#1
|
|||||
|
|||||
Chapter One - Boolyabay
The vessel that carried you across The Frozen Sea on a voyage that lasted just over two months was a three masted caravel. It was sixty feet long from bow to stern and was built to accommodate twenty people. You traveled with twenty five, which made it even more crowded than usual. Sleeping quarters consisted of hammocks strung up below deck, which was the only place where you could escape the freezing cold. Even then the little potbellied stove did very little to cut through the hellish temperatures. All the way up until the last two weeks of your journey the sun could barely be seen for more than a few minutes each day. Not only did it stay low to the horizon, but constant cloud cover prevented its warmth from ever reaching the sea. Even weeks from land the water would sometimes threaten to freeze over. It never actually did, thankfully, but the captain did have to resort to sailing through narrow channels of ice several times. Since every spot on board the ship was usually reserved for a sailor, you were obligated to work as a crewman for the entirety of the voyage. This consisted primarily of using blunted axes to break away ice as it accumulated on the sails and rigging. Sometimes you were asked to help navigate by climbing up to the crows nest and spotting icebergs and more than once you had to climb a rickety rope ladder down to chip the rudder free. One sailor fell while performing this duty, and even though the crew reacted quickly, the sea water was so cold that he could not grasp the rope when it was thrown to him. Surprisingly, he was the only casualty of the voyage although there were a few cases of frostbite and two men developed scurvy. In the seventh week the clouds started to break up and the temperatures began to steadily increase. It was still far from warm, but after weeks of subzero weather, anything above freezing was a welcomed experience. By the eighth week there was no longer any sign of ice in the water, and finally, on day sixty four, land was sighted. At the start of your voyage it had been decided to anchor off of the northeastern tip of the continent. Not only had no one attempted to explore that region of Boolyabay, but since one of the stipulations of the contest was to map the entire coastline, it seemed advantageous to begin your expedition on one end or the other. The coastline that rises up from the sea is composed of heavily wooded forests and mountains. Multitudes of small, tree shrouded, island chains, clutter up the coast and make navigation tricky. More than once you sailed up an opening between two islands only to find a dead end and be forced to turn around. When you finally do make it close enough to drop anchor, it is in a large bay where two points of land have jutted out opposite of each other to form a protective semicircle where the larger waves of the open sea cannot reach your ship. Directly to the east, medium sized hills rise up from a rocky shoreline, their slopes so densely covered with coniferous trees that they almost appear black. Beyond those larger mountains jut up towards the sky, snow covering portions of the tallest peaks. The bay where you are anchored appears to be uninhabited in any way. No smoke curls up from the thick canopy, no sound of human voices or implements. It is totally silent except for the crash of the waves and the wind in your ears.
__________________
“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it.” Last edited by Jonwane; Jun 12th, 2015 at 07:54 PM. |
#2
|
|||||
|
|||||
Davynor is his name, the Half-Elf with the owl for a companion. He is of average height and slightly better-than-average build, brown hair cut to fall around his ears in a shaggy look that reminds people of fur. He wears winter clothing made from hides and furs to keep himself warm, all dyed the greens and browns of the forest. His eyes are a vibrant green, the color of summer grass. At his hip is strapped a simple, efficient scimitar, while on his back is a shortbow. He smiles often, has an easy-going manner and is friendly to most.
When he came aboard, Davynor introduced himself as a Druid, a simple wanderer who communed with nature in all her glory. His reasons for going to this new land were obvious: it was a place where none of his order had ever walked and he wanted to be the first. This was a place where he could discover all new kinds of plants and animals, and best-of-all in his mind, get to name them. He had his own little book ready to make notes, take samples, and was eager to put it to use. The Half-Elf stepped right into the duties he was given with confidence. He showed himself to be adept at knowing directions and while he wasn't terribly well-trained in ship-board navigation, he could make some fairly decent guesses. Having no qualms about hard work, Davynor was able to break ice with the best of them. Sometime around the third week of the journey he began going over the side of the boat, taking the form of a walrus or seal, and hunting for fish. When he'd had his fill, he would then shift to a bird and return easily to the ship, making sure to shake himself dry before returning to human form. A couple of times he hunted fish for the crew and put the catch in a bucket to be hauled up. It was always nice to have fresh meat and he seemed to enjoy the game of it. When the shoreline of Boolyabay came into view, Davynor was in the crow's nest with one of the crew, keeping the man company as being the lookout could be a rather dull job. Making his way down the ladder, Davynor was grinning from ear-to-ear as his gaze roamed over this new land. He swore to himself that if he could carry a tune in a bucket he'd make up a song about this place. He might try anyway, once he was done. Personally, Davynor couldn't care one wit for the rewards promised. He wanted to see this land, to walk it, to learn of its soul. THAT was why he was here. But he'd try his best to help the expedition out. After all, he'd grown to like these men and women well-enough. Davynor flipped open the small leatherbound book that he had and made his first entry. He'd agonized long and hard over the format and decided that the best thing to do was write it organically and organize it into a tome later. Or better yet, let somebody with more patience for indexes do that sort of thing. Davynor tapped his pen against his bottom lip, trying to decide what to call this place.
__________________
“Holy ****," I breathed. "Hellhounds." "Harry," Michael said sternly. "You know I hate it when you swear." "You're right. Sorry. Holy ****," I breathed, "heckhounds.” ~Harry Dresden and Michael Carpenter, Grave Peril |
#3
|
|||||
|
|||||
Nailfin is a stall strong build man girded in studded leather armor and keeps a scimitar and shortsword at his side. No other significant weapons or armor are observed. His head is kept completely shaven though the top of his head displayed a strange tattoo of a seven pointed star. Underneath his garments, fastened to a necklace he keeps his prized possession, a large black sapphire worth a fortune. It was gems like these that lead Nailfin to the expedition of the new land. He hoped that they would find a source of many more such riches. Not that he was particularly interested in them for the sake of their value, but for the value they possessed for him and his craft.
Nailfin was known as a Ranger, and a very successful one at that. Many years ago he helped track down and destroy a raiding orc horde that had threatened trade routes between two of the empires major cities. Oddly enough after that expedition he seemed to have vanished. Many had not heard of him for years until word had reached him of the need for explorers to map and document the new land. During his time of exile, Nailfin was not simply hiding however. He had found a master of a strange form of control using nothing but the mind. It intrigued him so much that he dedicated his life to it's study. Among the small circle of those who practiced the strange arts, Nailfin eventually became known well enough to attract followers of his own. Rillion and Matthew were the two apprentices who took up the voyage with Nailfin so that they might study under him during the affair. Both were young men, healthy and wise though not of notable physical strength. During the long voyage to the new land, Nailfin spend his hours not involved with crew work guiding the two's study and helping them learn he art which he practiced. The crew work itself was easy for Nailfin. Many tasks he could complete without getting his hands dirty, but he figured it might be better to keep his potential a secret from the captain as to avoid being assigned a larger workload. At last after the two months travel through dangerous waters, a bay was reach on the new land. Nailfin took consideration to write down what he noted about the place in his own journal. "I think," he informed the other travelers on the ship, "that our best course of action would be to continue on foot down the coast. We can map that, heading southward until we find something worth investigating inland."
__________________
Contact: dmbhelogan@gmail.com
All are welcome to participate in: AI Spy With My Little Eye (An Art-ificial Intelligence Image Generation Game) Last edited by Admin Bhelogan; Jun 13th, 2015 at 08:14 PM. |
#4
|
|||||
|
|||||
![]() ![]() Francis Maximilian III, often referred to as Brother Francis, is an average sized Human male, slim, roughly 5'11". His garments are well weathered, almost shabby looking, but extremely clean. There is a slight bulge from a breastplate just visible under is robe. A worn Haversack is slung over his shoulder while a holy symbol hangs predominantly from a leather belt. Whenever he goes, he always has his walking staff in hand. His exposed skin is baked tan from years of travel and is starkly contrasted by vibrant blonde hair and blue eyes. He always seems to have a smile on his face. Brother Francis is fed up by his faiths narrow mindedness and bureaucratic bull crap. Too much time is spent with pompous rites and rituals instead of working with those that are in need. He has never been afraid of stating what is on his mind, and this often gets him in trouble with the elders. Other clergy and priests are not fond of his beliefs, at least outwardly. Thus he has ventured out on his own, representing his faith in a manner suited more to his ideals. He joined this voyage for various reasons--some private, but primarily because the lands they are going to visit have not been polluted by other faiths. Or at least faiths from his world. He anticipates encountering other religions, and relishes the opportunity to learn about them and to spread his faith and knowledge. He does not actively seek to convert others, rather he wants to open minds to other possibilities. Actions speak louder than words. His room and board was paid for by sweat and icy cold temperatures. He was not fond of breaking ice, and his one stint in the crows nest (not the most nimble of people) was a pleasant change. He is more of a two feet on the ground type of person, and because of this, as well as his profession, his role turned more into making sure the crew was well fed, had clean water, and in good health. And that he was good at. After two months at sea, knowing they were near their destination, he tried to anticipate what they would see. As the land slowly came into focus, he was stunned at its raw beauty. Coastlines of heavily wooded forests and mountains. Countless numbers of small tree shrouded islands. Whitecaps covered in blankets of clouds. Finally, there came the complete silence when they anchored and the sails were furled. He had made the right decision.
__________________
"I tried being reasonable, I didn't like it" |
#5
|
|||||
|
|||||
Lexa was known for her scouting and pathfinding skills throughout the realm. She had used these skills to lead and blaze trails for a variety of good causes over the years. Whether it was guiding a party through an underground lair to ferret out pest beasties, guiding a group to find a kidnapped princess (only to find out she eloped with a servant), or tracking outlaws and monsters to their hideouts and lairs, she led the way.
Standing merely 5'5" with light brown hair, this half-elf seems at first glance quite unassuming. This first impression changes quickly when a trained eye notes the well worn machete at her left hip and custom forged looking handaxe in a special head sheath on her right hip. Other than her light backpack when she boards, only a dagger sheathed in her right boot, and a hammer lashed to her pack, she looks to have no other weapons. What she does have is a large companion, that of a large timber wolf who accompanies her. Everything she is wearing hints at her profession right down to her beautiful and obviously custom created elven chain mail. Unlike other elven chainmail you may have seen, this armor has each length meticulously wrapped with thin leather straps to keep it quiet when it moves. And keep quiet it does. Some think she is a thief after taking in her countenance, but her eyes aren't elusive and looking to people's pockets and valuables. Instead, she is always looking at her surroundings, deciding the best routes of egress or travel. During the voyage, she shows off some of her skills but rope walking quite often. She plays on it like she might fall on several occasions, but she never does. She is often in the crow's nest, looking out, and during down time is found in a large hammock sleeping or resting with her large wolf companion while she makes notes in her journal. She has many maps in her journal from her travels, and it is obvious that Cartography is one of her skills. She is being paid to go on this trip as scout, but it doesn't seem to bother her that she has to work as well along the way. As the anchor dropped and Nailfin made his comments about what their course of action should be, she put one foot on the rail and looked out. The large wolf put both its paws up on the rail and whined slightly as it now saw what it had been smelling. Land. Her eyes squinted and she pulled out a spyglass from her belt pouch and began to look down the coastline. She then answered the other Ranger, Nailfin, by saying, Oh, I'm going ashore. And even if that's before part way til noon, it won't be soon enough.
__________________
Posting Status: Good - Average | If a post is needed from me either as a DM/GM or a player, please PM me. |
#6
|
|||||
|
|||||
Lord Fyrian Arkald is a name that commanded a great deal of respect in the kingdom. If you were anyone more than a peasant, you knew of the famed Lord Fyrian and the tales of his many excursions; some that even saved the kingdom from catastrophe. Even if you were a peasant, chances are that you heard of him, for he did in fact come from very humble beginnings. Warriors and adventurers from all corners of the kingdom have flocked to the doors of his fortress in order to absorb even a little bit of the fame and fortune.
For all his fame and accomplishments, Fyrian is very normal looking for a human. In other words, he doesn't have any striking features. He has brown hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin that suggests he's no stranger to the outdoors. He is about average height, average weight, not particularly strong or handsome. He does carry a few of things of note with him at all times that sets him apart from the ordinary John Doe farmer. The first, and perhaps most distinguishing of both his ability and career is the dark red scales of a dragon that are formed into a scale-like armor. The armor is half-worn from his waist down as to not impede any movement in his upper body. The rest of it kind of just hangs at his waist, like a snake that has gone halfway through the moulting process. The dragonhide armor is a reminder of Fyrian's huge part in the vanquishing of a pair of red dragons that were plaguing the villages in the northern part of the of kingdom. He also carries a huge blade strung across his back. The sword constantly emanates a frozen mist and looks like a beautiful shard of ice-ish diamond. The clash between the theme/colorization of his sword and armor stood out like a sore thumb. Rumors say that this sword was what dealt the final blow to the red dragon. For all his prowess in combat, little is known about Fyrian's magical abilities. Truth is, only those who have adventured with him have witnessed it. Not to say that his talent in magic is any less awesome than his physical, no. It's probably because artists depiction of him always have him wielding a big ass sword in dragon armor. For his normal look, Fyrian is far from the normal fighter. He is extremely intelligent for his age, bordering on considered a military genius. He makes use of his environment and strategy in order to defeat his foes. On the social side of things, he enjoys witter banter. He can keep up with the more sophisticated conversations of politicians and wizards, but will sometimes lose or even annoy those who are not quite at his intellect level. Fyrian is a "nice guy". He has his own moral sense, not identifying with any particular established kingdom. Thus he has no problem with breaking a law or two to get things done. In general though, he'll always choose good over evil. Word of his exploits had gotten to the throne and the emperor thought it wise to send an invitation to Lord Fyrian to embark on this exploratory journey. When boarding the ship, there were quite a few that recognized him and whisperings and gasps could be heard when he walked by. On the way to Boolybay, there were some who offered to do the manual labor for the Lord, in order to gain his good graces. However, he refused their offers and did what was required of him. Surprisingly, he wasn't any stronger than most, and barely pulled his weight. During the voyage, he was requested to share about his tales of adventure. One upping his audience, Fyrian not only told his tale, but renacted it in a beautiful display of whirling colors and realistic illusions, only further advancing his fame. When the ship anchored, Fyrian prepped his spells for the day, casting the ones that will last until night. He looks around at his traveling companions. Many of them he recognized or at least heard of. Some of them he's sworn he's gone on adventuring parties with them before, but each of them he could respect their individual capabilities. "It's been a long time since I've worked with individuals of this caliber. This will be a good trip," Fyrian grins from ear to ear, truly excited about the next few months. "Lead on boss!" He says to no one in particular. Last edited by Yves; Jun 16th, 2015 at 05:16 PM. |
#7
|
|||||
|
|||||
After being crowded up on board of a small ship for two months, the decision to begin the expedition on land seems to be an easy one for the group to make. Dinghies are lowered overboard and most of the crew piles in along with you. The sea is calm in the bay so rowing is easy and after only a few moments you are able to step out onto dry land. The beach is composed primarily of black sand and small, ocean-smoothed, pebbles close to the shoreline. Further back from the waves the pebbles grow gradually in size culminating as large boulders just before the coniferous treeline. As before it is very quiet, but now you can hear occasional birdsong echoing throughout the forest and from somewhere to the southwest, the sound of rushing water reaches your ears over the sound of the crashing waves. The trees that make up the forest are by no means of a diverse variety. They are almost all the same species of conifer with dark, blue-black needles. The most striking thing about them is their massive size. They tower over the beach reaching heights of several hundred hands; the tallest that you can see reaching perhaps eight hundred 400'hands and a diameter of at least 20'forty. It is obvious that they are very old and probably had never seen the woodcutters axe. Because of the large number of tall trees very little of the weak sunlight is able to penetrate beyond the canopy, casting the interior of the forest into a perpetual twilight. From your position on the beach you can see a tangle of fallen limbs and a thick mat of needles covering the forest floor, but it appears that there is very little in the way of undergrowth. To the south the beach stretches out for at least a Miletrek before curving out of sight towards the east. You can see a small mountain jutting up to the south of the curve, however, so it is easy to guess that the shoreline curves back to the west at some point. You can also see a break in the treeline about a half a trek down the beach that could possibly be the mouth of a river, which is probably the source of the running water sound that you've been hearing. To the north the beach dead ends against a large finger of rock that reaches out into the bay for a short distance before disappearing below the waves. The cliffs face is not even as tall as the trees, but it is very steep and looks incredibly unstable. If you wish to proceed in that direction you would have to either climb the sea cliff, journey into the forest and find a way around, or use the ship to circumnavigate the obstacle.
__________________
“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it.” Last edited by Jonwane; Jun 16th, 2015 at 10:01 PM. |
#8
|
|||||
|
|||||
Standing on the railing of the ship and holding onto rigging for support, Davynor grinned down at Nailfin. "Truly, you have to ask? This is quite a view, but I must see it closer." He takes in a deep breath and nods, eyes twinkling. When the preparations are made, Davynor will show back up to the dinghies with his magic pack secured to his back and his cloak over top of all of it, ready to go with staff in hand. His excitement is palpable as he climbs into the first boat, having to restrain himself from just turning into a bird and flying over. Glancing to the others he got a thoughtful look on his face. "You know, come to think on it, it might not be the worst idea in the world to have someone nominally calling the shots. So long as he keeps a loose grip on the reigns and allows me my breathing room, that is. Just so our efforts are organized. And on that note, not it."
Once on the beach, Davynor will go straight to the trees and put his hand against one of them, feeling the bark on his skin. He leaned in close and took a long, slow draw of its scent. He will pace around it to determine it's exact size and trail his fingers along its middle, counting out the hands. He will then eyeball the tree and his relative height to it, figuring out just how tall this particular tree is so that he can use it as a reference to the other trees. Archemedies will fly overhead, the two having worked together for so long that the owl knows it's job is to look for fauna as Davynor examines the flora. He will squat down, taking out his journal and making a few notes in it, drawing a rough sketch of the tree and the cones it bears. He's not precisely an artist, but the drawings are passable as he's skilled at keeping a careful hand at the least. Once he's done, he turns his head and notices that the crew is all-but-finished offloading supplies and people. The half-elf will stand and head over to Lexa, Nailfin, Fyrian, and Brother Francis. "So, have we decided on a course? Or if we would like someone to be nominally in-charge? My vote for course, if we are voting, is to follow the river inland. Though I suppose it also would not be a terrible loss to anything to split up and cover ground that way. So long as we are within shouting distance of one another."
__________________
“Holy ****," I breathed. "Hellhounds." "Harry," Michael said sternly. "You know I hate it when you swear." "You're right. Sorry. Holy ****," I breathed, "heckhounds.” ~Harry Dresden and Michael Carpenter, Grave Peril Last edited by FranklinRPer; Jun 17th, 2015 at 02:06 AM. |
#9
|
|||||
|
|||||
"Of course were going to row, just like everyone else. No need to show off Rillion," Nailfin reprimanded his apprentice. The young man had wanted to take the 'easy' way to shore that would be quicker and not involve work. Nailfin continually preached to his followers however the value of hard work with your hands, despite the capabilities you posses with your mind. "Besides, we need the exercise today, and you would miss the fresh smell of the island as you approach by boat. You don't get the same sensation directly on the beach." Without further argument the trio made their way along with the others on the dinghies to land.
On the shore, Nailfin picked up a handful of the dark damp sand, sniffed it then let if sift through is fingers back to the ground. Brushing the sticky remainder off the sand off on the side of his armor he remarks, "Nothing like a good solid anchor for your feet. I think I have had nearly enough sailing for a lifetime." The trees that filled the island were beautiful, and simply looking at them brought a tear to the corner of Nailfin's eye, not that he would ever admit it. "Look at those short little runts as an excuse for trees. 'Dwarf Pines' if you ask me. That's what I will call them." He chuckled with this statement, as clearly these were the tallest trees any of them had probably ever seen in person. He then listens to Davynor make a few suggestions. "No, we shouldn't split up. We don't see any immediate danger, but that could change in a heartbeat. I made the mistake of doing that once, and it cost us several good soldiers." Although he had wanted to initially start mapping the coastline heading south, checking if there was indeed a river further down the coastline sounded interesting. "If that is a river down the beach there, I think your right about taking it inland. It's a source of fresh water, which means if there is anything living on this island it probably dependent on it. It would be a good place for the crew to setup camp as well. Easy to find, and provides needed resources so we aren't eating up all our supplies. As for a leader," Nailfin points his hand towards Lexa's large wolf. "I vote him. I bet his survival instincts are better than any of ours." Then whispering to Lexa, "Am I right? It is a him isn't it?"
__________________
Contact: dmbhelogan@gmail.com
All are welcome to participate in: AI Spy With My Little Eye (An Art-ificial Intelligence Image Generation Game) Last edited by Admin Bhelogan; Jun 17th, 2015 at 11:32 AM. |
#10
|
|||||
|
|||||
Lexa takes the boat ride leisurely to the shore, but her large, 7' long wolf companion is whining in anticipation the whole way.
Once they hit the shore, the wolf leaps from the boat first, her paws never touching the water and she begins sniffing up and down and out in an ever growing semi-circle. Lexa begins looking at the ground where the beach pebbles, and then boulders end. She picks up one of the pebbles and puts it into her pocket for no apparent reason. Listening to everyone, she finally chimes in, still Dice Tracking:
Following the river is a good idea, for maybe a mile or so, and then we hook a dogleg back to the coastline, easier to map that way. And my companion isn't interested in being leader, she... is just along for the ride. And I won't tell her you said that Nailfin as she would be insulted since Males are way bigger and not as pretty. She was smiling at the latter part because although she knew Nailfin's Rangering hadn't taken the same path as hers, most rangers could tell the difference between male and female wolves, Still, 'Shewolf', as he called her in elvish, was larger than normal wolves, being she was a direwolf, so it was an easy mistake.
__________________
Posting Status: Good - Average | If a post is needed from me either as a DM/GM or a player, please PM me. |
#11
|
|||||
|
|||||
Brother Francis was in the last boat. He enjoyed watching the enthusiasm of the crew and his shipmates as they eagerly paddled their way ashore. He too was glad to be off their home for the last 2 months. He did not realize how small it was until he looked back at it as they made their way to shore.
With a splash, their journey, his journey, was starting. The water was cool. His boots sloshed as he made way to the rocky beach where he proceeded to plop down, remove each boot dumping is watery contents out. The pebbles felt good under his feet again. He grabbed spent a few minutes examining small round rocks and putting them into a belt pouch, periodically rejecting one. Sliding his feet now wrapped in thin dry cloth back into his boot, he throws a rock into the water and watches the chaos unfold as everything is brought ashore. It truly was an interesting party. His thought was broken by Davynor taking charge and asking what other thought the course of action should be. Brother Francis did not care. "Sure, let's follow Davynor's river inland."
__________________
"I tried being reasonable, I didn't like it" |
#12
|
|||||
|
|||||
Not seeing any tracks yet, Lexa's head comes up at Brother Francis' comment about the river. She says, Davynor's River? Good call Brother Francis. How about Davynor River, has a better ring to it. I say that since we'll be the first to see it, that's what we name it. Davynor River. I wonder how how raging, crooked or shallow it is? But seriously though, the name stands.
She grins at her own joke and looks to Davynor to see his reaction at her obvious jest.
__________________
Posting Status: Good - Average | If a post is needed from me either as a DM/GM or a player, please PM me. |
#13
|
|||||
|
|||||
Davynor grins at the naming of the river and shrugs amicably, perhaps even looking a bit honored. "With such strong enthusiasm, how can any man say no? Though I swear if there are man-eating fish in it, it is not my fault." His eyes shift to Nailfin and he gives a shrug to that one too, more an acceptance than anything. "Well, it was an idea at the least. To be fair, I have rarely made decisions for an expedition. I am a trailblazer more than anything. Though I think the idea of setting up camp at the mouth of Davynor River sounds like a good plan. It is very important for a grow cub to have a steady supply of food." His eyes glance to Shewolf in a private, shared joke.
__________________
“Holy ****," I breathed. "Hellhounds." "Harry," Michael said sternly. "You know I hate it when you swear." "You're right. Sorry. Holy ****," I breathed, "heckhounds.” ~Harry Dresden and Michael Carpenter, Grave Peril |
#14
|
|||||
|
|||||
As the Dinghies approached the shore, Fyrian could not believe his eyes. The trees...just KEPT GETTING BIGGER! He was sweating with anticipation of seeing one up close and just how much it dwarfed him in comparison. Upon making it to shore, Fyrian however maintains his controlled composure and gracefully lands on dry land. He walks the rocky beach towards the line of trees, savoring the sensation of the trees just dwarfing him. Coming up close to one of the trees he lays his hand on the bark of the tree and whispers, "Behemoth." Then he looks up and sees that this was only one of thousands of trees and realized his first name described a single large entity. "Nephilim Pines. Sentinel Forest." Satisfied with his choice, he whips out his journal and writes down the nomenclature.
Returning to the others he asks, "So what are we going to call the trees? And what are we going to name this forest? My first idea was Behemoth Trees. But that's no good, because a Behemoth is a standalone creature. Considering that there are thousands of these guys I decided to name them after the army of giants called the Nephilim, for they are indeed a massive army. They also are the first line of defense protecting the island so I've decided to name the forest Sentinel Forest. Or maybe the other way around? Sentinel Trees and Nephilim Forest? Perhaps once we venture into the forest we'll come up with another name. What do you guys think?" The lord nods agreeing with everyone about the direction they should go. "Yes, that is a good plan. It is very sound reasoning to follow the river so that we won't get lost. I have skills in navigation so I can lead if we happen to diverge from the river. Ahem, excuse me Davynor River. So are we set? Or do you guys want to continue naming stuff?" He pauses midstep, "Oh right the crew. Yeah, mouth of the river. That way we can always find them, and they'll have easy access to fresh water." Last edited by Yves; Jun 18th, 2015 at 04:52 AM. |
#15
|
|||||
|
|||||
Davynor glanced over at Fyrian. "Personally, I am going to call them Erebus Pines. The coloring reminds me of night, and they could hold many secrets and mysteries. As to the forest, we have named the bay, I am not sure about naming the grouping of trees this close, but by all means go for it. Though let us not get too overboard about it. Naming is quite fun, but the first person to name a rock gets to stand first watch."
__________________
“Holy ****," I breathed. "Hellhounds." "Harry," Michael said sternly. "You know I hate it when you swear." "You're right. Sorry. Holy ****," I breathed, "heckhounds.” ~Harry Dresden and Michael Carpenter, Grave Peril |
![]() |
Thread Tools | |
|
|