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  #1  
Old 12-30-2017, 11:54 PM
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The Forgotten Forge

Somewhere below Morgrave University in Sharn...You step off of the Works of artifice, akin to massive elevators drawn up and down along the towers by cords of energy...lift before you reach the summit of Home of many of the offices of Morgrave UniversityDalannan Tower, leaving the morning crowd of scholars, students, and erudite wannabes behind in favor of roads and backways less traveled. You make your way around the windswept tower, entering an area where crates are being drawn up from the harbors a mile below through yawning chasms in the floor. The eldritch cords of energy which carry the freight glow brightly in the dark interior of the tower, deepening shadows while underlighting your faces with an eerie yellow light. The walkways here are crowded with stoop-shouldered laborers, including a few half-giants and ogres, who work day and night to move the large parcels into the warehouses beneath Morgrave-proper for cataloging and storage. Wind rushes up from the gaping chasms, reminding you to watch your step lest... well, it's obvious how that trip would end.

You duck down a dimly lit corridor that stretches on for what seems like half a mile before it emerges within a dark, dusty warehouse. Laborers who specialize in minor artifice...Magewrights balancing upon scaffolding and tall ladders work to light crystals within sconces high above. They do a poor job of lighting the way, but your eyes have since adjusted so the going is easy enough. You pass through the rows and rows of crates, some of them cracked open by curators to reveal stone idols, pottery, and artwork from Island home of the mysterious and powerful Undying Court...Aerenal, There be dragons...Argonnesen, and A cursed jungle continent, home to deadly ruins and powerful artifacts of past civilizations. Few that venture there ever return...Xen'drik. You pass many but few pay you any mind as you make your way to the back of the warehouse. The Wayfinders are the unspoken heroes of this outfit, so they are rarely rebuffed or given anything but free reign over the halls beneath Morgrave University. You peer around, looking for your venture captain as she said she had a fairly lucrative job for you that you probably wouldn't want to miss out on. There is a loud crash, followed by a long string of curses... which can only belong to Captain Marta. You approach to find a few workers surrounding a shattered crate, its contents spilled out atop straw and padding. Several strange-shaped plates marked with hundreds of strange symbols lay atop the mess... and while nothing appears to be damaged, that does not calm the ire of your demanding taskmaster.

"Men died to get these to us and here you cretins are, throwing it around like it's your The nine benevolent gods of Eberron are collectively called the "Sovereign Host."Sovereigns-damned laundry! If I find so much as a scratch on these artifacts, I'm going to strip you, flog you until you're bloody, and hang you from your heels over A bay at the mouth of the Dagger River, miles below the towers where you now stand.the Hilt!"

Once a smuggler that ran supplies for One of the five Nations of Galifar and the one where the massive city of Sharn (and you) currently reside. The other nations are Aundair, Thrane, Karrnath, and Cyre - though Cyre was destroyed by a magical cataclysm at the end of the Last War.Breland during the War, the dark-skinned A realm ruled by pirate "Princes" in eastern Khorvaire...Lhazaar woman known as Captain Marta is a tough-as-nails former sailor that was forced to find other employment once hostilities ceased and Breland pared down the size of its navy. Her dark braids, interwoven with colored bits of string, are pulled back in a tight ball behind her head to prevent it from being a liability in a fight and though she is into her middle years, she still strikes an imposing figure in her polished breastplate and matching greaves. Although short of stature and slight of build, you know from her scars and the fire in her eyes that she's not to be taken lightly. The saber belted on her hip has seen more than its share of battle but it isn't likely that she would even need it against this bunch. As you approach, she finishes growling a string of expletives before impatiently waving you over, shaking her head as she walks over to pick up her morning coffee from atop a nearby crate.

"Finally," she says derisively, casting one last glance over her shoulder at the knuckleheads that just got the tongue-lashing of their possibly-short careers.

"Where in A hellish, underdark-ish prison realm which allegedly holds all manner of demonic and aberrant creatures prisoner...Khyber have you been? I was just about to give this job over to someone that actually wants to work," she says before taking a long sip from her cup. She leans against the crate, waiting until you've all finished navigating through the labyrinthine warehouse.

"As soon as you're all here, I'll fill you in on the details," she grumbles between sips. "The Sovereign Host and the Dark Six, the light and dark of the silent Eberron pantheon.Sovereigns and Six, I'm useless before I have my coffee..."
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Old 01-13-2018, 05:34 PM
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Solomon SaltThe eggs had been great. More than great actually. Solomon Salt just didn’t use words like fantastic or fabulous very often. If ever. Still, the lady behind the stove and the frying pan had showed her worth as a reliable, trustworthy madam when it came to fried eggs. Solomon had measured out the copper needed in exact, stacked amounts and left the wooden plate nearly as clean as he got it. All the sauce and egg soaked with the rye bread and every little bread crumb picked up with a moist index finger tip.

As he breathes hard through his well-dyed beard he take in the crowded sights of the corridor and the work the labors are adding to the day. Several times he debates to stop and point a few things out to a scoundrel not paying attention to the details or a slouch not paying attention to anything at all. Had it not been due to the fact that he is running late for a meeting - he’s not, but Solomon likes to be precise and arrive in timely fashion - he had taught the novices a thing or two about solid, trustworthy work.

Solomon had donned his armor and brought his arsenal of weapons. An imposing vision, but he had the idea that he hardly could turn up for a meeting with the Captain and look unprepared. She had made it clear that the meeting was a job offering and he had the intention to take the job offered.

He heard the crash, loud and clear, and tried to get a good view of the epicenter of the sound. Being low - in dwarven standards - he had a hard time looking over a crate between the cursing Captain and himself. His heavy, iron-rimmed boots sung a slow and metallic song as he maneuvered around the crate to inspect the damage with a disapproving glare at the goods, then shortly over the captain and finally landing on the blunderer that looked most regretful. She - the captain - spoke and cursed and seemed to have the scolding covered, so Solomon just glared angrily and
Dice Intimidate scallywag:
1d20+1 (7)+1 Total = 8
aided in his own non-verbal way.

When Marta concluded her stream of words and allowed another set of scolding words to leave her lips, this time directed at Solomon, he crossed gauntlet-covered arms over the perfect-shine breastplate and looked sour. His glaucous eyes glowed with the injustice she served him. There was a moment of silence, before he muttered. Can’t speak for the others, but I was here on time, Solomon stated in a matter-of-fact tone, the summon said “Two hours after the divine morning service”. This was not the real matter for his sudden sour attitude - she had assumed, via her words, that Solomon was a type of dwarf who did not want to work. As a matter of fact, he let go of one hand and used it to point at her, with index and long finger, I came here to assist the Society and work...

The job offering wasn’t going as smooth as he had wanted, but it was hardly his fault. Way to start a conversation and set a mood, Miss. The short-lived was always in such a haste with everything. Solomon stepped back and dropped the kettle bell of his weapon to the ground, with a dull thump before he unclasped the helmet and brought it off - ash hair spilling around his shoulders. He had to make a come back, sucked in air and tried again, I’m Solomon Salt of the Noldrun Clan. I come before you as a veteran of battle, but a recent addition to the Wayfinder Society. Please accept my application for joining your mission?

Last edited by Dressedtojazz; 01-13-2018 at 05:36 PM.
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Old 01-13-2018, 07:23 PM
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Ky RavsenKy had woken with a headache, granted she knew she would after Argrim had insisted on one last night out before he let her 'go her own way' and 'make her own name' and whatever other listed platitudes he had waxed on about over one too many tankards. She would miss the old dwarf, the last eight months had both challenged her to hone her skills as much taught her about what it meant to not be alone anymore. None of that mattered at this very moment though, instead Ky was more focused on consuming her forth glass of water and used the next to splash herself more awake. It would be a long day, longer still if she did not actually get there on time and start this out the right way. Argrim had made it clear that while she was considered ready to take on new things and new people, that she could also find herself demoted once more to being babysat by someone less understanding than he.

A quick bite on the way, one she paid for of course, and the still hot bun had managed to settle her stomach completely before she had made her way back into the walls and warrens of the Society.Ky moved through the dazed and drifting students, scholars and others with graceful ease, followed by the careful steps as she left the busy world behind and moved through halls she had only done in Argrim's footsteps. It felt odd to be there alone, though Ky had to admit she was thrilled as well, a new job after only a week of being 'cleared for duty', she had thought it could have been a month even before her name would be called off the rosters.

As Ky had entered the stacks, she had slowed, a devious grin danced over her lips as she took in the various items as she passed. That one, and that one, oh that one too, that would fetch a good price, and that had just been turned in last month, Argrim had not taken her that time, but he had told her. Old habits died hard and Ky could not help but notice and appreciate what was collected, but unlike possibly even as recent as two months ago, she made no move to attempt to help herself to anything, not even the small little broach with the sparkling stones.

The sound of something heavy falling carried down the last stretch of her path, followed by oaths, mutters and a lecture. Ky slowed her steps only slightly to give herself just a bit more time before she entered the area of temporary disaster, let whoever had just made a mess get their lecture and not include her in it. It worked, more or less, and left her just on the tail end of the Captain as she complained about people being late. Late? By her count she still had five minutes or so, as did whoever else was to arrive and whoever it was that had beat her to the office. "Captain Marta...?" Ky stepped into full view, her gaze first for the captain before she glanced to the side and took in the dwarf, clearly a first arrival and one she did not recognize at all. Wide eyed and a bright smile, Ky offered a sweeping bow as she introduced herself, every inch an imp before she glanced about. "Ky Ravsen here as instructed Captain."
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Old 01-14-2018, 12:34 AM
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Kova YarabreeKova stepped off the lift and duked quickly out of the way of the busy big folk tending to the new deliveries. He glanced at the rising crates, counting them and estimating their dimensions, searching their surfaces for markings or other clues to what they contained. Distracted, he stepped perhaps a hair too close to the gaping void in the floor and, arms waving, backed away carefully. His thumb caressed the circlet of jade on his right ring finger and he chuckled nervously. Kova almost never prepared Featherfall, but it was good to know he could snap the spell out in an instant with his ring. Not that he'd want to climb all those blasted stairs to get back here... or go for a swim in the harbor. Perhaps I'd land on one of the rising crates, sparing me both indignities, he thought cheerfully and pressed onward through the tower.

Making his way past some other crates, these ones opened, he made another diversion. "Aerenal," he muttered with fascination lifting a stone idol from its protective bed of straw. He shuddered to think of the undead elves, so unlike other undead but undead nonetheless. "Argonata, shu drak maka shee,"Draconic: Argonnese unless I miss my guess.* he muttered as he peered into the next crate. Finally he came to a crate filled with exotic looking weapons, some ceremonial and some not. "Xen'drik" he breathed. "What I wouldn't give..." As he forced himself to proceed, envisioning ruins poking out of steaming jungles, Kova thought about the Captain's promise of a lucrative venture. I do hope she wasn't talking about anything so mundane as gold, he thought.

Up ahead there was a crash and Kova quickened his pace. It would be a shame to waste his daily Arcane Bond spell on a Mending cantrip, but a worse shame to let some treasure lie in ruins. It was immediately obvious to the halfling that the knot of humans and crates (and one eager dwarf warrior) surrounding the commotion would be impenetrable for him, so he simply resigned himself to listening. He recognized the captain's voice.

Quote:
Originally Posted by mad_gondsman View Post
If I find so much as a scratch on these artifacts, I'm going to strip you, flog you until you're bloody, and hang you from your heels over A bay at the mouth of the Dagger River, miles below the towers where you now stand.the Hilt!"
Kova let out a soft chuckle. "Well, now that's just excessive" he mused, softly but seemingly unconcerned if he was heard. As the scrum began to break up, he nudged his way carefully through the crowd to come to the fore and listen as the dwarf brawler and a tall, comely swashbuckler introduced themselves. Kova waited politely and then cleared his throat--a habitual warning to the big folk that someone they may have overlooked was about to chime in. "Well met to all. My name is Kova Yarabree, though I prefer just Kova. Captain, please excuse my late arrival, I was taken in by some of the newly arrived artifacts from abroad. If there's anything that needs fixing," he gestured to the ruined crate, "my wizardry is at your disposal."

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Last edited by ruffdove; 01-14-2018 at 12:38 AM.
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Old 01-14-2018, 08:07 AM
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Arrun Corliostor
The not so distant past The Last War had been a trying time for Arrun, it had tested his faith and created doubt. Not doublt in the basic tenants, evil surely needed to be eradicated, but more so with those who claimed to be superior in the faith. The actions of some of Arrun’s commanders, men and women who held prestige and privilege within the church, had Arrun questioning what evil really was.

Arrun’s time since the Last War had been even more of a challenge. He no longer had the structure and regimen that the Knights of Thrane offered. He also didn’t have the reinforcement of his actions by those who supplied his orders. Arrun’s separation from the Knights left him alone in his decisions, which was a two-edged sword. He was free to act as he saw fit, no longer blindly following orders…orders he didn’t always agree with. But, because his decisions were his alone, he struggled with uncertainty about the true course of good.

These struggles had resulted in professional ups and downs over the past two years. Arrun had spent time as a personal body guard for some noble families, serving with distinction until one of the nobles stepped out of line. Arrun’s tolerance for bad behavior, behavior he viewed as evil, was none existent. When a noble stepped out of line, Arrun came down hard…resulting in a change of profession. The roller coaster that was his life continued, with success and then overzealous behavior. But, Arrun’s life took a turn for the better when he hired on as a guard for an expedition to Whisper Rock in the Whisper Woods in the north of Aundair. The expedition was set upon by numerous creatures as they travel through the woods, some natural others not so much. Arrun fought valiantly, sacrificing himself for the good of the expedition and confronting evil whenever it appeared. His exploits were sung about by the bards of Fairhaven when the expedition returned. This is what garnered him the attention of the Wayfinder Foundation.

Arrun had been with the Wayfinder Foundation a short time, and his attitude remained the same…it had to. The only way he could function was if he was right and the only way he could be right was to follow his own rules…his code…his laws. What others said, what others ordered…those were only suggestions because others were susceptible to evil influence. Arrun had become the sole the arbiter for his life and his actions. This new chapter in his life was going to be different, Arrun was going to make a difference.


Arrun stepped off the lift and strode confidently onward, always aware of his surroundings without overtly showing any interest. He was an imposing presence as his armor glistened in the dim light of the warehouse, the glow of the eldritch cords adding a red tint to his armor, almost blood colored. Arrun continued to the meeting place, his mind on the possibilities of the job ahead. The idea of lucrative compensation was not lost on Arrun, though his focus was not the monetary gain. The opportunities he sought involved change or destruction.

The sound of the loud crash drew Arrun’s attention as he finally reached his destination, the sounds of cursing only punctuating that realization. Their captain, Marta, had been a sailor and smuggler, two occupations that brought questions to Arrun’s mind. These questions didn’t help Arrun in his acceptance of her position of rank above him.

Arrun sneered at the suggestion of failure on his part and the veiled threat, as he saw it, "What filth! I am not late…never late. You’d be better served by limiting your accusations to those that held some shred of truth." Arrun’s jaw clenched as he
Dice Intimidate Captain Marta:
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stared intently at Captain Marta, judging her response. He cared not for her authority and he wanted her to know it. He looked over the group that had arrived before him, taking note of their potential in combat. He was glad to see a stout dwarf who had the look of battle, a comrade in arms. The tall, thin woman had the look of fragility, clearly any assault on her would necessarily be evil. Arrun felt some satisfaction, here was someone he would need to protect and that made him feel good. The third member of the group was a halfling, clearly a scholar of some sort…maybe a mage. Arrun had fought with, and against, those who had arcane abilities. He never quite understood why they didn’t recognize that their power came from the Flame...that this notion of arcane magics was silly and misguided. But, mages did have power and were a force to be reckoned with.

Arrun turned back to Captain Marta, "I am Arrun Corliostor, what does this job entail?"
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Old 01-15-2018, 11:39 AM
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"Ghir'was is here." The shifter lumbered slowly towards the others he had followed to this location. Clad in his old Breland uniform, he looks a mess. His entire form looks like a beast that had just emerged from it's den after a long winter. The uniform is torn and patched repeatedly, his hair is unkempt, and his eyes have an almost glassy quality to them. Everything he owns seems to be purposefully smeared with what you all can only hope is soot.

Ghir'was sniffed the air several times, each time he did his eyes settled on a different member of this growing meeting.
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Old 01-16-2018, 10:30 PM
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PCs killed my pet dragon!
 
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As the crew hurriedly, but carefully, collects the artifacts they inadvertently threw across the floor, Captain Marta moves to a nearby crate and sets her mug atop it before fishing about within an impossibly deep pouch hanging at her belt. After a moment, she produces a small journal and lead, jotting down each of your names as you arrive. You heard that Captain Marta is as hard-nosed as they come, but your contacts told you not to take it personally. By all accounts, she's an excellent contact to have in the Wayfinders and typically has some of the more lucrative jobs in the organization.

Quote:
"I’m Solomon Salt of the Noldrun Clan. I come before you as a veteran of battle, but a recent addition to the Wayfinder Society. Please accept my application for joining your mission?"
"You show up, you get the job," Captain Marta replies flatly, perhaps oversimplifying the process as she begins scribbling in what appears to be some sort of shorthand or code. You all know that you were recommended for the job, but the remark may cause you to wonder how many Wayfinders don't bother to show up for missions. It takes her only a moment to take down Solomon's name before she grabs her mug and slurps the hot liquid within.

Quote:
"Captain Marta? Ky Ravsen here as instructed Captain."
The Captain looks up at Ky for a moment before nodding affirmation and jotting down another name in her book. "I've heard about you," she replies. It's difficult to tell whether it was a compliment or a warning that she heard, however...

Quote:
"Well met to all. My name is Kova Yarabree, though I prefer just Kova. Captain, please excuse my late arrival, I was taken in by some of the newly arrived artifacts from abroad. If there's anything that needs fixing," he gestured to the ruined crate, "my wizardry is at your disposal."
"Understandable," she says, scribbling down the next name. "Thanks for coming, Kova," she says in something resembling warmth? Why does hell does he get a greeting, let alone thanks? It only lasts a moment, however, before the next member of your group shows up and dashes it across the floor with all of the straw and relics.

Quote:
"What filth! I am not late…never late. You’d be better served by limiting your accusations to those that held some shred of truth."
Captain Marta looks to him as if to gauge if he's serious. Seeing that he is, she looks to the rest of you as if checking to see if you are still interested in the job.

Quote:
"I am Arrun Corliostor, what does this job entail?"
"In due time," she mumbles as she scribbles his name in the book. For some reason, it takes longer to write Arrun's name than anyone else's. There's a joke in the Wayfinders that you should "never be that guy." Who that guy is has been a mystery... until perhaps now.

Quote:
"Ghir'was is here."
"Geeeer... waaaahz..." she sounds it out phonetically as she writes. Once she is done, she glances at the shifter's belt as if looking for something. "I see you took my advice about the scalps. Good call."

She takes a moment to look down the hall as if expecting someone else, but seeing that no one approaches, she makes a tick in a column before snapping her journal shut. Turns out some actually don't show up, you suppose.

"Follow me," she says, picking up her coffee before marching past the crew still cleaning up their mess. With a long stride, she leads you through the warehouse past a hundred more crates, all in transit to or from some faraway locale. Your find that your destination, however, is nothing as exotic as she abruptly turns into a small meeting room in the back corner of the warehouse where she sets down her mug and dips back into the pouch hanging at her belt. This time, she withdraws a pad which she flips open and reads from studiously while the rest of you get situated. Apparently not a second is wasted with Captain Marta...

The room is empty but for a table, four wobbly chairs, and a few posters on the wall about reporting unsafe work conditions and Brelish wage laws. The table is scarred with crooked letters carved with a clumsy hand, as well as a few nudes that would be more at home in a cave deep within A largely unexplored frontier nation riddled with cursed ruins, disease-laden swamps, hellish jungles, savage lizard folk, and all manner of giant, monstrous nasties.Q'barra than upon a table in a warehouse... but such is working with the Wayfinders. If they were an organization of artists or scholars, they'd be upstairs, not down here in a dimly lit warehouse.

She continues to read from her pad as you trail in behind her and jockey for sitting or standing-room...

GMI'd keep barreling along here, but I ran out of writing time for the evening. Feel free to respond in the meantime, but I'll pick this back up tomorrow evening and have the lovely Captain Marta brief you all on this most excellent mission. If your character is the sort to keep contacts, they may have heard it's easy money...
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Old 01-17-2018, 04:41 AM
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Kova YarabreeKova looked up, impressed and bolstered by the great array of might surrounding him now. The young wizard seldom dwelt on the dangers that he knew would lie ahead, but that doesn't mean he did not think about them. He took heart at the dwarf's rough bearing, the fighting man Arrun's confrontational spirit, and this strange Ghir'was' fierce presence. Scalps? he thought. I wonder if his interest is scientific, aesthetic, or merely sentimental? The woman, this Ky, postured not a bit, which perhaps satisfied Kova most of all. Tread lightest around those with nothing to prove, old halfling wisdom told him. As the group followed the Captain, Kova subconsciously began to run through fighting scenarios and which of his spells and abilities might best strengthen the group.

Inside the small meeting room, Kova glanced around, taking everything in. He stood beside the table and folded its arms onto its surface. Taking a chair would just mean one fewer of the big folk coming down to his level. He traced one of the bawdy carvings on the table with his finger. Not bad, he thought. Not good, either, really... but not terrible. The halfling's appreciation of art covered an extraordinarily broad spectrum. For a moment Kova considered prompting the Captain with a hearty "ahem!" but he could tell controlling the pace of things put her at ease and he had no pressing reason to see her ill at ease. So, he waited.

OOC
 

 

Last edited by ruffdove; 01-17-2018 at 04:42 AM.
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Old 01-17-2018, 07:11 AM
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Ghir'was followed without so much as another grunt. When they arrived at the small table he sat down, and spoke again. "Food? Drink?" That seemed to be his only concern at the moment, directing his inquiries to Captain Marta.
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Old 01-17-2018, 08:27 AM
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Arrun Corliostor
Arrun smiled with satisfaction, 'Well, it would appear this captain has realized the error of her ways. An apology would have been appropriate, but I suspect her pride would not allow it. Her silence is probably as close to acknowledgement as I’m going to get.' Arrun stood up a little taller, taking a deep breath to puff out his chest, 'Yes, this is starting out on a good note.'

Arrun followed Captain Marta through the busy warehouse and into a small meeting room. He wasn’t expecting much so the state of the room was of no concern, Arrun’s only interest was in the details of the job. He wasn’t big on generic or obscure instructions, how can you tell the goodness of something if you don’t know what that something was. It was Arrun’s hope that this Captain Marta was direct and no-nonsense, that she would provide what information she had, not like some commanders he had previously.

Arrun remained standing, his arms crossed to indicate his displeasure with being made to wait. He took up a position near the side of the table, giving him a clear view of the doorway and Captain Marta, evil had a nasty habit of appearing at the most inopportune times.
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Old 01-17-2018, 09:54 AM
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Ky RavsenKy offered her most innocent expression as the Captain both acknolwedged her and gave mention to being aware of who she was. For the briefest of moments Ky considered whether Marta had been offered a warning or a compliment, though it faded quickly away in the ghost of a smile which ruined the sweet, innocent expression. Any compliment would be a warning Ky dear, Ky managed to open the safe, Ky located and disarmed the trap set to keep her out of my room, Ky has an excellent eye for things of true value. Yes, any thought on it clearly ended in a double edged sword of compliments and warnings. The follow up behind her ruined her attempt at innocence all together, as both bluster, outrage and then an odd cadence for an introduction appeared to round off those who had shown.

The brief journey on to a second room allowed Ky a moment to take in those she was now apparently in company with. Dwarves and Halflings, both of which she was used to, sizewise at least, as the Dwarf looked nothing like the spellcaster Argrim had been and the halfling did not appear to be the sort to stick a knife in ones back. The other two she needed a bit more time to take in, and doing so while one is supposed to be listening was not going to work. Instead, once they had reached their second destination, Ky snagged a chair, spun it around and stradled it backwards, her elbows rested on the back of the chair and her chin propped on her thumbs.

Whether purposefully or accidently, she had placed her seating arrangement next to the halfling. Kova, I need to remember their names... Now at about the same height, more or less, Ky tilted her head sideways to take in what he traced. A knowing look and a light wink as she made eye contact with him before Ky settled her attention on the Captain once more. Job description to follow, Argrim said it was an easy one, a ‘good start for your first unwatched’, but what did easy mean around these places?
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Old 01-17-2018, 05:38 PM
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Solomon SaltHalflings. Why did they have to bring a halfling? Solomon glared over at the scholarly half-man with a frown under the shiny helmet. If he was forced on the matter, there was nothing wrong with halflings per say and he had no quarrels with the scholarly types either. No. The personal grudge was pretty personal. Kova simply underlined the fact that Solomon Salt was a short dwarf. Short even for dwarven standards and there was no way Solomon could find reason to lay low on his scolding scowl just because they happened to be paired on this - for him - first Wayfinder job.

The dwarf crossed his gauntlets and grips over his chest and followed the fulfillment of the spread sheet and the coded words. Immediately,
Marta had earned a nudge up in his personal book. She was a woman with efficiency and meticulously planning for eye. Things Solomon Salt approved of.

Another thing he approved of was Arrun Coliostor's ability to keep his armor shiny and well groomed. Solomon was a man of principles and this particular principle, about keeping your gear clean, sharp and served, was of the highest priority. Match that with the fact that Arrun was tall and strict, he easily scored a few nudges in Solomon's book.

Dwarves are in general good at standing and Solomon Salt was a dwarf that excelled at it. There was no reason to crawl the unreasonable high chairs for the benefit of sitting, when that meant you would end up with your feet dangling uselessly half a foot over ground. After a little while,
Solomon felt the need to contribute with something - in immediate response to the filthy ragtag that had accompanied them under the name of Ghir'was had proclaimed his desires so bluntly, Harumph! Some would claim that this was not a response and certainly not a contribution worth the effort, but Solomon felt a layer of calm after he had cleared his throat in a thunderous and loud way.
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Old 01-17-2018, 08:00 PM
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Ghir'WasGhir'was looked at the dwarf. He was instantly reminded of the rows of men in the camps when he was with the Breland regulars. They too thought him savage, slow, barbaric. "Drink when you are able. Eat when you are able. There will come a time very soon Solomon Salt of the Noldrun Clan, that we will not know if we will be able to do either again. If you are not hungry do not eat. I am not hungry. I will still eat. I am not thirsty, but I will still drink. Better than wishing I had when there is no chance of it."

He chuckled when he finished speaking, remembering the looks of those same Breland regulars when they needed him to track the Valenar to thier camps. When they begged him to lead them out of the forests that were filled with those same Valenar. He was not a savage then, not a Shifter then... He was needed.
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Old 01-17-2018, 09:00 PM
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"We're all laughing on the inside, Ghir'was," she replies dryly to the shifter's request for food and drink. "There's a practical joker in every group..."

Once everyone has arrived, Captain Marta closes her pad with a snap and deposits it back into the pouch at her belt. Again, not wasting one second, she picks up her coffee and begins the brief.

"Shortly after humans first came to Khorvaire, Malleon the Reaver conquered the goblin people that once called the cliffs above the The same river that Marta threatened to hang the clumsy laborers over...Dagger River their home, building a city over the goblin ruins and naming it Sharaat, short for Ja'Sharaat... which is Both the name of the once-great goblin empire which spanned Khorvaire and the name of the dialect still used by goblin-kind today.Dhakaani for The Bright Blade. It would be six hundred years later, however, that a man named Breggor would take the city from Malleon's descendants and begin to erect the towers for which Sharn is known today," the Lhaazar captain - and scholar, apparently - rattles off the tale as if it is the tenth time she has told it today.

"If we are to believe the tales of Halas Of House Tarkanan. A mockery of the dragonmarked houses, House Tarkanan is not a family or an actual house so much as a guild of outcasts that bear aberrant dragonmarks. While the "true dragonmarks" allow their respective families to dominate industries and create all manner of wondrous things, aberrant dragonmarks are cursed, destructive things. All who bear them inevitably go insane.Tarkanan and his Lady of Plagues, Sharaat was nearly destroyed by their wrath at the end of the A brutal inquisition in which the dragonmarked families banded together to put an end to House Tarkanan.War of the Mark. Regardless of whether they actually perpetrated its fall, the city did suffer a calamity and many things were lost... such as Taurac's Hammer, a priceless religious artifact. Recently acquired texts seem to suggest that it lay within an ancient temple dedicated to Onatar, the god of the forge... within ancient Sharaat."

She pauses here, not so much for questions, but to assess whether she has lost anyone.

"You are to meet Provost Bonal Geldem, Morgrave University's leading professor of Pre-Galifar studies, this evening at sunset in the Gray Gargoyle atop Kelsa Spire in It is important to think of Sharn in three dimensions, as you are able to travel much farther vertically than horizontally. When they call it the "City of Towers," it really is a city of towers on top of towers... on top of towers.Upper Sharn. You are to escort him safely to the lost temple where he will assist you with the artifact's recovery."

She waits a beat and sips from her mug, watching all of you as if looking for the illumination of understanding to appear in your eyes.

"If you do not report back to me within fourty-eight hours, I will dispatch a recovery team to locate you, and if need-be, recover your corpses to be dealt with in accordance with your wishes which were recorded when you pledged yourselves to the Wayfinders."

It's a morbid bit of business, the recovery team, but it's nice considering that most in your line of work are just left to rot... for a fraction of the gold, no less. And speaking of gold, she pulls a bag of coins from the improbable depth of the pouch at her belt and tosses it upon the table with a loud thud.

"Here is one hundred Galifars up front to outfit yourselves for the expedition. Upon successful execution of the mission, you will each receive a note for three hundred Galifars payable at the Bank of Kundarak.

Do you understand and accept the mission for which you have just been briefed?"


Not one wasted second.

Last edited by mad_gondsman; 01-17-2018 at 09:01 PM. Reason: Clarifying...
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Old 01-17-2018, 09:24 PM
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Ghir'WasGhir'Was extended a hand and takes his share of the "deposit". "Ghir'Was accepts, and will be there to meet Provost Bonal Geldem of Morgrave University. Professor who studies the Pre-Galifar.". He repeats the information as if it is needed to commit to memory. "At sunset in the Gray Gargoyle. Atop Kelsa Spire in Upper Sharn. Ghir'Was, I, will bring food and drink in case Solomon Salt of the Noldrun Clan is hungry then."

He let a throaty laugh go, as he stood. Pushing his chair back and moving to make his exit. Whoever else accepted was not his concern. They would be there, or they would not. The sun and moon would still dance, as they always did, in the sky above.


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