Hawthorne and Jenna had a great day! They're very excited! They set out in front of the group, happily playing with the wind. Hawthorne doesn't really notice when a flock of red-plumed birds catches Jenna's eye and the group drifts off-track for a while.
When the sun begins to set and tummies begin to rumble, and the Steading's not quite in view, Hawthorne falls back alongside the group. "I have to apologize, friends!" he calls. "I've been gathering smoke, and now we're going to miss dinner!"
NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
edited June 2019
Doruthan, astride Squall, lingers near the back of the pack as they travel back to the Steading.
Were it so easy to uncover the truth! My hopes to find signs of my people's origins continue to be shrouded in shadow. Perhaps Toth was correct, and our next sojourn should first be led by prayers and auguries.
Doruthan, usually your desire to sacrifice something precious to the flames is easily quelled, or prepared for carefully in advance, but you are now compelled to do so. Part of your time back at the Steading must be spent enacting your Ashes to Embers move. Other days this might be a quick act, but this time it’s 1 project.
I’ll explain more about projects in due course. We’re not into downtime just yet.
—
At the Steading’s Border
So much of the raw stuff that define people is make believe. Your mounts don’t feel a difference in the air, none of you see a difference, but nevertheless the open blue you fly through is Steading space, a loose and as yet undefined boundary that bubbles around the three islands you call home.
At first you think you’ll arrive quietly and report your findings and the completion of your task once you’ve rested. Nope, here come the Sisans!
Peddling as hard as they can, a couple of gyrocopters carrying an outrageously joyful gaggle of hardy looking folks powered by not-yet-so-hardy lads make their way towards you. Rocketing up from behind them on the back of a rock krake is Ginny Vaults, Osnier Republic’s finest... well, let’s say entrepreneur.
“Ahoy! Ahoy hoy! Look at you lot! The first, the foremost, the ones and only... onlies. Is that a word?”, she flips her head back and screeches, “Gregor is onlies a word?!”
“Fwhat?”
“Anyway, you’ve just got to wine and dine at my place, immediately, imminently, perhaps you might even say, right now! Aurlancea, naturally, at the now Storm March famous,” she spreads her hands wide, “Fairweather Friend. My treat.”
She means it too, drinks on the house. Lots of drinks. Entertainment too, a band, maybe a comedian later (he’s also in the band). Too late for a proper meal as the chef is drunk already, but snacks will be provided no doubt; she’ll try all she can to keep you for a few hours.
To be from Sisa is to be diverse. An industrial barren island smack in the middle of Osnier and having served as the capital briefly many centuries ago, if a people can be found in the Republic, they’ve got a mixed Sisan cousin.
Here’s Ginny for reference.
Her ‘employees’ don’t look a thing like her, or each other, but they share a style, an attitude and an accent.
Oh, they are all pretty short and slim too, Hawthorne’s shape, it’s a Sisan thing—maybe stemming more from a poor upbringing than something in the blood.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
Doruthan, politely, sips a wine by himself in a corner. If he suspects that no one is paying attention to him, he'll slip out early.
Hawthorne lets Jenna scootch up to grapple a polite greeting, one or two arms, with Ginny's krake. His own arms wide, he says, "Greetings, sister, and thanks! Of course we'll visit the," and he smiles slightly wider, "Fairweather Friend tonight!"
[OOC: This all reminds me I owe you my own Steading NPC]
Doruthan, Doruthan, does everything a fireball can. Look out, there sits Doruthan!
Though you’re trying to be amiable and answer with a bit of wit when these jolly city folk congratulate you on the successful expedition, you give off a certain disquiet vibe. Eventually the number of new faces greeting you dwindles, and you apply the famous ‘just getting some fresh air’ technique.
It’s dark out, colder than you anticipated. The stars are out and the sky so clear you can see beyond the first blanket of twinkling lights and far, far into the rich swirling cosmos. You feel very small. The moon is a thin scythe, a new moon, a period of birth Hawthorne might say.
You’re gone. Say where in the Steading you go, and do what you must do. Now roll+WIS.
On a 10+, you have the space you need. You’re utterly alone, for as long as you wish.
On a 7-9, you’re followed by someone inquisitive, but not malicious. You’ve got some time before they turn up.
On a 6-, you appear to be alone.
Hawthorne
What an absolute giggle all this is! Nice to be reminded of the Old Smokes without the unfortunate smell (and petty crime, and...).
Ginny has stuck to you like glue from the greeting down. She’s a nice enough young woman, obviously and openly out to earn her fair share. You can almost read ‘Actual Sisan Holy Man Founds Neutral Ground, Regular of Fairweather Friend’ on her forehead like a newspaper headline.
You learn her krake was her mother’s, Paige Vaults, who by all accounts was a scholar of languages. You had an inkling she wasn’t the type to ride a krake, rock or otherwise, so it must be a shared familial loyalty that keeps them together. Knowing old languages didn’t pay the bills though, and the landlady of the Fairweather Friend doesn’t think too much about such things these days. Ginny is a middling decipherer at best, but with almost everyone speaking only Modern (including you and everyone you know), that might be worth remembering.
“So then, esteemed brother!”, she bows with an arm outstretched, “Fancy blessing this barrel?”
She leaps over the counter and pours out a few of what ails you and keeps them coming, with a couple of special shots of Fortune’s Favourite each in between.
Soon enough you’re dancing with an old geezer called err... Only the moon knows. Then you’re being carried by two more and cheered, then you’re administering counselling to a crying woman, stopping a fight, starting a fight, dancing with three other fellows—
When you’re drinking with Ginny Vaults and her crew, roll+CHA.
On a 10+ choose 3.
On a 7–9 choose 1.
On a miss, you still choose 1, but things get really out of hand.
- You wake up where you plan to be; say where.
- You hear rumors of an opportunity.
- You gain a secret of the underbelly.
- You are not entangled, ensorcelled, or tricked by someone.
Exilis
But before all this, an Aquilaean Scout breathes out slowly. That was quite a sight, you think.
Describe what you saw, then tell us if you join the night’s celebrations.
[OOC: ~*>More Rules Time<*~]
Projects
Time is all a bit vague when you’re roleplaying, more so when it’s Play by Post. To alleviate that somewhat I’m going to put a hard limit on the number of things you can do before the next jaunt into the unknown begins.
Projects include, but are not limited to:
- Buying and selling gear.
- Studying something you find to get some detail on it. You might need to find someone with a field of expertise for better detail.
- Recruiting a Hireling*.
- Seeking out and striking a deal with a powerful person.
- Caring for your flying mount, to remove an amount of Stress, dependant on what you can do to help at the time.
- Crafting something. Say what you’re making, and I’ll always say ‘yes, but’, then give you ingredients, materials, aid needed to get it done, and unwanted attention, a flaw in its design or other trouble afterwards.
- Intensive training, which will give you a bonus we’ll decide on at the time. +2 damage forward on your next Hack and Slash, +1 ongoing during the party to impress with your dancing...
Often just say what you’re doing, and I’ll mark it off should it be time consuming.
Number of Projects
If there’s no rush, I’ll give each of you time to complete 2 projects.
If your next expedition is a day away, I’ll give each of you time to complete 1 project.
If you’re rushing, I’ll give the whole party just 1 project you can do together before you head out.
When you work on a project together you both expend 1 project, you know, because time is linear, but I’ll be sure to make it more successful for you having worked together.
If you want to set a scene just talking to each other or an NPC you know, that’s always a nebulous unrecorded amount of time. Just go for it.
Travelling around the Steading is no big deal either.
Right now you each have time to complete 2 projects.
*Recruit
When you put out word that you’re looking to hire help, roll. If you make it known…
…that your pay is generous, take +1
…what you’re setting out to do, take +1
…that they’ll get a share of whatever you find, take +1
If you have a useful reputation around these parts take an additional +1.
On a 10+ you’ve got your pick of a number of skilled applicants, your choice who you hire, no penalty for not taking them along.
On a 7–9 you’ll have to settle for someone close or turn them away.
On a 6-, someone influential and ill-suited declares they’d like to come along (a foolhardy youth, a loose-cannon, or a veiled enemy, for example), bring them and take the consequences or turn them away.
If you turn away applicants you take -1 forward to Recruit.
When you make the return trip to the Steading with your allies, roll+WIS.
On a 10+, choose one.
- You see a huge creature; describe its look, its nature and the significance it holds in this part of the sky. Then mark experience.
On the journey back to the Steading, Exilis is flying Iugo a few hundred feet above the main group, to better scout their path. The view, of course, is amazing - miles of visibility in every direction, when it is not blocked by Lucky Island or one of the smaller bodies in its region.
Some hours into the journey back, a small, localized storm forms several miles off to the east over one of the smaller islands barely visible in the distance. Exilis keeps an eye on it, wanting to give plenty of warning should it expand or the winds shift to bring it closer. After several minutes of driving rain ...
... Exilis notices an unusual, and beautiful, sight. Large, ponderous beings slowly rise up from below the island, looking almost like chunks of island themselves except for the clearly discernible trailing tentacles. That they are visible at all at this range reinforces their massive size. The shapes move into and out of the storm, some gliding up and over the others - almost seeming to play in the air and water. Dark clouds seem to swirl around the leviathans - swarms of birds? bats? some other smaller, flying creature?
Suddenly, from the island, thousands of tiny pinpricks of light take to the sky, a dancing web of candles that merges into the dark clouds surrounding the beasts, and they roil faster and faster.
The largest of the leviathans adjusts its course, heading directly for the largest concentration of cloud-and-fireflies, and lightning crackles between the beast and the storm, fanning out and through the clouds! One, two, three bolts of lightning spear the skies, and a much smaller constellation of lights separates from the cloud and returns to the island.
Meanwhile, the dark clouds reform on the leviathan group, and it pivots and descends for a deeper sky, as the roll of distant thunder finally reaches the Steading-bound group.
These are stormchasers, great beasts that live in pods in the deeper air and climb up into more rarified heights to collect water and feed their flocks (young? symbiotes? parasites?) before returning to the depths. Some creatures - whatever the firey, glowing things were - feed upon the flocks, and so the stormchasers have developed their own defensive measures. Sighting a stormchaser pod is an excellent indication that a large storm will be happening soon, somewhere nearby.
NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
Doruthan retires to a quiet part of the Maykupuni, a literal oasis on the rock. Several small palms ring a shallow pool, still in the night air. Nestled between several shacks, you'd never know it was here until you'd randomly stumbled upon it.
The Immolator sits cross-legged quietly on a large, flat rock, letting his arms relax to his sides. As he begins a slow, rhythmic breathing pattern, a low aura of flames surrounds him and pushes out the nighttime cold.
Stillness is pleasant. Flames yearns for movement, and have the means to take it. Your aura flickers, but you breathe, and time passes...
Further inland you see the speck of a bonfire being lit unsuccessfully. Someone is wafting a blanket at smouldering wood, doing a poor job of lighting it. Doubt will only fester if you dwell on it you and the fire within both say.
Ashes to Embers
When you sacrifice something important to you to the flames, you will gain something in return through mysterious circumstances.
Leave your peace, and go see what that person is up to, or invite the wrath of the Inferno.
This will count as 1 project, leaving you to do 1 project of your own devising in the morning.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
The Man Mountain grunts, clearly unable to concentrate on his meditation. Seeing the faltering bonfire, Doruthan laboriously rises to his feet, and begins to walk to the flames unlit.
The aura of heat around him dims, and shifts to sit on his shoulders as if it were a pair of Firebeak Toucans. They crackle quietly in his ears, urging him on.
“Graces! You’re— a shaman or something. That’s a cruel trick to startle me like that.”
Just a kid, absolutely hasn’t completed any rites of passage. Might be ten or fourteen? Tiny, compared to the kinds of people you know, but not so unusual you imagine, in the grand scheme of things. The pale kid puts her hands on her hips and sticks her tongue out, then returns to her work.
“I’m going to start a fire! I think I’ve almost got it. You can’t tell anyone, but I’m going to burn this away for good.”
She waves a little doll at you, then puts it down on the sand. She bites her lip, and brushes the doll’s hair from out of its button eyes.
As far as she is aware your fire is an illusion, such cheap tricks are often employed when shaman tell stories or magicians put on shows.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
edited June 2019
Doruthan, slowly, gets down on one knee and crouches, meeting the small child's gaze at her level.
"Young one, why do you seek to destroy this toy of yours? The blaze may aid you, if your reason is justified, but it is not a thing to be trifled with on a whim."
His voice is a whispering purr, punctuated with the vague crackle of lit embers. The pair of birdlike-flames dance down an arm each, coiling as serpents until they reach his upturned palms.
She chops her hand into her palm as she exclaims, “It’s cursed. Or possessed. Purssessed.”
“Nan made it, it was for coming out here with Pa. But... she didn’t make it. She... while we were coming through...”
“Everyone keeps saying I should love this because it’s the last thing she made... but... I don’t want there to be a last thing!
“I guess... I just think... if I get rid of it maybe I’ll stop feeling this way? Like I can burn all of it away. And...”
She doesn’t know how to express grief. Few do. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then grits her teeth to stop herself from crying. She doesn’t, which even you think is pretty badass.
She picks up a wet stick and does a rough approximation of another way to start a fire. It’s odd, and you’re suddenly reminded you just do it.
Your words have weight Doruthan. Should she burn the doll her recently deceased grandmother gave her, or keep it?
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
Doruthan strokes his chin, contemplating.
"Cursed or not, the doll is a reminder and signifier of your shared past. Do not show such haste to throw that away, young one! See these wraps around my arms?"
He holds out his two arms again, this time palms down, and the dim flames chase back up to his shoulders as if to hide behind his massive frame.
"These simple strips of cloth bore witness to a most important, and painful, moment in my young life. They contain and remind me of that history, agonizing as it was, as I move forward into future histories. I could, in a blink, burn them away. But to do so would deny who I am, what that history has shaped me to be."
Doruthan gently picks up the doll and brushes the sand from it. He looks at it from arms length and gives it a warm smile. He then holds it out to the girl, his smile maintained and beaming.
“Hm... I suppose so. Okay. I’m An, just An. I won’t get more name for a bit yet,” she shrugs, “that’s how we do it.”
“What’s your name? Oh hey, have this for listening. Nan says goodness should be rewarded.”
The child takes a bunch of junk out of her pocket and rifles through it until she picks something small and metal out.
“I found this right after we got through the Tempest Wall. It’s a thinggumus!”
Thinggumus
1 weight
(This is just a close approximation)
It’s broken, rainwater has filled it and tiny cogs float behind the cracked glass. It reminds you both of a clock and compass. It has no indication which company crafted it, rather it must have been hand made. Right now it does nothing.
“You can... shake it and the bits go swimming! Neat, right?”
What have the flames told you tonight, Doruthan? (‘Nothing’ is a fine answer if you don’t feel this has been enlightening.)
An turns to look back at her father’s hut. She’ll be off in a minute.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
edited June 2019
"Thank you, An. I will treasure this! And you can call me Doru," the comparatively-giant man says, still smiling.
As An leaves, the flames curl down around to his hand where he holds the Thinggumus. The Inferno stares at the dancing lights as they inspect his new treasure.
The reminders of a shared history. Yes, I will not forget, nor will the flames allow me. There will be more history to find; thank you for the reminder, my friend.
It begins with a ‘B’ you reckon. Ballos, Bhardon, Burlow...?
Braddy slurs to you as you both slump in a corner, “Shh, don’t tell, but wee Miss Vaults has been paid by some stick-up-his-arse official to keep some locked chests in the basement. Dodgy business. I prefer honest work, like nicking things and knocking heads.”
His eyes focus a little.
“I mean, back home. Fresh start, right preacher? But you agree, don’t you? Rich posh bastards putting hard working types in peril for their own sake. I bet it’s opium or something. Can’t you go and drop a hint or two, I bet the moon would want her to keep away from the upper class. She’s for us, right?”
You think about it. You stand up. You wake up. Hm, bit of time missing there.
Hawthorne, Defy Danger!
A mean looking pair of dogs are running towards you! It’s dawn, and you’re in someone’s back yard on Aurlancea!
A quick look left and right reveals a fence you can jump over into a neighbouring garden, and a few paces right will take you to a wooden shed you can clamber up.
Hawthorne blinks at the dogs, and starts to raise his hands in greeting, before his mind catches up to events. Instead he raises his hands to grab onto that shed and swing himself up, quick and unharming as a moon-beam -- hopefully!
You swing up onto the roof of the shed. Taking a dizzying breath of fresh air your hang over kicks in fully.
The two dogs wag their tails as they bark at you.
“By the will of Sister Moon my little piece of this rock is blessed once again by the presence of a conduit of her power.”, the man bows to you, “Good night I take it?”
Rosac stands before you with his morning coffee. He doesn’t make a move to help you down, but when you eventually shuffle back to the ground he heads in to make you one too.
You gain the condition foolish, and so carry -1 ongoing to CHA rolls until your next expedition starts.
What are you plans today holy man?
[OOC: You can still make a NPC any time you please, but you know this guy too. Feel free to set a scene with him, or move on to a project.
Always remember to mark experience when you roll 6 or less!]
A fine night it was. Though not exactly your culture, sharing tales and song with citizens of the Republic brings to you a great well of nostalgia for your time in their military. They’re not a bad bunch, deep down.
You’re early to rise, and Iugo is still sleeping when you reach them. Peregrinus is walking over them with a naughty look in his eye—pretty standard really—and cries a hearty ‘good morning’ as you approach.
What are you plans for today? Plenty of time before adventure wings her way to you once again.
Consider a project, like selling your haul. If you’re after a particularly decent patron, roll+INT.
On a 10+, choose two.
On a 7-9, choose one.
- They’re wealthy.
- It covers their area of expertise. You’ll learn something useful.
- They’re totally honest with you.
[OOC: I trawled Pintrest for character art for Hawthorne. Basically this is not a groundbreaking visual concept, but add 15-25 years and unambitious skin care]
A fine night it was. Though not exactly your culture, sharing tales and song with citizens of the Republic brings to you a great well of nostalgia for your time in their military. They’re not a bad bunch, deep down.
"... and that's why ... I say, that's why ... you shouldn't ever let a ... a Casician! Be the first over the wall!" The group - fluctuating between something like half a wine-soaked dozen and a beer-drenched score of souls of all descriptions throughout the course of the night - laughs raucously but not unkindly.
"That's nothing like the time when I ..."
"... couldn't even carry it!"
"... had to eat our mounts ..."
"... broke my arm before he ..."
"... next time we saw them, they were fighting for ..."
"... Boiled. Shit. ..."
"... clueless - completely unfledged ..."
"... never saw HER again!"
Yeah, the stories are all 100%, completely true. True enough, anyway. True-ish.
Stretching the morning's tightness from his muscles, Exilis leaves Iugo to finish the great bird's rest; he's more than capable of taking care of himself should anyone unwisely try to disturb him, and, frankly, Exilis needed the walk to finish waking himself up. Peregrinus, always an early riser, was already bouncing about, ready to get the day started. Grabbing a morning bun from a nearby seller and a hot mug of ... something stimulating, Exilis made his way to the Aurlancea's workshops. He knew where an alchemist kept her working rooms, and figured, if anyone would be interested in the rapidly-decaying mushroom he had in the pannier slung over his shoulder, it'd be her.
Geth, roll 2d6+0 for Selling rotting spores
[OOC: Result of 9, so I'll pick "Covers their area of expertise. You'll learn something useful."]
Dusty, that’s a word for Aurlancea. Windy is another. The whole place was named after a legendary golden halberd wielded by a beautiful warrior princess, which gives you an idea the kind of high esteem Osnier holds for this little spit of rock and what the people here hope to achieve.
Most buildings are wooden, with raised porches and fine painted signs that swing in the breeze. The workshop of Fritz & Fritz in contrast, is solid red brick, partly rebuilt in a different shade. You’re not confident the hole in the roof is from piercing the Tempest Wall.
“Look out!”, an academically dressed woman shouts from behind an upturned table.
A bottle spins by your ear as you open the door to the alchemist’s store, laboratory and house.
A second woman starts writing on a clipboard as she paces, “Needs less jumping beans.”
Fritz and Fritz, no relation, are the best alchemists in the Storm March, in no small part due to a limited supply. The first Fritz was trained at the most coveted academy in the capital of the Republic, the second is the daughter of a border-isle witch who made her name converting old remedies and potions into something codified to modern alchemic standards. The first Fritz (Worm to her friends, as in bookworm) runs the show on paper, and deals with the storefront, while the second (Fritz, thank you very much) is the inventor and makes sure things run smoothly. She’s also willing to punch anyone that starts complaining about the explosions.
The first thing that catches your eye is the rows of little mushrooms growing on a windowsill.
“Good morning sir! Apologies about the bottle—”
“—but progress is tricky business. Always worth it in the end—”
Exilis wipes some shards from his shoulder, but is otherwise unfazed by the flying glassware. "I don't know if you remember me - I needed medicine before we entered the Storm Wall - but I remembered the mushrooms you were growing. I was with the party that mapped the newly-named Lucky Island, and I seek your wisdom. The island is entirely covered in forests of mushrooms dozens or hundreds of feet tall, with creatures strange and fascinating and dangerous living in and around them. But oddest of all was a small mushroom which somehow controlled the body of an insect, the size of a large dog, and which seemed to drive lesser beasts into a rage, causing them to risk themselves to protect it. I have brought you a sample - though it is quickly rotting, I think there is still much you might learn from it."
Exilis frowns. "Not least, study it and tell if it will infect us all. The island of mushrooms has been designated as neutral ground, the place for meetings between all three great ships. If it is ... secretly ... dangerous, we must know."
Worm seems pleased as punch as she takes the bottle from your hands, “Love, look at this! Thank you for bringing this to us, you did just the right thing! I’ll give you 60–”
“—50 coins—”
“—to take it off your hands. Don’t fret though, it takes an uncountable number of years for a parasite to become accustomed to the life around it, such as it would be able to alter their behaviour.”
The pair pull out a tray, a peculiar water that seems to frost over when poured, and put the bottle in it.
“Still.”, the other Fritz says, tapping her chin, “Not something you’d want to ingest, nor something you’d want a close relative of the island’s inhabitants to come into contact with. What were the main beasts on this island? Beetles you say?”
"... I like her offer better," Exilis says, grinning.
"What were the main beasts on this island? Beetles you say?”
"No ... not beetles. More like ... an ant? At least, that's what this was growing from. But island had, well, we named them mudfish and groundhawks ... We saw a pair of large, somewhat docile creatures that our Sisan priest said were like 'platebacks' from his part of the Republic. And, of course, small birds of every description. I don't think we've explored it enough to call any of them the 'main beasts.'"
Worm borrows the other Fritz’ clipboard and jots all that down, “Fascinating. Once we’ve looked this over we’ll be sure to inform the right—”
“—stuck up commodores.”
There’s a tension in the air, which turns to shared smiles. Worm rummages through a drawer and Fritz catches what she flings over her shoulder.
Fritz voice softens, “On the house. I’m sure you weren’t there long enough but give this to your pet. It’s a curative that will remove any spores it might have breathed in. Better safe than sorry.”
Anti-Mushroom Pellets
2 uses, ingest, 0 weight
Removes any lingering effects of mushroom spores.
If you’ve no more to ask, and don’t wish to spent your newly earned cash on something alchemical, where to next?
Hawthorne clambers down from the shed, stiff and a touch nauseous without adrenaline to mask his hangover.
He gestures apology to the dogs and takes a moment to greet them properly -- head pats, back skritches, tolerating sniff-samples of his (shall we say) rich odor profile. Then he follows Rosac inside -- that coffee is 100% mandatory at this time.
"Yes, a good night, and look what a bright morning followed after," he says, scratching the back of his fluffy head ruefully. "The Fairweather Friend staked a claim on us just as soon as we got back from staking our claim on Lucky Island." He raises his eyebrows. "And you, friend? Sleeping well this side of the Tempest? How are you passing the days?"
Fritz voice softens, “On the house. I’m sure you weren’t there long enough but give this to your pet. It’s a curative that will remove any spores it might have breathed in. Better safe than sorry.”
Exilis does quick math in his head. "I thank you! But how much for ... 6 more doses? I wasn't alone on the island, and the others being sickened when I could prevent it would not sit well with me."
“50 coins sounds about...”, her other half just crosses her arms irritably.
Fritz sighs, “How about a deal instead? Next time you head out grab us something you think an alchemist could use. Herbs, minerals, something you haven’t seen before.”
Later, if you don’t keep your word, folk will know about it and decline an offer you make, but even so, say yes now and they’re yours for free.
Hawthorne
“I’ve heard about that.”, he says with a note of respect, “You and your gang are the first celebrities in the Steading. For a week yet anyhow.”
He drinks quietly for a bit, then replies, “She above works in mysterious ways. To you she gives divine insight, to me? A good ear and a steady hand. I sleep well enough, but I sleep better when my pockets are full. My trouble is all the little extras I do for free, right? I’m running low on all sorts of things lately.
Rosac has been a animal healer for as long as you’ve known him. A rare skill, one that takes years to perfect to his level, while he’s not influential he is certainly a very important person when the crap hits the gyrocopter.
His house is small, but lovingly cared for. The front yard is tidy enough, but behind the back of the house is where the real workmanship is done. A big plot of land with a stable for those staying over night, a dozen large cages and a shack that’s been converted into something like a medical ward.
He’s been looking for a student/helper for practically the whole time you’ve known him, too.
“Hey, just so you know, Jenna has been playing out back with an injured little screamwing all morning. They’re great with pups. She’ll be glad to see you’re up.”
The dogs put their heads on your lap as you take in the morning. You’ve woken up in worse places, you think.
You wake up later than usual. You’re refreshed in body and spirit.
Squall has managed to squeeze himself through a window and has his head on your chest.
“If you intend to fix yourself as the ‘Great Explorer’, perhaps you’d best start preparing before you go off into the blue. Earning coin would be a good idea, but so I don’t give you an aneurysm from normalcy, you could at least find out what the next expeditions are and make a choice in advance. I might be able to divine a detail or two from the information you gather.”, Toth intones from behind a thick tome.
You’ve only half as much time as the others, so you’ve 1 project left. You needn’t heed her words; what do you intend to do?
Just say what, and I’ll see if it triggers a move.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
The Flames Made Man stands from his bed, stretching his arms nearly to the ceiling. He pats Squall on the head, then lovingly slaps it in the jaw as if to say Alright, now get out. Doruthan tilts his head back and forth, producing a prodigious series of cracks as his neck vertebrae settle into line.
"As usual, Toth, you are correct. Our last outing was, at best, to get a toe-hold on this new region. Now the real work begins!" He emphasizes this last statement with a full-body flex, and a faint yellow coruscation of flame surrounds him.
Also, as usual, Toth is unimpressed, barely looking up from her tome.
Doruthan sets out from the domicile, intent on gathering info on what expeditions are being planned for next.
Fritz sighs, “How about a deal instead? Next time you head out grab us something you think an alchemist could use. Herbs, minerals, something you haven’t seen before.”
Exilis laughs and smiles broadly, his skin flushing golden, gesturing at the bottle of mushroom and the rapidly-icing-over water. "I think that could be arranged, yes." Exilis offers the arm-clasp that is the traditional sealing of a deal amongst his tribe, uncertain if the alchemists remember the proper forms from his last visit.
With that, he pockets the coins and the curatives, and makes his way throughout the Aurlancea, hunting down the other members of the party. (Anyone not on the Aurlancea will need to wait, presumably.) Once he finds them, Exilis hands them the anti-mushroom pellet for their mounts and 12 coins - explaining that it was their share of the payment for bringing the interesting mushroom back to the alchemists, and the terms of the deal he had struck to procure them. This is not because he expects them to fulfill the deal for him, or to be bound in any way by his word, but merely to explain the parameters under which he will be operating in the not-so-distant future.
With his share of the haul (14 coins; quartermaster gets the remainders!), Exilis looks to procure additional travel rations (-3 coins), since his initial supplies were depleted by the trip to Lucky Island (3/5 remaining), and spends another chunk of change (-3 coins) on a really, really good meal, inviting his new friends along. They are, after all, bound shortly for locations unknown, and the best - and potentially only really good thing - about civilization is the food.
Posts
Hawthorne and Jenna had a great day! They're very excited! They set out in front of the group, happily playing with the wind. Hawthorne doesn't really notice when a flock of red-plumed birds catches Jenna's eye and the group drifts off-track for a while.
When the sun begins to set and tummies begin to rumble, and the Steading's not quite in view, Hawthorne falls back alongside the group. "I have to apologize, friends!" he calls. "I've been gathering smoke, and now we're going to miss dinner!"
Were it so easy to uncover the truth! My hopes to find signs of my people's origins continue to be shrouded in shadow. Perhaps Toth was correct, and our next sojourn should first be led by prayers and auguries.
(Mark XP, with doubt in no short supply)
Geth, roll 2d6+1 for Returning Home (CHA)
I’ll explain more about projects in due course. We’re not into downtime just yet.
—
At the Steading’s Border
So much of the raw stuff that define people is make believe. Your mounts don’t feel a difference in the air, none of you see a difference, but nevertheless the open blue you fly through is Steading space, a loose and as yet undefined boundary that bubbles around the three islands you call home.
At first you think you’ll arrive quietly and report your findings and the completion of your task once you’ve rested. Nope, here come the Sisans!
Peddling as hard as they can, a couple of gyrocopters carrying an outrageously joyful gaggle of hardy looking folks powered by not-yet-so-hardy lads make their way towards you. Rocketing up from behind them on the back of a rock krake is Ginny Vaults, Osnier Republic’s finest... well, let’s say entrepreneur.
“Ahoy! Ahoy hoy! Look at you lot! The first, the foremost, the ones and only... onlies. Is that a word?”, she flips her head back and screeches, “Gregor is onlies a word?!”
“Fwhat?”
“Anyway, you’ve just got to wine and dine at my place, immediately, imminently, perhaps you might even say, right now! Aurlancea, naturally, at the now Storm March famous,” she spreads her hands wide, “Fairweather Friend. My treat.”
She means it too, drinks on the house. Lots of drinks. Entertainment too, a band, maybe a comedian later (he’s also in the band). Too late for a proper meal as the chef is drunk already, but snacks will be provided no doubt; she’ll try all she can to keep you for a few hours.
What do you do?
Here’s Ginny for reference.
Her ‘employees’ don’t look a thing like her, or each other, but they share a style, an attitude and an accent.
Oh, they are all pretty short and slim too, Hawthorne’s shape, it’s a Sisan thing—maybe stemming more from a poor upbringing than something in the blood.
[OOC: This all reminds me I owe you my own Steading NPC]
Doruthan, Doruthan, does everything a fireball can. Look out, there sits Doruthan!
Though you’re trying to be amiable and answer with a bit of wit when these jolly city folk congratulate you on the successful expedition, you give off a certain disquiet vibe. Eventually the number of new faces greeting you dwindles, and you apply the famous ‘just getting some fresh air’ technique.
It’s dark out, colder than you anticipated. The stars are out and the sky so clear you can see beyond the first blanket of twinkling lights and far, far into the rich swirling cosmos. You feel very small. The moon is a thin scythe, a new moon, a period of birth Hawthorne might say.
You’re gone. Say where in the Steading you go, and do what you must do. Now roll+WIS.
On a 10+, you have the space you need. You’re utterly alone, for as long as you wish.
On a 7-9, you’re followed by someone inquisitive, but not malicious. You’ve got some time before they turn up.
On a 6-, you appear to be alone.
Hawthorne
What an absolute giggle all this is! Nice to be reminded of the Old Smokes without the unfortunate smell (and petty crime, and...).
Ginny has stuck to you like glue from the greeting down. She’s a nice enough young woman, obviously and openly out to earn her fair share. You can almost read ‘Actual Sisan Holy Man Founds Neutral Ground, Regular of Fairweather Friend’ on her forehead like a newspaper headline.
You learn her krake was her mother’s, Paige Vaults, who by all accounts was a scholar of languages. You had an inkling she wasn’t the type to ride a krake, rock or otherwise, so it must be a shared familial loyalty that keeps them together. Knowing old languages didn’t pay the bills though, and the landlady of the Fairweather Friend doesn’t think too much about such things these days. Ginny is a middling decipherer at best, but with almost everyone speaking only Modern (including you and everyone you know), that might be worth remembering.
“So then, esteemed brother!”, she bows with an arm outstretched, “Fancy blessing this barrel?”
She leaps over the counter and pours out a few of what ails you and keeps them coming, with a couple of special shots of Fortune’s Favourite each in between.
Soon enough you’re dancing with an old geezer called err... Only the moon knows. Then you’re being carried by two more and cheered, then you’re administering counselling to a crying woman, stopping a fight, starting a fight, dancing with three other fellows—
When you’re drinking with Ginny Vaults and her crew, roll+CHA.
On a 10+ choose 3.
On a 7–9 choose 1.
On a miss, you still choose 1, but things get really out of hand.
- You wake up where you plan to be; say where.
- You hear rumors of an opportunity.
- You gain a secret of the underbelly.
- You are not entangled, ensorcelled, or tricked by someone.
Exilis
But before all this, an Aquilaean Scout breathes out slowly. That was quite a sight, you think.
Describe what you saw, then tell us if you join the night’s celebrations.
[OOC: ~*>More Rules Time<*~]
Time is all a bit vague when you’re roleplaying, more so when it’s Play by Post. To alleviate that somewhat I’m going to put a hard limit on the number of things you can do before the next jaunt into the unknown begins.
Projects include, but are not limited to:
- Buying and selling gear.
- Studying something you find to get some detail on it. You might need to find someone with a field of expertise for better detail.
- Recruiting a Hireling*.
- Seeking out and striking a deal with a powerful person.
- Caring for your flying mount, to remove an amount of Stress, dependant on what you can do to help at the time.
- Crafting something. Say what you’re making, and I’ll always say ‘yes, but’, then give you ingredients, materials, aid needed to get it done, and unwanted attention, a flaw in its design or other trouble afterwards.
- Intensive training, which will give you a bonus we’ll decide on at the time. +2 damage forward on your next Hack and Slash, +1 ongoing during the party to impress with your dancing...
Often just say what you’re doing, and I’ll mark it off should it be time consuming.
Number of Projects
If there’s no rush, I’ll give each of you time to complete 2 projects.
If your next expedition is a day away, I’ll give each of you time to complete 1 project.
If you’re rushing, I’ll give the whole party just 1 project you can do together before you head out.
When you work on a project together you both expend 1 project, you know, because time is linear, but I’ll be sure to make it more successful for you having worked together.
If you want to set a scene just talking to each other or an NPC you know, that’s always a nebulous unrecorded amount of time. Just go for it.
Travelling around the Steading is no big deal either.
Right now you each have time to complete 2 projects.
*Recruit
…that your pay is generous, take +1
…what you’re setting out to do, take +1
…that they’ll get a share of whatever you find, take +1
If you have a useful reputation around these parts take an additional +1.
On a 10+ you’ve got your pick of a number of skilled applicants, your choice who you hire, no penalty for not taking them along.
On a 7–9 you’ll have to settle for someone close or turn them away.
On a 6-, someone influential and ill-suited declares they’d like to come along (a foolhardy youth, a loose-cannon, or a veiled enemy, for example), bring them and take the consequences or turn them away.
If you turn away applicants you take -1 forward to Recruit.
On the journey back to the Steading, Exilis is flying Iugo a few hundred feet above the main group, to better scout their path. The view, of course, is amazing - miles of visibility in every direction, when it is not blocked by Lucky Island or one of the smaller bodies in its region.
Some hours into the journey back, a small, localized storm forms several miles off to the east over one of the smaller islands barely visible in the distance. Exilis keeps an eye on it, wanting to give plenty of warning should it expand or the winds shift to bring it closer. After several minutes of driving rain ...
... Exilis notices an unusual, and beautiful, sight. Large, ponderous beings slowly rise up from below the island, looking almost like chunks of island themselves except for the clearly discernible trailing tentacles. That they are visible at all at this range reinforces their massive size. The shapes move into and out of the storm, some gliding up and over the others - almost seeming to play in the air and water. Dark clouds seem to swirl around the leviathans - swarms of birds? bats? some other smaller, flying creature?
Suddenly, from the island, thousands of tiny pinpricks of light take to the sky, a dancing web of candles that merges into the dark clouds surrounding the beasts, and they roil faster and faster.
The largest of the leviathans adjusts its course, heading directly for the largest concentration of cloud-and-fireflies, and lightning crackles between the beast and the storm, fanning out and through the clouds! One, two, three bolts of lightning spear the skies, and a much smaller constellation of lights separates from the cloud and returns to the island.
Meanwhile, the dark clouds reform on the leviathan group, and it pivots and descends for a deeper sky, as the roll of distant thunder finally reaches the Steading-bound group.
These are stormchasers, great beasts that live in pods in the deeper air and climb up into more rarified heights to collect water and feed their flocks (young? symbiotes? parasites?) before returning to the depths. Some creatures - whatever the firey, glowing things were - feed upon the flocks, and so the stormchasers have developed their own defensive measures. Sighting a stormchaser pod is an excellent indication that a large storm will be happening soon, somewhere nearby.
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
The Immolator sits cross-legged quietly on a large, flat rock, letting his arms relax to his sides. As he begins a slow, rhythmic breathing pattern, a low aura of flames surrounds him and pushes out the nighttime cold.
Geth, roll 2d6+1 for Gone (WIS)
Further inland you see the speck of a bonfire being lit unsuccessfully. Someone is wafting a blanket at smouldering wood, doing a poor job of lighting it. Doubt will only fester if you dwell on it you and the fire within both say.
Ashes to Embers
When you sacrifice something important to you to the flames, you will gain something in return through mysterious circumstances.
Leave your peace, and go see what that person is up to, or invite the wrath of the Inferno.
This will count as 1 project, leaving you to do 1 project of your own devising in the morning.
The aura of heat around him dims, and shifts to sit on his shoulders as if it were a pair of Firebeak Toucans. They crackle quietly in his ears, urging him on.
Just a kid, absolutely hasn’t completed any rites of passage. Might be ten or fourteen? Tiny, compared to the kinds of people you know, but not so unusual you imagine, in the grand scheme of things. The pale kid puts her hands on her hips and sticks her tongue out, then returns to her work.
“I’m going to start a fire! I think I’ve almost got it. You can’t tell anyone, but I’m going to burn this away for good.”
She waves a little doll at you, then puts it down on the sand. She bites her lip, and brushes the doll’s hair from out of its button eyes.
As far as she is aware your fire is an illusion, such cheap tricks are often employed when shaman tell stories or magicians put on shows.
"Young one, why do you seek to destroy this toy of yours? The blaze may aid you, if your reason is justified, but it is not a thing to be trifled with on a whim."
His voice is a whispering purr, punctuated with the vague crackle of lit embers. The pair of birdlike-flames dance down an arm each, coiling as serpents until they reach his upturned palms.
“Nan made it, it was for coming out here with Pa. But... she didn’t make it. She... while we were coming through...”
“Everyone keeps saying I should love this because it’s the last thing she made... but... I don’t want there to be a last thing!
“I guess... I just think... if I get rid of it maybe I’ll stop feeling this way? Like I can burn all of it away. And...”
She doesn’t know how to express grief. Few do. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then grits her teeth to stop herself from crying. She doesn’t, which even you think is pretty badass.
She picks up a wet stick and does a rough approximation of another way to start a fire. It’s odd, and you’re suddenly reminded you just do it.
Your words have weight Doruthan. Should she burn the doll her recently deceased grandmother gave her, or keep it?
"Cursed or not, the doll is a reminder and signifier of your shared past. Do not show such haste to throw that away, young one! See these wraps around my arms?"
He holds out his two arms again, this time palms down, and the dim flames chase back up to his shoulders as if to hide behind his massive frame.
"These simple strips of cloth bore witness to a most important, and painful, moment in my young life. They contain and remind me of that history, agonizing as it was, as I move forward into future histories. I could, in a blink, burn them away. But to do so would deny who I am, what that history has shaped me to be."
Doruthan gently picks up the doll and brushes the sand from it. He looks at it from arms length and gives it a warm smile. He then holds it out to the girl, his smile maintained and beaming.
"What is your name, child?"
“What’s your name? Oh hey, have this for listening. Nan says goodness should be rewarded.”
The child takes a bunch of junk out of her pocket and rifles through it until she picks something small and metal out.
“I found this right after we got through the Tempest Wall. It’s a thinggumus!”
Thinggumus
1 weight
(This is just a close approximation)
It’s broken, rainwater has filled it and tiny cogs float behind the cracked glass. It reminds you both of a clock and compass. It has no indication which company crafted it, rather it must have been hand made. Right now it does nothing.
“You can... shake it and the bits go swimming! Neat, right?”
What have the flames told you tonight, Doruthan? (‘Nothing’ is a fine answer if you don’t feel this has been enlightening.)
An turns to look back at her father’s hut. She’ll be off in a minute.
As An leaves, the flames curl down around to his hand where he holds the Thinggumus. The Inferno stares at the dancing lights as they inspect his new treasure.
The reminders of a shared history. Yes, I will not forget, nor will the flames allow me. There will be more history to find; thank you for the reminder, my friend.
Geth, roll 2d6+0 Drinking with Ginny (CHA)
[OOC: I choose 'You learn a secret of the underbelly?']
Braddy slurs to you as you both slump in a corner, “Shh, don’t tell, but wee Miss Vaults has been paid by some stick-up-his-arse official to keep some locked chests in the basement. Dodgy business. I prefer honest work, like nicking things and knocking heads.”
His eyes focus a little.
“I mean, back home. Fresh start, right preacher? But you agree, don’t you? Rich posh bastards putting hard working types in peril for their own sake. I bet it’s opium or something. Can’t you go and drop a hint or two, I bet the moon would want her to keep away from the upper class. She’s for us, right?”
You think about it. You stand up. You wake up. Hm, bit of time missing there.
Hawthorne, Defy Danger!
A mean looking pair of dogs are running towards you! It’s dawn, and you’re in someone’s back yard on Aurlancea!
Geth, roll 2d6+1 Defy Danger (DEX)
The two dogs wag their tails as they bark at you.
“By the will of Sister Moon my little piece of this rock is blessed once again by the presence of a conduit of her power.”, the man bows to you, “Good night I take it?”
Rosac stands before you with his morning coffee. He doesn’t make a move to help you down, but when you eventually shuffle back to the ground he heads in to make you one too.
You gain the condition foolish, and so carry -1 ongoing to CHA rolls until your next expedition starts.
What are you plans today holy man?
[OOC: You can still make a NPC any time you please, but you know this guy too. Feel free to set a scene with him, or move on to a project.
Always remember to mark experience when you roll 6 or less!]
A fine night it was. Though not exactly your culture, sharing tales and song with citizens of the Republic brings to you a great well of nostalgia for your time in their military. They’re not a bad bunch, deep down.
You’re early to rise, and Iugo is still sleeping when you reach them. Peregrinus is walking over them with a naughty look in his eye—pretty standard really—and cries a hearty ‘good morning’ as you approach.
What are you plans for today? Plenty of time before adventure wings her way to you once again.
Consider a project, like selling your haul. If you’re after a particularly decent patron, roll+INT.
On a 10+, choose two.
On a 7-9, choose one.
- They’re wealthy.
- It covers their area of expertise. You’ll learn something useful.
- They’re totally honest with you.
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/566327721892214357/
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/566327721892214368/
"... and that's why ... I say, that's why ... you shouldn't ever let a ... a Casician! Be the first over the wall!" The group - fluctuating between something like half a wine-soaked dozen and a beer-drenched score of souls of all descriptions throughout the course of the night - laughs raucously but not unkindly.
"That's nothing like the time when I ..."
"... couldn't even carry it!"
"... had to eat our mounts ..."
"... broke my arm before he ..."
"... next time we saw them, they were fighting for ..."
"... Boiled. Shit. ..."
"... clueless - completely unfledged ..."
"... never saw HER again!"
Yeah, the stories are all 100%, completely true. True enough, anyway. True-ish.
Stretching the morning's tightness from his muscles, Exilis leaves Iugo to finish the great bird's rest; he's more than capable of taking care of himself should anyone unwisely try to disturb him, and, frankly, Exilis needed the walk to finish waking himself up. Peregrinus, always an early riser, was already bouncing about, ready to get the day started. Grabbing a morning bun from a nearby seller and a hot mug of ... something stimulating, Exilis made his way to the Aurlancea's workshops. He knew where an alchemist kept her working rooms, and figured, if anyone would be interested in the rapidly-decaying mushroom he had in the pannier slung over his shoulder, it'd be her.
Geth, roll 2d6+0 for Selling rotting spores
[OOC: Result of 9, so I'll pick "Covers their area of expertise. You'll learn something useful."]
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
Most buildings are wooden, with raised porches and fine painted signs that swing in the breeze. The workshop of Fritz & Fritz in contrast, is solid red brick, partly rebuilt in a different shade. You’re not confident the hole in the roof is from piercing the Tempest Wall.
“Look out!”, an academically dressed woman shouts from behind an upturned table.
A bottle spins by your ear as you open the door to the alchemist’s store, laboratory and house.
A second woman starts writing on a clipboard as she paces, “Needs less jumping beans.”
Fritz and Fritz, no relation, are the best alchemists in the Storm March, in no small part due to a limited supply. The first Fritz was trained at the most coveted academy in the capital of the Republic, the second is the daughter of a border-isle witch who made her name converting old remedies and potions into something codified to modern alchemic standards. The first Fritz (Worm to her friends, as in bookworm) runs the show on paper, and deals with the storefront, while the second (Fritz, thank you very much) is the inventor and makes sure things run smoothly. She’s also willing to punch anyone that starts complaining about the explosions.
The first thing that catches your eye is the rows of little mushrooms growing on a windowsill.
“Good morning sir! Apologies about the bottle—”
“—but progress is tricky business. Always worth it in the end—”
“—and with that in mind, what can we do for you?”
Exilis frowns. "Not least, study it and tell if it will infect us all. The island of mushrooms has been designated as neutral ground, the place for meetings between all three great ships. If it is ... secretly ... dangerous, we must know."
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
“—50 coins—”
“—to take it off your hands. Don’t fret though, it takes an uncountable number of years for a parasite to become accustomed to the life around it, such as it would be able to alter their behaviour.”
The pair pull out a tray, a peculiar water that seems to frost over when poured, and put the bottle in it.
“Still.”, the other Fritz says, tapping her chin, “Not something you’d want to ingest, nor something you’d want a close relative of the island’s inhabitants to come into contact with. What were the main beasts on this island? Beetles you say?”
"No ... not beetles. More like ... an ant? At least, that's what this was growing from. But island had, well, we named them mudfish and groundhawks ... We saw a pair of large, somewhat docile creatures that our Sisan priest said were like 'platebacks' from his part of the Republic. And, of course, small birds of every description. I don't think we've explored it enough to call any of them the 'main beasts.'"
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
Add 50 coins to your inventory.
Worm borrows the other Fritz’ clipboard and jots all that down, “Fascinating. Once we’ve looked this over we’ll be sure to inform the right—”
“—stuck up commodores.”
There’s a tension in the air, which turns to shared smiles. Worm rummages through a drawer and Fritz catches what she flings over her shoulder.
Fritz voice softens, “On the house. I’m sure you weren’t there long enough but give this to your pet. It’s a curative that will remove any spores it might have breathed in. Better safe than sorry.”
Anti-Mushroom Pellets
2 uses, ingest, 0 weight
Removes any lingering effects of mushroom spores.
If you’ve no more to ask, and don’t wish to spent your newly earned cash on something alchemical, where to next?
He gestures apology to the dogs and takes a moment to greet them properly -- head pats, back skritches, tolerating sniff-samples of his (shall we say) rich odor profile. Then he follows Rosac inside -- that coffee is 100% mandatory at this time.
"Yes, a good night, and look what a bright morning followed after," he says, scratching the back of his fluffy head ruefully. "The Fairweather Friend staked a claim on us just as soon as we got back from staking our claim on Lucky Island." He raises his eyebrows. "And you, friend? Sleeping well this side of the Tempest? How are you passing the days?"
Exilis does quick math in his head. "I thank you! But how much for ... 6 more doses? I wasn't alone on the island, and the others being sickened when I could prevent it would not sit well with me."
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
“50 coins sounds about...”, her other half just crosses her arms irritably.
Fritz sighs, “How about a deal instead? Next time you head out grab us something you think an alchemist could use. Herbs, minerals, something you haven’t seen before.”
Later, if you don’t keep your word, folk will know about it and decline an offer you make, but even so, say yes now and they’re yours for free.
Hawthorne
“I’ve heard about that.”, he says with a note of respect, “You and your gang are the first celebrities in the Steading. For a week yet anyhow.”
He drinks quietly for a bit, then replies, “She above works in mysterious ways. To you she gives divine insight, to me? A good ear and a steady hand. I sleep well enough, but I sleep better when my pockets are full. My trouble is all the little extras I do for free, right? I’m running low on all sorts of things lately.
Rosac has been a animal healer for as long as you’ve known him. A rare skill, one that takes years to perfect to his level, while he’s not influential he is certainly a very important person when the crap hits the gyrocopter.
His house is small, but lovingly cared for. The front yard is tidy enough, but behind the back of the house is where the real workmanship is done. A big plot of land with a stable for those staying over night, a dozen large cages and a shack that’s been converted into something like a medical ward.
He’s been looking for a student/helper for practically the whole time you’ve known him, too.
“Hey, just so you know, Jenna has been playing out back with an injured little screamwing all morning. They’re great with pups. She’ll be glad to see you’re up.”
The dogs put their heads on your lap as you take in the morning. You’ve woken up in worse places, you think.
You wake up later than usual. You’re refreshed in body and spirit.
Squall has managed to squeeze himself through a window and has his head on your chest.
“If you intend to fix yourself as the ‘Great Explorer’, perhaps you’d best start preparing before you go off into the blue. Earning coin would be a good idea, but so I don’t give you an aneurysm from normalcy, you could at least find out what the next expeditions are and make a choice in advance. I might be able to divine a detail or two from the information you gather.”, Toth intones from behind a thick tome.
You’ve only half as much time as the others, so you’ve 1 project left. You needn’t heed her words; what do you intend to do?
Just say what, and I’ll see if it triggers a move.
"As usual, Toth, you are correct. Our last outing was, at best, to get a toe-hold on this new region. Now the real work begins!" He emphasizes this last statement with a full-body flex, and a faint yellow coruscation of flame surrounds him.
Also, as usual, Toth is unimpressed, barely looking up from her tome.
Doruthan sets out from the domicile, intent on gathering info on what expeditions are being planned for next.
Exilis laughs and smiles broadly, his skin flushing golden, gesturing at the bottle of mushroom and the rapidly-icing-over water. "I think that could be arranged, yes." Exilis offers the arm-clasp that is the traditional sealing of a deal amongst his tribe, uncertain if the alchemists remember the proper forms from his last visit.
With that, he pockets the coins and the curatives, and makes his way throughout the Aurlancea, hunting down the other members of the party. (Anyone not on the Aurlancea will need to wait, presumably.) Once he finds them, Exilis hands them the anti-mushroom pellet for their mounts and 12 coins - explaining that it was their share of the payment for bringing the interesting mushroom back to the alchemists, and the terms of the deal he had struck to procure them. This is not because he expects them to fulfill the deal for him, or to be bound in any way by his word, but merely to explain the parameters under which he will be operating in the not-so-distant future.
With his share of the haul (14 coins; quartermaster gets the remainders!), Exilis looks to procure additional travel rations (-3 coins), since his initial supplies were depleted by the trip to Lucky Island (3/5 remaining), and spends another chunk of change (-3 coins) on a really, really good meal, inviting his new friends along. They are, after all, bound shortly for locations unknown, and the best - and potentially only really good thing - about civilization is the food.
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]