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  #31  
Old 11-06-2014, 07:03 PM
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Tirith had found out about Imani's gathering from an adventurer who had received an invite in Waterdeep but had no interest in going up against anything stronger than a goblin. Understanding that with great danger comes the greatest of rewards Tirith traded the man a forged document from a fake duke out in the Silver Marches for the invitation. Invitation in hand Tirith set out for Hap. However because of the distant he had been forced to travel and with the short notice he arrived fashionably late to the party. Walking into a party already in progress was a little awkward for Tirith, but he knew he could not let that bother him. There is much to be gained here.

Tirith walked briskly up to Imani however see the man currently engaged with a number of other people he politely waits his turn. When Imani has finished his other discussions Tirith extends a hand with his invitation in it, "A friend of yours was unable to make it but he sent me in his place instead." Tirith then let Imani explain the situation in his practiced way. Attempting to turn on his considerable charm Tirith smiled broadly exclaiming, "I look forward to helping you defeat this most vile creature and returning this important staff too you. " The smile leaves Tirith's face for a moment and he touches his right hand to his chin. "Although I do have one question." Raising a single finger as his hand leaves his chin. " Are we allowed to keep any other valuable or magic items that we might happen to stumble across during our time in the vault or are you claiming rights to the entire contents of the vault?"
  #32  
Old 11-06-2014, 07:06 PM
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Originally Posted by Still_Pond View Post
........Flint thinks back. Years come and go like the weather. Six years didn't see all that long ago really, and yet much could change in such a short time. Flint shakes his head 'nope'. He finds his voice as it comes cracking out from disuse, a deep rusty sound, "What happened?"

He invites his friend to come to the table of food and equipment while they speak......
Asher followed Flint to the table, nodding at those already gathered around it while he explained what the dwarf had missed. "Old man The Head of the Frostbrand OrderShika passed away during meditation one night soon after I last saw you. You know he was the only reason that most of the other members of The Order tolerated me." There was the barest hint of sadness in the Drow's words and that was easily masked by the small bits of food he popped into his mouth every now and then. "Jaunt was the successor he had chosen and it didn't take long for him to find a reason to send me away." Asher left out the part where he had made it easy by flaunting his distaste for the stagnant existence the monks suffered. He continued with a shrug, "I've been working on my footwork. I think you'd be surprised at how much I've improved since our last sparring match!" The pit fighter smiled and punched Flint on the shoulder, "Those stiff dwarven bones might not be able to keep up anymore."

Standing there joking with Flint, Asher realized that not all of the memories he had from the Monastery were bad and that maybe he should pay a visit to the few members of The Order that had taken a liking to him after this Dracolich thing was taken care of. He missed the cold of the mountains, anyhow. Now that I think about it, all I've heard is that we're rushing into the beast's lair to make quick work of it and the Cult. I haven't heard anything resembling a plan of attack. His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head, "Have you heard anything about how we're all to be organized or what exactly we're running in to fight?" No matter if it was a one on one pit fight or an open melee tournament, not having a plan or knowing anything about your enemy was a quick path to losing. Asher didn't lose.
  #33  
Old 11-06-2014, 07:36 PM
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Flint nodded to Thorvald. It was good to see him. Flint had met only a few people during his travels who he felt were of good stock. Thorvald was one. He continues to listen to Asher, and is sad to hear of Shika's passing. Shika was a rare one, able to see right to the heart of people. He didn't know this Jaunt fellow, but he didn't like him. He lifts his tankard in a toast to the dead at the mention of Shika's death, and it was clear the dwarf meant it."Good man."

As the pit fighter punches Flint the dwarf smiles. He had tried to turn to block that strike, but as usual the drow was too quick. He raps a knuckle on his shield and says, "Learned a bit as well."

He turns to regard the gathering. Asher echoes his thoughts about organization. The dwarf shakes his head 'no'.When asked what they'll be fighting he responds,

"Dragolich." He pulls out the map, crude thing it was. It contained no geologic notes at all; no rock layers or inclusions, no dimensions or slope gradients; no ventilation or drafting notes. He could presume there was enough airflow in the various chambers, but he couldn't be sure. Would a litch need air to breathe? "Maybe split up. Attack from all sides." He shrugs, "Imani's worked it out, I'd wager."

He turns toward the wizard, expecting him to speak again soon. If he doesn't, he hopes someone else will. Someone needs to take charge and organize this attack. Times like these make the dwarf miss the infantry. Life was so much less complicated when you were told what to do and when to do it. He was never very good at giving orders, Flint much preferred to follow them.
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Last edited by Still_Pond; 11-07-2014 at 02:31 AM.
  #34  
Old 11-06-2014, 07:43 PM
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Having arrived the night before in Battledale, Nath had walked into town in the company of a much wiser woman that seemed to know her way everywhere. It was thanks to her that he arrived at all. She wasn't very talkative though so upon reaching their destination, they parted way for the evening to their own rooms with the intent to see each other again at the appointed meeting Imani was holding. He had spent the rest of the evening cleaning and shining his equipment.

Having woken bright and early, Nath'klir Shieldreaver had shaved (though it wasn't necessary to cut all three of the little hairs that grow) and prepared through the morning until two hours before the appointed time. The large grey skinned lad then ate a hearty meal so his stomach wouldn't interrupt any speeches and he would be alert for the details of the trip. He then made his way to the wizard's tower, arriving about an hour early and awkwardly standing to the side of the room near one of the food tables under the lighted sconces on the nearby pillar. Although he can see just fine in the dark, men of his nature should stand in the light as all paladins do both literally and metaphorically.

At well over 6' tall and broad of shoulder with thick arms and neck, the half-orc stood there for the whole hour and throughout the speech, his posture tall and proud in splint mail armor, the strips of metal glowing in the light. A large shield rested on his back with the symbol of Tyr inlaid across the middle. If that didn't scream that he was a paladin, the holy symbol around his neck and the colors of the Blind God of Justice peaked out from under his armor. Nath was obviously young, it showed in his innocent, unchallenging eyes and youthful features and the way he awkwardly smiled at anyone that looked his way or came too close. The large hands of his are often seen gently brushing back his long black hair in a nervous or uncomfortable fashion as often as they are gripping the large warhammer at his belt or simply being held at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them. The warhammer was also annoyingly shiny, along with the longsword and dagger around his waist, but anyone that looked closely could see that both the armor and the weapons had seen use. There he stood and simply waited like a soldier assigned to sentry duty until told he could leave.

"Your wise Master is a brother to my god of Justice, as you are a brother to me." Nath replied to the other half-orc formally but no less awkward. His voice is a deep barritone, without sounding gravelly. "Sheeplog? Did I say that right? I am Nath'klir." He smiles earnestly and offers his hand in greeting. "Sometimes I am not sure if my hearing is going but it seems to take me a little before I am familiar with other accents." He leans in a little and lowers his voice. "I have no idea what those dwarves are talking about. They could be arguing over who's going to be drinking their next victim's blood for all I can tell. " He laughs suddenly like he just made a joke and straightens up. "But I have it on pretty good authority that they don't drink the blood of two legged creatures, so I think we are safe. Why did I come, you ask? To rid the land of this vile undead filth, Ditch-.. rowasser! Of course, he may be way too powerful to kill so I am happy to settle for taking away the source of its potential might. For this first mission, at least. Then maybe return to lop off his fleshless head. Evil like that cannot be allowed to stain this land and harm her people. The Triad will not stand for such things! Don't you agree? Did you feel the call of Ilmater bring you here as well? What say you, my new friend?"
  #35  
Old 11-06-2014, 09:11 PM
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"So, this sounds like quite the acomplishment... you faced Dretchroyaster and survived? Or is there another ancient dragon lich cult leader around that I haven't heard about?"
"I'm Rhogar Norixus, and no, it wasn't a dracolich..." his hand instinctively goes to his pocket, but he pulls it back quickly, "But I would say that a pack of Illithids is just as terrifying, and as unlikely of a survival." He gave another smile into his tankard, "Only by Bahamut's grace did I get saved from an almost certain death, as I believe that Bahamut will guide me through this endeavor."
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  #36  
Old 11-06-2014, 11:03 PM
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"I'm Rhogar Norixus, and no, it wasn't a dracolich..." his hand instinctively goes to his pocket, but he pulls it back quickly, "But I would say that a pack of Illithids is just as terrifying, and as unlikely of a survival." He gave another smile into his tankard, "Only by Bahamut's grace did I get saved from an almost certain death, as I believe that Bahamut will guide me through this endeavor."
Badger resists the temptation to make a wise crack about the obviously inferior flavor of Rhogar's brain. He takes a piece of cheese and plops it in his mouth, chewing slowly. "So, I think that's the second time you've mentioned Bahamut. Are you a cleric of some sort? It's rare to meet one so devoted who isn't in the priesthood."
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Last edited by anamiac; 11-06-2014 at 11:05 PM.
  #37  
Old 11-06-2014, 11:39 PM
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Hogart's forced smile disappears into the furry frown of furrowed brows that only a dwarf can quite achieve, part annoyance, part dismay. He draws in breath at several occaisions during the halfling wizard's barrage of questions and wafflings, but the dwarf is not sharp enough to actually find a way to get in a word edgewise. By the time the halfling actually finishes his final question, Hogart has completely lost his train of thought and his jaw is left ajar. After an awkward pause Hogart finally manages to croak out a dazed response. "Err ... something like that."
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  #38  
Old 11-07-2014, 12:02 AM
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"So, I think that's the second time you've mentioned Bahamut. Are you a cleric of some sort? It's rare to meet one so devoted who isn't in the priesthood."
Again Rhogar smiled, "Something like that, I am a Paladin for My Lord Bahamut. He earned my devotion after he saved me. I had been captured by the Illithids, the same ones that I had went to kill, they had killed all of the others that had come with me. So, they tortured me for information, I was never sure if they intended to kill me or enthrall me, but it didn't matter either way would be the end of my freed life. I was not religious, but in a last ditch effort to save myself I prayed to Bahamut, eventually I promised him that I would serve him for the rest of my days if he saved me. The next day the Illithids brought me out of my cell which had been my home for a week, and they were in a ceremonial garb so I knew the end was near either way. A party of adventurers interrupted the ceremony and managed to dispatch the Illithids. That was about twenty years ago now, and I have held onto my promise and served Bahamut faithfully ever since, and now, I believe that he has sent be here to help in this adventure to take out this unholy being."
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  #39  
Old 11-07-2014, 12:15 AM
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Aden accepted the goblet from Imani and held it close to his chest, lest he spill it on someone. Frantically wondered how he was to satisfy his hosts request for more lore on Uvaeren. Of course, he should say something! Buit the question was how to raise ones head above the parapet and not take an arrow in the process. But at least once that was done, he could retreat away from the social melee that was breaking out all around him. But how … what if it goes wrong! Aden was starting to panic ….

Then just in time the Dwarf gave him an opening, Mystra bless him!

Quote:
Err ... something like that.
Halfling and Dwarf paused their sparring and turned to regard him. He swallowed. " Actually, I’m sorry, but I’ve never read a primary source regarding Uvaeren … but even then it’s safe to say it’s a remarkably significant Elvish community. In fact," He motioned to the Dwarf, his voice raising another octave with anxiety " it’s cultural significance to the Elves would be something, while not equal to, but at least parallel to, the cultural significance of the ancient and lost kingdom of Bhaerynden to the Dwarves" Aden paused, swallowed nervously and let his word sink in.

Edit: Info on Bhaerynden. Kind of like the RL version of ancient Rome or Constantinople.

Last edited by dracophobe; 11-08-2014 at 01:22 AM.
  #40  
Old 11-07-2014, 01:02 AM
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Hogart catches his breath sharply as Aden mentions the lost kingdom of Bhaerynden. He reaches up and clutches the anvil amulet around his neck tightly. "Great Bhaerynden ... Damn the drow!" he intones with the ritual response when the legendary city is mentioned. "Thanks, uh, didn't get your name. But thanks. Elvish magic. Lost kingdom. I understand now. I think I need a drink." His hands seem to be shaking just a little, his eye becomes touched with wild, and his face looks decidely paler. Something in the mention of the legendary dwarven kingdom that fell at the hands of the drow seemed to have unsettled the dwarf even more than the verbal assault of the halfling wizard. "My throat is dry all of a sudden" he begins to limp over to the barrels to serve himself a tankard. He knocks it back in a single draught, letting out a loud sigh and a burp when he is finished. He wipes the froth from his mustache and sinks into a nearby chair, giving his suddenly unsteady legs a moment to recover.
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Last edited by jbear; 11-07-2014 at 01:35 AM.
  #41  
Old 11-07-2014, 01:07 AM
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Again Rhogar smiled, "Something like that, I am a Paladin for My Lord Bahamut. He earned my devotion after he saved me. I had been captured by the Illithids, the same ones that I had went to kill, they had killed all of the others that had come with me. So, they tortured me for information, I was never sure if they intended to kill me or enthrall me, but it didn't matter either way would be the end of my freed life."
Thorvald overhears the Dragonborn speak of his faith, primarily due to his proximity to the man and Flint. Despite there being a decent space between the two groups (Jormundr/Thorvald and Flint/Rhogar), his keen hearing afforded him some insight into their conversation. His own words were not loud, per say, but his height, and booming tone was easily discernable from the general rabble of the collective. "Fair turn of faith, friend... but I've always found that confidence and hard work often paid off more than empty beliefs and false prayers. I do not suggest yours are such... only that no otherworldly being has ever heard my prayers and given voice." His words denote a loss of faith, rather than the lack of temple education or experience. "Oh I give the usual and expected blessings and tokens to the gods, the same as any sailor, especially to the mother of the Sea... but I have no personal value in faith. I respect that strength in others, but to me it's simply a scapegoat." His tone was one practiced to give a differing opinion, but without the context of offense.

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  #42  
Old 11-07-2014, 02:55 AM
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Flint thinks about approaching their host, Imani, to speak to the wizard about his plan. It would be good to organize, to split the group into squads based on their specific mission. Those who were good swimmers should maybe approach from the river, for example. He looks at the mage, and sees he's the man of the hour. He is engaged in at least two different conversations, and people appear to be waiting. There will be time for planning later, the dwarf realizes. How much can one plan when raiding such a lair anyway.

So he empties his ale, grabs a slab of warm meat and looks for some dark wine to go with it. He stands shoulder to waist with the drow as their conversation lulls, as tended to happen often with Flint. He listens to the many conversations, and is pleased to see several more people he knows. It gives him hope for the quality of those he doesn't know. Thorvald moves to speak to a few folks and Flint eyes Asher as if to say, 'you want to meet aomeone?' He moves toward the sailor who was the most dwarf-like human he had met. He wasn't sure how Asher felt about others of his race. Flint wasn't sure either, but he had faith in Imani's judgement. It hadn't lead him wrong yet. He moves closer to them. He interrupts and says a bit abruptly,

"Thorvald, Asher. Asher, Thorvald. "

He looks to the other drow who was speaking with a gnome, (so he couldn't be all bad), and says,

"Flint"

He realizes he should probably be more formal, so after a pause he extends his thick hand and adds, "Flint Splitstone, son of General Uthor Splitstone of Mithral Hall." His eyes glance between the two strangers, including both of them in his introduction.

Last edited by Still_Pond; 11-07-2014 at 10:53 AM.
  #43  
Old 11-07-2014, 02:57 AM
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There were many connections Imani had with those gathered. Some through older adventurers, others through joint friends, and a few by recommendation only. He tried not to pay more attention to any, and treat all guests (and their questions) evenly.

Dwuin's comment brought a chuckle from Imani. "Ah, that Aurin, wherever we travelled, he always had one or two...ah...friends in town. Often called him different names, they did. Umm. I'm sorry you never heard from him - but it wasn't the dracolich that got him. No, we lost contact with him before that failed trek. I, ah, am not sure I can really help out that much more..." Imani suddenly seemed a little more uncomfortable and embarrassed than he should be, and made a half-hearted excuse to move on.

Smiling with a hint of sadness, Imani delicately took the blade In’ei held to him, turning it over in his hands whilst sighing longingly for a life he once had. "Thankyou, In'ei, for coming on your father's behalf. It is with great sorrow I hear about his injury, and pray to all who would listen for his speedy recovery." Offering the knife back, he said, "The time of the Golden Blades was troubling, but I fear that even their legacy would be little compared to what the Cult of the Dragon has in store, should they tap into these hidden powers. It is good to see that you and your father are supportive of this endeavour."

The laugh he gave to Tirith's question brought about much more mirth than he had before. "Oh, yes, I wouldn't be standing in a room full of adventurers if at least one person didn't ask that question!" With a big grin, he gave Tirith a friendly pat on the shoulder whilst he answered the tiefling's question. "Rest assured, my good fellow, the only thing I seek from the vault is the Staff itself - whatever else you find there (and, trust me, there is a lot else!), you can keep." For a moment, the mirth dropped from his face, and he leaned in to give a warning most dire. "Just - make sure you don't go running off with the loot before someone has taken possession of the staff! I won't be looking too favourably on those who try to leave with their pay, but without completing the mission!"


Seeing that the majority of the invited were now inside and had been briefed, Imani started telling of his plans in more detail. These plans, like his initial story, were also repeated to the various groups mingling around the great hall, and seemed as well rehearsed as his first speech.

"The staff - and the dracolich himself - are secured in a chamber at the heart of its lair. The chamber itself is warded, wards possible to bypass by using four artifacts left behind by the old cult of Bhaal. For these wards use magic left behind by those foul worshippers, twisting it to the Cult of the Dragon's new purpose. The caverns, you see, are no normal cave complex - they sit atop a source of great power and energy, with which the Cult hopes to unlock the secrets of the Staff."

He waived, and one of his helpers moved forth, holding a small idol on a silver platter. "Do not fear!" he spoke, loudly and clearly. The idol was a figurine of a cultist roughly five inches tall, and carved in lifelike detail. It seemed delicate, though the actual artifacts were most likely impervious to harm. "What you see before you is but a replica of the Bhallite idols. Look on it closely, so that you should know of what you seek."

"You may ask why we divided up the lair as we did - caves, caverns, halls, and river. Well, it is because, before we went in, we had discerned that one of these Bhallite artifact-idols was hidden in each of these zones. We don't know where, but we do know that there are four, that they each rest in one of these areas, and that to get to the central chamber, you will need all four. This, amongst other things, is why you must all work together!" Over and over again, Imani stressed the importance of teamwork, whilst at the same time stressing the importance of stealth and small parties. As he wandered around, he asked individuals where they thought they would prefer to go, and who they would want to travel with. It seemed he was trying to get a list together of who would be in which party.

OOCI now have some group-separation threads. Please post once in the thread of your choice. If you change your mind, delete the first post and post again in the correct location If you don't know or care, post here!
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  #44  
Old 11-07-2014, 03:53 AM
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"Flint Splitstone, son of General Uthor Splitstone of Mithral Hall."
Hogart, slouched in the chair near the barrels of liquor, had his mouth open in preparation for another burp that was rising up from his belly when he heard a very familiar name. His head jerked around towards the familiar voice. Flint Splitstone is here! Aww, crap! I hope he hasn't seen me limping around like a bloody cripple... Those were the thoughts that immediately ripped through his mind before utter confusion and shock shut down his mind altogether. The day was not getting off to a good start for Hogart 'Oneeye' Fumblefoot. First he had been insulted, questioned and accused into silence by a talkative halfling wizard. His only recently healed emotional scars had the scab ripped off them by the timid tale of a helpful historian. And now Flint, son of a dwarf that he held on a pedestal only a step below his own father, was holding out his hand towards his most bitter and dreaded enemy. Perhaps Hogart was a racist. Because there was not an inch of space in his mind that could explain why anyone from Mithral hall would extend the hand of friendship to a drow. The only thing that struck through his mind was that fateful moment upon the steps of Undercity, the dark face of the terrifying dark elf, scimitars flashing, driving the tip of his deadly blade into his eye and carving through his leg as he struggled to stand. Needless to say his already open mouth was not going to close any time soon. He remained staring in utter shock as the various conversations around the room hushed as Imani called the room to attention to share more details of their mission. The words buzzed in his ears but did not fully register.

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"This, amongst other things, is why you must all work together!"
Imani ended his speech just as Hogart finally shook himself free from the thunderous shock which had struck him and his tongue finally set loose the words that had been screaming on the inside of his skull for the last few minutes. "Flint! What the f@#%!?"
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  #45  
Old 11-07-2014, 07:12 AM
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There was a figure some might of spotted outside the tower pacing back and forth as if he was trying to make up his mind about something. Those who cared to pay attention would of noticed this Tiefling was distressed about something, but at the same time gave off the vibe that he didn't want anyone approaching him. Besides there was more important business in the tower, so most would of just moved on.

But that was long ago and easily forgotten. Until they happened to notice this guy was actually now inside the tower with the rest. He still seemed uncomfortable and perhaps he was a bit under dressed. But he wasn't causing any trouble and stayed by the back wall, waiting.

He watched and listened, even though he came in late he understood enough. So Devega was probably right. This is where I need to be.
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