The Wyrm's Flight (IC)

[FirebirdFlying]

Commander Aldos Gerian hardly cuts an imposing figure - a short, aging man seated at a desk, greying hair barely brushing his shoulders and fingers tapping impatiently on the papers strewn everywhere. He is a sharp contrast to the stories told about him - the young and gleeful hero who rained down death on his enemies as he flew above them, the charismatic man who talked the barbaric King of Trehal into surrendering to Inalia. The office itself is bare save for the desk, chair, and a long metal plaque hanging on one wall with a list of names - four recently etched into its surface.

The commander's eyes flick back and forth between the four figures in front of him, and he briefly breaks his ever-present frown with a quick smile. "Congratulations. You have been selected, as you know, to…fill in the spaces left in the Dawn Flight. Now, normally there is at least one senior member of a Flight to act as a leader, but circumstances are as they are. The Flight may be different from your previous stations. The four of you are on permanent assignment to each other; unlike before, you will not switch teams from now on, not even among the Flights. You are expected to trust each other with your lives and livelihoods, and never betray that trust in yourself - trust given not only by the three others who stand beside you, but by me, Inalia, and all her citizens." He leans back in his chair, hands steepled in front of him.

"Your first assignment is exactly the same as the previous Dawn's. Their mistake - do not repeat it - was to assume their superiority to their enemies, to not watch for enemy reinforcements, and to not know when to run away. Learn from them. In every way they were superior to you. They worked together flawlessly. Any one of them could utterly destroy all four of you. They knew it - they knew they were the best, and they went too far.

"We believe that the Fire Within's headquarters are situated in the port city of Thrammel to the east. You will leave the capital tomorrow, and when you arrive will seek to infiltrate them - subtly! - and take them apart from within. Do not make any of them martyrs. You have as long as you need, until they burn Inalia to dust, anyway, so take your time. I've been led to believe that none of you are entirely stupid. Do not make me a fool."

He rises from his chair, and there is a moment when the form of his legends appears as proud and imperious as ever. It vanishes, though, and he is again a middle-aged man, frowning. "Inalia will see you now." He brushes past, indicating that they should follow him, and stops suddenly before the door. "And - " he points towards the plaque. "See the line, there? Every name below that is one of my mistakes, or theirs - the strongest, bravest, most intelligent people in the world over. Be sure to keep your names off of it."

He continues, stalking down the hallway to the lair of the dragon.

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

Adrian didn't say much to the drunken Perth as he went on about their horrible end. The man was supposed to be a professional, and his drunkenness made Adrian uncomfortable... maybe even embarrassed. He avoided criticising Perth, just silently accepted his words with the occasional nod, and made sure to steerhim back towards his barrack.

Standing before the heroic Commander, Adrian tries to look neutral and unimpressed. He doubts he succeeds - at the very least he must look horribly tired from the late night before. He didn't drink, well not much, but he didn't get much sleep either.

Nonetheless, he looks quite dashing. His silver-ringed maille shirt has a scattering of metal discs over the most vital regions, and everything is freshly burnished and gleaming. His new Dawn uniform is clean and pressed where it shows out from under the armour.

His eyes shine a cutting blue, and his blond hair has a single streak of copper-green dyed into it. He used beeswax to make his hair stand up, so that he looks taller and wilder on the battlefield.

He tries to pay attention to the Commander's words but his mind keeps wandering. One thing does get through though:


"Inalia will see you now."

Adrian's eyes widen. Inalia will see them now? The Inalia? He doesn't know why he's surprised, but he is. He swallows and prepares to meet his queen - and now, his liege.

[Tyrael]

A runty little Kobold cuts a dashing figure in sleek green leathers over a shining silvery chain shirt. A wide-brimmed black hat is set at a jaunty angle on his head, and a flowing emerald cloak streams from his shoulders. An ornate rapier hangs at his belt, and dark green gloves cover his hands.

He doffs his hat in a flourishing bow as the Commander leaves. Replacing it, he grins disarmingly at the rest of the party.

"Gentlemen. Shall we?" he asks, his voice surprisingly smooth with a hint of an accent.

[KnightOfV]

Alandair Numanai's armor shines as if it were brand new, his dark blue cape is unwrinkled, and his long black hair is neatly combed back into a ponytail exposing the slight point to his ears. A large sword of over three feet is belted casually to his side. The old scars that decorate his face, not quite healed by the passage of time only seem to add to his presence. He looks as if he were born to wear the Dawn uniform, and is the very much the definition of professional appearance with one exception on his right shoulder.

A brass wyrmling is perched there digging its claws into Alandair's cape and glancing back and forth between the commander and the others in the room curiously. A tail as long as his body is wrapped back around the Half-elf's neck. Even if you had never met Alandair before, you have likely heard of the reputation of the wyrmling for being a trouble maker and chatter box, and may have even held a few almost incoherent conversations with the little dragon.

Alandair bows in silence at the Commander's admonitions, and the wyrmling on his shoulder will also bow by lowering its long neck and wings, seeming to almost fall off his shoulder perch. When the Commander mentions Inalia, the wyrmling blurts out, "Mommy!" before covering his mouth with both wings and looking rather sheepish.

The half-elf will nod to the kobold, and walk after the Commander in a smooth military gait.

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

Adrian looks over at the wyrmling. He's still uncertain about working with one of Inalia's own. Frankly it makes him nervous.

Turning his eyes forward one more, he follows the Commander into the royal chamber and goesinto a full kneeling bow before his dragon liege.

[KnightOfV]

As they walk to the chamber, the wyrmling's head swivels around to meet the gaze of Adrian. The young brass will stare wordlessly at him for a moment then say, "Your eyes look kinda bloodshot, Mrs Griswold says bloodshot eyes mean you were up too late misbehavin' and she should know, I hear her husband is misbehavin' all the time! Is that what you were doing last night and what's misbehavin', mean? Do you get in trouble for it?"

"Decorum, Deadalus. Decorum," Alandair will mutter, and say aloud: "My apologies. Pay him no mind, he is still very young and very immature."

The wyrmling will flicker his tongue out at Alandair as a small defiant child might, then fall back into silence.

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

Adrian seems relieved that he does not need to directly answer the Wyrmling's question. But he does give a salute the to creature at least - after all, it is the equivalent of a prince.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Vanai Henshaw

She stood there, completely drained of any excitement she had left and her heart filled with dread. Not only was Vanai late, she was over 10 minutes late, and her hair was strewn all over her face. Even her skirt had snagged and managed to tear slightly as she bombed down the hallway.

"I..." She muttered, her words caught in her throat. She knew why she was there, but the only thing that came to mind was what the others must have thought of her. Standing there looking like she was indeed wearing rags compared to the rest of the Flight in front of her - they were all donned in their finest armor, and there she was standing in a dress shirt and a skirt. "I'm late, I know, but at least I'm not a coward and refused to show up."

It was strange, but the mousy-looking women standing in front of the rest of the Flight was now standing tall and refused to back down. There was a fire in her eyes and she felt it in her heart - this was what she was meant to do, and there was nothing about to stop her from doing it, late or not. Maybe they chose me for a reason afterall.

[Tyrael]

Meekis

The little Kobold flashes a sharp-toothed grin at her. "Ah, the beatiful maiden rejoins us at last," he purrs as he sweeps his hat off in a courtly bow that would be gentlemanly and gracious if not performed by a two-foot-tall lizard.

"You will find no cowards here," Meekis assures her smoothly as he straightens up. "Come! I believe we have a common summons, yes?"

[FirebirdFlying]

Commander Gerian blinks at Vanai impatiently. "Well," he says as he flicks his eyes up and down, "do remember that the next time you arrive ten minutes late, your companions here may very well be dead. I was under the impression that the training program still includes instruction on discipline - apparently I am wrong. And, Miss Henshaw - I would watch that mouth of yours in front of Inalia. It would hardly be of benefit for someone who depends on her voice so much to lose it, after all. I suppose you could - finesse words out of that lute of yours, if you were lucky. But you do have courage, at least."

Gerian leads you through the great hall that holds much of Inalia's hoard; rich tapestries, long tables inlaid with gold and cherry veneer, finely detailed statues lining the walls. Carpeted stairs lead up to huge doors, and he carelessly barks out a word. They creak open slowly, and he continues through them, emerging out onto a vast plaza, unadorned save for the dragon basking by the bonfire nearly as large as she. She takes no notice until you approach her, then almost lazily turns to watch. She towers over you - her legs alone are twice as tall as even Vanai and Adrian, and she snakes her neck down to their head height, gazing at you with golden eyes. Two tiny heads peer out from behind her front legs, and a small wyrmling bounds out from her place as she flies towards Daedalus, scolding rapidly in Draconic.

Her mother taps one claw sharply against the ground, and the wyrmling scurries back to her side, looking as prim as a tiny dragon can beneath her mother's breast. Inalia's gaze sweeps over the five standing in front of her, and she nods to Gerian. "Dismissed." Her voice is almost artificially soft, and Gerian salutes and walks back down to the building, leaving you alone with the dragons.

[KnightOfV]

Alandair kneels on the ground before the great dragon he swore his life to and bows his head. He speaks in Draconic, <"It is an honor to once again be in your presence, great one. If my life or sword can be of any assistance, they are yours.">

Daedalus gives a quick hiss at his scolding sibling and leaps off of his half-elf's shoulder to stare up in awe at his mother. He clearly wants to hurry over to greet his mother and add more to his argument, but he knows Inalia does not tolerate silliness among her brood and so will only wait, holding himself with all the dignity three years can bring.

[Tyrael]

Meekis

The Kobold kneels as well, doffing his wide hat and lowering his eyes as he waits silently for the dragon's attention and permission to speak.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Vanai

Vanai soon follows suit. She's not in the position to mess up any further; at least not today anyway. Dragons are notoriously good at sensing a lie. She quickly reties her hair and lowers herself in a curtsey before Inalia - while she never really fully understood the importance of having a great leader (mainly out of misunderstanding rather than ignorance), Inalia was a Dragon - specifically the largest one she had ever seen, heard or played about. It was automatic.

[Another_Poet]

A question - does Inalia have a Frightening Presence and does it potentially effect us?

Just in case, a will save - [roll0]

Adrian kneels.

[AngelOmnipotent]

A dragon can "turn it off" if they wish, I believe.

[FirebirdFlying]

She does have a Frightful Presence, and nowhere have I found the ability to turn it off, but it's pretty much a reflection of dragons being frickin' scary. And she has to do something dramatic, such as rearing. Or flying. Or anything that may cause you to fear for your life. So you don't need a Will save just yet.

Inalia grins at you, baring her teeth. "Up, up," she says amusedly, "You are already smaller than me. There is no need to reduce yourselves further." She shakes herself, stretching, and paces around you, leaving her other two wyrmlings sitting by the fire.

"I am afraid I missed your recent ascendance into the ranks of my Flight, and thus have not had a chance to see you - alone, as it were. A fascinating group." She brings her head down to nearly the ground, peering into Meekis' eyes. "Fairly new to my kingdom, aren't you? How does it find you?" Without waiting for an answer, she looks up to Alandair. "And I am glad to hear that. How is my son? He has not been causing you too much trouble?"

[Tyrael]

Meekis isn't being affected by her frightful presence, it's just his own reaction to the ZOMGHUGE dragon.

Meekis

The runty little Kobod climbs to his claws, fishing about for words. The presence of the enormous dragon always seemed to humble him, stripping him of all the social airs and graces he tried to put on. Truthfully, he found it annoying and a bit frightening. Whenever he spoke with Inalia, he felt like he was back in his tribe's tunnel warrens, always the tiny runt that scuttled out of everybody's way. All of his dreams of adventure and glory, suaveness and swashbuckling, always seemed to wither and shrivel in front of the great dragon. She was so old, and somehow so real, that Meekis' ambitions seemed no more than a child playing in the dirt with a stick.

Meekis' smooth tongue seems to dry up in his mouth as he stares into Inalia's enormous eyes, massive orbs that he could literally drown in if they were liquid. I know you, little one, her gaze seemed to say. I know you far better than you know yourself. And I have seen it all before. Every time he walked into Inalia's presence, he was acutely reminded of why his tribe worshipped dragons.

Meekis shrinks down slightly, nervously wringing his hat in his claws. "Yes miss," he squeaks quietly. "I'm new. It's nice here. I'm very glad to be here, miss."

The little Kobold fidgeting and staring at the floor is a far cry from the smooth and suave gentleman-fencer that greeted the rest of the party a few minutes ago. To the others, he looks rather like a little kid playing dress-up.

[KnightOfV]

Alandair stands and responds. <"He is as curious as one would expect and does not always think before he speaks... but he has learned much and I could not ask for a finer companion."> Alandair answers with a small smile of pride.

He holds his composure well for facing the dragon and stares her in the eye while he speaks, mostly because of his unwavering faith and devotion that whatever happens, she has the best interest of the nation and her people at heart. The 'Dracolyte' (as Daedalus playfully liked to call him until the title stuck) swore his life to Inalia in his youth, and whenever he views Inalia he is filled with pride and awe, with only a little of the mind numbing terror that normally comes with viewing such a majestic, terrible creature creeping around to the corners of his thoughts.

[FirebirdFlying]

Inalia nods to Meekis. "I am glad." To Alandair, she smiles as well as a dragon can and, curling one large claw around Daedalus, licks down the wyrmling's back fondly. "Good - I do apologize for his indiscretions. He is young, after all, if endowed with a sense of adventure far beyond his age."

She lets Daedalus go, and rears up suddenly, breathing out a line of white-hot fire up into the air above. As her front legs come back to ground with a thump, she turns to regard you again, this time at her full height.


Oookay, now make a Will save vs. DC 28. No, I don't necessarily expect you to succeed. Meekis, in fact, can't.

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

Adrian rises when he is told.

1d20+9

[Another_Poet]

apologies for the broken code... and thus the double post.

[roll0]

[KnightOfV]

The half-elf gazes up in amazement, loyalty fighting with fear in his mind over the span of half a second. I know she would do nothing to harm me... or any of us. This is just a test... She's going to burn us all to ashesl! RUN you fool! No... just a test, Inalia fights for good...

Alandair actually has a chance, Dragonfriend feat gives him a +4 bonus to the frightful presence of good dragons! Daedalus, being a dragon should be immune, I think.[roll0]

[KnightOfV]

Overwhelming panic overtakes the Alandair, but just before he gives in he silently prays, I will not shame myself before my queen! By Bahamut... I will not give in to fear!!


Using my luck domain power to reroll my save :smallbiggrin: Last chance... [roll0]

[Tyrael]

Even if I had the option of a Will save, I would intentionally fail it for comedic effect.

Meekis

Meekis huddles on the ground, shaking in mute terror. The little Kobold cringes and seems to be trying to hide behind his hat. Two watery orange eyes peep timidly over its brim. Meekis appears to try to scrunch himself down to be as small and nonthreatening as possible, the result being a tiny little quivering heap of dismay that stares up at the dragon in stark terror.


Meekis is only 1'10 thanks to Slight Build, so when he scrunches up in fear, he's actually smaller than a basketball!

Koboldball, anyone? :smallbiggrin:

"YeeeEEEEEKK" --SPLAT.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Vanai

"Holyhellfirecrumbsthatisonebigdragonpleasedon'tbre atheonmeeeeeee" Splutters Vanai in an attempt to keep her composure, her eyes squinting and her grip over her precious lute ever-tightening. At this point she very readily falls to her knees in awe.


Will Save! [roll0]

And I will actually make a post in this thread without having to edit it one day...

[FirebirdFlying]

A strange, half-coughing, half-wheezing sound comes from Inalia's throat - it takes you a minute to realize she is laughing. "Too young." She tilts her head a little, and a powerful wave of relief passes over you, accompanied by a resolve tinted with the feeling of magic. "Should you ever doubt in my power, remember this day. Should you ever doubt in my compassion…remember everything that is good about this nation, and pray that it continues to overshadow that which is evil." She returns back to her fire, herding her other two wyrmlings with her tail. "You are dismissed." Her eyes bore into each of yours, one by one, and she then turns to her children, gently curling a paw around each one.

"…Daedalus." She switches to Draconic, head still turned away. "You can still choose to stay here. There is no one forcing you to go. It is dangerous, you realize."

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

After running back behind some of the others and throwing his hands up to shield himself, Adrian realises it was just a test. He manages to regain his composure.... somewhat. He is still shaking as he salutes his queen and follows her order to leave.

Soon he is back outside and unsure of what awaits them next.

[Tyrael]

Meekis

In a blink of an eye, the tiny Kobold has vanished. Outside the chamber, he slowly regains his composude, and by the time everyone else exits, his hat is back on and he once more oozes poise and gentlemanly grace. He sketches a flourishing bow to the rest of the party as they rejoin him.

55ft movement speed, whee!

[KnightOfV]

Alandair can't help but tremble. Not from fear anymore, that disappeared with Inalia's blessing, but with shame for being frightened in the first place. He did not notice the others reactions but he certainly cringed, and may have even cried out... gods he hoped he had not cried out.

Daedalus will respond in Draconic, <"Thank you, mother. I have so much to say to you about all I've learned, and I miss you. But I still have so much more to see and learn and so many people to share the gift of my conversation with, and... and... Alandair needs me.">

"Come ON, Sir," whispers Daedalus in common while tugging on Alandair's cape with his teeth. "You're making me look bad. Remember your decorum stuff."

Alandair will regain his composure, bowing one last time to the great dragon before walking away humbled. Daedalus will fly to his shoulder curled snugly around his human's neck, though he can't help looking back at Inalia and his siblings. They go out the way they came in, each lost in his own thoughts.

[FirebirdFlying]

As you enter the hall, a woman in the uniform of the Twilight crashes through the doors on the other side. There are four others standing there; Commander Gerian, facing a wide-eyed elf recognizable as Varnaki Perth of the same Twilight Flight, and the two remaining members - Terri Damkin and Estevan Inalia - standing uncomfortably on the other side. Gerian is muttering an incantation, and finishes his quick gestures as you come in. The woman - Yulia Perth - steps forward, fists up, and cries, "Sir!"

None of them take notice of you yet.


And before you ask, Inalia's just a surname those who don't have surnames tend to use when people ask for their surname. Tanrus/Tanria Inalia, in fact, is basically the equivalent of John/Jane Doe in the US.


Poet, Angel:

Spellcraft checks, if you feel like it. It's not really necessary, but if Vanai or Adrian would pay attention, go for it.

And Angel, I'm just assuming you go with them to speed things along a little and get out of this goshdurn city; if that's not the case, or you want to add in something extra, it's fine if you retcon it in. Unless you, I dunno, attack somebody, requiring more retconning, aka probably deleting this. Which would also be fine, just a little odd.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Definitely interested in what is being cast, [roll0] if only to understand what type of casters they are and who we're working with.

Sorry for the delay in posting, weird time zones make strange timing.

Vanai stands up from her cowering position and regains composure just in time to hear the words 'dismissed'. Still mostly unawares of what exactly is going on having missed the start of the meeting, she follows the rest out after giving a bow to her Queen before leaving.

"I don't mean to sound heartless," she addresses everyone with her question, "but what exactly happened to the last members of the flight anyway? I seemed to have missed that memo..."

At that point her words are cut off with the Twilight Flight bursting in through the doors.

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

Adrian peers at the excitement, more than a little curious - and more than a lot worried for Perth's safety after his drunken display last night.

[roll0]

[AngelOmnipotent]

"I get the distinct feeling that I'm missing something here." Vanai mutters to the others, but keeping herself to herself and just observing the events that are currently transpiring.

She couldn't help but go over in her head that she didn't know what happened to the previous members of the Flight, and what exactly she was meant to be doing. As far as she was concerned she just got scared half to death by an almighty dragon, and got told to complete a mission she was convinced she's no good for.

Why didn't I just settle down with the guy mother tried to set me up with.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining about lack of info but I'm not - she's an over-analyzing, slightly paranoid, clueless ditz when it comes to normal actions and trains of thought :smallbiggrin:

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

Adrian's expression immediately switched to one of anger at the scene before him. He walks purposefully toward the commander.

"Commander Gerian, I must object! Charming the mind of one of your own men - how could you!"

He manages not to outright cuss at his superior officer, but his tone is pretty far down the wrong side of respectful. He's out of line and he knows it. But that's been his whole career, and if Gerian or Inalia wanted him on this team they knew what they were inviting.

Now he stares at the erstwhile war hero with a demanding, outraged glare.

[KnightOfV]

Daedalus will watch the scene unfold unblinking, trying to piece together what might be happening from the gossip he's heard about the Twilight members. In the meantime, Alandair will clear his throat loudly, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation even unintentionally.

[roll0] for the wyrmling if it helps...

[AngelOmnipotent]

Vanai

Vanai steps forward and grabs the sleeve of Adrian - completely out of character but she felt almost compelled to.

"Adrian! Are you a madman?!" She exclaims, "What makes it any of your business in the first place? We have specifically been told to keep ourselves to ourselves. I really don't think that now is the time to make such a scene."

[KnightOfV]

"Commander? With all due respect, what is going on here?" Alandair asks, confused but certain there is a good explanation for everything. His instincts as mediator take over and he spaces himself equally between Gerian and Adrian.

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

Adrian looks back and forth between his partners' faces - Vanai's disapproval and Alandair's calm questioning - and then looks expectantly at Gerian, waiting for an answer.

[KnightOfV]

"I get IT!" Daedalus suddenly cheers, his voice breaking the tense silence into a billion pieces. "Mr. glassy-eyed Varnaki over here has been drinking alcohol like water ever since his 'good friend' Benny," the wyrmling winks to emphasize those two words, a strangely human expression for a dragon, "that's Beniwalen Akalan d'Arethlare of the Dawn Flight, by the way, was murdered along with the rest of his unit by the rebels who call themselves the Fire Within!! Since alcohol in large doses makes humanoids stupid and paranoid, (except for dwarves because Mr. Ironshield the tavern keeper says dwarves have a seperate stomach for alcohol), Varnaki probably just woke up from drinking and maybe even misbehavin' all night, and decided that his buddy's death is all Commander Gerain's fault somehow! So Varnaki gathers up his courage, gets his unit together so he can feel tougher, and throws a hissy-fit in front of the Commander, and the Commander decides he better subdue him with a spell rather than letting poor, hung-over Varnaki go on and on and on and embarrass himself more! That's why the rest of his unit are standing back letting it happen- they know he had it coming!! And no one wants to say anything aloud about it because they all want to save face for Varnaki!!!"

Thrilled that he 'figured it out', the wyrmling starts flying circles around the stunned group in his excitement and making his odd draconic laugh with glee.

OOC: No idea how much of that is right or not, but that's what Daedalus thinks according to his 'knowledge'. Time to sit back and watch the fireworks now...

[FirebirdFlying]

Gerian's glare - focused on Adrian - settles back to his normal frown. "Lord Daedalus has it right, of course. It is merely a spell to calm emotions and remove toxins from the system." He makes a small gesture at Varnaki, who blinks, stumbling forward slightly - Estevan moves to catch him. "Now, I suggest you turn in early to -"

Yulia's voice comes shrill and angry. "Lizard's dung! Does it take ten minutes to cast? Ten minutes - " she sends a murderous glare at Terri and Estevan " - which I spent on a wild goose chase for the admiral of the third fleet, who happens to be in Nortan? Undo it! Undo it, or I'll undo your face!"

Gerian's glare returns full force. "First of all, you have not the right nor power to threaten - to question - me. Second, no, it does not take ten minutes to cast, but there was some effort put in to subdue your cousin, as apparently he is as agile as usual even when drunk, should he feel like being so. And there is no harm done to him - ask him. He's right here, after all." He turns back to the Dawn one last time. "Eloire - if Miss Perth here has not the authority to question me, believe well that you do not either. I shall never be able to fathom why d'Arethlare chose you as his successor, but considering his - association - with certain others in this room, I suppose I should not be surprised." He stalks out of the hall, while the others stand in tense silence.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Vanai

Sighing, Vanai rolls her eyes at the events transpiring in front of her. She had no interest in other's affairs unless it concerned her - it isn't as if she would be working with these people from now on. They were on their own in their missions, no swapping Flights - they had been told that from the start.

"If they choose to employ such out of control ruffians to the Flight, maybe being chosen myself wasn't such a big deal afterall." Vanai mutters to herself, not really caring if anyone overhears her. Aside from Inalia herself, her first impressions of her new commanders and comrades had been less than ideal.

Even more out of character Vanai decides to speak up directing her question at the Commander with a look of pure determination on her face. "Now, I appreciate that we're new and wet behind the ears. I get it. I really do. But we were chosen for a reason to replace the people you lost. We're not stupid and we're more than worth the time of day it takes for you to tell us what is going on here. I'd like to think that the elite guard in charge of the defense of our great nation doesn't fall apart due to some petty teenage-like drama. We have a mission to do and I'd like a bit more info rather than a minor briefing. I value my life too highly to walk blindly into something that members of the Flight have already died trying to attempt."

She takes a deep breath and steps forward, slamming her hand down on the table. "I'm sorry those people died, I truly am, but if you're going to help prevent more deaths then we need to know what mistakes they made and what got them killed."

Her throat closed up the moment she finished her rant. The colour drained from her face and her stomach rose to remind her of how stupid she had just been to make demands. She had to force herself not to vomit over the table she was leaning against with pure panic.

Everything was just making her second guess once again whether she had woken up in her own mind this morning, or someone else's.

[FirebirdFlying]

Gerian stops at the door, turning to look at Vanai.

"Answers? I would love to give you them. Unfortunately, Miss Henshaw, we don't know the answers. Dawn all but disappeared six months ago with no contact beyond brief sendings to confirm they were alive. We know as little as you do, and as much as we pretend to know more to keep civilians happy, in this case, you have to be the ones to find out. I'd like to say we've employed all resources at our disposal to find information for you, but at this point you are the resources. We have a few contacts in the city, and you're to be given the information on them tomorrow morning. As for out-of-control ruffians - " he glances over at Perth " - I do not appoint Guardsmen to the Flights. Most of them I respect, Miss Henshaw, and believe me when I say I do not disrespect you beyond your inexperience. Some of them need to learn to toe the line." He leaves, with a look over his shoulder. "Tomorrow morning, dawn, my office."

As he speaks, Yulia has been whispering to Varnaki, who frowns and, twisting out of her grasp, disappears in a flash of shadow. She stands for a moment, then whirls around and runs out the door, cursing.

Estevan and Terri look at each other, and Estevan turns to face Vanai. "It's not such a secret, but we're always surprised when we reach a level we thought beyond us and find the people there to be just as flawed as we. Despite what you think of him, Varnaki Perth was a good teammate and friend - as is Yulia, and your new Flight. For being in such a dangerous occupation, he knew surprisingly little about death, and that came out in the last few days.

"Aldos Gerian is not out for your deaths. To him, we are all valuable resources, and he does not throw those away. And - " he cracks a small smile " - the elite guard in charge of our nation's defense is rather depressingly petty, at times, but in no danger of falling apart."

[AngelOmnipotent]

Vanai

"Yes... well..." Vanai steps back sheepishly. "That's alright then isn't it."

She was considering the guild's offer of a portable hole, because then the ground could really open up and swallow her.

[Tyrael]

I'm a bit confused. I thought we were all dismissed out of the dragon's chamber? Where/when is all this taking place, then?

[Another_Poet]

Adrian

Adrian shuts his mouth and stays quiet as the truth of the matter comes out, and through the ensuing argument. Even though he was the first one to challenge the commander, most of the ire was directed at Vanai for her tirade.


"If they choose to employ such out of control ruffians to the Flight, maybe being chosen myself wasn't such a big deal afterall."

Adrian happens to catch her mumbling this, and looks at her in surprise. Apparently he's not the only one with a less-than-perfect service record. Maybe she's right, he thinks.

Shaking his head, he gets ready to slink out of the palace and back to his own quarters, if they aren't needed anymore today...


@Tyrael: in the antechamber or hallway outside of the throne room, it seems.

@Firebird: Are we fast-forwarding to tomorrow morning, or what's next?

[AngelOmnipotent]

I believe all the wibbly-dream-stuff happens when we fall asleep. Heh. I want to make my character an insomniac now just to be awkward :smallamused:

[FirebirdFlying]

@Tyrael: The hall you're in contains quite a bit of Inalia's hoard, but she isn't actually in it; she's outside, up the stairs, on a plaza.

@Poet: Well, it's early afternoon right now; you can go ahead and fast forward to nighttime. If you need to pick something up in the city, go ahead and do that. Once everyone's gone to bed, we're in dreamland.

Vanai, for instance, might want to talk with her artificer friend.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ooh ok, hint taken :smallbiggrin: Damn, almost forgotten about Leadership too. Is that Salyssa by the way? If it is, I'll edit this post and say what happens.

[FirebirdFlying]

No, it's not necessarily Salyssa, but if you want her to be she is. Whoever you feel like, really.

[KnightOfV]

Alandair sighs and rests a hand over his face for a second in a quick expression of his exasperation. Problems at home and abroad, and it seems like his dragon was not the only one who did not know when to keep his mouth shut. Patience, patience...It had been an eventful afternoon.

Trying to chase the mood away, he bows to his new teammates and says, "It seems we are to be working together for quite a while. Some of you I know of, but I do not believe we have all been properly introduced thanks to all of the... commotion today. I am Alandair Numanai, servant of Inalia and Bahamut. If I can be of any assistance to you, please do not hesitate to talk to me. It is a pleasure to be working with all of you." With a wave of his hand, the wrymling returns to his shoulder and yawns mightily.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Vanai

"I am Vanai Henshaw, as I'm sure you've heard already. Big mouth extraordinaire, it seems." She sighs heavily and shakes her head at her own actions. "If you'll excuse me I have some business to attend to. Namely making sure that I woke up with my own mind today..." She mutters something inaudiable as she wanders off, somewhat spacey, tuning her Lute as she walks.

--

It takes her a while to arrive, but Vanai finally gets to the University and knocks on Salyssa's office.

Tap Tap. Pause. Tap Tap Tap. Pause. Ta-Tap.

Click

The door unlocks and she stumbles in to see Salyssa working diligently on some paperwork. "I didn't think I'd see you again today. You didn't get in too much trouble, did you?"

"I can't say that I did. At least not about being late anyway..." Vanai slumps down into the comfy-chair by the fire and sighs. "It's best not to talk about it. However I do want to know if we've had any word from the council though - do we have the green light for funding or not? I may have need for the workshop sometime soon."

[FirebirdFlying]

Did you want me to RP Salyssa, or are you taking control?

[AngelOmnipotent]

You can do it, I don't mind. It was just a thrown-in sentance to make it flow a little better.

[Another_Poet]

Adrian (at the castle)

"I'm Eloire. Adrian Eloire. Formerly a Captain in the army... now, a Wing."

Adrian states the titles perfunctorily, as if it's expected of him. He does not seem to be bragging in any way.

[KnightOfV]

If Alandair is miffed by the woman's abrupt departure he does not show it. He nods at the professional sounding Adrian, he does look tired, probably was up working late last night and turns to look for the kobold. Not seeing small flight member, (either because Alandair is oblivious or because he is not there) the dracolyte responds, "I have some duties of my own I should look in to, as do you I am sure. Until tomorrow then."

"Goodbye! Thrilled to meet you all! Let's talk more later I hope we can all be the bestest of fri..."the little wyrm's voice fades in the distance as Alandair walks down the hall to his quarters.

[FirebirdFlying]

@Angel:

Let's take it to PM, then, if you please.


Assuming y'all have done what you need/want to do…

The sun rises bright and early over the small camp, illuminating first the remains of the fire and stretching out over the waking people, the horse (tethered to a small wagon), the bare stretch of road beyond. A man is already awake - as your mind sharpens into the memories of this world, you recognize him as Tormin, who hired you to guard him and his family between the towns of Tenstone and River's End.

[Another_Poet]

So these are our 1st level dream characters then? What camp are they in? Can I assume we all know each other, since we were all hired for the same job?

Also, one more question.... do our 1st level characters dream of our high-level characters, or just the other way around?

[FirebirdFlying]

Yes - they're just in a small camp composed of a wagon (with unknown contents), a donkey, Tormin, his pregnant wife, his daughter, and the four of them. You know each other a little - you've been on the road a couple of days, and so may have gotten to know each other during that time.

And your 1st level characters don't dream of the 10th level ones. They are also not lucid dreams - Adrian can't control Rafale, he only wakes up with the knowledge of what Rafale has done.

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Rafale walks the perimeter of the camp, peering for a long moment in each direction before moving on to the next. He looks energetic and alert, especially for someone who just got up; his eyes are bright, his henna-dyed hair is spiked as if there is no such thing as bedhead, and his nicely cut doublet is clean and well-cared for under his burnished chain vest.

The swordsman completes his circuit and nods a greeting to Tormin. He has proven himself not to be the talkative type, yet he seems friendly enough. He walks with a self-contained confidence, not noticing the weight of the two crossbows slung from his bandolier. The weapons don't match, and seem an odd fit for someone who is clearly more of a fencer than a shooter.

He approaches the wagon and picks up with leather-fronted wooden shield, which had hung there for the night. He fits its straps to his arm and then goes to check on the animals.

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

The rays of dawn peek over a bedroll near the fire, and slowly creep across until they are over a certain half-elf's eyes. The half-elf sits up with a start, gasping as if he had been stabbed and tries to throw the tangled blankets off him with little success. He raises a hand to shield his eyes from the light shining directly at him and rolls around a moment on the dirt before managing to extricate himself from the bedroll. The bedding looked twisted even before his awakening, as if the occupant had been thrashing about during the night, and though the night was cool the man's hair is matted down with perspiration.

"What was that nightmare? Or was it a vision..." Magnus whispers and shivers a little thinking about the massive platinum dragon that gazed at him in his sleep with teeth that could rend mountains and eyes that could pierce the soul. It had spoke to him in a strange growling hiss and said-- nothing he could understand certainly. He didn't speak dragon after all. It was just a dream.

Magnus is wearing only a pair of breeches, an undershirt, and a leather cord around his neck with a wood carving of a dragon at its center. He scratches at his longish, unkempt brown hair and glances around the camp with squinting green eyes. His few possessions: a worn chain shirt, weather stained boots, knapsack with one strap falling off, a serviceable cloak, an old wooden shield propped up on the pack, and lastly a large pick slightly rusted in places, lay lying in a pile near him. Usually he would mutter over how early it was, but being spooked by his dream he climbs to his knees and offers prayers to Bahamut as he was taught, asking for strength and luck on the journey ahead and praying that they might all arrive safely.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

Ganaliel walks over to the fire and with a few deep breaths it starts to crackle and a low flame rumbles over the new wood. She sits there, pondering what makes fire so beautiful and heartwarming first thing in the morning. She had always had an affinity with it as a child - always going around setting small fires and just sitting there, watching them. Of course she'd always be safe. Or try to... She's still paying off the reconstruction of the Steward family barn.

Pulling out her graffiti-coated lute she checks the tuning, then starts to play a soft morning ballad with a grace that, judging by looking at her, you wouldn't think she'd ever possess in a thousand lifetimes.

Her hair was jet black and tied back tight reaching all the way down her back. Her clothes were outlandish, but it seemed to suit her and her personality as she greets everyone as they wake up with a judge-less smile.

[Tyrael]

Leon de Scaramanga

As dawn pierces the sky, it finds a tall, gangly man with white sun-bleached hair crouched by a nearby stream away from camp, dashing the cold water in his face. He squints his startlingly emerald green eyes and flicks the water out of his hair, staring at his reflection in the water. His face is high and narrow, with prominent cheekbones and a neatly-trimmed white circle beard. A long, deep blue cloak with silver tracery adorns his shoulders, and an exquisitely tailored black leather outfit covers his body from head to toe. A slender rapier, still in its sheath, rests on the grass nearby next to a wide-brimmed black hat.

The man stares into the water for a moment. "What da hell was all dat crap last night, huh?" he mutters in a clipped, lower class accent (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IX__swbUwag). He shakes his head. Cupping some water in his hand, he drinks and coughs a few times to clear his throat.

"Ahem. Ahahum. Gggentlemen. Shall we?" His voice is suddenly transformed into the vain sneer of a rich nobleman (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urfr34iy3sk&feature=related). He grins at his reflection in the water.

Standing back up, he belts his rapier back on, dons and adjusts his hat, and then with a dramatic flourish of his cape he strides off back towards the camp.

Leon de Scaramanga steps close to the breakfast fire and smiles at Ganaliel. "An exquisite song that pales in comparison to your beauty, milady," he purrs smothly. "How does this morning find you, hmm?"

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

Ganaliel smiles at the ever-charming Leon. "It's a lot brighter now I have a handsome man who appreciates my music." Even though they hadn't been travelling long together, she'd liked his style and his wit, although at times he could be a bit too serious for her liking and too much of his own biggest fan.

"Tormin, how about you?" Ganaliel carries on playing as she gets up to wander around the camp. "I trust your night was a restful one, and too for your wife?"

[KnightOfV]

Magnus will suddenly open his eyes, realizing that the rest of the camp had awakened and started getting ready while he had been kneeling there. Feeling a little sheepish, he will stand and start to pull his boots on silently. He wasn't sure if it was his familiar prayers, or the beautiful melody of Ganaliel that had calmed his nerves, but he was feeling better now. "Morning everyone," he will say rubbing a hand through unruly hair, self-consciously making sure both of his pointed ears were covered and smiling at the lute player. l want to compliment her playing, but I'd just sound silly following up that smooth talker... Aloud he says, "Give me just a minute to get ready," and rushes down to the nearby stream to rinse off his face and take care of his other morning needs.

On the way, passing the perimeter of the camp he waves at Rafale in his nice doublet. Both of the other hired men here have much nicer clothing than me... maybe they're planning on dancing with any brigands we meet on the road rather then bashing their skulls in he thinks idly. Still, they seemed good enough, at least if they'd noticed his mixed heritage, they'd kept their thoughts to themselves.

[FirebirdFlying]

Tormin nods at Ganaliel. "Yes, thanks much." He is eating - a cold, thick sludge, obviously reconstituted from the sack sitting at his feet. "We'll be off soon's you're ready, of course - get to River's End by evening." He finishes the gruel, scraping his bowl clean. "Missus'll be riding in the wagon again - baby's got her sick awful bad. Always was prone to such things - like that with Rosie, too. Speaking of - " He stands, bowl in hand, and gathers up his sack. " - I'm off to get her awake. City life spoiled the girl."

About twenty minutes later, Tormin and his daughter are ready to go.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

"Now where were we going again? I never did have a good short-term memory..." Ganaliel stands, stows away her lute and starts to pack up the rest of her things ready to leave, waking up any others that might still be sleeping.

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

The half-elf returns from the stream, and starts donning his armor. As he pulls on his metal linked shirt he replies to the musician's question, "to the town of River's End, I believe. I've never been, but I've never been much of anyplace."

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

"Well whenever everyone else is ready to leave, I think we should get on our way." She dusts herself down and leers slightly at the state of her clothes. "And I don't know about you guys, but I definitely miss the home-comforts of a good inn room."

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

The henna-haired human with the scimitar has the wagon all set. He walks over to the others not for conversation, but just to see if they're finally ready to go. But he catches the tail end of their talk and comments simply, "River's End... kind of a joke. Not much of a town, really. Come on, we're heading out!"

If need be, he'll go and take the reins of the wagon himself to get them underway. No need to stand around all day.

[Tyrael]

Leon

"Ah, but of course. Shall we, gggentlemen?" Leon practically purrs. He leaps aboard one of the wagons and waves an extravagant flourish with his equally extravagant hat. "Ze sun waits for no man!"

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

The armored man quickly slings his shield over his back and slips his weapon into a loop in his belt. "I'm all ready."

[FirebirdFlying]

Right, I can take a hint. (I think…)
The journey is much the same as it has been for the past few days - the road passes through mainly unused farmland, with long-abandoned huts scattered among the flat expanse. Near the middle of the day, Tormin pauses for a few minutes to eat; as the group begins to move again, a small figure starts to become visible on the horizon. It moves slowly, almost tripping over its own feet, and as it comes closer - still hundreds of yards away - you can see it is in fact a man, hunched over and badly scarred, wearing only tattered rags.

[Tyrael]

Leon

The nobleman sighs. "Well, zis was a disappointment!" Leon peers at the man from under his hat and spits onto the side of the road. "Pah. It ees only a filthy beggar, one who is no doubt poor and Irish foreign. Move along please, driver."

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

Magnus glares at Leon, but controls himself enough not to say anything. He immediately feels compassion for this limping, destitute man and will hop down from his perch on the wagon. "He looks like he's injured... or just on the point of starvation. Either way he needs help." Without another word he heads toward the man at a jog.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

Keeping her distance, Ganaliel waits by the cart just in case anyone needs assistance. She'd never liked mingling with beggars, especially since even the best of them tended to have fleas.

"Is everything okay over there?"

[FirebirdFlying]

Magnus:

As you come closer, you begin to smell the stench of decay coming from the man. When you're about fifteen feet away, his head turns up, and you can clearly see his eyes are gone, long rotted away into his worm-ridden flesh.

Roll AC - don't forget the combat post format, please!

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

With a yell, Magnus backs up a step almost tripping over himself. The scene before his eyes is horrifying, and his cry is filled with disgust and fear. "Thi-this things a walking corpse!!"

Bahamut, help me, he silently prays while fingering his necklace as he always does when he is nervous. Strangely, as soon as he touches the carved wood he feels invigorated. I have to protect the wagon- that innocent family is counting on me. The half-elf will pull the weapon from his belt and ready his shield, newly determined not to let this... thing past him.

Casts Virtue with his standard action, draws weapon and shield with move.

Half-elf Cleric 1
Location: 15 feet from 'beggar'
HP 14/13 | AC:[roll0] Touch: -5 FF: -0
Special: None
Spells Active: Virtue (1 Minute)

Get I get all that right?

[Tyrael]

Leon

The swashbuckler snorts. "A walking corpse? As I said: Poor and foreign." He raises an eyebrow when Magnus draws his weapon. "...What, you meant literally? Ah, zis is a bit more interesting!"

Leon hops down off the cart and saunters over curiously.

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Rafale doesn't waste time. Upon hearing Magnus' warning he draws the larger of his two crossbows (move action) and fires at the corpse (standard action).


1dd20+4 (add +1 more if it is within 30' of us please)
[roll0]

[Another_Poet]

oops, sorry

[roll0] (add +1 more if it is within 30' of us please)

[FirebirdFlying]

Magnus' shield goes up as Rafale's bolt whistles past him - narrowly missing the creature and spiraling down into the dirt. It stares at Magnus with its empty eye sockets, and lumbers toward him, slamming its body into his shield. The shock sends waves up his arm, and he staggers for a moment, dazed and bruised.

Leon walks closer to the scene - he is still about a hundred feet away - while Ganaliel comes around the side of the cart just in time to see the thing attack Magnus.


Magnus takes 5 damage. (And yeah, that's the format, thanks! I'll post a map of this if you want, but I hoped it wasn't entirely necessary.)
No, this is not the SRD zombie, exactly.

[Tyrael]

Leon

Leon jogs closer, interested.

Hustling until I'm within 45 or 50 ft.

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Both of Rafel's crossbows are on shoulder straps, so as he lets the first one drop from his hands it swings back and forth at his side. He doesn't bother with the other one, instead rushing forward and casting a spell.

Let go of heavy x-bow (free), move 30' (move), cast Disrupt Undead (standard).

[roll0]
[roll1]

Rafale, Human Duskblade1 (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=145445)
Location: 30' in front of the wagon
HP 10/10 | AC:[roll2] Touch: -4 FF: -3
(shield not worn)
Special: None
Spells Active: None

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

Crying out in defiance, the mercenary will swing his pick at the walking corpse, hoping to bury the spike deep inside it. After the attack he will remember the bolt that came near him and back up a few steps to give Rafale a clear shot

[roll0] then take 5 foot step back.

Half-elf Cleric 1
Location: 5 feet from 'beggar'
HP 9/13 | AC:[roll1]Touch: -5 FF: -0
Special: None
Spells Active:

[KnightOfV]

Sorry for double post, forgot damage in case it hits.[roll0]

[AngelOmnipotent]

Crap sorry, my browser has been messing up and only now properly refreshed this thread =X

Ganaliel

Unfortunately this was what Ganaliel was dreading - combat. She had no prowess whatsoever, but she thought that she had nothing to lose by drawing her shortbow and taking a shot.


Attack: [roll0] (although probably at -4 for firing into Melee
Damage: [roll1]

Human Bard 1
Location: Beside the Cart
HP 8/8 | AC:[roll2] Touch: -3 FF: -2
Special: None
Spells Active: None

[FirebirdFlying]

The creature jerks slightly as a ray of white light sears into its skin, then silently howls as Magnus' pick slices through its chest and drags rotting flesh away. It lunges forward and snaps at him, crunching on his shield ineffectively and breaking off some of its own teeth.

Ganaliel's arrow flies by, whistling past where the thing had been moments ago.

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Rafale doesn't go any closer, as it seems they have the creature blocked and unable to approach the wagon. He unleashes another spell at it. Just in case, he then straps his shield to his arm to prepare for melee.

Casting Disrupt Undead (standard), then readying my shield (move).

[roll0] (subtract 4 if I'm firing into melee)
[roll1]

Rafale, Human Duskblade1 (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=145445)
Location: 30' in front of the wagon
HP 10/10 | AC:[roll2] Touch: -6 FF: -3
(shield not worn)
Special: None
Spells Active: None

[KnightOfV]

Was going to wait for Angel or Tyrael to take another action, but I'll go ahead and post in an attempt to revive the thread.

Invigorated by his success, Magnus will attack again then back away to try to avoid friendly fire and lure the abomination a little closer to the nearby Leon.


[roll0] then back away 5 feet.
Half-elf Cleric 1
Location: 5 feet from 'beggar'
HP 9/13 | AC:[roll1]Touch: -5 FF: -0
Special: None
Spells Active:

EDIT:Forgot damage again!! It's 1d6+2, you can roll for me if it hits

[Tyrael]

Leon

The nobleman strides forward confidently, his cloak billowing in the wind as he draws forth a gleaming, exquisite rapier. Raising the guard to his lips, he ritually salutes the abomination as he approaches, his face cold and disdainful. A sneer twists his lips as he reaches the creature, and with a snort of revulsion he lunges forward, the razor-sharp tip sinking into the creature's hide.

Move Action: Approach and draw rapier
Standard Action: [roll0]
[roll1]

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

Somehow managing to stop herself from panicking as she catches a glimpse of the monster's eyes. Or lack thereof. She knows she hasn't got a chance of hitting it with anyone else in the way so she ***** another arrow and takes aim until she can get a clear shot.

Human Bard 1
Location: Beside the Cart
HP 8/8 | AC:[roll0] Touch: -3 FF: -2
Special: Held Action until she can fire clearly.
Spells Active: None

Attack for when there is a clear shot: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

[AngelOmnipotent]

*readies another arrow :smallannoyed:

[FirebirdFlying]

Cold metal crunches through the thing's dessicated chest, and if it still had vocal chords it could have screamed as it flails forward against the pick with both hands. Whatever vocal chords it could have had, however, would have been severed by the rapier going through its neck a split-second later.

As the rapier withdraws, the body falls to the ground with a thud, tendrils of shadow escaping from its form. The frantic footsteps of Tormin come running from the cart, skidding to halt beside Leon with a nocked and pitted shortsword in hand. He stares down at it, gaping, and backs away when it becomes apparent it isn't moving. "Uh - " he chokes out, glancing back at the cart and Ganaliel beside it. "Let's - where did it - " He stands indecisively, whispering, "What is it?"

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

She's still on her guard, (and remembering what her font colour is!) but Ganaliel lowers her bow and walks over to the body of what they had just slain. Somehow she has a morbid curiosity and refrains from poking the body with a stick, for lack of better terms. "That's just... gross."

However she does move around any items of clothing that the body had with the tip of an arrow to see if there is any identification papers or anything similar.

Search: [roll0]

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

The fighter is visibly sagging breathing heavily, exhausted from the intensity of the combat. As he takes deep breaths, the sight and smell of the rotted corpse begins to affect him. He will back away, tasting the bile in his throat and making a conscious effort to ignore the stuff all over his pick. "That thing... evil. We... we should give it... a burial. Or burn it... Can't leave it... in the road..." He says trying to catch his breath and not be sick. He had killed before, and the smell of blood did not bother him, but this thing was unnatural.

[Tyrael]

Leon calmly wipes the blood off his blade with his handkerchief, and then draws forth another one which he holds to his nose to ward off the stench.

"Whatever it was, we should press on unless we wish to find more," he snaps. "May I make a suggestion? Dump it at ze side of ze road and continue. If zere are more about, I don't want to vait around to find out."

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Rafale looks down at the corpse. "The buzzards won't take it. We really should bury it."

He then begins to kick sand over the body. 2 inches or so are more than enough to satisfy his moral concerns.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

"Regardless of what it is now, it was once a man. A living being like you and I and probably with a family too. Now if you don't mind I'd like to see if this man has any identity before we just dump it at the side of the road."

Ganaliel seems extremely flustered by this. She couldn't understand that the first thing on anyone's mind was to just discard someone like that; whether it was a twisted figure or a bandit, their family if they had one still deserved to know that they were gone.

"And for you lot?" She scowls at the people who are trying to hold their stomach. "If I can hold my stomach and show some respect, then you should be able to, too. Now come over here and stop letting a woman do all the work."

She ended the sentence with a hidden smirk. Whether it was her pleading eyes, innocent smile or her busty figure that got her own way she wasn't sure, but she didn't mind which it was.

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Rafale stops kicking sand over the body. He tactitly kneels down beside it. He looks it over for any long-healed scars, or tattoos, or other identifying marks that might allow them to locate its, or his, former family.

((Firebird, are there any such identifying marks visible? If need be I'll use my sword to flip the body over.))

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

"Ummm... yes Ma'am," Magnus replies to Ganaliel, his face feeling strangely warm. Sucking it up, he will walk back to the corpse the others are crowded around. Not having anything else to do since the others are poking it, he will mutter a prayer to Bahamut for the departed soul, fingering his necklace unconsciously. He is ready to help bury or move the body when they are done searching it.

[FirebirdFlying]

As Ganaliel prods gently at the corpse, she finds nothing but masses of dead maggots around the eyes and mouth and that the skin tends to slough off rather easily. Rafale's inspection, too, finds nothing; the face is swollen beyond recognition, and the body has a green tinge fading into black, especially along the shoulders; the nails have come off of the hands. Further disturbing of the body only causes fluids to seep out from blisters on the skin and the skin to peel away more. Whatever dark magic held the corpse together is now disappeared, and even as Rafale kneels by it flies have begun to gather.

Tormin swallows, and at Ganaliel's speech nods. "We should…bury it. Ahm…Rosie! Stay in the wagon!" He turns back to the group. "I…have a shovel."

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

"Please. Allow me to dig the grave."

He will take the shovel from Tormin and work until the grave is at least 2-3 feet deep without complaint.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

Ganaliel takes a blanket and drapes it over the body, but keeping her distance as she does so. Even if she won't be able to give word to the man's family it was the least she could do. She might not seem the most respectful person at the best of times, but if it was one thing that she respected most of all, it was death.

[Another_Poet]

Firebird, what is the man wearing?

If nothing else, we could describe his clothing.

[FirebirdFlying]

The man is wearing fairly unremarkable linen clothing; it is ripped and torn in some places, with a large hole through the chest. He is barefoot. He is not wearing any jewelry.

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Rafale stands up on top of the wagon and scans the horizon for signs of other undead, or any moving creatures. ((Take 20 on Spot, total 17.))

((Assuming he sees none:))

Once the grave is dug he'll help roll the corpse in, without touching it with his bare hands, and he'll help fill sand in over it. Then he says simply,

"Tormin, might be in your best interest if some of us follow its tracks a bit while you push on with the wagon. If there are more of them on the way, we shouldn't let them get near you."

He looks at the others. "Do we have any trackers?"

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

"I can't say that I'm any good at tracking, but if we encounter anymore of those things I can definitely sing our way to victory, if that helps." Ganaliel blushes a little, feeling rather useless in an outside environment.

[Another_Poet]

Firebird, do I see any more of these buggers or any other signs of trouble with my 17 spot check from on top of the wagon?

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

((Assuming not:))

Rafale climbs down and nods to Galaniel.

"Well, if we have no trackers, let's move fast. Tormin, wagons forward."

It seems like he expects Tormin to follow his orders, even though Tormin is the employer and Rafale is the employee. He's matter of fact, not rude, but still definitely seems comfortable taking the lead.

[FirebirdFlying]

Still somewhat shocked, Tormin obeys Rafale, and the wagon starts moving again.

With no further disruption, you arrive at the tiny village of River's End by nightfall. It hardly looks like a village at first, in fact; the road simply winds through a few more houses than normal, ending rather abruptly as the buildings get more numerous.

Tormin leads you to a slightly larger house than most. "I'll fetch your pay, then," he tells you, "as soon as Rosie and the missus are settled in."

[Tyrael]

Leon de Scaramanga

The well-dressed nobleman hops off the wagon with a weary sigh. "Well...end of ze line, I suppose."

He heads inside, gladly awaiting a rest and a bed after a long day of travel.

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Rafale waits outside Tormin's house or the promised payment. He puts his hands over his head, locks his fingers together and stretches as high as he can, popping his back. Sighing with contentment, he says to no one in particular:

"That was easy enough."

[KnightOfV]

Magnus

The Mercenary rubs his sore arm from where the walking corpse rammed into his shield and frowns at Rafale. "Hardly seemed easy to me."

Magnus pulls back his shirt sleeve revealing a bruised and sore arm. He whispers a prayer for swift healing to Bahamut, hoping it would feel better after a night's rest. Strangely, when he looks at his arm again, it does not look nearly as bad. In fact, it feels fine.

He stares at his healed arm in surprise, and then just sits down on the ground quietly, lost in thought.

Cure light wounds (if you couldn't guess) [roll0]

[AngelOmnipotent]

Ganaliel

"What freaks me out the most..." Ganaliel says with a slight quiver in her voice, but starts to play a soft melody on her lute once more, "is that those things usually come from somewhere or someone, right? They don't just pop out of the ground like daisies."

A shiver runs up her spine but she manages to keep playing, trying to keep her mind on the bag of coins she's about to receive.

[Another_Poet]

Rafale

Rafale shrugs. "Don't know where they come from, but it's strange to see just one. I've heard that when someone or something snaps and starts raising corpses, they can't stop at just one..."

Rafale isn't usually the sort to gossip or tell ghost stories, but there's nothing else to do just sitting here waiting for the pay.

[FirebirdFlying]

The wagon empties soon enough, and as Tormin with a cheerful air enters his house one last time to retrieve your pay, a man comes striding down the street. He is clad in normal, work-quality clothing, with a short stick hanging from one hip and a small leather bag swinging back and forth in his right hand. He stops a few feet away from you, looking you up and down with a grim smile on his face. "Tormin Brannigan back, eh?"