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Old Apr 17th, 2021, 10:25 PM
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Chapter One: A Call for Help!(group 2)

A Call for Help!
The First Chapter of Fireside Tales, Group 2
The Fourth of Tarshak, 1409DR; Year of True Omens





A Letter to Captain Hawk


Captain Hawk
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Captain Hawk tried to focus on his report, wanting to finish while the details were still fresh in his mind, but the letter from his mother continued to distract him. The group to gather the blood flowers had just returned after a two day journey. Pru had earned her freedom, and the group of four had all been offered new assignments.

Npcs for the purpose of this exersizeSour and Achilles had agreed to report the demon summoning to Silverymoon, where the scholars there would best know how to handle the information that had been gathered. Meanwhile, the guard captain had asked the other two to travel to Nightstone and investigate what had so spooked his mother. He was sure the group would honor his request, but he had no way of knowing for sure.

With a sigh and shake of his head, the aging human cast the doubt from his mind. Hawk had sent the letter with the group as proof to his mother that they could be trusted, and had also given the carnival poster do them, with a rough map of how to get to Nightstone drawn on the back.

Tossing a second sigh, Hawk picked up his quill once again and began to again write his report, wondering for maybe the fiftieth time in the last five minutes if it was too late to chase after Pru and Egg and join in on the trip to Nightstone.


oocTrue to Fireside Tales nature, this is a very open ended campaign. There for you get to set the opening scene. Pru and Egg are in Scarfell, about 5 minutes away from the barracks in a direction of their choice. The remaining group is, well where ever you want! Lets see what you got. I'll pull you together and tie you into a group if you do not, so here is the chance to do it your way! Don't make me kidnap you and plant tracking gems in your You never know, it just might happen. Don't put it past your over bearing M.o.M!foreheads!
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As a Player: Guild Battle /|\ The Closing Calamity in the Crags: Group 2 || Misc Endeavors: Monster Den /|\ Writers Block /|\ Team Up
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Old Apr 18th, 2021, 07:01 AM
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Hungus Mungus
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From out of the forest steps a man of average height, but with a decidedly un-average aura about him. For starters, his clothing is filthy, his red hair and beard are extremely long, with the former reaching midway down his back and the latter grown out to just below his breastbone. His eyes are blue and watery, and he is constantly squinting and peering through half shut lids in the mid-day light. There is a smell to him. The man might call it a fragrance, and to one who has lived the last two and a half decades amongst the Myconid of the Underdark, it certainly very well may have been. To those who live topside, or who are standing downwind, or simply anyone nearby with a functioning olfactory system, fragrance would be much too nice of a word. The more diplomatic might refer to it as a pungence, but really, he smelled quite badly. If one got close - and at first glance, why would they? - to this dirty stranger, they would see that woven through his hair and beard were a variety of strangely colored mushrooms. In fact, if you were an intrepid enough soul to get close enough, and you had the keen enough senses to place it, you would recognize the smells emanating from this stranger as being mostly soil and fungus (which almost, but not quite totally, masked the natural smell of body odor coming from underneath). A passerby happening to be in the area would see a middle-aged smelly vagrant with a quarterstaff walking out in the sunshine. Appearances, however, can be misleading.

This man, this strange, unkempt man, has two identities. The outward identity, the one that has become caked on like so much grime over the years, is Hungus Mungus the Fungus Lord. That last was an honorary title gifted to him by the Myconid, in deference to his resolve of living deep below in the underdark, and more importantly, his respect for and curiosity regarding mushrooms. But, since Hungus Mungus the Fungus Lord is a bit of a mouthful, he tended to just go by Hugh, which to his friends, made him Hugh Mungus. This was another bit of a joke that had come about while living with the Myconid. Hugh is not an especially tall man; perhaps an inch or so above average for his species, and well shorter than some of the taller species of Myconid. Still, the name amused his neighbors down in the dark, and it stuck... and continues to stick, decades later.

The second identity, the one buried deep down below the grime and the long beard, is a forgotten, but no less notable name. Before he became Hugh (aka, Hungus Mungus the Fungus Lord), he was a young boy named Lennart Danton IV, a member of one of the wealthiest and most notable families in the Sword Coast region. The Dantons, based out of Neverwinter, established themselves as a powerful shipping family, trading across the sea throughout Faerun and beyond. Or, at least, they were a power shipping family, the last time Lennart saw them. But that identity, along with that little boy, have both been outgrown, and now there is but the one man, walking with his mushrooms and his quarterstaff - as well as the dog he recently befriended, who he decided to name "Truffles."

Right now, Hugh is... well, he's lost. Many years ago, he'd set out from Neverwinter, and made a daring escape from the servant who was hired to watch over him by pretending to drown. Lennart had actually been a very excellent swimmer, as he spent nearly every waking moment outside exploring, running, jumping, and being a happy outdoorsy boy. It was easy to hold his breath long enough to swim far beyond sight, and then to run away and lose himself in Neverwinter Woods. He had a rough sketch of a map that he'd drawn from talking to some of the dwarven merchants who came to Neverwinter to make deals with his father and grandfather, and it was this map that had sort of-almost-not quite helped him get through the woods, toward the Crags near Gauntlgrym, where he'd found the entrance to the Underdark he'd been told about. There were many things that had driven him below the earth at the time, but they're forgotten now. All that remains of the time before are the crinkled ruins of his hand-drawn map, some gold coins in a pouch, and a signet ring bearing the Danton family crest. It is the map that is his current focus.

"Truffles, this map is completely out of date. When did they put this trail in the middle of a stream? Oh, wait, maybe I just colored the trail blue for some reason. Hmm..." He sniffed the air. Truffles just sat there, wagging his tail, before turning in a quick circle and looking up at his new master expectantly. "Well, friend, where maps fail, senses prevail, and my sense of smell says we go... this way." And with that, he set off jauntily down the trail, a spring in his step and a song on his breath.



There ensued a period of wandering overland, staying on paths, and crossing back through woods, streams, marshes, and back to the road. Everywhere, Hugh explored for different types of mushrooms and fungus, comparing them to ones he had seen, and making notes in his head to write down later, when he could find some paper. He had no destination save the next patch of damp earth or next rotting log, anywhere where one would find life. At some point, using nothing more than a fallen log for buoyancy, Hugh crossed the Dessarin. and soonafter found the small village of Scarfell. Though Hugh did not know it, the next chapter of his long, strange life was about to begin.


 
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Last edited by Noquarter19; Apr 18th, 2021 at 12:32 PM. Reason: Color stuff
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Old Apr 18th, 2021, 02:37 PM
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Nyx Desverger
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“We are here, missy.” The words of the peasant pulled her down to earth, forcing her wandering thoughts to the here-and-now. She turned her silvery eyes with a blue glint off the horizon and refocused on the smoke rising from the chimneys and the clump of roofs seen huddled from above the protective wall. The wall was dotted with unimpressive towers and the gate directly in front of them, about 800 meters away. The wagon stopped. “I have to do turn here, so you can walk the rest.”

Nyx turned her face to the man next to her and gave him a simple smile. The arrangement they had was simple, she was to protect the stocky man and his cargo from Dessarin River, where she came off the boat, up to Scarfell, in exchange for the ride. “Thank you.” She said simply, stood up, and gracefully jumped down on the ground. “Farewell.” She added when she retrieved her stuff from the back of the wagon. While the wagon began rolling again, leaving her and turning into a side, forest track, Nyx put on the backpack and began walking toward the village.

Scarfell wasn’t anything impressive if you lived most of your life in Waterdeep. She wondered why Prudy came here. Would she even be here? Nyx returned to Waterdeep few weeks back and it took her some time to catch up with father and old friends but she just missed Prudy. As the time passed Nyx was getting a bit concerned about Prudy gone and it wasn’t a norm for her to be away from Waterdeep for so long. On the other hand, Nyx felt restless. Experiences of past few years made Waterdeep, seemingly timeless, somewhat unappealing. Therefore, Nyx decided to go after her friend to surprise her.

The tall and skinny Half-Elf Nyx with long legs and pale skin, caught the attention of the guards at the gate from affair. She was beautiful and she was used to such attention. She continued on, even burdened by the pack, crossbow and daggers, she was walking confidently and gracefully. Dressed with taste and class, though functionally, with her long straight white hairs flowing loosely and femininely in the wind, she had certain voluptuous aura, extended with gentle makeup and soft perfumes.

The guards observed her, or more like ogled at her, as she approached but obviously had no courage to do anything else. Passing them, almost like an afterthought, she stopped and turned to them. “Say boys, have you seen a purple tiefling around here recently?” Nyx asked warm and sensual voice, making gentle motion around her head imitating horns.


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Old Apr 18th, 2021, 08:58 PM
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Lorna Thistlewood
Ghostwise Halfling Moon Druid/Cleric of Life

'Slow Down!' was said silently to the large mastiff over and over again as the small, tan-skinned halfling bounced on the mount's back as she tried her best to hang on with her fingers gripping the fur folds tightly. The large dog had taken off for whatever reason, panting happily as it raced through the trees and bushes of the forest, seemingly having caught the scent of something, but was too distracted to acknowledge its rider's words.

Ducking under one leafy branch, it was the druid's mistake of looking back in amazement at the size of it, thinking, 'That would have taken me out,' before turning back to see another, just slightly smaller leafy branch a moment too late to dodge it. As the massive, relatively speaking, leaf smacked her in the face, the halfling had finally had enough and yelled out, "STOP!" It also happened to be the exact moment that the mastiff had decided he was going to stop, anyway, so he took the angrily-yelled order very literally.

Being sent flying forward over the massive head of her mount, as Lorna twisted in the air, she was about to yell curses at the animal before becoming suddenly distracted by the sight of a very large, red-haired man that there was no way any halfling would miss. Crashing to the rough, hard earth and having all of the air thrust from her lungs, the Ghostwise Halfling let out a low, strained, "Owww…" as she relented herself to lay there flat in the middle of the road just entering Scarfell.

It was moments like this where Lorna was forced to wonder how she'd gotten herself into this situation. She knew exactly how: she'd ventured too close to Waterdeep and realized those were not the kind of people she wanted to deal with, and had decided to take the scenic route back East into the forests of the Sword Coast. Initially following the river, something had gotten into her friend what she felt was a mile back, even though it was probably closer to a quarter-mile. From there he'd taken off relentlessly to the source of his distraction.

After taking a few heavy breaths, she reached up to pull off the old, worn, horned skull that covered most of her head and half of her face in an intimidating visage. As she did, she heard the tiny footfalls above her and quickly rolled over to snatch at the tiny creature that had emerged from the skull-cap. With her outstretched hand only finding dirt as she watched the wiry tail of a rat quickly rush off to cover, she cursed, "Dammit!" before turning over to push herself up on her elbows.

The woman's dingy, brunette hair hung down to mid-chest in near-dreadlocks around her angular, tattooed face. She had more tattoos covering her arms and shoulders that extended beneath the unique, wooden breastplate she had covering her torso. Almost angry, hazel eyes came up to spot the man she'd been distracted by just moments ago. Taking in the full breadth of his size immediately put the halfling on edge as she quickly scrambled to her feet to a slightly-crouched, threatening posture with a curled hand extended out. Long claws extended off her hand that dripped a liquid from them that caused the dusty dirt to sizzle and smoke.

As she looked at the man, though, starting at his feet and slowly working her way up his rather massive frame, the woman seemed to slowly relax with each impressive foot taken in. By the time her gaze had reached the crown of his head and come back down to meet his eyes, the claws that had once extended from her hand and drawn back, leaving a rather average-looking hand, save for the jewelry upon her fingers. Standing up straight at nearly three feet tall, Lorna seemed to gain some kind of recognition of the man before her. While she didn't know him, she could identify the type by his appearance...and also the smell.

"You smell like Death,"(Druidic) the druid said with a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she picked up her skull-cap and walked over to next to her mastiff that had been standing, smiling, with his tongue hanging and tail wagging, staring at the other mastiff as if to say 'Hi!'. She had a very good idea of what this man was, and what area of the world he specialized in. Fungi were often attributed to only death, but she knew they both knew better. Just as her training as a midwife helped her help others with the miraculousness of bringing new life into the world, fungi were just another step on the 'Wheel of Life', when the elements of the dead are getting broken down to become food for just another aspect of life.

She hoped her attempt at humor, despite being fairly dry, would go over well with the large man.

Reaching up to put a hand on the shoulder of the mastiff that stood maybe a river-pebble's height taller than she, Lorna nodded with her chin towards the man's dog, "What's his name?" she asked before motioning with her own mutt, "This is Hooch, or at least that's what he said his name was. He's a rescue," she said with a self-praising nod. Waving a hand in greeting but not actually stepping any closer to the large druid, she offered her own, "I'm Lorna. Lorna Thistlewood. And who might you be, fellow child of the wild earthen realm?"

 
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Old Apr 19th, 2021, 01:02 AM
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Hungus Mungus
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On the outskirts of Scarfell, Hugh had been kneeling down at the base of a dying oak tree, inspecting a curious patch of mushrooms that looked to resemble the tail-feathers of a chicken. They were a common sight on hardwoods at this time of year, and Hugh made a point to gather some of them into his bucket to cook up later.

"See these, Truffles? These are Hen-of-the-Woods, and they're delicious when cooked up. But we don't want to take all of them, now do we? No, it's important to just take what you need and leave the rest. Someone else may need this to live someday." He patted the dog and adjusted the bucket on his side. Nature had provided the materials, but the bucket and the strap that held it at his side were of his own make. He'd used a chunk of a fallen log and a sharp stone to make the bucket itself, then bound together some thin, ropy vines to make a strap for it. In hardly any time, he had a bucket for gathering. He blew a kiss to the earth.

"We say thank you to nature, Truffles, for providing us with what we need, and to the Earthmother Chauntea, for this delicious harvest. It's important, you see. Even you - yes you, Truffles - you were provided to me by nature as my new friend." He ruffled the dog's fur and gave it a big hug, before the two set off back toward the trail through the woods. The dog, a stray he'd found days before wandering, had been gaunt and hungry, with matted fur. It had been growling when he'd found it, seeming distrustful of the human, but some calming words from Hugh had eased it's temperament, and now the two were quite fond of one another.

Something was coming, however, for Truffles had shook out of Hugh's grasp and was now standing at attention, staring into the woods. And suddenly Hugh could hear what Truffles' strong nose had smelled. Barking. Coming closer, and quickly. Too quickly, as it turned out. A large mastiff came barreling into the clearing, ridden by a small humanoid figure wearing a skull of some sort. The humanoid let out a high pitched "STOP!" - and the dog did just that, sending the small figure flying like a large sparrow, right toward Hugh.

"Oh my!" he exclaimed, seeing the small humanoid totally eat dirt as it hit the ground with a lung-emptying thud. He winced, and moved closer to the figure to lend a hand. On the ground, moaning in pain, the small humanoid was lying spread out, looking dazed, before quickly reaching in vain for a small rodent that had, for some reason, been in her skull-cap.

"Dammit," the figure said, before suddenly becoming conscious of the taller bearded man who had reached down to offer a hand up. Hugh heard the high-pitch of the voice and surmised this short humanoid must be a female. She instead got to her own feet, eyeing Hugh with suspicion that seemed to fade as she looked him in the eyes. She sniffed, and gave him a small smile, before surprising him a bit with her next few words. "You smell like death," she said in the secret language of the druids, and he gawped a bit, before getting the joke and chuckling to the woman who stood before him, all three towering feet of her.

"Death, and life, and death again," he said, I was told that the yellowgreen was a tough readswitching to the common tongue. "Well met, Lorna Thistlewood. Hello, Hooch," he said, giving a friendly wave to the new dog who was sniffing Truffles curiously. "My name is Hungus Mungus the Fungus Lord, Hugh for short. The dog is Truffles, and he is also a rescue. A real shame that someone would have given up on such a good boy, but I am happy to walk the road with him now." Hugh suddenly looked concerned. "Are you alright, Lorna? That was a nasty fall you took. Here, I have some mushrooms that can help with swelling," he said, holding up a few bright white oyster mushrooms. A thought seemed to strike him, and he suddenly appeared apologetic. "Oh no, I hope my dog wasn't the reason your Hooch was running so fast - I would feel terrible to be the reason why you were injured. Please, let me accompany you along the path, it would make me feel better to know you and Hooch are not alone in your travels."


 
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Old Apr 19th, 2021, 01:52 AM
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Lorna Thistlewood
Ghostwise Halfling Moon Druid/Cleric of Life

Nodding along with the other druid in his description of the life cycles commonly discussed amongst the druids of various Circles, Lorna couldn't stop herself from looking a bit shocked at the name, but that was almost immediately turned to amusement as she muttered the commentary to herself, "I couldn't see anyone calling you 'short.'"(Halfling)

As for the introduction to the man's dog, however, the halfling seemed to relax at the idea as she stepped forward to shove Hooch back maybe two steps before getting right up in front of the newly met mastiff to reach up and scratch him right under his jowls. Her voice immediately took on a softer tone as she babied the beauty, I've heard the same thing, but I just picked something real quick for the needed momentthis time in Common to match Hugh, "Hello, Truffles. You are such a pretty boy. Are you taking good care of 'Hungus Mungus the Fungus Lord'? Yeah? Yes you are, such a good boy."

Taking an almost unconscious step back as the large man stepped forward with a handful of mushrooms, Lorna's pride kicked in as she tried to nonchalantly wave off the offered aid, "I am fine, thank you. When you are small like me, you have to get used to such things. Hooch is a good friend, but he still needs much training." By now the woman's own mastiff had propped his head on his shoulder, which seemed to be something he did often based on how Lorna didn't react at all to it.

"I will take your offer for accompaniment, though. I figure, if there are two of us here, there must be a reason for it." Turning towards town, Lorna finally reached up to push Hooch's maw off her, only to cringe slightly as she pulled her hand back covered in slobber. Reaching around her back, she pulled her fur-lined cloak around to wipe her hand on it as she continued, "But can you really consider one's self alone when you travel with another like Hooch or, in your case, Truffles? I do not think so. I have always found a certain comfort in knowing that Hooch has my back."

Glancing back at the dog as it followed along only a couple of steps behind her, she looked up to the much taller human and almost whispered, "I will tell you something, since he cannot understand right now, but I do not think 'Hooch' is such a fitting name. I took him as trade for helping a man's wife deliver his son. When I went to collect payment for my services, they were in the tavern, drinking foul-smelling wine and giving it to my friend there saying, 'How you like that, Hooch?'" she said, mimicking a gruff-sounding man. "I have heard others refer to such liquids as 'Hooch', but I dare not question my friend when he was so sure that was his name. This Common tongue is a very curious language sometimes, even though it was not as hard to master as the language of the fey or druids, for instance."

Having run out of conversational anecdotes, and having resettled her skull-cap back upon her head now that they were traveling again, Lorna had to ask, "What brings you two to Scarfell? I was just passing through on my way East, but if we have crossed paths here, there must be a reason. I do not believe the 'Life Tree' would allow such a coincidence on my path."

 
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Old Apr 19th, 2021, 01:58 AM
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The question really ought to have been, "Who hasn't seen the purple Tiefling?" You know, the one who literally flung herself out of a third story window one early morning, around five days ago, from The Prancing Otter's upstairs Inn. Glass cascaded down like glistening shrapnel of shards; each piece, big and small, caught the morning light beautifully, each became a prismatic splinter. They are still cleaning the mess up. The fine citizens of this small town found themselves in absurd chaos. That purple Tiefling with the abyss-black eyes who landed on the ground, bowed, and introduced herself to the whole damn city while a guard yelled 'thief' from where the window once stood. She could've run, but instead she challenged Maud, you know...Maud the old Halfling who runs the Otter, to a fiddle duel to see if the window had to be paid for or not. Guards were showin' up. Maud took out her fiddle. That 'Tempest' Tiefling took out her fiddle, and they played as though their lives depended on every note was worth a silver - and the thundering, and the light show...magic and music. And then the guards caught the other odd 'guard' who they executed yesterday. So, yes, everyone has seen the Purple Tiefling, who is only in the company of her very sturdy looking 'bodyguard'. Egg something. Igan? Honest lookin' Merc. Met'm in the Otter.

If someone had not yet had the pleasure of seeing a true Infernal creature, Prudence Tempestchaser would be a fine example of such an exotic being. Respect, fear, desire, or hate her, a collective conclusion about this woman is that she has an allure about her. Her presence can be delightful for one to bask in, or horrifically confusing if one were inclined to such prejudice against her sort. This morning, a concerned expression played on the Tiefling's fine lavender face and she grinned at Igan, otherwise known as 'Egg'. She was examining a slim dagger that she held up to the sunlight. "This just doesn't match the other four as much as I wanted it to. Perhaps .." The twenty-something, usually confident young woman considered her words as she continued to examine the blade before slipping it back into the leather strap that crossed her tailored studded leather corset - utility and fine craftsmanship. "Igan, do I keep the hood up for travel and wear the length of daggers, or is that too …threatening? I heard someone say the 'a' word that fateful day, and...I find that rather judgmental on my fashion sense. Granted, I have no qualms stabbing someone in the throat, but to be paid for such is not the business I am in, as it is uh um…yours." Pru was, more or less, raised on the high seas. The forest, streams, dirt roads that line the Sword Coast are still quite confusing and alien to her. Adventuring? Never - not in the way those on the land adventure; going here and there, starting campfires, and sleeping under trees. Investigating strange things, the magical and mystical, with the ability to define the weavings of enchantments, layered and simplistic, is part of her business. Such business takes place indoors, in cities and towns, under mostly controlled circumstances. The forest is not an environment to be controlled, nor a place she has been in for more than an hour or two, if that.

Prudence turned her dark gaze back to the gates of the Scarfell, almost longingly, because secretly, deep down, walking to this next destination is frightening. She is not going to charm a bear (Except the roasted chicken she gave to Egg to carry in his pack - that will distract a bear or wolf by tossing it, of course. It's wrapped in wax papers and fabric and such. It's fine.), though a bandit would be in her wheelhouse, easily so. Out of habit, her tail, glinting with baubles between black leather ringlets of armor, curled around the sheath of her swept-hilt rapier that rested at her side. The sword's existence peeked out from the interior of a black and blue swallowtail coat, more protective leather against heavy velvet brocade. The Tiefling tilted her head as she watched Nyx, not recognizing her just yet, gather her belongings from the carriage and head towards the gates. "Huh." She narrowed her eyes, watching the form, but was soon distracted by the curious Owwww… that carried not too far down the road.

"Igan...is that a person on the ground? Are they...are there...two wolves? Dogs? Foxes? Are they trying to Eat that...child?" Pru said with some alarm to her voice, wondering again why she agreed to go near woods again, away from the city. Ah! The Carnival. That will be fun. She gave Egg a steady look and then gestured towards whatever was going on. "There's someone else Igan. What if they are attacking that ...I don't see a face. I...should get help? Indeed. Yes. You go do your rescuing thing and I will get you backup." Pru said with such bravery in her voice, keeping her wits about her and strode quickly with her mission towards the gates, hand resting on her rapier. "Why can't I be on a ship. Or home. Or in a carriage. Even a horse.."

As the lavender Tiefling approached the gate, stating in a firm tone. "I believe one of you may want to see about a possible altercation. I just sent my friend to check on it right down there. I'm on business for your Captain. A less dangerous road would be preferable than not. It would be quite appreciated. Please.." And Pru smiled adoringly, wedge-shaped fangs bared as is par for the course when she smiles. Then her eyes darted to the one standing there who is not a guard; the woman known to her as "Nyx", partner in crime business and pleasures. "No. No, no no." Pru breathed her repeated word, and gave the woman a sideways glance, half-grinning as bewilderment cast itself over her features. Even after five years, some things just don't change, especially a Half Elf. She stood there as though she's seen a phantom that has haunted her for quite some time. Whether or not Pru was upset or happy was rather up in the air for a beat or two. She's not one to admit to a broken heart, therefore she wickedly grinned and her tail actually swatted about for a moment with excitement. "Tell me you're no ghost."
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Old Apr 19th, 2021, 02:39 AM
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Igan Bersk, a.k.a. "Egg"
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Egg was, as a well-established fact, a "sturdy-looking bodyguard". Bald as an eagle and beaming like a schoolboy who'd just heard there won't be class on the morrow, the heavilly-armored Waterdeep mercenary was in high spirits on the way back from gathering petals for one of Maud's ailing friends. It wasn't because they had just done a good deed - though Igan wasn't opposed to stuff like that, of course - but particularly because he had just earned ten gold for such an easy job. Easy jobs were simply the best, for Egg. You get them rarely enough, not to mention his most important job, his unfinished business, his offer that he could not refuse, was the opposite of easy. So you cherish easy jobs as much as you can.

Yet he was still no closer to finding Sdoke.

All in good time, Egg thought. Good thing Floaty hasn't sent any goons down here, too... Yet.

So Egg smiled as he half-listened to Pru prattle on again as usual, nodding at appropriate moments and sometimes at inappropriate ones, like when she mentioned "the A word." To be honest, Pru wasn't bad company; she was capable, surprisingly warm, if at times a bit... odd. Egg didn't mind odd, though. At least she seemed more... dare he say it? Trustworthy than his usual company.

"Hm? Oh, right, uh." He struggled to recall what it was they were talking about. Or more accurately, what she was talking about. Egg was about to reply something about someone saying that "If you got it, flaunt it," but then the tiefling suddenly said, "Huh," as she looked ahead.

"Uh, what?" Egg was situationally aware; it was part of his job description. But what Pru had just observed and what he confirmed with his own eyes was...

Odd.

Egg approached cautiously, his hands still free of the greathammer strapped to his armored torso. The two mastiffs seemed to be only doing some friendly, if unacquainted, smelling, and their owners - if the merc's guess was correct - seemed to be doing something similar.

"Ho there, friends," Egg said, trying his best to say the words with a congenial tone. He wasn't really good at talking. Where was Pru when you needed her most?

"Everything alright? We heard... noises," he finished lamely.


 
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Old Apr 19th, 2021, 04:48 AM
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Nyx Desverger
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A big weight fell off Nyx’s heart. Prudy was safe and sound. She could see by the reaction of the guards that the Tiefling already made himself famous around here. Both of the men were about to spill their guts, wanting to impress Nyx no doubt, and tell her everything they knew, but Prudy’s arrival interrupted that.

Nyx’s eyes softened seeing her friend. At the sight of swatting tail, Nyx lips broke in a wide smile, showing up her perfect teeth. It took her back into memories. There were times this tail made Nyx crazy, and at others, she enjoyed getting Prudy’s attention by pulling on it. How long was it… five years? Something about that. It felt a bit like a different lifetime. Nyx was far more untamed and wild back then. The troubles she was getting Prudy in, the fun she had with her, teasing at her musical talents only to enjoy them afterwards. Nyx loved to listen to Prudy play. All that and more flashed in front of Half-Elf’s eyes.

Nyx also noticed some conflicting emotions in Prudy’s face when the Tiefling greeted her. Nyx wasn’t the gentlest one in the way she broke up with Prudy. Although technically they weren’t together, she knew how Prudy felt and it played its weight in accepting Bardag’s offer to learn from him and eventually visit the Shadowfell. Nyx thought it was one of the best decisions in her life, so in some weird way, she felt thankful Prudy for that, even if Nyx had hurt the Tiefling.

Gracefully in her near unmoving pose, Nyx didn’t answer immediately, dramatically holding the moment with the silence in the air. However, as her lips curled all the way, Nyx threw her hands in the air, her palms twisted like talons over her head, in the silly gesture one could do to scare off a little child. “I am a ghost of your past! I am here to haunt you!” She said playfully before she paused theatrically as if she was considering something and added keeping the silly tone. “At least for a bit of time!”

With the last one, she jumped forward, dropped the backpack on the ground, and hugged Prudy. “How are you my dear?!” Unable to keep up the playful charade any longer, Nyx just let the friendly emotions out and planted a big long kiss right on Tiefling’s lips. “Long time no see! Tell me you missed me.”

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Old Apr 19th, 2021, 10:57 PM
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Vossk
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Covered as he was in heavy dark robes, Vossk was unable to disguise his prodigious size of more than seven feet from those who would observe him. From a distance, or in the woods where he usually travelled, it did not matter much; but when entering a town such as Scarfell for instance, the quaggoth's beastly form was one that elicited... varied responses. It would not be the first time for him to be given dark, suspicious looks at best, though he nodded and smiled and greeted all whom he met with the utmost civility, and pitchforks and militia swords at worst. It was a blessing from Corellon that it had never come to blows; Vossk always excused himself promptly.

As the Seldarine would have it, when he had managed to scrounge some gold pieces for trade, a passing peddler had a most curious needle for sale. The old lady said it was good for "hiding from those who are blind." The cursed quaggoth thought her mad, but bought the thing anyway, sensing it held true value. Eventually, he came to see her meaning.

Vossk was just about to activate the ink etched on the back of his right palm in order to disguise his "monstrous" visage, yet what he saw on the outskirts of the town gave him pause. At the edge of the forest, there stood a human male who had the smell of the Underdark about him. Vossk recognized some of the mushrooms woven in his unkempt and filthy hair; Toad had told him of wonderful myconid varieties and species in his homeland, and the quaggoth himself had seen them in his months of incarceration. The smell alone sent a shiver down his dense spine, though it was not from the pungent odor. How long had he escaped from Renor Che'el now? More than a tenday? The memories and the wounds, both physical and mental, were still all too fresh. The stranger's fragrance reminded him of everything he hated about that part of Vossk's life. A low growl even escaped his throat, before he cut it off so as not to give away his presence until he knew the man was not an agent for Issarae. Would the drow use surface hounds to hunt? The man's companion lacked to viciousness he had been accustomed to among the thralls and slaves of the dark elves. Still, it was prudent to wait and see.

Vossk did not have to wait long. Another stranger suddenly appeared seemingly from thin air, sailing above the grass and landing on the earth with a soft thump. Elvish: Definitely not a drow...Nesh col Al'Daer'Quess... he thought to himself, as he observed a female of short stature sporting the skull of some beast on her head. She too had a hound, and the pair were now sizing each other up, strangely enough, without violence. A good sign...Thar tengwë, the quaggoth mused. For so long, Vossk had traveled alone; it was always safer, more convenient, less... complicated. Yet a part of him, as always, longed for companionship; something he had always cherished in Muskaash and Toad to the point that he was willing to die for them, if that was what it took to find them and protect them from their former captors and present hunters. They offered him something precious, something that could not be found anywhere in the Underdark, something that was ironically elusive even here in the sunlit lands.

They offered him friendship.

In these strangers however, even with the appearance of the bald-headed man, Vossk saw more of a potential to increase his odds for survival. If Issarae and her lecherous males were still out for his blood and the blood of his lost friends, it made sense to look for a group to ally himself with; people who would be capable of defending themselves from danger, and potentially, those who would welcome and trust Vossk enough to come to his aid when needed. The problem was so far, most of the responses Vossk received from offering his furry hand in friendship was a brandished torch.

Would this encounter be any different?

"Thoughts are workers, dreams are dancersSanwë nar mótaro, lórë nar liltawë," the Lady Silverhand always used to say. It was time to simply roll the dice and face the odds.

"Good morrow, land-walkers," Vossk began in jilted Elvish. He stepped out from the treeline and out into the clearing, instinctively snapping a hand up to cover his already-hooded head from the light of the sun. Was it always this bright? Vossk was still unused to life aboveground. "I mean you no harm. I am Vossk."


 
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Old Apr 20th, 2021, 12:54 AM
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Hungus Mungus
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It was nice, being out here on such a nice day, Hugh thought. He liked Lorna immediately, liked listening to her voice and the talk about her dog. He knelt and offered his hand for Hooch to inspect, which also served to bring him down closer to Lorna’s eyeline. With his other arm, he makes a sweeping gesture toward the land around them.

This is what brings Truffles and I here – the land, the open road. I’m on a mission, of a sort – to spread my love of mushrooms throughout the land, as well as to study the varieties which don’t grow below, in the Underdark.” His eyes are still squinting a bit in the sunlight, and he adjusts his head until the canopy of the nearby trees can block out the sun’s rays. ”Though I must say, it has been an adjustment getting used to how bright the sun is again. When I first came up to the surface, I had to basically travel by night because my eyes weren’t used to the light.” He fishes in his pack and pulls out a small pouch of what turns out to be dried mushrooms and walnuts, which he offers to his new friend.

”I’ve been away for a long time, living with the Myconid and learning about their culture. They are fascinating beings – the entire Underdark is fascinating, but I started to feel the pull of the topside, and now here I am. As for traveling together, I can’t wait! But, erm… whereabouts are you going?”

It is at that point that they are interrupted by another voice, this one male. Hugh looks up to see a bald man with a curious expression on his face. The man wore a thin smile, and his tone was a mixture of cautious, curious, and friendly. "Ho there, friends, everything alright? We heard... noises,"

We? thought Hugh. There is only himself about.

”Hello, stranger. Er, we are fine, the noise was likely my new friend falling from her mount, though I’ve only just met her. Do you live nearby?” Hugh turns about, looking along the path to see if he could spot an abode, and realized they were actually fairly near to a small town. As he was looking about, something caught his nose, and he sniffed the air, suddenly wary.

”Danger,” he said in a undercommonguttural voice, just as there was a rustling of branches, followed by the appearance of a towering robed figure. A quaggoth! Hugh’s hand instinctively reached out for the quarterstaff at his side, the other hand shoving the pouch of trail mix back in a pocket and reaching to grasp his shield. The tall creature had its hands up and was approaching slowly. It began to speak in a language Hugh did not understand, something flowery but… choppy, and certainly strange when spoken through the quaggoth’s mouth. Hugh eyed the monster warily as it spoke its strange, honeyed dialect.

”Speak plain, beast. Words not make sense.” The growled tone was so unlike the soothing druidic language he had spoken only a few moments before, and Hugh could not believe there was a quaggoth on the surface world. My own eyes burn, and I am but a human. How does one such as this feel? Still, this one’s body language was so much different from the few roving quaggoth he had seen below, and those had been nothing more than marauders, killing any who happened to be within sight. He also knew from “speaking” with the Myconid that they were often enslaved by the stronger races of the Underdark – the drow and duergar. And it wore robes – robes! Now that Hugh thought about it, he had never seen a clothed quaggoth, had never even heard of one wearing clothes. And curiously, despite what he knew of the beast’s race as a whole, he went with his instincts… and removed the hand from his weapon.

 
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Old Apr 20th, 2021, 10:41 PM
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Vossk
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Hearing the language of the drow provoked a low growl in the hulking quaggoth, especially when the Underdark spore-smelling human began reaching for his staff and shield.

"Dos telanth saph ilythiiri lu'ph'fridj 'zil myar!Undercommon: You speak the words of the drow and are just as uncouth!*" Vossk snarled, brandishing his own quarterstaff in anger. "Usstan telanthi'wiles d'gre'as, dos yutsu verin!Undercommon: I spoke words of peace, which you return with scorn!*"

The quaggoth then looked to the others, watching their every move as well. He could very well defend himself, more than they probably imagined, but Vossk was used to this kind of reception. He merely waited for a sign of unanimous sentiment, before he moved on to the next town.


 

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Old Apr 21st, 2021, 02:11 AM
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Prudence Templechaser
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"A phantom from my past! Shall I banish you? Nah, not yet." Prudence's lips curled into another grin, shedding that moment of concern she had for whatever was happening so close by on the worn road. Nyx's playfulness was welcomed and reflected in everything about the Tiefling's demeanor. She submitted to the kiss, to her summoned passion, remembering how she longed for this closeness, painfully so, in the months that passed after the Half Elf left Waterdeep. She didn't allow herself to become lost in the embrace, but did hold onto the other woman tightly for a moment. Then, as quickly as a surprise kiss, Pru decidedly let go of any hurt or anger that suddenly woke-up inside of her; Such negative, old and unvalid thoughts of a 20 year old were no longer welcome. As she pulled away from Nyx gently, Pru said in a quiet tone. "I missed you no less than the sun misses the moon, but alas, I did not chase you as they do one another." She paused and searched the other woman's eyes before she continued, "I also missed your dangerous habit of finding trouble." Sweeping open her angular-cut, swallow-tailed coat, the lavender woman gestured to a bandolier of daggers that was buckled from shoulder to hip. "See what five years have done to me? I now need to travel with an assortment of blades including my rapier as to ward myself against bandits or competition." Not that a show of weapons kept her from becoming a target once inside Scarfell.

Once she had pulled away from Nyx's embrace and stepped back, a lopsided smile formed on her lips as she thought further about the 'trouble' they had been involved in ranging from dares of thievery, to mischievous manipulations and pranks.

Trouble...Ooh, Igan. Pru's mood shifted to one that could almost be categorized as 'concerned' as she caught sight of more movement down the road. The Tiefling tucked a thick lock of dark blue-black hair behind her horn as she explained to her Half Elf friend. "Nyx, m'love, see that Human over there. The strapping, hairless one? He has wonderful shoulders, as you can see. He's with me." She squinted now. "Huh." the Bard breathed out and touched the arm of her tall shadowy companion as she asked. "What just came out of the woods? And...is that ...a skull covering the face of the small being? Is that a Halfling, perhaps? Next to the other person. With the ...hounds. Hounds? He's probably in trouble and I'm in charge of protecting him." Pru outright lies, looking absolutely amused with herself, and winks at Nyx. Prudence has her own code of honor, and if she were protecting someone, she would not allow herself such a distraction, though her former flatmate is quite an influential temptation. Perhaps her sway was not as strong as it used to be in the Tiefling's more innocent days, prior to when her arcane studies became more serious, and the world picked at her carefree nature and naïveté as would a wood carver whittle away at a tender branch. "We must go save him before something horrible befalls him; I'd feel awful about it. He has been quite good company since I arrived here on business, and we are still partners, so..I am extending an invitation for you, dear Nyx, to join us on a little adventure. First, let us go see if there is trouble brewing, or an opportunity."

Lifting her ringed hand before her face, she gracefully fanned her fingers then clenched them into a loose fist in the casting of a simple cantrip that the Sorceress has seen Pru craft many times before. Upon feeling the silken, ethereal threads of the Weave dance energetically into the confines of a whispered word, the dark-eyed devilish woman spoke into her curled hand that rested lightly against her lips; manicured pinky pointed in her bodyguard's direction. "Do not fret. We're on our way. You can reply to this message." The clearly spoken, petal-soft whispered words brushed their way into Igan's ears.

With the sunlit road and comfortable weather, Prudence, after a single tug on Nyx's sleeve, jogged with a rucksack on her back, in a somewhat hurried approach towards the fascinating mid-road impromptu gathering. She is glad she packed a whole roast chicken in Igan's backpack just this morning.

 
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Old Apr 21st, 2021, 04:35 AM
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Igan Bersk, a.k.a. "Egg"
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Odd was this smelly old man and his dog friend and his short skull-girl friend and her dog friend who seemed to bump into one another but didn't know one another.

"Nearby?" Egg repeated, sounding dumb. "Yeah, you're at Scarfell. Welcome I guess," he said as he scratched his bald head with callused hands. He looked back at Pru to check if she'd alerted the guards, only to see that she was very, very close to some white-haired slip of a girl??!

"Um. What."

Then odd became even odder than odd at the sudden appearance of a towering figure covered in robes. Egg saw the stranger had sharp teeth and powerful - hairy? - hands, and spoke some wild language that he couldn't place. Did that sound... Elvish?

"Whoa, yer a big guy, huh? Slow down there-" All of a sudden the friendly fun old guy was all growling and snarling at the newest arrival and reaching for weapons. "What? You guys know each other or something? Hey! Can you stop talking funny like that? Hey take it easy-" Egg had both hands up now, trying to look placating. Where was Pru and her guards? Were they taking turns schnozzing now? Pfft. Tieflings, amiryt?

The two strange oddballs were still talking back and forth in a weird guttural language, and the tensions seemed to be rising. Egg sighed inwardly since he was being ignored, then suddenly clapped his hands together at which bright blue sparks suddenly flew from the point of meeting.

"OY!" That got their attention, he hoped. "Said take it easy. You guys speak Common? Can we calm down first? Hate ta bash new friends' skulls in."

Then came Pru's message.

"Yeah? Took yer time huh. Who's yer girlfriend?"


 
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Old Apr 21st, 2021, 08:52 AM
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Nyx Desverger
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Nyx giggled seeing Prudy’s reaction and she was glad to see that even if she held any ill will toward her, it faded away. At least for the time being. She glanced at the guards who seemed surprised and also mesmerized by the sight of two women kissing even if in friendly way. She thought it would be nice to liven up Scarfell a bit and give locals something to gossip for next few months. Nyx focused back on Pru when she showed off her blades, kept on her like one of the most precious possessions. “I am glad you didn’t chase me… these look pointy.” She commented and let the lavender tiefling off her embrace.

“You seem to be already known here, Prudy.” Nyx commented amused under her nose realizing that the guards were paying more attention to her friend.

When Pru turned her attention to the bald man, Nyx glanced at him, noticing that he wasn’t alone. Her steely eyes were on the man but she listened Prudy and she was enjoying Prudy’s torrent of words where you really needed to catch every third one to get the essence what she was saying. Nyx missed that too. Now that she met Prudy again, she realized she missed her more than she thought.

She picked her backpack, put it back on her shoulders and following Prudy’s tug on the sleeve, Nyx moved elegantly after her tiefling friend. The bald man looked like a warrior based on his pose, the armor and most of all, the big weapon he had, and so she was pleasantly surprised seeing him able to cast a spell. “Hmm… not bad. Does your ‘wonderful shoulders’ have a name and can I borrow him for the night?” Nyx purred mischievously.

Approaching the forming group, Nyx curiously taxed others in it and she decided that she would have a problem to say which one was the most bizarre: the Human with colorful mushrooms in his beard, a Halfling with too big helmet made of skull on her head, or an enormous Bugbear in heavy dark robes. “Those guys are awesometacular.” She commented, keeping half a pace behind Prudy and not breaking gracious stride as they both approached.

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