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Old 01-05-2019, 11:07 PM
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The Speaker in Dreams

Game NameThe Speaker in Dreams
Game SystemDnD 5e
ThemeInvestigation, Combat, City-scape, Role-Playing, Problem Solving
FlavourUrban Encounters, Intrigue, Mystery
Plot SummaryThe road is long and weary, but luckily you and your group have made it to the large town of Brindinford. Luckily for you lot, the town festival is already underway! Nothing like relaxing for a few days with food, drink and carnival games! But beware, for the fair is not as merry as it seems…

The Speaker in Dreams takes 4-6 hardy adventurers through a site-based web of treachery, shadows, and intrigue. What may seem a normal day at the fair quickly turns south, and it is up to the heroes of this story to get to the bottom of things. However, nothing is ever cut-and-dry in this ever-expanding town...

Brindinford LocalesBrindinford is a large town, with a regular population of close to 5,000 people. Today the town swells to nearly twice its size with travellers from all over coming in for the festivities. Merchants, caravans, farmers, and nobles alike have all come to see the sites and sounds of the yearly festival! As popular as it is, your characters might have been there before, and thus would know a little about the various neighbourhoods within the town.

The Keep and Silver Hill: The location of the more affluent members of society, this high-end section occupies the western segment of town. Most notable here is the Baron's Keep, a walled structure within the city confines which is able to be seen anywhere throughout the city. Places of business include luxury goods and libraries, and items are usually marked up here, although being of very fine quality.

Ford North: Also known as the "Holy Quarter", the major temple of Pelor dominates this northern section of town, yet it still has shrines to other good-aligned and lawfully-aligned deities. These shrines sell trinkets, good-luck charms and holy symbols for a modest price. Other businesses here are rare, and it is mostly a residential area consisting of row houses.

Chatterstreet Market: The main stomping grounds of the fair, with wide streets covered in booths, games, and restaurants. Most merchants set up shop here, even if their place of business is located elsewhere in the city, as the majority of traffic passes through this main intersection. The market is packed with people, fair or no, as most artisans also have their homes here right above their place of work. On the southern edge of this district is the clocktower, another major landmark visible throughout the city.

Eastgate: A bit more rough and tumble, mainly as it is the main thoroughfare for traveler's passing through the Eastern Gate, the main entrance into town. Here is where the majority of inns, taverns, merchant warehousing, and entertainment can be found in the city along with more affordable row housing.

West Hill: Located just southeast of the Keep, West Hill is an odd mix of eccentric scholars and well-to-do practitioners of the arcane. As such, the main businesses here are those wishing to further their knowledge about the world and its wonders. Booksellers, arcanists, alchemists and more can be found in these free standing houses with small yards.

Southspur: An unsavoury place to stay, as the majority of businesses here produce what the common folk refer to as "undesirable", mainly anything that would be an assault on ones senses. The products here are appreciated by many throughout the city, but the process making them leaves much to be desired. The businesses here are usually perfumeries, tanners, dyers, and other low-end services that can be bought for cheap. This neighbourhood, thanks to its dour atmosphere, attracts a seedier crowd, and most traveler's steer away from it.
Additional Information
Starting Level - 5. Your group is a bunch of already experienced adventurers, having just finished your latest escapade of a massive dungeon crawl. As such, your group will have a few magic items in their possession, as well as a bit of coin (200 gp each to be exact). Magic items will be chosen from a list below.

Deadline to Submit: January 20, 2019. That's a little over two weeks from this post to get a party together.

Material Allowed: All published sourcebooks in D&D 5e. UA not allowed unless material is already published.

Starting Attributes: Standard Array (15, 14, 13, 12, 10, 8) or 27 point buy.

Magic Items: Please choose 1 item from this list. The party will not have duplicate items.
Alchemy Jug
Bag of Holding
Cloak of the Manta Ray
Driftglobe
Eyes of Minute Seeing
Goggles of Night
Helm of Comprehending Languages
Immovable Rod
Mariner’s Leather Armour
Mithral Chain Shirt
Periapt of Health
Wand of Secrets

As well, please choose another item from this list. The party will not have duplicate items.
Boots of Striding and Springing
Boots of the Winterlands
Bracers of Archery
Cloak of Elvenkind
Deck of Illusions (26 cards, already predetermined)
Eyes of the Eagle
Figurine of Wondrous Power (silver raven)
Gem of Brightness (44 charges)
Gloves of Missile Snaring
Gloves of Thievery
Javelin of Lightning
Medallion of Thoughts
Pearl of Power
Periapt of Wound Closure
Quiver of Ehlonna
Rod of the Pact Keeper +1
Sentinel Shield
Stone of Good Luck
Wand of the War Mage +1
Weapon of Warning (user's choice)
Weapon +1 (user's choice)

ApplicationName:
Race:
Class:
Background:
Appearance:
Personality:
Role-Playing Excerpt:
Explain how you found one of your magical items you have in your possession.


Player Character Class Race Background Items Status
In the Mix Bethani Johansdottir Rogue (Scout) Half-Elf Criminal Periapt of Health + Bracers of Archery Complete
Bigbywolfe Marcus Tenebris Warlock Human (Variant) Sage Bag of Holding + Pearl of Power Complete
delpinator Caluciar Delmirev Druid Dragonborn (Silver) Folk Hero Javelin of Lightning + ??? WIP
Runetide Isodoros Fighter (BM) Goliath Soldier Periapt of Health + Weapon of Warning Complete
Grenadier Dredethahal Tiasah Fighter (Arcane Archer) High Elf Librarian Periapt of Health + Longbow +1 Complete
MiniSchnauzer Xander "Mouse" Verro Rogue/Fighter Human Urban Bounty Hunter Goggles of Night + Gloves of Thievery Complete
DialPforPickles Alistair Ravna Rogue/Sorceror Half-Elf Urchin Stone of Good Luck + Immovable Rod Complete
kingmonkey - - - - - Interested
DemonSlayer Baleir Vulderge Sorcerer/Bard Human Far Traveler Alchemy Jug + Medallion of Thoughts Complete
MadDokMike Caius Gallianus Cleric/Warlock Human Sage (Researcher) Periapt of Wound Closure + Wand of Secrets Complete
Torack Ferron Dale Monk Aasimar Criminal (Spy) Helm of Comprehending Languages + Cloak of Elvenkind Complete
m149307 - - - - - Interested
whimsky Aselyn Turgard Cleric/Rogue Human (Variant) City Watch Mithral Chain Shirt + Sentinel Shield Complete
ElvenMaiden Arlett "Lyra" Paladin Half-Elf Acolyte Cloak of the Manta Ray + Gem of Brightness Complete
ColorsOfTheHeart Dance Fighter (Champion) Tiefling Gladiator Driftglobe + Boots of the Winterlands Complete
Clawsome Azrael Brightshield Paladin Mountain Dwarf Soldier Pearl of Power + Weapon of Warning Complete
Knight of Night Fenfang Quan Human (Variant) Monk Folk Hero Bag of Holding + Medallion of Thoughts Complete

Last edited by LatetotheGame; 01-21-2019 at 12:28 AM. Reason: Updated Table
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Old 01-05-2019, 11:31 PM
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Name: Bethani Johansdottir

Race: Half-Elf (Wood)

Class: Rogue- 5 (Scout)

Background: Criminal -

Appearance: Bethani is of average height, for a Half-Elf, with long unkempt hair. Half is pulled back in an extreme pony tail, and the other half lays over the right side of her face, to hide a mark she earned long ago. She has sad, dull-brown eyes that show no emotion while meeting prospective clients.

Personality: Bethani is friendly... enough. Actually, most would not consider her to be friendly at all. But most of them are men who want to share a drink with her, rather than leave her to drink in peace. No one has, or ever will, consider her to be a great conversationalist. But the women and men who serve her drinks, and show her respect, find that she can be very generous with her tips. And those who hire her often tell others of her professionalism and impressive skills.

Magic Item Preferences: Periapt of Health & Bracers of Archery

Role-Playing Excerpt: Pain courses through Bethani's mind, feeling as if someone were stabbing her with a dagger over and over. She wants to scream, but a cloth gag fills her mouth, keeping her from disturbing their neighbors. She tries to reach up, to again claw at her head, anything to end this tormenting pain. Thankfully, her mother has tied her arms to her side, keeping her from doing further harm to herself. Tears fall freely from her eyes, as she looks to mama.

But the woman beside her only grins back, her face distorting, becoming more menacing, until she sees the cause of her pain. Bethani recoils, trying to pull away from the vile cleric, but there is no where for her to go. The man's hand glows a sickly green, he whispers something arcane, and Bethani....

.... wakes up with a start! Her heart is racing as she holds the of healthperiapt that dangles against her clammy skin. Slowly she lays back down, a shiver tickles down her spine as her naked body touches the already cooling sweat-soaked sheets of her bed. She lays there for a moment, trying to block out the memory. Instead, she turns her mind to a happier time.

Bethani was feeling the satisfying weight of new coins in her purse as she approached the merchant. "Hello, friend. I am looking for..." she looks along the necklaces, the charms, bracelets. "... something to cure my aches. My nightmares." she says cryptically, her hand shakily reaching up to almost touch her face, under her brown hair. A fear keeping her tongue from saying precisely what she needs.

The merchant looks her over, his keen eyes trying to read from her movements what she may be asking, but not asking, for. He had dealt with many people like this. Some from addictions, some suffering from bad memories, others from disease. The shakiness of her hand made him think her perhaps an addict. But it was where she had been reaching for that caught his attention, and made up his mind.

"I think I might have what you need." he says, reaching for a small red gemstone, attached to a chain of silver. "This won't resolve all your problems, but they will help you." He says, holding the charm out to her.

Bethani looks at the gleaming gem, hope coursing through her body. She lifts up her coin purse, placing it on the counter. "How much is it? I have seventy-five gold pieces." But her face falls as the merchant pulls the chain away.

"I'm sorry, but that is not enough. This is a very powerful item, that will keep all diseases away, not just the one you suffer from." he looks her over. "I'll tell you what. If you doing something for me..." he frowns at her quick glare. "Not that. I'm not some pervert looking for such favors. I just need you to guide me to the next city. You do that, and I'll give you the periapt of health, and you can keep your gold as well. Fair?"

Bethani nods her head sharply, a smile returning onto her face. "Deal!"
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Last edited by In the Mix; 01-06-2019 at 11:42 PM.
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Old 01-06-2019, 12:23 AM
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Application Finished

Marcus
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Name: Marcus Tenebris

Race: Human (Variant)

Class: Warlock, Great Old One, Tome Pact

Background: Sage

Appearance: Pale complexion in stark contrast to his black hair. Thin framed and a bit lanky he definitely looks like someone who's spent half his life digging through libraries. While not traditionally intimidating in appearance, many people are unsettled by his smile and the way he sometimes seems to just look through them.

Personality: Marcus is not extremely outgoing, but is genuinely friendly when engaged with others. It's just that he's easily distracted. He truly enjoys helping people and since being granted magical abilities he is actually able to do so. If he can help people while furthering his goals to obtain more knowledge and artifacts all the better! Aside from being very protective of his book, he's generally pretty trusting of others. The fact that he is occasionally a little vacant and that he occasionally just starts laughing during combat doesn't mean anything, it's just nerves surely...

Magic Items: Bag of Holding, Pearl of Power

Role-Playing Excerpt: The guards Marcus had hired to escort him were getting restless. The youngest one, who could barely have been in his teens, kept darting nervous glances his way. Marcus smiled at the lad in what he hoped was a reassuring way; it didn't help. Another day or two and they would reach the ruins of the library. He understood that his little caravan didn't like not knowing exactly where they were going, but even if he had shown them his book they wouldn't have been able to read the map, if they saw it at all.
That night Marcus woke with a feeling of nausea. A moment later he saw the man slinking away from the rest of the sleeping party carrying something. His book!
"That was not a wise choice," he called out calmly, waking several of the others. The startled man spun around and began to stutter some excuse but by then Marcus was already incanting in a language the rest did not understand. He man shook his head and looked around in terror, beset by inhuman whispers only he could hear. He tried covering his ears and when that didn't work he dropped everything he was holding and staggered away clutching his head, fleeing into the night.
"What the hell did you do to him?!" the leader of the troupe demanded, though he sounded more sure of himself than he looked.
"Your employees should not steal from me," was Marcus' calm response as he picked up his tome and the bag the man had dropped. "Does anyone want this?" The men shook their heads and he kept the odd little bag. It wasn't the kind of magical artifact he was searching for, but it would be helpful. It would hold much of his library. Not the book though. That would not go into a bag of holding, it must stay on his person.
The next morning the men he had hired were gone. He sighed to himself as he gathered his belongs. "Looks like we're going to the library alone," he said, though no one else was there.


Last edited by Bigbywolfe; 01-19-2019 at 05:24 PM. Reason: Update Application
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Old 01-06-2019, 12:48 AM
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Name:Caluciar Delmirev
Race: silver dragonborn
Class: druid
Background: folk hero
Appearance: draconic and silver-skinned. He has leather armor stitched together. He has a few pelts including a yetis head above his own. He has a dagger at his side and a totem necklace. A wand is alongside his dagger and javelin at his back. The javelin has markings of runes describing an elemental of air.
Personality: I always help those lower than myself but seek strength within myself over those greater than myself. This was the way of our people as we would feast and fight forever pushing to be stronger. I am determined and hold my tools of the old life close so that one day i may return to my home and continue my role.
Role-Playing Excerpt: We were traveling home from the great dungeon and had begun to feel the wind change and become stronger. Strange howls were heard as we continued. Lighting began to spark as we felt the charge against our skin and at the top we found our answer. Three gnolls had summoned an air elemental. If we were going to cross we needed to return the elemental to its home plain. We fought against the gnolls and were buffeted from the elemental as it's wind swirled. We were near victory when one of the guides was thrown from the cliff. we heard his wail as the gnolls struck harder. we felt on the ropes until a stone was struck. Looking over a javelin was on the ground. I made my way over trying to avoid being seen and upon taking the javelin I through it at the elemental and a large shock was seen this distracted the gnolls and we were able to enclose. We then sealed the elemental and I kept the spear as my prize.

Last edited by delpinator; 01-06-2019 at 03:43 PM.
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Old 01-06-2019, 02:48 AM
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Interested. Trying my hand at this.
Application
Name: Isodoros, The Black Boar
Race: Goliath
Class: Fighter (Battlemaster)
Background: Soldier
Appearance: Isodoros is a giant of a man, often confused for being a large human, since he is covered in chainmail and wears a distinctive black tusked helm that looks like a boar. Under the armor, he is, in reality, a Goliath and a veteran of war, covered in numerous scars. His stonelike skin is artistically detailed in dark gray tattoos.

Personality:
Now discharged from service, he took his nickname as the Black Boar from the service and has made it part of his adventuring persona. He is deep-voiced and often quietly spoken since he has retired from service and his booming battlefield voice is no longer needed. He is a man who will respect the people he fought for and gives most people the benefit of the doubt. He is aware that he never was the brightest, so he does his best to avoid getting into complicated situations unless he has an ally that can help him.
When entering battle, he acts with the surety and inevitable force of a landslide, plowing into the most dangerous enemies first and hitting them hard. He knows enough from soldiering to work with others and will use tactics to improve their chances of success.


Requested Magic Items: Periapt of Health
Weapon of Warning (Greatsword)

Role Playing Excerpt17 hours. Their company had been embroiled in muddy, dragged out skirmishes for 17 hours straight. Lives lost and good soldiers killed. All over a gods-damned plot of land some distant nobles cared about but would never see. Maybe there'd be a goldmine in there somewhere, maybe there wouldn't. Isodoros' squad had been separated from the rest of the company, but they had their orders.
He was the largest of the eight soldiers, slogging through muck nearly to his knees but it was near to the human member's waists. He could only hope they packed extra socks this engagement. His commander, a half-elven man of many years of service known as lieutenant Felgreen, was separated from the company alongside Isodoros' squad.
The man stood near the front, slightly crouched in the muck as he scanned the swampland around them. As the goliath approached, the commander spoke without looking at him.
"Hell of a day." the man muttered, checking his crossbow quickly before returning to the environs. "I think we're close to our main camp. Maybe three miles."
Isodoros nodded, his boar helm clicking as it rubbed against his chainmail. "Yeah." Isodoros replied. "But these guys need some sleep."
"I know. Nowhere to set up camp." Lt. Felgreen replied. He was about to speak again but hesitated, his attention fixing on a set point.
Knowing this behavior, Isodoros focused on the swamp near where the commander focused.
"What is it?" the black boar asked.
He was answered by the commander raising his crossbow and releasing a bolt. The bolt whistled into the underbrush, struck something fleshy that howled when struck. An instant later four soldiers in different nation's colors erupted from the brush, raising crossbows while others charged forward with swords drawn.
Isodoros and his beleaguered men surged into action. Raising his greatsword, the black boar charged into the closest three men, chopping down with a roar. The soldier raised his shield and was smacked into the mud for all his efforts. As the other two turned to hit him, Isodoros' squadmates caught up.
The fight was a simple skirmish, one that ended with his squad victorious, but at the cost of two of the men, and three more badly injured. One of those was their commander, who had put himself in the way of crossbowmen targeting his men. Kneeling next to the man, Isodoros did his best to make the commander comfortable despite the crossbow bolts in his back and arms.
"Black Boar..." the commander murmured, blood trickling from his lips. "You have to get them back. You're... the highest ranking now."
"Come on, sir. We'll get you patched up." the goliath lied.
Shaking his head slightly, Felgreen reached up and yanked an amulet from his neck. "This." he whispered. "Take this. There's a message inside for my lady. Tell her... tell her I missed her. That's... an order."
Isodoros bowed his head, taking the amulet from the dying man's hand. "As you command, sir."
As the lieutenant went still, Isodoros looked down at the amulet in his hand. Despite the muck, filth, and copious blood spilled, it was somehow perfectly clean. Perhaps it was magic, but for the moment it didn't matter.
"Orders, Black Boar?" one of the surviving troops asked.
Tucking the amulet into his pocket, he stood, hefting his greatsword once again. "We move." he growled. "And we survive."
***
They lost the territory, but not before costing the enemy a great deal. He, among many other veterans, was discharged for their services. Isodoros eventually found the lieutenant's lover but was disappointed to find that she had already moved on long before Felgreen was dead, and hadn't bothered to send word. Taking the amulet, Isodoros wears it, keeping the message inside in memoriam of his fallen commander's death.


StatblockIsodoros the Black Boar
Male Goliath Fighter 5
Medium , neutral good

--------------------
Armor Class 16 (chain mail)
Hit Points 49 (5d10+15)
Speed 30 ft.
--------------------
STR 18 (+4), DEX 13 (+1), CON 16 (+3), INT 8 (-1), WIS 10 (+0), CHA 12 (+1)
--------------------
Saving Throws Str +7, Con +6
Skills Athletics +7, Insight +3, Intimidation +4, Perception +3, Stealth +4 (Disadvantage from armor worn)
Damage Immunities disease
Senses passive Perception 13
Languages Common, Giant
--------------------
Mountain Born. You acclimated to high altitude, including elevations above 20,000 feet. You're also naturally adapted to cold climates, as described in chapter 5 of the Dungeon Master's Guide.
Powerful Build. You count as one size larger when determining your carrying capacity and the weight you can push, drag, or lift.

Actions
--------------------
Battleaxe. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d8+4 slashing damage or 1d10+4 slashing damage if used with two hands to make a melee attack.
Unarmed Strike. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 5 bludgeoning damage.
Weapon Of Warning. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 2d6+4 slashing damage.

Reactions
--------------------
Stone's Endurance (1/short rest). You can focus yourself to occasionally shrug off injury. When you take damge, you can use your reaction to roll a d12. Add your Constitution modifier to the number rolle, and reduce the damage by that total. After you use this trait, you can't use it again until you finish a short or long rest.
--------------------
Equipment Battleaxe, chain mail, Weapon Of Warning (Greatsword), black boar helmet (3 lb), clothes, common, periapt of health, playing card set, potion of healing, pouch, sergeant's chevrons, trinket, 200 gp


Last edited by Runetide; 01-06-2019 at 06:08 AM. Reason: Cleaning up formatting.
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Old 01-06-2019, 04:07 AM
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I've got to admit... I have a soft spot for the Speaker in Dreams.

It's tough not to have the option for a Mystic in this scenario, but I originally ran it as a rogue so I'm exploring my options.
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Old 01-06-2019, 05:29 PM
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Name Xander "Mose" Verro
Race: Human(Variant)
Class: Rogue-1/Fighter-4
Background: Urban Bounty Hunter
Appearance: At 5'4" 120# no one would accuse Mouse of being tall. He has a fair complexion, sandy brown hair and black piercing eyes.
Personality: While many would say Mouse's primary motivator is greed deep down inside it is recognition, to gain approval, fame, and social status. Unlike his namesake, Mouse is not an excitable fellow- staying cool and calm no matter what. While sometimes cynical, pragmatic and cautious he can be rather reckless in the oddest of times.
Items: Goggles of the Night and Gloves of Thievery

 

Last edited by MIniSchnauzer; 01-06-2019 at 06:10 PM.
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Old 01-06-2019, 05:42 PM
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Interested!
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Old 01-06-2019, 11:22 PM
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Alistair Ravna

app
Name: Alistair Ravna
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Rogue/Draconic Sorcerer
Age: 37
Alignment: CG
Background: Urchin
Magic Item Preferences: Stone of Good Luck and Immovable Rod



Appearance: Alistair has inky black hair and eyes the color of copper. He wears traveling clothes that look as though they were expensive at one point, but now simply look comfortable and slightly stylish. He has a habit of templing his fingers when he talks to people, and he always seems to be smiling as though he knows a secret.

RP Sample:

My old dad had a saying: Whatever happens, happens. In the grand scheme of things, there’s very little a person can do to control what occurs in the material plane. We can, however, control how people perceive what occurs in the material plane, and that makes all the difference in the world. In such wise, he would say, a man builds his reputation.

The funny thing is that building a reputation gives you the illusion of control, and sometimes that’s enough to go on. Now, I can hear you warning me that I must remember that it’s only an illusion, and for a normal person this is good advice. But for a man with a reputation, even an illusion has its uses. Here, I'll tell you a story to illustrate my point.

Scorch marks peppered the walls of the warlock’s sanctum, and chunks of ceiling lay scattered across the floors. We had done our best to expend our resources carefully, knowing the end of the fight would require our best, but the road to the tower of Grishnar the Undying was long and full of enemies. By the time we convinced his dim-witted servant to open the doors for us, we were all of us fighting at half-strength at best, and we had no time to rest. The false eclipse had begun, and the army from beyond the stars was being summoned.

Sentiment and esprit de corps have never had much value for me, but watching my companions give everything they had, fighting side by side to keep Grishnar and his lieutenants occupied so that they could not complete the ritual… well, I guess a part of me understood why old soldiers tear up when they see the old banner flying. But I digress.

Two of his lieutenants fell easily to sword and axe blows, but the other two gave us hell. We fought tooth and nail, spilling blood and spitting teeth, and every time it looked as though we had the advantage, something would tip the scales the other way. All the while, Grishnar droned on and on about the futility of our mission, and the ultimate futility of life itself giving way before the Entropy that would devour all things. Some people, I swear.

In five minutes, all of my party lay dead or dying, along with Grishar’s lieutenants; I was ducking behind a massive stone column to stabilize our cleric when I heard the warlock repairing his summoning circle so he could complete the ritual. When I stepped out from behind the column, he laughed at me: “No one would fault you for running, boy. This is not your land, these are not your people.”

“I don’t have a land, and I don’t have a people. I have a job to do.”

“You have a job you FAILED to do. My body is a vessel for a god. Every sinew of my being surges with the power of an ancient terror that would drive you mad if you even beheld the merest shape of it, and you will stop me with... what? Cantrips?”

I smiled: “Maybe I saved my best trick for last.”

He returned my smile: “Trick? Am I some slack-jawed lackwit at a Midsummer’s Eve festival, tossing you coppers to watch your hedge-charms? Or do you have some dark, long-dormant power quiet in you, never to be used except in the direst of circumstances? I think not, in fact I HUK.”

My dagger slipped through his robes and into his kidneys as quiet as a whisper as my illusory double faded from view. I had hoped that if I kept him focused on the fake me for long enough, the real me could sneak around and work my other brand of magic, and I knew if I kept him talking, he would fall for it. Oldest trick in the book, but still a trick nonetheless--in all fairness, I did try to warn him.

He fell dead and I smeared his body around his summoning circle to disrupt the runes for good measure. Once I was finished, I pocketed his valuables and a few of the goodies I’d admired on his goons, which I still have to this day--a magical stone and an immovable rod. Then I healed all my team mates and helped them "loot the bodies".

As for my trick, they didn’t see it. It was marvelously executed, but it doesn’t exactly showcase the best of my talents. That night as we feasted on the spoils of war, I told them a story of what happened that contained enough kernels of truth and enough butter of embellishment to make for something truly inspiring. And that, friends, is the power of reputation and illusion.


Last edited by DialPforPickles; 01-07-2019 at 11:48 AM. Reason: updates to finish up
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  #10  
Old 01-08-2019, 01:52 PM
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Updated the original post to include some neighbourhoods of the city, in case your character has been there before.
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Old 01-08-2019, 05:39 PM
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Hello, Latetothegame! Your post has caught my eye, so consider this a placeholder. I'm interested in playing a warlock, and am just coming up with details, history, and a character sheet, but I think I have a compelling backstory a-brewing.

I'll post again once I've got myself all sorted out.
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Old 01-11-2019, 10:37 AM
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Hi there! So, this game certainly looks interesting, and I would very much like to submit my application. Unfortunately this week has been a lot busier than I expected (because why would I expect having to catch up on any work, after a three week vacation?), so it is not quite finished yet... I still need to add the RP example, plus I need to decide on the magic items. And of course I still need to check grammar and such, perhaps add a few details. Still, I'd like to post what I have so far, as a work in progress. I'll be expanding on it hopefully this evening, maybe this weekend, but definitely before the deadline!

(also I apparently started on writing a bit about his personality, wanting to start with where he came from, and ended up writing his life's history... Hope that's not a problem!)

Anyway, thank you for considering my application- I will try to get it completed as soon as possible!

Edit: finished!

Baleir Vulderge
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Name: Baleir Vulderge
Race: Human
Class: Bard 2, Sorcerer 3 (shadow magic)
Background: Far traveler
Magic items chosen: Alchemy jug, medallion of thoughts
Appearance: Unkept, silvery hair adorns the head of this long-faced man, his sad grey eyes betraying his calm, kind nature. A lifetime spent in the cold, uncaring darkness of Strela have left his eyes sunken, and the ale he consumes to forget the memories of that place made them bloodshot. His thin, wrinkly skin is cold and greyish, only slightly concealed by something of the tan he gained during his years of travel. Tall and lean, Baleir nonetheless strikes the imposing image of a man confident in his abilities.

Despite traveling in kinder lands than those of his youth, Baleir still prefers to wear the garments of his homeland. A long, black woolen overcoat, boasting a great many pockets both on the outside and inside, keep him warm. Underneath, he wears a loose-fitting white cravat shirt, giving him a sophisticated look. Tall grey boots and a dark brown pantaloon held up by a leather belt with silver filigrain buckle complete his image.

Personality: Born in the dark lands of Strela, Baleir grew up accustomed to the life of that place, where the only thing rarer than happiness was kindness. Even then he was respected for his skill with the arcane, a result of sharing a bloodline with one of the fell creatures of shadow who inhabit Strela. His ability and lineage made Baleir both respected and feared, creating a distance between him and his people which led him to focus more on ideals, and less on individuals.

Strela is a nation at war with itself. A nearby rift to the plane of shadow, the Torn Veil, has drained the land of mercy and kindness, and as such its people are focused only on survival and protecting their own, rather than cooperation with others. Baleir was no exception to this mentality, and he fought in the constant war between his people, the Salkrith, and the other tribes of Strela. The difference was, of course, that his abilities made him more dangerous than most who fought simply with sword and shield. And while to the people of more civilized nations such skirmishes were hardly worth noticing, to the people of Strela, they were battles for survival. And that, in turn, made Baleir a war hero in the eyes of many.

Yet the darkness of Strela affected Baleir, too, and while his own people saw him as a great hero, his enemies came to know him as a great terror, some even branding him a war criminal. In Strela, it was kill or be killed, and Baleir understood this simple truth, showing no mercy in the quest to protect his own. Compassion and mercy were entirely alien to him, until finally, one day, he stood against an invading foe too powerful to drive back- a tribe of Tieflings, the offspring of a mighty demon. The Salkrith could not win against the army of murderous, cannibalistic zealots, who had committed unspeakable cruelties to many tribes before finding Baleir's.

Desperate and losing, Baleir did the only thing he could- he led the Salkrith to the Torn Veil, and told his people to protect the site without him. For days, the fighting continued, the Tiefling army gaining ground each day until finally, Baleir's gamble paid off. Working a powerful ritual, he summoned the creatures from beyond the rift- those whoms essence ran in his veins. Working a terrible magic in conjunction with these spirits, he tore open the rift even further, causing the Tiefling army to be sucked into the darkness beyond. Yet Baleir had miscalculated- or perhaps the spirits had simply tricked him. The Torn Veil grew beyond Baleir's control, and continued to grow. And like the Tieflings, the Salkirth were sucked into the darkness. Even then, the rift's hunger was not sated, and only closed after it had consumed all of Strela.

All but Baleir. The sorcerer fell to his knees, and wept at the horror of what he had done. He had overestimated himself, and by doing so had condemned the people he'd sworn to protect to a living nightmare. Hours later, he got up, and started his long walk out of Strela. And as he walked, he considered the banality of it all. All their lives, his people had fought, as had their ancestors before them. And what for? All they had done was fight and kill, until someone more powerful came along and killed them instead. There had to be something more to life... Something worth living for.

Since that day, Baleir has traveled far from Strela, and has come to learn much of the culture beyond that dark place. He has learned to enjoy food and drink as more than simple nourishment. He has learned to appreciate art. He has learned, slowly, to form friendships with others based on kindness rather than mutual protection. And above all, he has learned about music. His first interaction with people outside of Strela was with a traveling band of musicians, and their tunes, filled with merriment and sadness, moved Baleir to tears. Never before had he heard something so beautiful- never before had he experienced anything beautiful. From one of the musicians, he learned of the tale which claimed that this world was created when the gods sang, and Baleir believed it- for if mankind's simple tunes could create such powerful emotions, then what would the gods' music be capable of? Another musician taught him to play the lute, so that he could express himself and start healing the wounds of his past.

Sadly, those wounds never fully healed, as the guilt and pain consume Baleir even now, well over three decades later. He continues to travel, seeking to learn how to enjoy life and beauty from those who were raised taking both for granted. Trough his journey he has changed, from a merciless hero to a kind and gentle artist, who still seeks to protect those around him- hoping that one day, perhaps, he will redeem himself for failing to protect the Salkrith...

Role-Playing Excerpt
Baleir strode into the inn, and immediately felt all eyes on him. With a calm smile, he accepted their gaze- he was used to it, by now, after all this time in these strange lands. The colourful people in this run-down, stifling establishment, like most he had met along the road, were not accustomed to his appearance, which he had been assured was a curious mix of regal, dangerous, and a dab of stark raving madness. The Torn Veil had left its shadow not only on his soul, it seemed, but on his face as well. Thankfully, like most people, the patrons of this inn were too preoccupied with their ales to pay much attention beyond simple curiosity.

Stepping over the doorsill, Baleir walked straight to the bar and sat himself down on a stool. The bartender, a giant of a man, swung the white cloth he had been using to clean his steins over his shoulder, and eyed him from underneath thick brows and a bald head. Baleir, meanwhile, took his time setting down his pack, and unswinging the lute from his shoulders, balancing it against the bar next to him. Turning to the bartender, Baleir forced his lips to form a smile- a practiced, somewhat unnatural expression meant to put the man at ease. He had been told, quite often, his smile had the exact opposite effect.

'Ah,' he started, not quite knowing what to say. He had always left the practice of ordering food to those he travelled with- they were more adept at such things. But he was alone these days, and had to deal with situations like these himself now. 'Food,' he simply said, earning him a frown from the bartender. An awkward silence followed. 'Please?' he offered, raising his eyebrows. Then his jaw dropped, as if suddenly remembering something. 'Oh, and... Drink,' he said, now looking quite pleased with himself for successfully placing an order.

The feeling was unfortunately shattered by the barkeep's exasperated reply. 'You'll have to give me a little more than that, buddy. I got lots of dishes, steaming hot, cold, veggies or meat. Lots of different drinks, too.'

'Right, right,' Baleir nodded, frowning. Something like that had come up in conversation with his traveling partners, but he'd been too perplexed to really remember the details. Different kinds of food... Simply for enjoyment? It almost seemed like a joke to him. 'Well, I like the, ah,' he started, fumbling his words. 'The sort of brownish, thick liquid,' he offered, remembering one of the meals he'd tried. 'Sort of salty- and!' he exclaimed, suddenly remembering something important. 'It had meat, and-' and he was smiling widely now- 'and different kinds of vegetables!'

The barkeep sighed. 'Right,' he said, 'one stew coming up. And the drink?'

'Oh yes, drink... Forgot about that.' He squinted, trying to remember- there had been a sweet liquid he'd really enjoyed, but he couldn't remember the name. 'I ah... I don't know,' he confessed. 'I'm still, how do you say, discovering my taste in such things,' he offered by way of apology.

Clearly running out of patience, the barkeeper turned around and rummaged to the things he kept behind the bar. Standing up again, he slammed a strange jug on the table- dark, and painted with simple patterns. It had several stoppers in it. 'Some odd wizard, even stranger than you, sold me this a couple years back,' he explained. 'Nifty little thing- it produces all sorts of liquids, but only one kind per day.' Baleir studied the contraption, intrigued. 'You can take it off my hands for a fair price,' the barkeeper said. 'The "only one liquid per day" limit doesn't make it very useful to me, anyway. Just say the name of what you want- beer, honey, wine, water, stuff like that- and it'll come pouring out. Even makes mayonnaise and oil, if you can believe it,' he chuckled. 'You get started with that, and I'll get started on your stew. Just-' he said, holding up a warning finger, 'don't say "poison". Or "acid", for that matter. Because it can do that, too, and you don't want to be drinking that stuff.'

With that, the barkeeper turned around and disappeared into his kitchen, leaving Baleir with the mysterious jug and goblet. The sorcerer paid him no heed- he was preoccupied looking at the jug, grinning. 'Yes,' he whispered, 'yes, that'll do nicely.' Leaning closer, he whispered softly. 'Beer,' he commanded, and sure enough, when he uncorked the jug and poured its content into the goblet, beer came pouring out. 'That'll do very nicely.'

Leaving the jug for now, he drank deeply, the rich, bitter taste of the beer soothing his mind. Then he picked up his lute, calloused and trained fingers pressing down on the neck, before softly strumming the strings, offering the barkeeper and his patron a song by way of thanks.



 
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Characters: Jennifer, Mhurren, Vall, Selanet, Baleir

Last edited by DemonSlayer; 01-15-2019 at 10:08 AM. Reason: typos
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  #13  
Old 01-11-2019, 03:22 PM
MadDokMike MadDokMike is offline
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I'm interested in playing. What do you think the post rate will be ?
Application : Caius
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state: Complete
Name:Caius Gallianus
Race: Human
Class: Cleric 2 / Warlock 3
Magic items: Periapt of Wound Closure + wand of secrets
Appearance: see pic
Personality:
Personality traits:
Cauis is a closed person and not forthcoming about his past, deeply hurt, he is slow to trust. he can be cold and logical but holds a strong sense of justice.
Ideals:
Deep down, he yearns for a better, fairer world but first seeks revenge/resolution surrounding death of his soul mate.
Bonds:
Bonded to the soul of his departed partner. Holds no other current loyalty, he is adrift from society with the sole purpose of getting revenge for her and hopefully reuniting with her spirit.
Flaws:
The loss of his soul mate has made him narrowly focused, impatient and sometimes indifferent to others plights if they conflicts with his goal. He walks a fine line between dark paths in the pursuit of his goal.
Background: Researcher
Background Description
Cauis grew up poor, in the city of [DM choice], always aspiring to be a mage. He soon learnt that poor people don't get into the schools of magic. As an adolescent, keen to be surrounded by the mysteries of magic, he took a job as a scribe in the arcane quarter, here he learnt much of ancient history and the lore of other races as he transcribed ancient texts into common.

He worked here for many years until his path crossed with a young bright and intelligent woman, Sofia Elisea; an initiate in the nearby colleges. They quickly fell in love and formed a very strong bond. Never had he felt so close to someone. They spent a few years together whilst she was at the colleges. She was smart and rose quickly within the college, it wasn't long before she was involved in academic research and field projects for the colleges. She would go out to ancient ruins and come back to tell Caius tales of her adventures. However one mission to an ancient ruin would end in tragedy. The whole field team never returned and when the college sent out a party to look for them, they were all found slain in the ruins.

This ripped Caius' world apart. The college were keen to cover up the event and offered no answers to him regarding what had transpired or tell him the location of the ruins. He sought again to join the colleges, hoping to gain powers so he could go out into the world and investigate, but the college refused and threatened him against digging further. He needed answers, so left the city. He traveled far and ended up at a remote clerics temple where he stayed for a while offering his service and trained. He hoped to find peace in his mind at the temple. He thought the clerical order could offer a way to communicate with her dead spirit. He grew frustrated with his slow progress and could not clear his mind. He needed to move on. A new initiate told him of a local mage who lived in a nearby tower secretly, who could offer him all the powers he needed to contact her. Desperate, he left. This mage truly did have great powers, dark powers, shunned powers, Caius was drawn in.

Caius spent the next few years in the service of this dark mage, hanging off his every word. He did not realise he was being manipulated, used as a thrall. He was strung along on the promise of great powers, but only drip fed knowledge. He lived amongst other people, who lived and served this master. He had become part of a cult. One night following a terrifying dream, he awoke sharply with new gained clarity. He had strayed from his path and goal. He knew his dark master would never divulge his secrets, but he needed them. He took an opportunity and stole into the night with his masters spell book in the hope it would hold the secrets for reuniting with his loved one, he also stole a magic wand and pendant that had been set alongside the book. Once he traveled far enough from the wizards tower to rest, he stopped to open the book, eager to learn. The pages were blank. As he stared at the pages, wishing for answers. The booked answered. Dark purple writing started to form on page. It read, "Hello Caius, I have the knowledge you seek"...


Role-Playing Excerpt:

The sky is dark and the night is miserable. The rain is heavy as Caius makes his way along the muddy road. Travelling at night has been a challenge, but he must avoid being found. Hours go by and his clothes become sodden, as he walks along the eastward road through hills and shrubs. The rain will not relent and he should probably call it quits for the night. There is a rustling in the bushes to his left, he looks but sees nothing. Glancing forward down the road, there stood in road is three figures. He stops, his heart picks up. Who are they, he whispers a short prayer for guidance and places his hand on his blade hilt. The three hooded figures approach, wearing thickset clothing of wool and leather. The center figure pulls their hood down, revealing a part shaven female face, covered in scars and a curved sickle tattoo around her left eye. "Ah Caius, there you are. We've been looking for you, Master misses you".

"He can miss me all he wants, my place is not with you anymore. I have a different path to follow."

"This saddens me, Caius, I never expected this from you. I believe you took something from Master. He wants it back. "
"I'm sorry Nadia, but I need that book. I want to find Sofia and I need its power. "
"Caius, she's dead, move on."
Caius' face hardens, "I can't", Nadia's expression drops, "So be it, you'll come back to us in chains" Nadia raises her arm and a twang sounds from behind, followed by a thud, as an arrow lands at his foot. The three in front draw weapons and move towards him. Caius draws a blade with one hand, whilst twisting the other into a pattern then pushing his hand out. A thunder booms, sending a shock wave forward, spraying rain water and dirt up. Two assailants are knocked back and fall prone, but Nadia leans in and holds her ground; charging forward. She thrusts with a sword, narrowly parried by Caius. Channeling the energy of his god, he reacts with a rebuke of lightning energy, sending it through the connecting swords and into her body. She jerks back, her body wreathing from the the lightning. The other two assailants both get up, both looking pretty damaged from the thunder wave, they run at Caius. They are almost on him. He has seconds to act. A sharp pain shoots through his shoulder as an arrow pierces his armour. Panic flashes through his mind. Before Nadia can recover, he thrusts his blade into her side and she falls prone. He draws his second blade and runs towards the other two.

They exchange blows as Caius blocks then dodges their attacks, he lunges at one, piercing his throat. A low gurgle and the mans eyes roll back. He felt a pain in his thigh. He'd over committed, the other man grabbed Caius by his collar. Before his assailant could strike again, he smashed his sword pommel into his opponents face. He staggered, holding onto Caius' collar. His opponent twisted the blade, lodged in Caius' thigh and his leg gave way, they both fell to the floor. Caius dropped his blade and placed his hand on the mans face. "Sauru Kah" Sickly green energy pulsed from his hand into the man, as he screamed and his veins turned black. The man fell silent.

Severely injured, Caius stands, trying to locate the archer. Thud! an arrow hits him square in the chest. He stumbles back, throwing a ball of energy from his hand into the fog and rain. Another arrow flies from the mist before him, hitting his injured leg. Its too much and he falls to the mud. Rain falling all around him, as the muddy water enters his mouth. A man walks from the mist, approaching him, bow drawn. He stands above him. He sees who it is, ah Gedhri. "I'm sorry Caius. Master orders it." He loosed the arrow. Caius's vision fades into black. Gedhri turns to check Nadia, as a small pendant glows on Caius's chest. Caius gasps aloud, his vision returned. Hearing the gasp, Gedhri spins around trying to draw another arrow, not quick enough. A flash of light from Caius' hand. The bow drops, followed by Gehdri. Caius lies back, taking in what had just happened. Did he die for a second ? He whispered a word of healing, touching his leg. One by one, he pulled out the arrows. He looked about. Walking over to Nadia's prone body. He turned her over, there was still life in her but she was fading. He touched her arm and whispered a prayer of sparing. Her eyes opened. "I spared you for your daughters. Don't follow me again" . He turned, leaving the bodies in the rain...

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Last edited by MadDokMike; 01-13-2019 at 05:57 AM.
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Old 01-12-2019, 12:11 AM
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Thanks for all the interest, everyone!

@MadDokMike, Post rate I will ideally strive for will be 2/week. Guaranteed every Monday/Thursday, with more depending on player availability/post rate.
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Old 01-12-2019, 11:31 AM
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Ferron Dale
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Name: Ferron Dale
Race: Aasimar
Class: Monk
Background: Spy

Appearance: The first thing one would notice about Ferron is his dark skin and the gold eyes that peer out in a pool of black. He is a tall, lithe figure, with a characteristic pigment pattern on his face and neck, and the white hair only helps in making him stand out. He wars a set of earings on both ears, and a gold septum ring on his nose. However, because he is so distinctive in appearance, he is known to wear a face mask to hide his features.

Personality: Serene and calm, those two words describe Ferron the best. He rarely ever raises his voice even when incredibly frustrated, and has learned, through hours of meditation, near endless patience. He tries to remain level headed at all times, even in critical situations, in order to have a clear mind; this serenity also translates to muted emotions, so even in great mirth he will only show a smile. However, to those he considers close friends he will openly laugh with them.

At his heart as well there is a piece of him that loves a challenge. Difficult things that others see as near impossible he tries to accomplish, just to show that he can. Not to prove that he is better to anyone else, but to himself. There is a drive within him, where he must quiet the doubts that constantly flow in his mind, and so whenever he's told that he cannot do something, he will go out of his way to do it. Even in games and in things that aren't that important to him, to tell him that he cannot accomplish it will light a fire in his belly and he will become near obsessed until he proves the other party wrong.

Magic Items: Helm of Comprehending Languages, Cloak of Elvenkind

Role-Playing Excerpt: It started with a mission to eliminate a specific target, but things soon took a turn for the interesting when he heard rumours of a powerful artifact within the Lordís chamber. Curiosity led him to pursue this lead, spying and listening in on conversations, and after almost two weeks of following, stalking, and eavesdropping, he learned that there was indeed an artifact. One that made the Lord quite the diplomat and well loved by foreign dignitaries that came to the city. A particular artifact that would help him and his organization.

Ferron was hidden within the shadow of a large hedge inside the walls of the palace, wearing all black, his face covered with a dark cloth. The space between him and the palace was expansive, a stone paveway splitting the grass between him and palace, and every so often several guards would pass just in front of him on their patrols. The garden was to his right, their colours muted in the darkness of the night, but he could see the fountains and statues dotted between rose bushes and other flowers. Ahead, the palace was made of stone and wood with a slated biconcave roof.

There were no lights within, but intuition told him the guards inside were awake. He pulled up his hood and stalked forward, keeping himself low as he approached the red wall. He waited until the guards passed behind him, then started climbing past the first floor window, past the second, and stopped at the third. He tested it then pushed, and slipped inside, landing with the balls of his feet.

He found himself in a wide, near empty room with a single cushioned sofa to his right that faced a painting on a wall to his left, a lavish rug between the two. Opposite him, was a guard and their eyes locked.

Before the guard could react, Ferron breathed out, his Ki extending into the quarterstaff that he now held and threw it causing it to smack against the wall immediately next to the guard, the hit making no sound at all. The guard opened his mouth to yell, and again, there was no sound. Ferron took advantage of the guardís confusion and ran up to him, grabbed his quarterstaff, and swung once at his head and the next swing, in one fluid motion, at the neck.

The guard dropped, the noise of metal hitting the wooden floor making absolutely no sound.

Ferron opened the door and snuck out into a long T-shaped hallway, and to his left at the end was where his prize lay. He walked to the door and opened it into the antechamber of the Lordís room. A lavish area of sofas and chairs, bright silk curtains over the wide windows, and tables laden with pitchers of red and white wine. He stepped inside and noticed his prize in one corner. Sitting on a raised platform was a small dark shape.

He approached and noticed that the shape was a cloth of some sort. There was a slit for the eyes and above it, at the forehead was a tough, black-leather plate, and right over the mouth was a larger leather plate with three hairline slits to allow breathing. The helmet that allowed the lord to understand all languages, or so the rumour was. Ferron snatched it and stuffed it into a pocket, opened a nearby window, and jumped out.
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