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Post by Daos on Feb 17, 2019 20:20:24 GMT -8
Daltigoth.
The legends say, centuries ago, that a man named Eadamm rose up against the High Ogres that dwelt there, leading his fellow humans in a revolt. The High Ogres were driven out of their own capital, and the now freed humans founded their own nation that became a sprawling empire--Ergoth. But then came the Cataclysm.
A fiery mountain slammed into the holy city of Istar, on the other side of Ansalon. The entire world was thrown into upheaval. Mountains fell and valleys rose. New seas formed. The mighty empire of Ergoth was not only cut off from the mainland, but most of it was now covered in water, leaving only a few islands. The Empire continued to eke out an existence on the northern island, but the southern island was all but abandoned. And the Ogres returned. No longer beautiful and intelligent, these new Fallen Ogres were as brutal as they were crude. They took back their lands in the south, reclaiming the city of Daltigoth for their own. Several hundred years later, came the War of the Lance. The Ogres seemed poised to conquer all of Southern Ergoth with the help of the Whitedragon army, true divine magic (which had not been seen since the Cataclysm) and actual dragons (not seen since the Third Dragon War). But then the tides turned. The metallic dragons joined the war, the long lost secret of forging Dragonlances was rediscovered, and the few free forces left on Ansalon, including Northern Ergoth, joined together to form the Whitestone Forces. The Dragonarmies were defeated, and peace returned to the land. But that does not mean things went back to normal. The ogres fell back to their territory, freeing the human cities they had conquered like Zhea Harbor, but they were still a powerful presence on the island. And many exiled Qualinesti and Silvanesti, their homelands destroyed in the war, remained in the southern forests with their Kagonesti cousins. Daltigoth remained in ogre hands. The Dictator, Stormogre, was killed in the war. But his cousin, Kthaarx, assumed his throne and title. And business in the city goes about as it always did. And that included the slave trade. The Daltigoth arena was massive and drew hundreds of people to it every day. Most were ogres, giants, trolls and goblins who hoped to see the slaves get squashed or eaten by a monster. And here we introduce our heroes, all from different backgrounds and races, but all brought together and placed on the same team for a single purpose: to make their master, Bolbus, money. Bolbus is a middle-aged ogre, in his mid-sixties, with long, greasy black hair pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes are black and his skin is of a yellowish tint. As masters go, he is not the worst. He doesn't beat or harm his slaves--they are his investment, after all. Profit is the only thing Bolbus really cares about. As long as he is making steel hand over fist, he's in a good mood. Sadly, profits are down. This might be partly because it is late winter...the cold drives away potential customers. But no, it's more than that. Attendance is down, even taking the weather into account. Currently, the party is in their lounge. Really, it's more of a cell. A large cell, granted, with couches for sitting, tables for eating, bunks for sleeping, and even a small kitchen area for making food. But it's still locked up and behind bars. It's around noon time, and the kitchen was late being restocked this morning, so breakfast has been missed. But perhaps lunch can make up for it. There is a match scheduled for this afternoon, and it wouldn't do to go out on an empty stomach.
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(OOC: Below are some rumors you've picked up recently.)
Teakettle recently heard a rumor from the other slaves, that all the slavemasters are having a big meeting to discuss what to do about the faltering attendance. Runt recently heard a rumor from another slave that another draconian was enslaved, but he hasn't heard what kind he might be. Another Baaz, like himself? Or something else entirely? Grognak was speaking to the rats who sometimes crawl up from the sewers the other day, and they told him there is a place underground, beneath the arena itself that is very, very cold. It's so cold there, even the fur covered rats avoid it. Ravarie was told by a little bird (literally, it flew up to the barred window) that a pair of House Elves were in the city recently. But what would elves of any kind being doing in Daltigoth of all places? Lately, Dorias has been receiving some fan letters and care packages from a Stormdancer named Dhall'a. She seems to have taken a liking to him. This could be a good thing...or a very bad thing. Followers of Zeboim aren't known for their consistency or sanity.
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Post by HorizonsDream on Feb 17, 2019 23:12:47 GMT -8
Ravarie wasn't much of a talker, but her stomach was starting to growl from skipping breakfast this morning, so she decided to break her normal silence. "I guess there are some house elves in town," she says. Naturally. She was a little curious as to why they were here of all places. That didn't sound right to her, but she figured she would open it up to everyone else to see what they thought.
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Post by GravityEmblem on Feb 18, 2019 4:52:45 GMT -8
“More pointed-ears?” Grognak questions as he rummages through the pantry and kitchen area for any meat, especially the raw kind. “Aren’t one kind enough?”
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Post by Snacs on Feb 18, 2019 5:57:31 GMT -8
"Agree with Grognak, already enough sharp-ears." Despite the words, Runt seemed nonplussed about the idea. The big galoot probably considered more elves an extra food source, considering breakfast had been skipped. He was more upset at the lack of a drink, the giant Draconian sprawled out across a couch with his tail whisking across the floor irritably. Skipping food wasn't pleasant, but he'd done enough stints without to know it would come, whether it be here in their 'lounge' or out of a hapless opponent in the arena today.
Dim, rose-colored eyes observed the rest of the party morosely. Drink never dulled the senses of a Baaz, but being sober was...less than ideal.
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Post by Ezeze on Feb 18, 2019 6:05:11 GMT -8
Teakettle is in the 'kitchen', resolutely digging through cabinets beside Grognak - or whatever passes for them in their cell - looking for anything edible, or any doors with the audacity to be locked around her.
When Ravarie mentions 'house elves' Teakettle, naturally, assumes she is talking about giant houses with pointy ears that walk around on two legs.
"Maybe it has something to do with the big meeting between the slave masters today?"
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Post by Daos on Feb 18, 2019 13:26:45 GMT -8
Searching the pantry, the party finds some fruits and vegetables, some relatively clean water, and some hardtack. The only meat found is in jerky form, so sadly for Grognak, none of it is raw.
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Post by GravityEmblem on Feb 18, 2019 13:41:38 GMT -8
Grognak sighs at the limited selection. Dry, salted meat is hardly his preference, but it’s better than no meat. Besides, he needs his strength for the next fight. He grabs a few pieces and starts chewing.
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Post by Ezeze on Feb 18, 2019 13:42:43 GMT -8
"Ooooooh!" Teakettle coos at their unexpected discovery. "I can make something with this!"
She gathers up the meat and vegetables and sets about making stew enough to feed everyone, seasoned liberally with whatever she can find in her pouches.
tXI1W78C1d20 vs Cooking TN 14.
When it's done she pours bowls for everyone and hands them out with a huge grin on her face.1d20
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Rax
Dicemaster
Posts: 2,263
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Post by Rax on Feb 18, 2019 13:43:28 GMT -8
"House elves?" Dorias inquires, lounging lazily on a couch. "Would that be some kind of elven gully dwarf?" he teases gently.
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Post by Snacs on Feb 18, 2019 14:10:51 GMT -8
Runt takes an offered bowl of stew-as well as a palmful of some of the fruit that escaped Teakettles enthusiastic cooking process- but takes his time eating. He brushes the bowl firmly with a small rind of hardtack to get every last morsel as he stalks in a slow circle around their enclosure. It was hard to break old habits, and eating on the move made food harder to steal. It takes him a few minutes to notice Teakettle's expectant look, but the draconian makes the effort to pat his stomach and grunt appreciably.
Using his claws, he delicately but expertly slices and spears bits of fruit to pop across his tongue, eyes closing in faint bliss at the rush of sweetness. Bulbos may have been a greedy sort, but any food that wasn't rotten was already a step up in Runt's mind.
"Mmm. If slave-masters like to meet, means rough job for us. Probably."The rumbling, guttural curse he adds to the words is in draconic, though he cocks his head to listen to the Gallant speak.
"Small sharp-ear? Might be sweeter than normal elf."His eyes glance between Dorias and Ravarie thoughtfully as a long tongue swipes at his maw to clean it of sticky-sweet fruit. He fans the wings tucked against his back, stirring the still air of their cage, clearly considering something without speaking it out loud.
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Rax
Dicemaster
Posts: 2,263
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Post by Rax on Feb 18, 2019 14:21:33 GMT -8
"I wouldn't bank on it, Runt. Gully dwarves live in filth and refuse, the poor souls. Were a house elf to match one of them, you'd likely make yourself sick eating one. Or were you perhaps suggesting that Ravarie isn't sweet enough as she is?" he replies with a wink.
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Post by Ezeze on Feb 18, 2019 14:32:08 GMT -8
Runt's approval makes Teakettle beam even wider.
She serves herself last, just like her aunt Mimi always did, and plops down next to Dorias with her own bowl.
"How do you know that?" she asks him, as open and honest an invite to tell a story as the wide-eyed little Kender ever has managed.
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Post by Snacs on Feb 18, 2019 14:39:47 GMT -8
"Mmm? still good yes. Probably?"Runt retorted with bland pragmatism, his wings beating while his head lightly dipped in the draconian equivalent of a shrug. His rose-colored eyes sweep Ravarie thoughtfully as he considers both statements for a long, drawn out pause.
"Salt, probably. Cooks more evenly." The draconian's slow, thoughtful cadence fills the chamber at last, before he gives another of those strange shrugs, a low, throaty rumble that was clearly laughter coming from his chest. The stew had warmed his stomach, and he finishes the meal with a hearty jawful of the water, his throat working audibly and his tail twitching with languid pleasure.
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Rax
Dicemaster
Posts: 2,263
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Post by Rax on Feb 18, 2019 14:55:02 GMT -8
"How do I know what, Teakettle?" Dorias drawls. "This is a fine stew, by the way, my thanks."
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Post by Ezeze on Feb 18, 2019 15:01:15 GMT -8
"What a gully dwarf is like" Teakettle responds, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Have you met one? Like, on one of your adventures? Where they a bad guy or a good guy?"
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