry}}From where do your ancestors hail? Where do you?
{{Badge-Entry|Associated With}}Are you particularly supportive of a nation, a temple, a group? Talk about them here! You may want to use the Homeland badge, below.
{{Badge-Entry|Faith}}Your Faith

{{Badge}}
{{Badge-Icon|Scroll_med.png}}
{{Badge-Content}}
{{Badge-Title|Homeland PC Badge}}
{{Badge-Entry|Homeland}}Tsang Lun
{{Badge-Entry|Family History}}Shaoqing belongs to a distant branch family of the Hitori clan. The family still resides in the Deep East.
{{Badge-Entry|Politics}}There are certainly things that could be better; but it could always be worse.

{{Badge-End}}

2016-05-28T05:23:10Z

Sebropert:

[[image:Charpage.png|link=How to Make a Character Page|center]]

[[image:tenebrae_artists.png|link=Tenebrae Artists|center]]

{{CompactTOC}}

[[Category:Player]]

==A==
* [[Abrahil]]
* [[Aenyn]]
* [[Aegremar]]
* [[Agril]]
* [[Albain de Corveaux]]
* [[Altar]]
* [[Amara]]
* [[Amira|Amir'a al'Jarim]]
* [[Amithil]]
* [[Ansrir]]
* [[Arafel Gemlord]]
* [[Aldean]]
* [[Arnora|Arnora Stonesmasher]]
* [[Aria]]
* [[Arik]]
* [[Arisha]]
* [[Arithand'ruil Thal'lassar'van]]
* [[Arynel]]
* [[Auk]]
* [[Aurala]]
* [[Azog]]

==B==
* [[Bahken]]
* [[Bashkim|Bashkim Sylaj]]
* [[Bennet]]
* [[Benthus]]
* [[Bor]]
* [[Boshter]]

==C==
* [[Cesran]]
* [[Charlotte]]
* [[Colrick Voss]]
* [[Coldan]]
* [[Constantin]]
* [[Craft]]
* [[Crow]]
* [[Charis]]
* [[Cassandra]]

==D==
* [[Declan|Declan Hollis]]
* [[Diemma|Sister Diemma]]
* [[Drok'thar]]
* [[Duncan]]
* [[Durrankar]]
* [[Dylan]]

==E==
* [[Edgard|Sir Edgard de Lecadre]]
* [[Edmee|Edmee Sulwen]]
* [[Eilwen]]
* [[Elessa]]
* [[Eliathitae]]
* [[Evangeline]]

==F==
* [[Faiza]]
* [[Findrago]]
* [[Fiona]]
* [[Fiore]]
* [[Fishbelly]]
* [[Folkmar]]
* [[Flicker]]
* [[Ferawyn]]
* [[Fayde]]

==G==
* [[Ga'Elian Faravanilas]]
* [[Ganbaatar]]
* [[Garak]]
* [[Garrin]]
* [[Godwyn Sylvan]]

==H==
[[Haggerty]]

==I==
* [[Iadoth]]
* [[Ionus]]
* [[Ishmael]]
* [[Iuitl]]
* [[Ivy]]

==J==
* [[Jahnavi]]
* [[James]]
* [[Jareth]]
* [[Jensine]]
* [[Jessa]]
* [[Jian]]
* [[Jibbom]]
* [[Jinks]]
* [[Jessamy]]

==K==
* [[Kaedin]]
* [[Kaiella]]
* [[Kail]]
* [[Kailin]]
* [[Kaliara|Kaliara Sein]]
* [[Karelin Andarin]]
* [[Kerbasi]]
* [[Kidda]]
* [[Kilian]]
* [[Kirran]]
* [[Kojot|Kojot Wydmy]]
* [[Koszhey Urvald Malinovyi]]
* [[Kravar]]
* [[Krom]]
* [[Kyra Smith]]
* [[Kyson]]
* [[Kieron]]

==L==
* [[Ladislaus]]
* [[Landau]]
* [[Larron]]
* [[Lash]]
* [[Latenat]]
* [[Leilani]]
* [[Leisel]]
* [[Lelian]]
* [[Lenore]]
* [[Lesmae]]
* [[Lilyth]]
* [[Lithuin]]

==M==
* [[Mab]]
* [[Maerkkus]]
* [[Margaret]]
* [[Marley]]
* [[Matthias Haelker]]
* [[Meihui]]
* [[Mikilos]]
* [[Miles]]
* [[Millicent]]
* [[Miruan]]
* [[Mogrinaar]]
* [[Moonshadow]]
* [[Morasha]]
* [[Munch]]
* [[Myaris]]
* [[Myrana Jn'Rajh]]

==N==
* [[Nadara]]
* [[Nako]]
* [[Naneth]]
* [[Nerm]]
* [[Nysalia]]

==O==
* [[Oates|Jack Oates]]
* [[Oliver]]
* [[Omah]]
* [[Ormarr]]

==P==
* [[Pallas]]
* [[Pendleton]]
* [[Percival]]
* [[Phanuel]]
* [[Pips]]

==Q==
*[[Quint]]

==R==
* [[Ralickwort]]
* [[Raethon]]
* [[Raniq]]
* [[Redmane]]
* [[Remethaer]]
* [[Rhodes]]
* [[Roland]]
* [[Rogun]]
* [[Rayne]]
* [[Renfrey]]
* [[Rakim]]
* [[Rhar]]

==S==
* [[Lady Sandiel]]
* [[Sasha]]
* [[Savengriff]]
* [[Sebropert]]
* [[Selia]]
* [[Hailee Serene Tigriil]]
* [[Setiawan|Setiawan 'Seti' Bambangputra]]
* [[Shaoqing|Hitori Shaoqing]]
* [[Shyntae]]
* [[Silmeria]]
* [[Solace]]
* [[Sophia Lightbringer]]
* [[Spike]]
* [[Ssylrath]]
* [[Stjepan]]
* [[Stirling]]
* [[Svarshan]]
* [[Symar]]

==T==
* [[Taika]]
* [[Tak]]
* [[Takiyah|Takiyah Tinkerfist]]
* [[Tea'andra]]
* [[Thaim]]
* [[Themba]]
* [[Thistle]]
* [[Thyrson]]
* [[Tsarra]]
* [[Tsunetomo]]
* [[Taurmuindyr]]
* [[Tatyannah]]
* [[Torgrim Stonehelm]]

==U==
* [[Uisge]]
* [[Ulharilti Wiivai]]
* [[Uraug]]

==V==
* [[Vasya]]
* [[Vekson]]
* [[Vennan|Vennan Hartose]]
* [[Vroole]]
* [[Vuk]]
* [[Verna]]

==W==
* [[Wilros]]

==X==
* [[Xiuhcoatl]]

==Y==
* [[Younger, Bruce The|Bruce the Younger]]
* [[Yngvild]]

==Z==
* [[Zaxx]]
* [[Zenia|Zenia Petroni]]
* [[Zippo]]
*[[Zoob]]

[[Category:Community]]