CH. 01 - Convergence

[Daos]

On the road to Greenest, a wagon is being pulled by four sturdy draft horses.  Sitting in the driver's seat, the reins in her hands, is a dwarven woman, a Neidar, silently chewing on a weed.  The wagon has been on the road for days, having departed Gaarlus, the capital of the Gaardlund, the eastern most province of the nation of Solamnia.  It's cargo consists of several crates of goods and a number of passengers.  Some signed on to protect the wagon, others just looking for a ride.  Each has their own reasons for heading to this small, frontier town.

The sun above is starting to set.  The skies are clear, so it seems bad weather will not bother them this day.  The wagon wheels creek slightly as they turn, and the horses nicker on occasion, but otherwise the trip is fairly silent.  And it has been fairly uneventful.  No bandits, no monsters, or anything of the sort.  Probably the most exciting thing to happen so far was yesterday, when it rained enough to turn the dirt road to mud, and one of the wheels got stuck.  Everyone was forced to push the wagon to get it out.

The passengers are a motley bunch.  They consist of three human men, a half-elven man, two half-elven women, a Kagonesti and a Bozak.  Of the humans, one is young, tall and muscular, resplendent in shining scale mail, a mace and sword on his hip.  He may or may not be a knight, but he certainly looks like one.  Another is older, and keeps hidden under a cloak.  He could pass for a simple traveler, but he has a rather fancy looking great sword on his back, and now and again the light will glint off chain mail under his cloak.  The third has ashen white hair, vibrant blue eyes, and is dressed in an assortments of leathers.

Of the half-elves, the male is tall and lean, with short cropped dark hair that shows off his pointed ears, but the scruff of a beard to make his human heritage clear.  He has piercing amber eyes that seem to gaze beyond whatever he is looking at, as if he could somehow see things that nobody else could.  One of the women is a beautiful blonde, her hair covering her right eye entirely.  But her left eye can be seen clearly, and it's as green as any emerald.  She dresses very conservatively, showing almost no skin at all, which only seems to make her more alluring, in a way.  The other woman is obscured by a heavy cloak, keeping her features so well hidden that nobody knows what she looks like yet.

The Kagonesti is an unusual sight in these parts.  Like most of his people, he has bronze skin and tribal tattoos, but his dark hair has given way to grey.  His green eyes still shine with canny intelligence, though.  Perhaps the thing that stands out most about him, though, is he is missing his right arm, just below the elbow.  He seems quite capable, however, and doesn't let it slow him down.

Finally, there is the bozak.  Draconians aren't exactly common in Solamnia, but they do appear now and again.  This one in particular looks like he's been through a lot.  Both he and his gear are covered in old scars and burns.

The silence is broken by the dwarven woman.  "Good news," she calls over her shoulder.  "Looks like we're going to get there just before nightfall.  Warm beds for us all tonight!"

=======================

It is Brookgreen 25th, around Eleventh Watch.

(OOC:  You can decide whether you are walking alongside the wagon or riding in the back.  Take this time to establish your characters and get to know each other a bit.)

[PallentisLunam]

Conard Marpique, 1st lvl Ranger
AC: 17 | HP's: 11 of 11 | Passive Perception: 10 | Natural Explorer: Grasslands | Favored Enemy: Dragons | Position of Privilege
Conditions: None.

Conard strolls along beside the wagon, his gear clanking lightly as he walks. His pack and harness are heavy but well made and well fitted so that he is not fatigued in the least by his travels. The young knight is fresh faced and friendly enough with most of his companions, however he steers clear of the draconian as much as he can, quickly excusing himself from any conversations involving the bozak. Despite his youth and apparent inexperience, Conard keeps a ready eye on his surroundings while making small talk about the weather or launching polite inquiries into his fellow travelers' past and current goals.

Conard readily admits his own desire for adventure and glory in the town of Greenest, mentioning Ontharr Frume and his suspicions of dragon activity in the region. However, the young squire is careful that such conversations do not occur within Zakkoth's hearing. It is clear that while Conard is well trained and well armed, he holds very romanticized and idealized notions of battle. The kind of views only the young and naive can have and which do not survive the experience of such things.

Still, it is clear that Conard is high born and well educated, doing his best to be engaging and entertaining with whomever he is speaking, readily sharing stories both personal and historical. Conard acknowledges his inexperience but still offers what aid he can each night at camp and each day on the road, not fearing to dirty his noble hands with honest work. Conard is every bit the gallant nobleman with respect to his lady companions, doubly so to the Neidar whom he sees as a lady and a superior, at least for the purposes of this journey. Conard offers to them any services he can render, while taking care not to be overbearing or insulting to their own capabilities.

[HorizonsDream]

Eliana Reyra
Female Half-Elf Sorcerer 1
HP: 09/09

Eliana reaches down and adjusts one of her now mud covered boot (from when she helped when the wagon was stuck in the mud on the day that it rained), and then lifts up only to push her long blonde hair back behind her shoulder and behind her slightly pointed left ear before she jogs to catch up to the rest of the group. "That certainly is good news," she says cheerfully as she scoots a little closer to the man that looks like a knight. "Right, handsome?" she asks playfully. Throughout the trip, so far, she has hit on most of the males in the group (including the Bozak just to see what would happen), but the poor young looking knight has been her main target for reasons unknown.

[PallentisLunam]

Conard Marpique, 1st lvl Ranger
AC: 17 | HP's: 11 of 11 | Passive Perception: 10 | Natural Explorer: Grasslands | Favored Enemy: Dragons | Position of Privilege
Conditions: None.

Conard smiles rather awkwardly but in a charming way. His stories of courtly love never included such teasing, although he can't say as he doesn't appreciate Eliana's attention. "Certainly," Conard replies, echoing Eliana's choice of words, "Although, I think perhaps it is the meal I look forward to more than the mattress. I wonder what sort of wine a town like Greenest has to offer?"

Glancing over to the dwarf woman, partially to avoid staring at Eliana, Conard calls, "What can you say of Greenest's Inn, Teamstress?"

[HorizonsDream]

Eliana Reyra
Female Half-Elf Sorcerer 1
HP: 09/09

"You, and most of our group, seems to be use to sleeping without a mattress most of the time," Eliana comments thoughtfully. She wishes she could say the same for herself. She hasn't complained once about sleeping conditions or having to help the wagon when it got stuck in the mud. She did what she could to help because she didn't want to come off as the prissy little noble girl that hasn't done anything on her before. Though, it is clear that while this isn't exactly roughing it, she isn't use to the conditions. "A decent meal does sound wonderful, which I'm sure you'll do me the honor of joining me when we get there?" she asks sweetly. She seems to enjoy making young Conard uncomfortable. He reminds her of some of the knights back at home. "But isn't Greenest a small town?" she asks. "Fine wines such as the ones found in Maelgoth probably aren't available."

[Daos]

Mar 25, 2020 19:57:37 GMT -8 PallentisLunam said:

Glancing over to Neidar, partially to avoid staring at Eliana, Conard calls, "What can you say of Greenest's Inn, Teamstress?"

"Call me Lilly," the Neidar replies.  "And the town's inn is the Silver Tear.  Not bad, as inns go.  I've stayed there a few times.  Warm beds, decent food and drink.  Might not be the fanciest place, but it's clean and it beats eating dry rations."

[Yuki.N>]

Perceval Lenos, Paladin 1
AC: 16 | HP:  11/11 | Passive Perception:  15 | Spellcasting modifier: +5, DC 13 | Lay on Hands: 5/5
Conditions: None.

Sitting on the back of the wagon, Perceval leaned against some of the cargo and listened quietly to the bantering of two of his travel companions, his eyes periodically scanning the road from underneath his hood. He is being paid for his presence, which entailed certain duties. The young knight reminds him of himself a decade ago, almost painfully so. The blonde half-elf he marked as a potential source of trouble but mostly ignored. At least that one spoke, unlike some others in this motley collection. Adjusting his position slightly, Perceval consciously relaxed his tensed shoulder muscles. The journey was almost over, and being all wound up will only exhaust him if there is to be fighting.

OOC: Perceval has introduced himself as Alyn to both Lilly and the group. That's the name he goes by as a mercenary.

[Igordragonian]

Zakkoth Bozak Mystic Level 1
9/9 hp/15 AC/ Passive Perception 12
------
Refrence

------
Zakkoth isn't a chatty fellow. But his eyes are shifty and constanly focusing on the smallest and banal things.
"Two ants has fallen. Two hard achieved goals will fail." Zakkoth has mambled.
He sit at the wagon, not caring the stares- he walked enough in his life, to earn the right to damn sit whenever he can.
Zakkoth is a bit surprised at Eliana's advances, but he is welcoming. When ever the half elf beauty does, the scarred bronze scaled draconian wake up from his constant search of omens. He grin an almost predatory like grin, and return some flirts, even if it in slang of inns from few decades ago.
When the conversation start, after forcing himself from staring at the elf woman.. what was her name? Women like when men remember their name. He should try and remember, in case she isn't just trying to feel empowered by feeling attractive... and also has imagined her with a black hair.
"The horse of the wagon has snarled today before dawn.' He say. "Troubles are waiting us in Greenest."

[PallentisLunam]

Conard Marpique, 1st lvl Ranger
AC: 17 | HP's: 11 of 11 | Passive Perception: 10 | Natural Explorer: Grasslands | Favored Enemy: Dragons | Position of Privilege
Conditions: None.

"Honest rest after honest travels." Conard declares in response to Lilly's claims about the Silver Tear. His gaze flicks over towards the mumbling draconian riding in the wagon and he sets his jaw. Crazed fortuneteller, he thinks to himself, If there is any trouble... Conard takes a deep breath and shakes his head, putting his prejudices out of mind. "I wouldn't know about the wines of Maelgoth," Conard says to Eliana. "I have never been so far north, but even a frontier town must have something worth drinking, and we will share a bottle, though I doubt it will hold a candle to proper Heartlund Red."

[Zero Prime]

Caelin Valaerys, pariah of Tarkhisis
HP: 10 of 10 | AC: 15 | Perception: 15 | Insight: 17 | Inspiration: 0
Conditions: None.

During their journey, Caelin had been carefully studying his companions, noting their routines, their habits, their patterns, their personality. It was the way he had been trained to know someone, to observe them, even in, especially in, their private time, when they feel as though they are unobserved, for it is at those times that their masks begin to slip. Marpique irked Caelin, tall of stature, broad shoulders, handsome face, polished armor, well maintained weapons, a knight then? Or, more likely, a knight aspirant, and where, thought Caelin, was your order Conrad, when your fellows were casting those born in misery, poverty and squallor in chains? Where were you when your fellow Solamnians were being tortured, suffering indignation and depravity at the hands of their captors? Chasing dragons most likely. He could only shake his head at the young man's innocence, perhaps he, himself, wished he still had that innocence, the optomism to believe in knights, in honor, in chivalry.

Lady Reyra confused the young man, reminded him of what he could have had with Jaehara had he not subsequently murdered her mother, and so he avoided her when he could. Until one morning three days prior, when she ranged further from the early morning camp than he'd anticipated. She came across him at a small creek, washing the dust of the road from his body, his clothing upon the shore, she spied his bare back, shoulders and arms as he scrubbed himself. His lightly tanned skin covered in a network of scars, some neatly stitched and healed, others jagged, savage looking scars, and burns poorly healed. His head whipped around at that moment, their eyes looked, Caelin's bright, sapphire eyes turning a cold storm-grey before she plunged back into the undergrowth, a kettle forgotten on the shore. When he returned, he placed the now filled kettle above the morning fire, Reyra looked ready to speak, but Caelin interrupted her, moving frighteningly fast, coming uncomfortably close, their noses almost touching. He brought a finger to his lips,"Shhhh...," he whispered, "It will avail you naught," images of Jaehara's bright eyes, clouded in fear and terror as her mother's blood ran down his face, "but could well cost you everything." The next morning, to distract the Lady's attention from the creek, and perhaps as way of apology, he stole to where she slept, creeping through the early morning dawn, placed a small bouquet of lavender flowers beside her pillow while she slept. He then ensured that a small amount of crushed lavender petals were later found on the ground by Ser Marpique's bedroll for the Lady to discover.

And so, as he walked behind the couple he felt something akin to relief, for he knew that Conrad, despite Caelin's own misgivings about the young man, would do all he could to keep Lady Reyra from harm, he looked back over his shoulder, noticed the Bozak's great bulk wrapped in a cloak, sitting at the rear of the wagon. Caelin turned and moved towards the wagon's gate, hopping up, effortlessly to crouch beside Zakkoth's hunced shoulders. He reached into a pouch, and withdrew some carefully wrapped seared, seasoned rabbit from last nights dinner, offering it to the Bozak mystic. When he first saw the draconian, he almost, ALMOST, bowed deferentially, and made the mark of Takhisis over his heart, conditioning instilled in him by Frulam's harsh tutelage. Speaking softly in the gutteral, throaty Draconic tongue, Caelin intones toward his companion, "You are not wrong father, ill omens, dark fortune."

[Igordragonian]

Zakkoth Bozak Mystic Level 1
9/9 hp/15 AC/ Passive Perception 12
------
Rerfence


----
The equaleant muscle of eyebrow raised in Zabboth's face.
Human speaking draconic wasn't very common. At least outside of Takhisis's priesthood.
"I see, you are more then a common beggar.' He answer back in draconic.
"Do you see the omens as well?' He ask with raspy voice.

[Pr0l0t0r]

Ironwood "Iro" of the Cragpine Vale -- Druid 1

AC: 12 | HP's: 8/8 | Passive Perception: 13 | Conditions: None.
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The grizzled Kagonesti reclines in the back of the wagon, pretending to sleep as he keeps a wry eye on the humans, a wary eye on the bozak, and his third eye on the clouds and sky. Watching the boy being teased by the half-blood 'nesti, Iro sighs mentally. These sparklives reveal so much of themselves so easily. Like sparrows in a gale, they cannot master their emotions. His grumpy thoughts continue in a similar vein as the wagon bumps and jostles towards their destination. Truth be told, he was looking forward to a bit of a rest, though he would never admit it. He had grown used to the hardships of travel after three centuries of clan-life, but he had also come to appreciate the small comforts afforded by a bed of moss or a warm fire where he could get them. These thoughts cause the Kagonesti to shift a little in his recline, causing his cloak to fall away from the stump of his right arm. He reaches over with his left hand, the supple leather of his practical, simple, and unadorned armor not even creaking with the motion, to cover the stump. As he settles back, he hears the bozak mutter his omens, which causes Iro to sit upright and direct his piercing green gaze directly at his scaled travelling companion.

Yes, dragonblood, the winds and lifeskeins speak of trouble ahead. This morning a hawk plunged to catch a mouse in the brush, but broke its wing in the process. A time of great change is on the horizon, when even the mighty are felled. What else do you see, bozak? Ironwood inquires, an uncertain newfound respect tinging his tone. His grip tightens on his staff as he asks the question, causing its spray of raven feathers to rustle softly against each other. 

He watches passively as one of the male humans - Caelin he believes - speaks in Draconic before the bozak can reply to Iro's question. The elf suppresses his own surprise at hearing the draconic spoken by a human, especially given that he doesn't speak it himself.

[Zero Prime]

Caelin Valaerys, pariah of Tarkhisis
HP: 10 of 10 | AC: 15 | Perception: 15 | Insight: 17 | Inspiration: 0
Conditions: None.

He nodded at Zakkoth, continuing in Draconic, "When one is raised amidst cutthroats, murderers, thieves and tyrants, one develops a nose for blood." A grim smile played across his lips, "Oft times before it is ..." Before he could finish his thoughts, his head whipped to his left shoulder, and a small, brutal looking dagger sprouted to his hand. The Kagonesti's movements were unexpected, and he reacted with the reflexes and brutal, violent instincts honed by a decade within the cruel organization he had so recently fled.

"Master Iro," he quickly switched to common trade speak, and as quickly as he changed dialects, so too did the dagger disappear into it's sheath, "Yes, the old bozak and I were discussing portents and omens, eyes have turned towards Greenest, eyes I would sooner avoid." He shrugged as if at a loss as to explain why he would travel there himself, "And yet, here I am."

[Yuki.N>]

Perceval Lenos, Paladin of the Legion
AC: 16 | HP:  11/11 | Passive Perception:  15 | Spellcasting modifier: +5, DC 13 | Lay on Hands: 5/5
Conditions: None.

Perceval was not an especially superstitious one and he placed little stock in the seemingly half mad ramblings of the Draconian. Still, the sudden words of Zakkoth, quiet for much of the journey, filled him with a sense of unease. As the conversation changed to one of a different tongue, the mercenary within him sat up and took notice, watching for signs of danger, perhaps even betrayal, his hand finding its way to the hilt of the greatsword laid down beside him. If the danger came from within the group, today was the last day they would be able to act. As Caelin's dagger flashed into his hand, six inches of steel emerged from Latona's scabbard, which disappeared momentarily after Caelin sheathed his own weapon.

As Iro was accepted into the conversation, Perceval relaxed his hand from his sword but directed more of his attention to listening in. The Kagonesti elder he respected, and any explanation for how this strange group of travellers was assembled was intriguing. He himself had been sent here on the basis of little more than rumours and whispers, albeit dangerous ones. A little more information might serve him well in the days ahead.

[Kvard51]

Garald Stormgard Warlock 1
AC 14| hp 11 of 11| Passive Perception 14| Spell DC 14| Spell Attack +6
Conditions: none

Garald leaned against the bed of the wagon with his hat pulled down over his eyes.  He listened to the exchanges of his fellow travelers more out of habit than any inclination to know about them.  He was sure they all had reasons for traveling to Greenest, and equally sure their reasons and his had nothing to do with one another.  At least until the Bozak and the smaller human started speaking the language of dragons.  That caused him to peer at the man from under the brim of his hat!  A draconian speaking Draconic was to be expected.  But not many others knew the language.  He listened more intently as they spoke of portents and signs.  His eyes narrowed under the hat as a dagger appeared, as if by magic, in the man's hands.  But he relaxed again as the old Kagonesti spoke to them in common and the blade returned to it's sheath.  Closing his eyes again, he tugged his cloak more tightly around himself and tried to doze off.  He would need to watch this human closely, and his kind tended to do their work at night...