OW

[Exegesis]

[Cut.....]

[Torgarn]

The humanoid with the spikes coming from his arms looks around at his current companions. They look a diverse group and he decides to speak up. I think that if we are to work together on this mission, it is best if we all know at least something about each other. For my own part, I am Sarkan Mys. I channel the spirits of those heroes of the past to allow me to gain some part of their skill and abilities. It's good to meet you all. May honor and victory come to us all.

[Qwertystop]

The wisp flashes a sunny yellow, revolves, and emits a few creaks and chirps.


Certainly.1234567h
123Yes.1234567Greetings
Agreement.1234567l
12345678901234567l
12345678901234567o




1Spirit123Channeller
1234567\1/
1Hero1-----1Vessel
1234567/1\
12Power124Borrower


12Apologetic123456words
Sorry12345Cannot12345make your sounds
1Unfortunate123456language

1self
name
1I am123456air
1234567spark1234here? there?
123456wind123difference
1234567890pull12inwards



Agreeing with and greeting Sarkan, apologizing for being unable to speak Common (nothing said about not understanding it), and giving its name. The name doesn't translate well as a name, as the best definitional fit is the-pull-before-lightning. The name sounds something like a soft crackling.

[Torgarn]

Sarkan scratches his head sheepishly, I may have simplified it more than I should for times sake. If you would like a better explanation, I am happy to give it. I draw from the soul energy of those who are alive, dead and even those who have yet to be born. I mold this soul energy into a tangible form and use to grant me abilities beyond those of common men.

[Jötunn]

"The name's Faith, and this is Charity. We go where we're unexpected, secure the objectives and cause trouble for those in our way."

The red-headed halfling girl is grinning slightly as she speaks, and she balances the point of a sharp dagger on her outstretched finger.

A moment after she finishes speaking however, she yelps quietly and fumbles for the dagger as it tumbles to the floor. A spot of blood wells up from her finger and she nurses it gingerly, eyes darting around the room as if daring people to comment.

[Toliudar]

Orwell blinks a few times, absorbing the idea that one of the people he was travelling with sucked the soul energy of unborn children.

The youngish dwarf was clad in metal head to toe. His beard and moustache are shorter and more sculpted than you saw on most dwarves. His hands are large and gnarled, unusually so for one his age, and his hands shake with a clear palsy that makes eating a conscious effort.

"I'm, um, Orwell Makepeace. By vocation, I'm a smith and healer. I guess, if the orcs are still there, I'll have to fight too. We all might."

[Qwertystop]

The wisp just observes for most of this, but chirrups at Faith's introduction
style
123i
123k
123e
123y
123o
12fun
And arcs slowly downward at Orwell, like a bow, while whooshing

123h
maker
e23a
1n3l
12der
123r

[Exegesis]

You are brought mugs. The hour that has gone by sips into night.

Leaving in the twinkling small of before-morning they harness the oxen for the gates. Twelve hitched greatblack shadows are grinding the massive granite open. As soon as a hair of space is free you lunge through—and (“return the horses if you can”) your horsefleet sails into enemy land. Pulled through a scoured-enamel sky. Badlands chill on your arms. Steeds in line. Chill at your flanks. Tensed for the sight of approaching scouts. Your route is one that will take you past nowhere but the gathering rain. Nerves tensed for badlands troops. Atmosphere of cracked language. Break into full gallop. Your convoy fans out over the crags. Chewing in the saddle. Nightfall—you have to be there before then.

[Cut.]

[Toliudar]

Orwell would vote for the safer approach. He is not a particularly daring 'leader'.

[Toliudar]

Orwell gazes up at the path ahead.

"Um. What do you think? Tie up the horses and proceed foot?"

Exegesis, some questions to help get our bearings:


Do we have any idea of creatures that might be writing on a dwarven outpost attacked by orcs, but in the language of men?
Can we see any figures on the walls or in front of the gate?
Are there any dead in evidence?
About how far away are we?
Is the path even navigable with horses?
Are the gates open or closed?
If they're closed, did our briefing include any information about the staff at the monastery (names, titles, etc), or how to get the doors open?
Do we have any proof of our authority to be here, doing this?

[Torgarn]

I've no need for horses, we are certain to move with more stealth without them if we decide to move on without them.

[Qwertystop]

The wisp just traces quick arrows pointing onward, and flashes yellow at Sarkan's statement.

[Qwertystop]

A few visible sparks from the wisp serve for demonstration.

[Torgarn]

Sarkan draws his blade, which is shimmering with a blue light. He also points to his feet which have sandals made of a similar shade of blue in crystal. I can walk on water and am able to hold my own in a fight.

[Toliudar]

Orwell nods uncertainly.

"Okay, um. We form up a double rank. Those who think you're best at hitting things close up, take the front. Magicky people in the middle. Archers in the back. And, um, wispy guy? Just float where you want. Um. Let's go!"

[Torgarn]

Sarkan heads to the front, pointing forward with his blade. Let's get a move on.