Haggling, part 1
Log Info
- Title: Haggling, part 1
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Ashes, Baz da Ork, Glasha, Edinaz, Josselyn, Nels, Tenoc
- Place: Alexandria, and the Felwood
- Time: Tuesday, August 25, 2020, 9:32 PM
- Summary: The Guild of Explorers is sending an a party with a man to the Felwood to negotiate with some Hags to obtain a cure for his wife. Briefly they stop by Glasha's weapon cart, but all are adequately supplied. It is a couple days of travel into the swamp. Tenoc greatly enjoys this, it's almost a vacation for the sith'makar. Ashes and Nels are less thrilled, being more civilized goblins. Josselyn, a perky city guard, keeps up moral as the cart is abandonned and everyone takes up packs to hump them into the swamp. Nels rides on the shoulders of Baz da Ork, which goes well until his great weight starts him sinking into the muck. The party pulls togetehr, dragging Baz out. Nels and Ash break out their kayaks, and they go further. The party goes deeper, finding hanging dolls, fetishes, and boards spread across the muck. A strange symbol marked on one of them takes effect, but only Tenoc is paralyzed. Ash removes the paralysis as Baz smashes the symbol, and the party's presence is now made known.
-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face Baz da Ork 7'0" 320 Lb Orc Male 7' 320 pounds of metal, muscle and stupid. WAAAGH! Glasha 5'8" 100 Lb Half-Orc Female Green-skinned, young lady with bleached hair. Edinaz 6'10" 296 Lb Half-Orc Male Grey-skinned half-oruch, extensive black ink. Josselyn 5'5" 145 Lb Human Female Ordinary city guard, with a crossbow. Nels 3'7" 42 Lb Goblin Male Tall, for a goblin, and athletic. Close-cut black hair. Tenoc 7'0" 280 Lb Sith-Makar Male Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-= -=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Lb Otyugh I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-=
They say the Felwood is a cursed land. If the rolling bouts of mist and ominously crooked and crowded trees aren't proof of it, they surely would have give rise to the legends anyway. You're preparing to leave Alexandria for it under the auspices of the Guild of Explorers, working on behalf of a gentleman who claimed that his wife had fallen ill and that the clerics thus far have been unable to treat her ailment.
"She was struck by a poison thorn when we veered too close to the Felwood on our return from the Mythwood. I am told that there is a coven of witches who know every possible poison and plant from the range and that they can help us learn how to cure her, but they are loathe to receive visitors. I have gold I can trade, but... we and it have to make it there." His wagon is ready and waiting at the gates out of the city.
Nels will ride on the wagon, if it's allowed, or he'll ride his own, but he's riding with a particularly long thunderbelcher across his lap. Sized for a human, it's said some goblins have such fanatical devotion to Boom that they can weild such things. Nels is one such.
The Temple of Vardama has sent a mourner along, hopefully not as a portent of doom. She is an Arvec Nar, near six feet tall and generally grey. Her clothes, once fine, are faded and threadbare to the point they have almost developed holes. Her skin and hair, also grey, and her most striking feature is a bright white tattoo of a skull that covers her entire face. She has a habit of staring too.
She gets sent to the Felwood a lot lately, something she might consider an effort to get rid of her were she a little more paranoid. As it is, she happily accompanies the worried man. She has been trained for situations of grief, where a family member lies near death. She says the words of comfort, "There there, everything will be all right." Then she climbs on the wagon and stares at him some more.
"So we gets to the witches, gets dem ta give us the cure for dis poison. Then we go and shove it in da woman? Da trick be'in da witches don't like ta share, and da forest is a dump?" Baz says, shifting his large armored form. He pauses to scratch behind one of his chewed up and mangled ears then snorts. "This seems like a fing don't it? I know I will just use me pasionate chairs mum. on 'em. Right?" He grins wide, his curved tusks glistening with spittle.
"Mebe I stay a few nights wit all dem poison ladies." Baz adds as he afixes his helmet into place. The drab metal skull fitting over his features. Then slowly the Ork begins to check his buckles and straps. Making sure his equipment is ready for the long run.
Glasha's Weaponry and Fix-All cart (if one can call such a thing a cart) is set up in the bazaar. The woman herself is there assessing and casting Mending on various things people come up to her with. Several weapons are set up against the side of the cart with prices tied to them with string.
For himself, Tenoc has never seen a Thunderbelcher, but has a growing awareness of Goblins' love for things that burn. And detonate. And make loud noise. And are violent.
He is quite convinced they are all dangerously insane. So.
Tenoc leads on foot just beore the wagon, both to be upwind of the animals hauling the conveyance and to watch for signs of ambush or danger. And to keep his warding gestures out of sight of the others. Evil spirits are EVERYWHERE.
Josselyn jogs up to the group carrying her standard guard issue crossbow and uniform. Except for the walnut stock, thats been added after the fact, obvious to those with a discerning eye. "Right, here to help! The city's very best reporting for duty and I am sure they can lick this issue in no time. You hired the fantastic adventurers guild and I am sure these guys can easily solve things."
Nels nods to Glasha, but needs nothing fixed just at the moment. "We're off to fight monsters," he says. They're actually not, but they are going to the Felwood, so the chance of monsters is very high. He grins widely in anticipation, checking his ammo belt and spares, and then the rest of his gear.
"Need any good weapons?" Glasha says, gesturing at the weapons lined up in front of her cart. "All proceeds go to improving the quality of my wares!" She smiles broadly, trying her best to be inviting, but she's not the best at salesmanship, it seems.
Josselyn smiles "Got my trusty crossbow, good enough for the city's guards so good enough for me!" she happily repeates the well used mantra thats sold so many of the weapons. "Should be all set the take a stroll in the Felwood."
Ash shakes her head at Glasha's pitch, "I have nice weapons and armour in the Guild."
She's decided she'd like to ride on the wagon beside the owner and driver. She'll sit there silently, not conversing at all. Josselyn's arrival gets a small wave. This is also a good vantage point to stare at the sith'makar's back, since he's beaten her at the not-blinking game.
Tenoc glances keenly, with marked interest... Which pretty much means little in the unexpressive face of the Makar. "Hssk. My weapon is the mightiest in all the world and spirit realms," he proclaims, brandishing his Tezpotopilli to the sky. "I do not need your weapons." Pause. "This one thanks?"
"Hah, Runt." Baz grins over at Glasha. The big Ork eyes the weapons stock and rumbles. "Maybe next time." Turning to look at the rest of the unit he flexes his arms and motions towards his chest. "Mebe we need a march'n song ya?" Then those black eyes narrow down as he peers at Josselyn. "Oy, I did nuff'n wrong. Dat table was in da wall before I got there. Right was the door off da hinges too." Lumbering over the Ork takes up a position along side the wagon, clearly ready to tromp along at the pace of the oxen. His own massive armored size probably a threat to the axle were he to try and ride regardless.
Nels shakes his head about needing a weapon, he pats his thunderbelcher. Still pretty new, he polishes it daily and it definitely looks new. "Got this," he explains happily. A goblin with a big gun, what could be happier?
"Please don't call me that," Glasha says toward Baz with a forced smile. She casts mending on something someone is holding toward her and accepts a few coins for her trouble. "You guys just remember this cart okay?" She punches the solid, metal top a couple times, incidentally flexing her arm a bit for anyone who might think she's a runt at the same time. "As soon as I get the proper supply chains and upgrade the forge a bit, I'll be able to match my former quality in my mother's forge, then I'll get what I need to enchant weapons. Trust me, you guys will see more of Glasha's Weaponry and Fix-All Service!"
As soon as she's done speaking, Glasha pulls up the lever from under the--no, wait...Glasha puts it back down, carefully gathers up all the weaponry and puts it safely and securely away, raises the sides and makes sure they're securely in place, making it look like she's standing in a box, then repeats, "You guys will see more of Glasha's Weaponry and Fix-All Service!"
As soon as she's done speaking, Glasha pulls up the lever from under the forge and tilts the whole inside, a grid coming up over the intake as the nozzle moves from up the chimney to out the back. Air is sucked through by the shape of the forge, hot air rushing faster and faster through the forge until it begins pushing the cart forward...actually not that fast, but it looks cool!
When you arrive at the city gates, purchases for sundires made, you find the wagon waiting for you where they said it'd be. The gentleman is inside, nodding to the back of the wagon where several crates await.
"I have no idea what the witches will want so I brought a bujnch of sundries. The kind of things that you might take to people who live in a swamp in a cursed wood."
He smiles tiredly
"I just hope we can make it back in time, before her condition worsens." HE lowers his gaze, nodding.
And then you're off, off on a wagon ride towards the Mythwood. You're going to be gone at least a couple days.
"I'm Ash," Ashlee annouces to the party once they're underway. She pulls her satchel into her lap, otherwise remaining quiet and perched on the front seat of the cart. Introductions and social obligations for the day thus discharged, she contents herself to stare holes in the back of the sith, and look around at the passing scenery. She sticks her hand in her satchel, and something moves up her arm underneath her clothes. She's worked with Tenoc before, knows Nels; Josselyn and Baz are strangers and while she'd normally be curious about that, she isn't inclined to twist around in her seat to see past the wagon and look at them, so she'll do that later.
Tenoc endures the stares and boring eyes with the same stoicism he regards most everything. Not on the hunt, he moves as one at ease-- onl;y betrayed by the flick of his eyes, the nigh-unblinking gaze that rakes the path to the Felwood.
"Sssk. I still say that the Wise Ones of Am'shere would be best called to aid," he rumbles quietly. The butt of his spear leaves tiny indentations in the earth as he walks; clawed feet wrapped in cloth stride down the lane. "They know many things. Many medicines. Much wisdom of the spirits. Hssk."
Taking up a jog/march pace in line with the wagon Baz rumbles along. Seemingly intimately used to traveling long distances under his own power the heavy armored Ork makes little in the way of small talk or speeches. He does respond to the genneral introduction of Ashlee with: "Dey call me Baz. A Hearld of War for me great lord Kor!" The big Ork seems pleased that managed to rhyme and repeats it to himself under his voice. The likely smile concealed away beneath his skull helm. Any wild life that may happen to dive to the left side of wagon to find safety, are quite likely to smashed to paste beneath Baz's marching feet. Or if really unlucky, snatched and stuffed under his helmet as trail rations. One particular bird, diving smartly to the side suffers that exact fate. It's forlorn chirp ending in a crunching chew.
Josselyn shakes her head at Baz "Well I am currently off duty but if you know you did something you wheren't suppose to it would be good to turn yourself in." she adds a very stern finger waggle. "A lot of people work very hard to keep the city after all." she adds as she marches along "Just make sure your not eating too many rations, they are especially made for marching like we are." she says in a chipper tone to everyone.
Nels has a backpack full of goblin food: 5-alarm chili, flasks of beer, jerky, hard rolls, all sorts of travelling rations. Because hunting and Nels don't intersect anyplace.
After a time a thought occurs to the Arvec Nar. Ash asks the driver, "Do you still have the thorn?"
"The Altheans have it. They've been consulting with the Yggrdasil Union in trying to locate a comparable plant. They've had no luck so far. That's why we have to consult the witches," explains the man to Ashes. He smiles at Baz and Josselyn, trying to be not nervous in the face of so many terrifying figures.
It's not working.
Edinaz trots along behind the cart, bringing up the rear. He doesn't talk much, said less during the introduction. Still, there he is, keeping ihs eyes open.
GAME: Ashes rolls perception: (10)+3: 13 GAME: Tenoc rolls Perception: (6)+9: 15 GAME: Edinaz rolls perception: (18)+11: 29 GAME: Baz da Ork rolls perception: (13)+7: 20 GAME: Nels rolls perception: (3)+9: 12 GAME: Josselyn rolls perception+10: (12)+6+10: 28
...well, there's good news. The first leg of your trip goes swimmingly! Alexandria's outlands are never exactly *safe*, as they are wild and untamed as any countryside might be, but regular patrols by the militia and airships in the sky from time to time above due tend to put a kibosh on some of the more terrible things that can happen in the wild along popular roads.
You make camp overnight in a ttaveler's hut located on the side of the road and, for once, aren't attacked in the middle of the night.
By the next day, you're reaching the edge of the Mythwood, and can soon divert towards the more cursed Felwood.
The gentlemen, whom you know by now as Aros Lavan, is studying his map intently.
"Okay," he says, "So we pass off the roadw here. At this point, we're going to need to unload the wagon and carry the goods with us. We can't bring it into the swamp," he admits, sadly.
Josselyn tightens the straps on her backpack. "Well I am ready to take my share of the load then. Hope everyone brought a spare pair of socks for walking around in the swamp, keeping your socks dry is very important!" she offers as advice as she helps to carry what she can.
"Wot?" Baz asks simply, he stares at the map and blinks a few times. Eventually he produces some form of jerky from a pouch and eats it. Then a wineskin from another and takes a long swig off that. Finally he points a finger at the map. "Dats alot of writing on your paper there." This is followed by a expansive belch. After a few moments a curious tone rises from the Ork. "Oy, when we gets rid of the cart, can I eats the animals pulling it?"
Edinaz swings his pack, around, and starts unloading the wagon. "Alright. Let's get these divided up." He looks over at Baz. "You going to /pay/ for the animals?" It's a little cold, but practical. Still, he is half-yrch.
Ironically, Tenoc grows more and more at ease as one nears the Felwood-- and the swamplands within it. Save for the occasional warding sketch in the air against evil things, the Makar rumbles contentedly at the scent.
"Hssk," he rumbles, pausing as he steals a breath. "Mmm. Water-scent. Not ocean water, but land-water. Proper water. Almost." He rumbles again, a quiet chuckle. "Good things." Striding back cheerfully, he adds himself to unloading the wagon, setting the carriage of the freed goods.
Nels blinks at the idea of walking. And carrying things. "Wait, I never signed up for carrying things," he protests. "And not through a swamp anyhow, I'd drown!" He couldn't really carry much, even if the water -wasn't- over his head, and he looks around for alternatives. "Maybe I can ride on someone's shoulders?"
"... you can not my horses," says Aros, firmly, to Baz.
"Okay," Ash says, acknowledging more than agreeing. She'll take whatever share is given to her, but also waits behind the others when the load up in the hopes there's none left. The city guard had some good advice, to which she responds, "I didn't."
She looks critically at Nels, estimating his weight, finally volunteering, "I can carry Nels."
"I mean, we can just pile more on the giant oruch?" asks Aros, glancing towards Baz and gesturing at him with his thumb.
Shouldering his pack, he grunts. It's heavy. Things clink inside.
"Let's go, eh?" And with that, he's heading for the forest's edge. To be fair, it does take a while to unload, but you're more than ready to follow by that point. Most of these things came prebagged, and a glance inside the bags will reveal things like a new silver kettle and bottles of various substances. A wide shot has been taken in the hopes of finding SOMETHING these supposed witches will want.
Nels whews as Ash volunteers to carry him. He wasn't actually expecting it, but he won't complain! "I won't let you down!" he assures her. He -may- rest his gun atop her head to aim, but that's just a future possibility, not guaranteed.
"Eh, I'll do it." Baz remarks flatly. "He's about the size of me daughters. They ride on me shoulders all the time. Right vicious little piggies dey is too. Throw'n spears and javelins." The big Ork pauses for a moment. "I wish dey was here. Dey make me laugh." With a shrug the big Ork looks from Edinaz to Aros. "I guess not. Waste not want not and all that." He reaches down to lift Nels up by his heavy leather coat, unless the goblin resists the reach of the Ork. "'Old on to me helmet. I can carry as much as da horse. So lets get me pack settled. One of ya just need to walk in front. If I'm too heavy for a spot I'll sink right quick."
Tenoc stretches his shoulders beneath the pack uncomfortably. Rugged and hard-scaled, but grimacing at the straps. "...do witch-spirit-swamp people wish bags as well?" he asks, rumbliung darkly. Better than complaining-- he strides ahead of the pack, sighing blissfully when the scent of swamp water more full reaches is nostrils. And leaves the debating of who to carry Nels up to the others. The pack is enough; better free to swim, if necessary!
Edinaz rehefts his pack, and grunts. "Curse the good ideas," then he keeps on keeping on.
Josselyn helps carry a couple bags but she is not the strongest in the world, certainly not enough to help carry team mates "I am sure we can convince them to fix things, I wouldn't worry too much."
Ash watches as Nels is lifted up and away. She considers the wax ear plugs she withdrew from her satchel, and looks at the goblin's Thunderbelcher. Still useful. She decides to keep him on her left side, and puts the earplug in. On her right, it's tucked behind her ear, ready to deploy. Being a goblinoid, she's got a lot of ear to work with. She contemplates her pack. It must be done. It validates her decision about the armour however. Heaving it to her shoulders she looks for a place in line, then turns to Josselyn and Edinaz, "Which of you is going last?"
Nels wauggggh as Baz lifts him up, but he manages to get his feet on the orc's shoulders and one hand on the helmet. "Er, I'm set," he calls down after a moment.
GAME: Josselyn rolls survival: (7)+11: 18 GAME: Tenoc rolls Survival: (11)+9: 20 GAME: Nels rolls survival: (5)+1: 6 GAME: Baz da Ork rolls survival: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Edinaz rolls survival: (12)+13: 25 GAME: Ashes rolls survival: (20)+3: 23 GAME: Baz da Ork rolls reflex: (4)+3: 7 GAME: Nels rolls reflex: (15)+6: 21
So, along you go.
After half a day's journey, you begin to find yourslef in the swamp.
... it's a swamp. The ground here is moist and gross. The water you have to begin wading through a regular occurence, mixed with matches of dryness here and there. Wetlands are vibrant and alive and full of bugs and birds and more. They're also horrible to move through.
Most of you are able to avoid the hazard. All of them, really. Except Baz, who at one point discovers that he and his heavy armor (and therefore Nels) seem to've begun sinking into the efarth at one point. Such soft, muddy ground is typical of the area, but when it rises up past his knees and to his hips, it is concerning.
...because all of you now recognize that the orc is now walking in quicksand.
And is sinking deeper.
Edinaz turns towards the orc. He pulls out his rope, and tosses it towards Baz. "You're sinking. Swim!"
Huffing and puffing the Ork trundles along with Nels on a shoulder, and as much of the cart's goods as needed on his back. If he's annoyed by the heat, humidity, insects and general ick of the swamp he doesn't show it. At least until Baz finds himself getting shorter, and shorter. "WOT?" The Ork asks of the world, as he's no longer the biggest, no longer the tallest. Then each foot step seems to be getting harder and harder. Panic grips him and he flails his right arm. "OY WE UNDER ATTACK! DEY SHRINKING ME WIT MAGIC!"
Nels jumpsfree of Baz, not unlike a rat leaving a sinking ship, and pulls himself up into a nearby tree, only mildly covered in yuck. "Ugh!" he comments. Luckily, someone has already thrown him a line, Nels can concentrate on not drowning. Not drowning sounds like such a good plan. Boats might have been a good plan, too. Curse hindsight.
Josselyn dashes over to help with the rope. "Keeps your legs and arms wide and maybe you can float to the top!" she offers helpfully. "Grab the rope and we can pull you free."
GAME: Baz da Ork rolls athletics: (1)+4: 5 (EPIC FAIL)
Tenoc doesn't show it, doesn't say it. But is *singularly amused* at his softskinned companions. Complaining about such tiny things as heat and wet, grime and biting insects.
And the sinking. Yes.
"Hssk. Too much metal," he says, hssking disapprovingly. Still, he gives a helping hand with the rope, circling it around his wrist as he tugs in. "Sink like big metal stone! That eats too much. Yus."
The mourner is not enjoying this trek. She's not a stranger to swamps, but they're at best casual acquaintances. She likes bugs too, but not when they're biting, which they are despite her familiar's best efforts. So she trudges along quietly, feeling her clothes get heavy with water.
Then the orc starts to sink.
Ash opens her mouth to say something, but Edinaz beats her to it. She closes it again. He's also faster with a rope, which is good because she didn't bring one. Nels seems to have landed safely in a tree, and the city guard is leaping to assist. When the sith gets involved, it appears they might not need her assistance at all. She waits to see how it turns out.
GAME: Baz da Ork rolls athletics: (14)+4: 18 GAME: Josselyn rolls strength: (17)+1: 18 GAME: Tenoc rolls Strength: (12)+4: 16 GAME: Edinaz rolls strength: (10)+5: 15
"All pull at once. Now." There, Ash is helping.
Edinaz looks back at Ash, "Just make sure you're pulling," he says, wrapping his hands in the rope. He digs in, pulling and pulling.
The big Ork catches the rope and starts to twine it around his fists to get a big hard grip. Arm muscles tense, teeth grit and his grunts and huffs can be heard likely for miles as he pulls and shifts and tugs to get himself free. Unfortunately it doesn't work as all the effort, strain and force simply plunges him faster into the swamp.
- Bloop.
- The big Ork sinks away without another note.
- Bloop.
Then a big armored fist punches up for air and grabs a tuft of soil. Digging in leather and metal covered fingers haul on the ground as the Ork slowly pries himself free of the muck. Worms, beetles and other insects bursting free of his form with the torrent of sand, muck and debris. "WAAAUGH!" The Ork screams to the heavens, then coughs and sputters, hacking and finally lifting his helmet he vomits a fountain of muck and a single toad from his throat and lungs. The little frog landing with a splut in the steaming stew of puke. Before it blinks, ribbits and hops off. The rope still tightly wound around Baz's arm as he clings to it and the hard ground for life.
Edinaz pulls Baz a little more, then sets to unwrapping the rope from the orc's arm. After that, he ties it back to the pack and waits. Tenoc just gazes impassively down, tail moving slowly.
"If one thirsts," he says simply, "There are better things to drink than swamp-wet-water."
Somber nod.
Josselyn claps her hands "Alright! Keep focused and watch for those natural hazards and make sure to call them out if you see one. IF we work as a team together we are sure to handle any further trouble with ease." she adds cheerfully.
"Glad I didn't eat dat horse." Baz says woozily as he pats his armor and equipment. Scraping big globs of slime and muck from his form. Now with the big pack lashed to his pack having soaked up an equal amount of swamp he seems to be some form of giant damp monster. A hunch-swOrk. Panting and huffing he slowly nods to everyone and situates himself back into the march order. One giant squelching mess.
Edinaz just keeps going, working on keeping his eyes up.
Nels calls down from his tree, "And maybe you could rope yourselves together in advance?" He's got another solution for himself, and he's used this one before. It still takes him several minutes unfolding the goblin army knife into a kayak, but that happens while Baz is getting pulled to safety. Then, he's floating and he will canoe after the others. That ought to be safer, he considers.
Tenoc returns to his place at the beginning of the lineup, easily stifling the urge to grin.
So *many* stories at the village fire tonight. Truly, softskins are fonts of grand humour.
Aros looks relieved when the Oruch emerges and then gestures vaguelky. "Okay. Well... that was weird. Let's go." He moves ahead.
Ash had her plugged ear towards Edinaz, so perhaps that explains why she stood there and watched Baz haul himself up from the depths, and the various things discharging from him. Nels activities get her attention, she has a Goblin Army Knife as well! For some reason she thought the kayak was only in the Navy version. She pulls her own out of her satchel and duplicates his procedure, making a kayak of her own. She immediately puts her pack in it. There might be opportunities to paddle, but she's going to drag hers along.
Finally, you begin to move towards the heart of the swamp. Bundles begin to appearq hanging from the trees. Carved, wooden figures bound by twine, baskets and jugs simialry. Marks on the trees indicaqting that this area belongs to... someone.
Finally, you begin to find boards connected various islands that you can walk on and then...
A symbol upon the gorund. AS soon as you see it, you begin to feel ... unable to move, actually.
GAME: Nels rolls will: (16)+3: 19 GAME: Ashes rolls will: (15)+8+2: 25 GAME: Tenoc rolls Will: (12)+2: 14 GAME: Josselyn rolls will: (19)+4: 23 GAME: Baz da Ork rolls will: (18)+10: 28 GAME: Edinaz rolls will: (16)+4: 20 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20: (19): 19
Edinaz frowns, furrowing his brow. "I do not like this." He perserveres. "You're there this is the place."
The hanging wards are a hint, the boards more of one, and the symbol that makes it feel like one is wading through air as thick as water a pretty big clue. Ash feels the resistance, then slows with it. Her words are monotone, "This is a ward at their border. Announcing our intentions might be a good idea."
GAME: Baz da Ork rolls spellcraft: (15)+4: 19
Tenoc's steps slow as he approaches the borderline, the various charms and ominous signs marking their territory. He walks forward. One step. Another. One more.
And then, eyes wide, he freezes in place, quivering as he sketches a sign on the air.
"Malsvir," he mutters darkly, quivering in place. His grip tightens on the greatspear, glancing askance. "Malsssvir."
Josselyn shakes her head to clear out the funk "We must be in the right place, some kind of enchantments or wards to keep people away, you think?" she says with no knowledge on the subject. "What does Malsvir means?"
Looking absolutely miserable the big Ork snorts and huffs, occasionally shoveling another handful of muck off himself as he marches along. Then suddenly there's a pause as his steps get harder again. A stink of panic comes over him as he goes shock still and checks his feet. "OY AM I SINK'N AGAIN?!?!" Baz blurts out, crouching low to touch the earth with his hands. The big pack on his shoulders bobbing as he does so. When he finally seems to reasure himself he's not going to vanish under the surface once more he slowly gets to his feet and snorts. "Eh, nevah mind. It's just some magic from dat symbol. We could mebe wreck it and it won't work anymore, right?"
Nels paddles up to a board with some effort, moving forward is hard for a bit, but finally he gets out of the kayak, and he'll tie it up there, cause he'll want it again on the way back. Once at the platform, he'll trudge forward with the others...
GAME: Ashes casts Remove Paralysis. Caster Level: 3 DC: 15
The sith glances back towards Josselyn, refocusing himself, his attentions with a shiver of skin and scale. "Malsvir. Malsvir navnik," he rumbles in reply, teeth bared as he looks back towards the expanse before him. "It is Silvertongue. It is, 'evil spirit' to you and yours. This is meaning."
He glances about him, spear carefully prepared, readied with a grimace of teeth. Not another steps; whether enforced mystically or simply unwilling to take another, Tenoc stands by the smallish kayak, quivering vibrantly. "Ssssk."
Ash steps off the boards and wades alongside them up to Tenoc. First, she lays a hand on him, concentrating for a moment. Next she brings out her holy symobol, a small set of scales, which she shakes so it makes a small 'clink', followed by a monotone prayer. "Feiu of the Tears, free him."
There's a sensation, an electric pins-and-needles flowing through the sith'makar's body, once it passes he is free to move again.
With little preamble the big Ork makes his way towards the odd symbol and then goes to work on it with the big curved dagger from his boot. Hopefully taking the spell out of order as he leans back and admires his work. The slashes and gouges looking like a very fat, ugly dog drawing has replaced the mystical scrawl of the spell. "Oy, I bets dey know we here now. I would feel right away if someone done up one of me spells like that."
Edinaz nods. "We want them to know, otherwise finding them will be hard to do."
Dramatis Personae
Ashes
She has a skull for a face.
On second glance it is a tattoo, white on her warm grey skin. Her nose is a coal black patch while her hair is a lighter, cooler grey. The hair has wavy, thick strands that clump together. Piercings and other decorations enhance her markings, creating a sugar skull, a festive death. Ashlee Ciaradh is not festive. She is a quiet, somber Arvec Nar. A little creepy. It's the way the hollows around her eyes are emphasized, her stare. The heavy jaw with all the teeth tattoos.
There's a chill around her, one unlike that caused by cold weather. A quietness of the tomb. Her clothes are dark, a short half-jacket over a shirt with dark slacks. She has a very battered bag slung over her shoulder, one that seems older than she is.
Tenoc
Emerald of hue, dark stripes abounding across his body, Tenoc stands seven feet in height-- Sith'Makar, as tribal as those distant, barbaric jungles. Standing proud upon the earth, ebon stripes slash his body like tiger's marks; from horn-crowned head to thick tail, the only place they avoid is the paler-hued chestplate scales that sit ruggedly over heart and chest. Twin horns veer above and back from his brow, smaller points ringing from them in a natural circlet base-- all in black, darkly gleaming. Bright eyes glitter in hot gold above ivory fangs, an eternal, sharp-toothed grin of razor teeth within serpentine maw.
From neck and down, the scaled form descends in fierce confidence, scales thickening as muscles swell in size and power, living mail to clad an armored skin. Emerald stained over with tiger's black stripes continue along his body, formed twin plates thick upon his chest, narrowing to smaller scales along the rest of his body. A paler green reaches along the front of his across his chest, down to taper away along each limb. Dark stripes end at the touch of paler scaled chest, leaving only the play and reach of corded muscle, the power rippling within. Dark claws reach from each hand, talons to grasp, to score, to rend in dark array.
In colder (and more civilized) climes, the Sith'Makar wears breeches of rough leather frilled with bits of blue stone; each is laced at the knee, with either leg beneath swaddled in wraps-- bandaged against the prods and thorns of unpleasant forestlands, barest defense against thorn to softer foot or joint. A sash at his waist is gleaming golden silk-- looped above belts of stolid leather, they serve their purpose-- whereas the sash itself seems purely, ephemerally decorative. Torso bared save for the heavy golden collar hanging from his neck, the thick golden semicircle clings jealously beneath his throat, bright aurum seated in a silent array of emerald and gold.
Baz da Ork
This Ork stands roughly about seven feet tall, a towering mass of muscle, scars and metal. He wears a collection of heavy metal armor, designed around his huge muscular frame. The armor, sporting pyramid-like spikes at strategic locations to add a bit more danger to him even when unarmed, is purposefully dulled to a near black. About his right shoulder and hips other hook like spikes rest, designed to host trophies without slowing his movement too much. Across his chest plate is a series of small shiny stones arrayed to show reverence for Kor. Across his back is a great curved blade, it's surface covered in runes further proclaiming the greatness of Kor! Seen at spots through his layered armor are heavily muscled arms covered in tattoos to his God, War and one of a small dog. As well as nails and bone spurs rammed into his flesh. His two great tusks are capped with steel and glisten in the light, as does his drool. The occasionally worn helmet also covers his tusks and is designed to turn his face into a caricature of an Ork skull.
Two piggish black eyes stare outwards at the world with a deep well of wisdom and a very shallow pool of stupid. On his right hip is a heavy battleaxe, baring the war skull of Kor. As well as a heavy shield and club on his left. There is also a uniquely odd quiver near his lower back, cinched into belt it's rune covered length practically screaming a magical nature. His legs are covered in a mix of heavy plate, leather and mail. The pair of steel toed giant leather boots that adorn his feet also host a dagger in the left.
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Glasha
The camoflauging effect of green skin is ruined on this particular woman by platinum-white hair cut in a layered bob. Her round face has surprisingly soft features. Her nose is a little wider than a human woman of the same height and is pierced. A silver ring hangs over her upper lip. Her lips are fuller than many Oruch's, but they part for short, stubby tusks that balance out underbite and overbite with a pair of broad incisors.
Her form is fit and her arms and legs are more thickly muscled than average, though they are also soft and retain their graceful curves, more like a strong human woman than the bulging muscles of an Oruch. She also actually has curves to her body. Her chest is larger than most humans, but not as firm as most oruch. She is tall for a human woman, but dismally short for an oruch.
Edinaz
He is thick-limbed and clearly possessed of oruch blood -- his skin is grey, his brows are heavy, his teeth are sharp, and he stands close to seven feet tall. However, his human blood also shows through the set of his nose - though it's been broken more than once and his hazel eyes. No matter what his ancestry, he has broad shoulders and a powerful neck. His movements are precise, and despite his size he rarely puts a foot wrong.
He usually wears a worn breastplate over leather breeches, knicked greaves and heavy-soled boots. His bare arms are covered in intricate tattoos of Orcish origin, with symbols of Kor prominent on both shoulders. He carries two swords scabbarded at his waist; in the field, he carries a backpack and a bundle of javelins under a thick cloak.