Blade of Datrinus Intro IC

[ChaoticDitz]

Thunder booms in the distance, though not a cloud appears to be in sight. The grassy meadows appeared to light up and ignite into a brilliant orange as the sun began to dip into the horizon. There are two nearby trees and some elk grazing in the distance, but otherwise, the area is mostly flat and filled with nothing but grass. Even in the afternoon, the grass releases a sweet, fresh scent into the air.

Your group is about a day's travel from the Faction, on a scouting mission assigned by Qernithas, a lady elf who serves as advisor and bodyguard to the Faction's leader. You are investigating unconfirmed reports of a group of orcs bringing a fairly small but highly dangerous dragon to the lake just past the plains.

-------

Alrighty, guys. Here's a pre-IC for you all so that you can get used to each others' characters and role-playing style. This isn't confirmed yet, but if you guys would like I can also run a combat encounter here later so you can come up with and test group tactics, since you should all generally know how each other fights. But that's your call. Have fun roleplaying.

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

Ilier, having just finished polishing the peculiar sword that he is never seen without, leaves his tent and immobile stands there, contemplating the peaceful sight of both camp and prairie, that while stormed at the horizon, it still is so hospitable, so healthy.
"Life simply sprouts from the ground, so easily..." he thinks as he bends a knee, leans towards the ground, and pulls a couple of grass leaves, feeling them. That concept is still a bit strange to him despite having spent a decade or so outside the frostfell. Noticing a worm wriggling in soil, he looks at it for a second or so and in his mind concludes "Far too easily".

The gray elf stands upright again, half-knowingly stepping on the worm and decides to head to the center of the makeshift camp, maybe watch how his companions light a fire, when he notices something is wrong...

"Oh! Right." He exclaims aloud for nobody in particular to hear, spins around himself and enters his tent again.

He comes out again after a minute or so but with a cloth and a bottle full of liquid in hand. If he's going to spend this time around the others he might as well give Frostbite a second coat.

[tonberryking]

Sitting astride a pile of gear, an exceedingly slim, leonine looking being with the face of a cougar runs his thumb over the fletching of his handful of arrows, his tail lazily flitting over the crates as he watches the distant elk. Can't take an arrow back once it's been fired, his pa always told him. Though his face reads as indifferent the thoughtful Yen considers the pros and cons of going game hunting.

On the one hand, downing an elk provides them with a meal tonight and the capacity to save their stores. On the other, if there are orcs about, shooting at anything would make the others flee. A ruckus, or worse, a dying deer with a poorly placed arrow running amock would give away everything. And Yen isn't the sort to put on airs about his own archery skills.

Discipline versus nature.

"Mm. Would those elk be so carefree if dragons were about?" he asks to anyone who'll answer.

[JBarca]

At the mention of wyrms, Dren immediately pulls his eyes from the book through which he had been flipping since making camp.

"Dragons? Bah. Scales and muscle, they are. There hasn't been a credible Dragon threat to any serious slayer in..."

The shaman hesitates for a moment, his piercing blue eyes darting around in their red-rimmed sockets, before mumbling, "...A while."

He returns to his book, hunching over far, even for his poor-postured frame. His dirty skin is covered by even filthier clothes, and his grubby fingers move on the edge of his book, constantly fidgeting, the mannerism of a small child.

Pulling his blanket tighter over his small frame, Dren glances once more over his companions.

"If you put any more oil on that thing, it'll slide right off a foe's skin! Give it a rest!"

A phlegm-filled laugh erupts from the small man, before ending in a hacking cough.

[Sønderjye]

Morgan

I would doubt it. Morgan says with a trace of suprise in his voice. There is however no traces of suprise to spot on his face. Which is mostly because his face is hiden behind his usual mask and glasses. He still haven't quite gotten used to be around people who put this much consideration behind their actions. He was finding himself enjoying it. From the books I read dragons aren't really the sneaky kind and from my experience most orcs aren't either.. At the mentioning of the last part his voice darkens a bit.

He returns his attention to the evershifting sand in his hands. Adjusting his dark googles he this time shapes it into a straw that he use for drinking a mug beside his backpack.

Noting Ilier coating his sword he asks in a eager voice: Do you expect finding orcs shortly? And what was the name of that stuff again?

[PersonMan]

Walking was something Nightyara had gotten used to since she joined the Metal Crusade. True, in the mountains walking was important, but never like this. Walking for hours on end, without reaching the end of the ledge or a wall of any kind; it was something totally alien to her. The idea that the plains extended on forever, never ending in a sheer cliff face or rocky wall, seemed insane, and she was still skeptical about it. But geography wasn't her focus - Nightyara had come to the heathen lands to spread the word of the Steel Starburst, which she did whenever she had an opportunity, gain glory and seize the great treasures of the land of mists. Unfortunately, the piles of gems, steel temples and weak-willed heathens were all...significantly less present than she had hoped.

It had been another day of walking, another day of wandering thoughts. For a while, Nightyara considered how her family was doing, her thoughts going from her parents and siblings to the husband and wives who were now supporting each other, then to the caverns where the Steel Starburst was once again being honored. Eventually her mind went further, considering the desolate regions of mountain she had crossed, the broken pathways clearly carved into the stone by something other than the elements. She wondered if the starbursts she had slashed into the rock had been found by anything capable of understanding that they had meaning, or if they would stay unknown until after her death. The thought that her longest surviving legacy would not be her memory or legends, but rather the small cuts she had made in stone on her way to the flat lands, had given her some amusement.

As the day ended, Nightyara admired the still unusual sight of plains animals, fascinated by the creatures at once so similar to the normal cliff-jumpers she knew but still so alien with their unusual gait. Once the group finds a place to set up camp, her thoughts quickly return to reality, working to prepare the campsite with the efficiency of someone whose life depended on doing so swiftly - as, for a few weeks, it had. The thunder gives the entire thing a nice ambiance, and Nightyara is in a fine mood as she sits down to offer a prayer to the Steel Sunburst. As she finishes, a hacking cough pulls her attention fully into the world around her.

"You should sit up more," Nightyara says to the ever-dirty Dren, a fascinating character she had never seen the likes of at home. "I know you have your talents, but no woman will ask you for your hand if you hide your face like that," she continues, nodding. "Trust me on this matter, I have quite a bit of experience in marriages and courtship."

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

About to question the shaman's knowledge of swordkeeping, or of swords in general, Ilier is interrupted by the man's heavy coughing, but when the phlegm-filled spitting arrived, he completely let go of his train of thought, half amazed and half disgusted. Could this man have some sort of orc heritage? he wondered remembering the other humans he had met in his life: merchants, all of which acted with remarkable etiquette. He stares at the spit.
His esteem for this entire race just having been heavily attacked, he was about to make a speech about how the only thing keeping them better than orcs was seemingly missing from one of their companions, but once again he was interrupted...

At this point the elf's frozen and deep eyes finally look away from Dren's mark on the grass and shift directly to the masked figure that calls itself Morgan, although Ilier's body does not move at all, as if still staring at the phlegm. "I expect to find orcs everywhere. They are but vermin; a pest. Our quest is not one of justice, vengeance or restoration. Even survival would be easier to achieve by migrating." Again, without shifting any weight of his stance he points his already drawn sword to the shaman's fluids. "We fight so this does not happen any longer. We fight because the world is sick and pestilent and filled with a disease." At last, in a slow spin, he wholly faces Morgan and walks towards him. "The orcs have spread and their rot is set. Set in us..." The elf leans a bit and his eyes narrow "In you".

Releasing the tension, the warrior flairs his weapon gracefully and turns away. And in a more relaxed voice he continues, "Our quest is one of cleansing. Frostbite is just the tool for it.

[JBarca]

"Hide my... Ask for... You know nothing of my... like what!?"

Sputtering indignantly, Dren darts his eyes back and forth between the two warriors, apparently unsure whether or not he was being insulted or mocked.

"We can't all be born into the sort of wealth that lends itself to fancy swords, perfect health, and marital experiences, you know. Some of us had to fight our way to the top." Dren's emphasis on the last word is clearly an attempt to demand for himself a position of leadership, although, as apprentice shaman, his claim is no stronger than any other's.

"Earning one's strength, one's livelihood, is preferable anyway. Give you something of which to be proud. The depths of my strength go beyond piles of gold or a few hours of swinging a shiny piece of metal."

His tirade over, Dren returns to his tome. Glancing to see if any of the others, specifically Nightyara, is watching, he straightens his back a bit, though his bottom lip sticking out in a stubborn pout does little in the way of helping him project the air of confidence he seems to be attempting to portray.

[PersonMan]

"Are you trying to say I haven't had to work?" Nightyara asks, raising an eyebrow. That was something she'd never been accused of before. Obviously she hadn't had a profession for the first twelve years of her life, but that was because she had lacked the strength and endurance needed to perform most tasks anyways. It was impossible for a child of ten years to pierce the hide of a wyvern-leech without it hardening, and Nightyara doubts that other tasks that needed to be done were any less difficult. Minor things like carrying water or clothing or tending fire were doable, but none of those things could be considered work. Although, she considers, given the oddities of the flat people's culture, they may actually think such minor tasks are to be considered working.

"In the mountains, no one can afford to sit around and do nothing. If they did, they would be banished by the Steel Sunburst and die alone," Nightyara explains, deciding that the man's insult was probably not meant to be one. He didn't know what the mountains were like - how could he? He'd lived an easy flat land life where fighting to get to 'the top' was something one could afford to do. "I have more than enough things to be proud of, and all of them I achieved through hard work. The fact that you think it's possible to be born into wealth that gives you marriages, blades and perfect health tell me that you know nothing of the mountains," she continues. As the man straightens, Nightyara smiles slightly, amused again by his odd mannerisms. It was probably less unusual here, but to her he seemed remarkably childish for someone who seemed over a decade older than her.

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

"I am amused at what you consider to be the top, shaman." Snarks Ilier, pretending to be too busy with his swordkeeping to even look at him, although he's so familiar with his courtblade that he would probably be able to tend to it without looking. However, after a while he does spare a quick glance for Nightyara, whose talk of hardships made a bit of an impression in him.

[Sønderjye]

Morgan

Morgan freezes as he looks chocked at Nightyara. Where did this human come from? He thought orcs was barbarians but demanding one's hand in exchange of marriage was insane. How could one fight properly with only one hand? Or perchance they exchanged hands with some weird sort of blood magic. He concludes that he never should marry someone with those traditions and starts sipping to his wine again. Also how could someone sitting up every show anything about their strength?, he wonders.

Hearing Iliers remark he starts laughing, which combined with drinking at the same time ends in some loud coughs before he gets regains enough air for talking: Ha! No orc has rotten me, I was simply born disgusting. As for the rest of you I can assure you that you don't have a single grain of orc in you. he pauses briefly before continueing in a colder voice, his hand scratching his wrist moving it close to his Falchion: I do hope we find orcs though..

He takes a closer look at Dren. Morgan found it interesting why Dren would take advices towards giving his hand up. Also he wondered if Dren would be required to give both his hands away to compensate for his lack of power in his one hand. The man did however seem to share his love for books and he damned himself for not remembering to bring any when.. He forcestops the line of thought and focus on what is in front of him. Where did you learn to read Dren?

[tonberryking]

Shaking his head, Yen wonders if this is going too far. If the conversation gets any more heated, he fears a horde of orcs would show up and they'd hardly notice even if they were beating skulls against their shields.

"Enough. We came to look for those orcs, did we not? If we have time to chat we have time to prepare. The plains would hide any traps we'd care to make, but first we should set up a perimeter and watch, unless anyone would like to take to the land now..."

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

"I believe you're overly paranoid, cat. Besides... traps are not a good idea: We still have element of surprise. Imagine an orc losing their foot to one. That is one less spot of taint in this world, sure, but with the horrid scream our presence is revealed. We might as well just send them a letter telling them we are here." He makes a small stop and considers... Hm, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea... maybe that shaman can make himself useful and prepare Explosive Runes... Won't work if the stupid creatures don't know their letters. And continues, We don't even know exactly where they are. Yes, we could use traps but first we'd have to set up an ambush, and before that we have to find them, which, by the way, I believe is your job.

"How about you shoot an elk if you're in need of blood? We haven't had a decent meal in days."

[PersonMan]

"I agree, giving away that we've arrived isn't the best of ideas. It would be better if we cut them down in small groups before fighting their main force," Nightyara says, nodding. The odd mortal-ice-spirit-elf made her uncomfortable because of this unfailing hatred of the orcs, but she had to admit that in this case he was correct in his plan of action. Alerting a potentially large force of their opponents of their presence would make their mission significantly more difficult. "Elk? Is that what those odd creatures are called?" She asks, her curiosity about the strange creatures of the plains returning to the forefront. "You eat those? Their innards are so stringy and thick, though. I mean, if one has no other options, then it's obviously better than starving, but if there's proper food around..." Nightyara's voice trails off as she remembers the lack of wyvern-leeches here. Of course. That probably explained the odd attitude so many of them had; without proper food, of course they'd all be somewhat insane. It probably created issues with their minds, as well, which would be why they hadn't turned to the Steel Sunburst already.

"As for today, setting up a watch is wise, but in what order?" Nightyara asks, turning her attention to the other subject the cat-man Yen had brought up. If they were speaking of something not directly related to orcs, perhaps Iller would continue to make useful comments rather than telling them all about how much he hated orcs for the hundredth time. She still felt it was rather odd how deeply his anger ran, but for the time being she didn't confront him about it. It would be best to wait for a time that offered her a good opportunity to do so - for now, Nightyara would simply trigger another of his rants and have to sit through several more minutes of "Orcs are scum and are bad. You should hate orcs because they are bad. I hate orcs. I am a strange man who hates orcs. Are you an orc? Because if you are, I hate you. The weather is wonderful...for killing orcs. That leaf looks like it could be an orc, I'm going to go kill it to be sure".

Really, that's probably what's going to kill me. Being talked to death by this odd ice-elf without a cliff in sight.

[Sønderjye]

Morgan

Morgan is pleased with the turn the conversation just took. He is almost ready to jump and run to find the orcs, but manage to force himself to remain calm. You do have a point about the screams alerting the main group. However if we attack them in small groups we will either have to make silence them before they get a chance to scream or make them believe we are so pathetic that they don't need to send a warning He says starting the sipping again, continueing the conversation in his head If we are talking about the usual trash grunts we could be able take them our quickly enough, but if only one escapes we have blown our element of suprise. . Water would also drown their screams if we can force the fight into the river He then shifts to a slightly more casual voice: Related how to you make an orc float?

You remove your foot from it's head

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

Hearing his companions talk of Main Forces and Small Groups breaks Ilier's bubble and sets something off... "Excuse me... do you posses information you have not shared?" He puts the cloth and oil down, gets up and sheathes his sword, semi-rethorically asings "Exactly how do you know how many orcs are there? And exactly how do you know what there is?" marking his stop by crossing his arms and slightly tilting his head.

If he does not receive an immediate answer to this question he continues:
"You're all very eager to make your plans and strategies but you do so without knowing what you are up against. I'm no longer sure how many of you paid attention to Lady Qernithas but the presence of the orcs here are unconfirmed rumours; our job here is to confirm those rumours and find out if what we have is a small caravan or a war party. Believe me, I want to act, just like you, but first things first. And first is to go around looking for them quietly, definitely not killing any of them even if we happened to encounter a small two-orc patrol. After we do that you can put your heads to work and make a scheme on how to kill them all if you want, neither did I come all the way here to confirm a rumour."

[PersonMan]

Nightyara can't help but laugh.

"Please, did Orckiller OrcHate of the I-Really-Hate-Orcs line just explain that we shouldn't be killing orcs? I must be sleeping, someone wake me up before something even more absurd happens," she says, grinning at the elf. "A talk of this sort - of what would be wise if we were to engage a party of orcs which are present - is no different than what you yourself said. Something about orcs stepping in traps and their screams alerting their comrades? Shouldn't you have said 'we don't know if there are orcs, we need to find them before thinking about things such as traps'?" Shifting, Nightyara stands, rising with her massive blade as if getting to her feet with a piece of steel longer than she was tall was something not requiring any kind of effort. "We're here to investigate rumors, yes, but if you think that the Advisor and Blade will want us to return and say 'yes, we spotted some orcs, but did nothing because we were just investigating'?

If we find orcs, we will have to engage them eventually. So, if two are alone and we can kill them immediately, it would be pointless to not do so, as such opportunities will not be presented endlessly," she continues, one hand dancing along the handles of her All-Steel Blade. "I realize I am new here, but in my experience the orcs do not move without meaning, so if we do find soldiers here it would be best to execute as many of them as possible rather than wait to find them all."

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

Ilier carefully examines Nightyara, that just made fun of him, and her words. Human understood nothing, he thinks while his body stays frozen in place, except for an eyebrow which elevates expressively.
"Woman, is there a language you would rather be spoken to other than common? Something native of the mountains perhaps? Communication with you is apparently flawed.

"What you think I should have said is what I said."

[Sønderjye]

Morgan

Morgan finishes his drink and the mug back into his backpack for later use. "No information no. I am just assuming best case scenario. As for the number of orcs I thought it was fairly self-explanatory. They are transporting a dragon" He says the last word slowly and clear. "as for "where" I was just using it as a reference to wherever they would be at the moment"

Moving his attention to the massive blade now hiding Nightyara and asks in a curious voice: How come you sound like you think it is a bad thing he wish to get rid of our opponent?

[JBarca]

"Is there a dragon, isn't there a dragon... It's all very irrelevant. I believe you were tasked with discovering the location of a possible party of monsters, while I'm here to keep you lot alive."

After coming out of his pouty silence, Dren stands, ejects the contents of his nostrils on the ground, and walks to the edge of the small camp.

"Given the nature of dragons, however, I sincerely doubt one simply... 'got unlucky.' That would imply a level of power amongst our for that I am hesitant to allow. Instead, I am assuming that this overgrown lizard decided to throw its lot in with the monsters, for profit. If we present a frightening enough front to it, it will surely flee."

Looking about, ensuring his point is made, Dren nods to himself and raises his chin defiantly, challenging the others to disagree.

[PersonMan]

Nightyara twitches as the elf speaks again, her teeth bared for a brief moment by the movement.

"Blade-Wielder, not 'woman', if you wish to address me by something that is not my name," she says. "And indeed, if we could continue our conversation in the tongue of steel, I would much prefer it - if you think you could speak the words without burning your tongue, infidel." The final word is spoken without the animosity it might otherwise carry, but it brings the difference between the two to light once again. Leaving the rest of what he says with a reply, Nightyara turns to the other one, Morgan, stepping forwards so that he isn't hidden by the blade of her massive weapon.

"I have no issue with a desire to kill our opponents, but with his hate," she explains. "Unless I am mistaken, you have lost no husband, wife or child to these orcs, which would be the only reason I could see for such anger. Even then, however, it is unwise to hold such rage," Nightyara turns back to Iller as she speaks, facing him by the time she speaks of losing a husband. Her tone is sincere, the edge of her former words gone. "Regarding dragons, I know little or them, but have heard that they are similar to the sky-beasts of the mountains. If this is true, we must remain cautious..."

Dren's brief speech causes Nightyara to pause, and she shrugs once he finishes. "If that is the case, then we are lucky. The sky beasts I know fight until you are bathing in their blood and even then they can still bring the skydeath upon you."

[Sønderjye]

Morgan

The debate combined with the thought of finding orcs is filling Morgan with energy. He has however found that this culture responds with ill to the outlets of energy that he is used to be around so he does the only thing that he knows will make him be calm. He shapes the straw of sand into a sharp stone and pulls a dagger from his shoes and starts to sharpen it. The feeling of his arms moving in the well known movement and the repeating sharp noice calms the waves of thought. He wonder to himself whether it was intentional or not that Dren chose not to answer where he was from. Maybe the strongminded midget is hiding something, or perchance he is simply afraid of his past. The latter does sound.. His thoughts are abrupted by the sharp voice. He stops the grinding as all the former energy leaves his body and the dagger manages to cut a rift in his pants before it hits the group.

Morgans voice gives you the mental picture of mountains crumbling and a brief moment passes before you registrer the words comming out behind the mask. You are mistaken.

[tonberryking]

Yen casually glances back and forth into the grasslands and then back to the campsite, wondering (with half-seriousness) if an army of orcs could have come upon them during the arguing.

"Alright, that's it." he says, trying to take control of the situation, though he glares between Nightyara and Ilier with reproach. "This isn't a disagreement anymore; it's turning into something worse." he stands and glides lightly over, as if to stand in the middle of both sides.

"Personal experiences and slights to honor aside, we won't be of use to the side we're all fighting for if we fight with each other. One of you come with me. Either we go put some arrows into the elks and let a hearty meal ease our tempers or we go scouting--but not engaging-- for any orcs we find--like we were supposed to. If not, I'll see to it personally each of you keep watch on opposite sides of our makeshift territory!"

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

"I shall take you up in that offer, cat. Let us hunt." Ilier said in the same tranquil voice he had been using so far, even without using the the mannerism of his of looking at something else while he speaks, for he stopped looking at Nightyara at the moment she had suggested they duelled, at which point he laughed internally. Am I the one riddled with hate?. "Yet fear not", he continued, "do trust me capable of rational thought. I would not compromise our mission out of... anger." He marked this last word with a tone of ridiculousness. "Should there be one among us with regard for strategic care, it is me.". In spite of drawing a smile in his face when he said this, his eyes stayed exactly the same, deep, but barren and cold, clearly showing how short of authentic the grin below them was, even though his words were most probably true.

"I will fetch my bow." He said before shortly returning with his simple yet oddly white weapon, clearly made for shooting in the pale of snow.

[tonberryking]

Gesturing silently to follow a few steps behind, the cougar-like being slinks into the tall grass with barely a rustle, encircling the elk foot by foot, step by step trying to stay down wind, a single arrow held against his bow.

Yen can afford to be patient, not even thinking to nock the arrow until he's within range, and finally selects a prize; he aims for a young buck; the does are outright ignored, the elder males overlooked, and Ilier will find an enraged catfolk should he take a shot at anything but a similar target...


Move silently and a hide:

[roll]1d20+8[roll]

[roll]1d20+6[roll]

Attack:
[roll]1d20+9[roll]


[roll]1d20+9[roll]

[roll]1d8+3[roll]

[ChaoticDitz]

The arrow whistles through the air, penatrating deeply into the robust elk's rump. It lets out a cry of agony, then looks in the direction of its attacker as the others of its herd jump, startled at the pained cry.

That particular elk is 100 feet away from Yen, with nothing but open plains and one tree between Yen and any part of the herd.

Ilier has the rest of the surprise round before we roll initiative, assuming he doesn't tank his move silently really hard.

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

It lives. My turn. He thinks at the same time he releases the arrow.


Move Silently and a Hide:



[roll1]

Attack:

[roll]1d20+7 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=17296944&postcount=47)


Bow shot

Base: [roll2]
Sneak Attack and Craven:[roll3]

[ChaoticDitz]

The elk, its attention flying initially to its first attacker, completely failed to notice the other arrow on course to hit it until it had already buried itself in the elk's neck. The elk let out a final gargled scream before its legs gave out and it crumpled to the ground, blood bubbling and streaming from its second wound.

Are you satisfied with one kill, or shall I roll initiative now?

[Dr. Azkur]

Ilier Nelnarmyr

Ahhh... what a good shot. That's a satisfaction that never fails to come. Ilier, however does not release the blood tension and quickly loads another arrow, ready to fire it as he quickly asks "Do we eat venison in twofold tonight? I am fine with one but if you want the portion of the king, we should kill another: there is only one per beast".

I ready an action to shoot at another deer if Yen does too.

[Sønderjye]

The death screams from the deers dispatchest the sad mood of Morgan. He looks around trying to find a distraction before the sad stream of thoughts returns. He walks ovrr to the dirty man, looks at the tome and asks : what are yoy reading Dren?

[JBarca]

Glancing up from his book, Dren sniffs (though whether from disdain or lack of hygiene is difficult to tell).

"This, oh curious one, is a history of this plane, written by me. I'm perusing my sections on Dragons and Dragonkind, though I am finding the detail a bit... lacking. Most of the information herein is known only to me and a select few others, though, so what little there is in some sections is actually a gold mine. This tome chronicles the very beginning of the War."

The man straightens as he speaks, obviously proud of his work.

"I add to it whenever I have time, detailing the modern growths and failings of the Faction. I'll be needing to start a second volume soon." He holds up a chunk of (apparently blank) pages near the back of the book, perhaps 9 or 10 sheets.

[Sønderjye]

Learning closer Morgan saysthat does sound very interesting. But would it not be wiser to narrow the topic? I mean even just the topic dragons you could write a wholr book, even without including details of every dinhle dragon and excluding planar dragons. Morgan have completely forgot all about his previous mood.

[JBarca]

Unsuccessfully hiding his interest, Dren turns slightly towards Morgan.

"Ah, but a narrowing of the topic would leave so much out! How can one fully study the course of this War without understanding all aspects of it? Besides, if I want people to read this work down the line, I need for it to encompass as many topics as I can."

Seemingly smug in his reasoning, Dren raises an eyebrow at the man, a self-assured smirk on his face.

[Sønderjye]

Morgan are displaying open interest and is clearly not trying to hide it. You are most correct, there is always three sides of a coin. Oh so you plan on touching all subjects lightly in the first volume and then expand on it later?

[JBarca]

"No. Rather, I am simply writing what I am led to by my whim- I mean, nature. I began with a brief discussion on the village, moved on to several chapters on history, a few miscellaneous chapters, and am now working towards an autobiography of sorts. While I am the principle character within, I do work to incorporate all that occurs as well. It is a detailed account of the Faction, as far as I'm aware. Should important topics arise due to surprising circumstances, then I will devote time to those topics. It writes like a journal, reads like a history."

Dren's voice rises in pitch as he speaks, becoming more excited as he goes. He avoids eye contact, though, almost as if he fears condescension or mockery.

[PersonMan]

With nothing to contribute to the hunt, Nightyara stays at the camp when Yen and Iller leave, not confident in her ability to come within striking distance of the odd plain-goats without startling them. She wasn't able to throw her massive weapon, either, so any possible role in the hunt for her would consist of shooing the creatures towards the others, which wasn't necessary if they were wielding bows already. While she herself never learned to use them properly, Nightyara knew of the power a great archer had, having witnesses the great cliff archers rain death on several wyvern-leeches in the past. So, instead of going off to join the others, the blade wielder looks off in their general direction for a while before turning to the conversation happening off to one side of her, curiously listening in to the exchange of her comrades in arms.

"The War? That's this odd spat you have with the orcs, is it not?" Nightyara asks, unsure about the exact wording she had heard the battle referred to with. It was hard enough keeping all these names and ideas separate, she hadn't had time to inform herself about the names of each little thing. "And, if you're writing a tome, who is it for? Do all of you people read?"

[JBarca]

"All? I doubt it. It takes time to learn such an art. The tome is for history. It's for those who wonder about that which went before. I will be known as the historian of this age.
"And the War isn't an... 'odd spat.' It's a war. Armies have clashed. Cities have fallen. Children are enslaved. Women captured..."

Dren's last sentence is mumbled, almost too faint to hear. He looks away as he says it, seemingly lost in thought.

[Sønderjye]

Morgan

Grenerally when we speak about the war Morgan starts telling about the great orc elven war up until the orcs took over. what happened after was mostly the orcs butchering everyone else leading to the extinction of some races and nigh extinction of others. As least within the kingdom. Most of the survivors hide but some do what we do. Annoys the enemy whenever we can his voice is flat and cold as if he is mostly reciting an unpleasant memory.

[JBarca]

"'Annoy?' Heh. We're going to need to do much more than that if we're to end this. Annoyances are swatted. We need to hurt them. To make it more painful to fight us than to let us be. We need to earn our right to exist."

Dren shakes his head in anger.

"Annoy, he says. Bah."

Dren stands and walks to the edge of camp, looking out into the field.

"They need to die."

[Sønderjye]

Morgan

Morgan nods in agreement: Correct. We do need to do more than annoy them. Then he adds in a clinical voice: But that is all we do. We are so few in numbers. They reproduce at a faster pace than we kill them. Hence why I say all we do is being annoying.