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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Troll in the Playground
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    Default [3.5] War Stories: IC I

    Player Sheet Class Concept
    Aldurin Ranzol "Void" Tarlin Rappeler//Rogue Scout Assassin
    Chambers Speaker (formerly Yun) Rogue//Psychic Warrior Warforged Evangelist
    bcool999 Jolt Crusader//Paladin Warforged Champion
    Ryuuk Linksy Magitech Templar//Duskblade Warforged and Duty
    whoiam Liselle d'Phiarlan Erudite//Bard Psionic Singer
    RPZip Lady Loraine d'Cannith Artificer//Factotum Airship philanthropist
    rypt Esara d'Lyrandar Wizard//Martial Swashbuckler Electrickery
    OOC.

    War Stories
    Chapter One: Tell Me If You've Heard This One Before

    Its always raining in Sharn. You know its not true; you remember the sunlight gracing the levels of the City of Towers, you know it has seen blistering Summers. But this rain, this heavy rain, taints that memory. It deadens sound, hides footsteps. Makes a man jumpy. When was the last time you had a calm night in Sharn? When did you have a night in this city where you didn't worry about something over your shoulder, or something in the alleyway ahead of you? A good sense of paranoia does a body good, rest assured, but you, especially you, watch in all directions. A life of hard work, work that others should shy at, or die over, has kept you working and filled with adrenaline, years after the Last War. You've done the odd job here and there, but without the War Effort? Life is more one of paranoia: how long will this peace last? The Last War covered you all in oil. Who is going to throw the Alchemist Fire that sets it all ablaze?

    But these odd jobs are what did it, you're certain. You found a letter for you. Perhaps it was on your lap on the Lightning Rail, suddenly there, like a familiar weight. Perhaps you found it underneath the plate the waiter took. Maybe it was on your pillow. But you found it, the envelope listing only your name, and the parchment inside was thin and one-sided. Dubious. Employers should see you directly. Or send a personal messenger. Not this. This was a calling card. But for who? But the payment dulled the edge of that question, made it lost its sharp teeth. 8,000 gold is a lot of money. That was retirement money. That was money to put a sword

    You make your ways through the streets of Sharn, weaving your way to the Sovereign Towers. The stone here is smooth, reworked daily, repaired like it was a dying wish. You find what you're looking for. 48109 is the address, and the tower seems like any other. Odd dimensions, strange geometry, impossibly tall. You enter, and find yourself in what appears to be in an Inn of sorts. Its high scale. Classy. The kind people go to to dance. Marble floors and deep red rugs. Stairs made of newly stained wood, a fireplace kept in an iron lattice cage in the middle of the foyer. The denizens of this place might notice you, but most don't, keeping to their talks and their food and their drink. A Dwarf stands behind a counter of polished granite, not twenty feet from you. She smiles at you warmly when you, individually, arrive, and you tell her you're to see someone, telling her the address from the letter. She nods, knowingly, and asks you to warm yourself by the fire, and to feel free to order what you like: it is already covered, love. Maybe you arrived here first. Maybe you arrived here last. But something doesn't seem right. Something seems askew.

    You swear you recognize some of the faces in this room.
    Last edited by Cardea; 2015-11-29 at 10:46 PM.
    I currently do not check the playground forums. If you would like to reach me, you can find me on twitter as HTTPaladin.

  2. - Top - End - #2
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: [3.5] War Stories: IC I

    Liselle was rarely alone on the streets of Sharn.

    One of the best bards the city had seen since the Last War, Liselle had long been in the habit of humming or singing to herself as she walked around town. True, it made it hard for her to sneak, but everywhere she walked, she walked with a sort of protective cloud of onlookers, hurrying or tarrying as necessary to listen to her voice a few seconds longer...

    There were few muggers who would go after one so closely watched. Fewer still who could succeed in the attack - she knew as much magic as any other bard, and had her... other... powers, besides. Any group strong enough to pose a threat to her wasn't going to be stopped by her ability to sneak around town, after all.

    Maybe if she'd ever actually learned to sneak around town it might have worked...

    Anyway, no sense worrying about the skills she hadn't honed. She was here! And here, this mysterious employer, was... an inn? And one she couldn't remember having performed at before, for that matter. Was it new? So exclusive that even the bards didn't know it was there? And what was the 8000 gold for? Even her performances weren't worth that much!

    Still, the fireplace was free (at least for the moment), so she asked for a beer (nothing too strong, or she'd be more likely to embarrass herself than to impress a prospective employer), and went to warm herself by the fire.

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    Ranzol had an internal moment of panic when Steven, the only musteval he could manage to summon as a persistent companion, found the letter in the room of the inn he rented. He had paid for the lodging under his normal persona, Ranzol Tarlin, an unemployed war veteran who traveled at random with the help of good money sense. Yet anyone making this kind of offer for work would be making it towards his work alias, Void. Someone in this Shatterglass Initiative knew the connection, but instead of trying to cash in on the bounties that Thrane had put on him, they offered him work. Unless Steven got tired of criticizing Ranzol's life choices and tried to reach out to someone else to intervene. Would he? It didn't matter right now.

    Void dressed up in his work equipment, concealed his face behind the magic of his hood, and set off to the meeting place. The rain was nice, since it meant he wasn't as easily silhouetted against the sky as he walked on the upper walls of buildings to avoid the public view. When he reached the inn, he decided that there was no point in subtlety past the entrance. Meetings in these places usually had witnesses paid off or removed in advance when necessary. So he stepped down to the ground and entered the inn, boldly addressing the dwarf at the counter and paying no heed to any reaction she might have to his appearance. He ordered some fine scotch and a meal of whatever their best meat was upon finding out that dining was covered tonight, and took a seat by the fire.

    Steven sits on Void's shoulder as both scan the room. 8000 gold meant the work must be really important or really difficult, and when he takes notice of the other people in the room he lets out an slight sigh. Group work again, which means that the employer is shelling out even more than he initially thought to accomplish whatever this task was going to be. A low whisper between Void and Steven confirm that they recognize the telepath and the airship technician, and Void can only guess that the half-elf is familiar, though Steven likely wasn't around if they did work together. Otherwise he notices the two war machines in the room, and sighs again as he realizes they're likely to be hires for this group, also. "You're going on about the warforged again, aren't you?" Steven whispers to Void, in a slightly scolding manner.

    Another sigh. Void considered Mustevals to be optimal as a default summoner's companion, but he always second-guessed himself when it was always Steven that came out of the ritual, ready to express his disapproval. Tonight was the wrong night to bring him along, apparently. "No, just having to work with others in general." He whispers back, choosing a partial lie.

    "And this is at your best, considering you're still sober." Steven dismisses, waving at Liselle from on top of Void's shoulder.

    "Stop that!"

    Spoiler
    Show
    Setting Musteval as the summoner's companion to start with, with the +4 augments going toward dexterity and wisdom. Spell slot allotments have been detailed in the sheet.

  4. - Top - End - #4
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    Jolt & Rorsa

    Walking through the wind and rain with Rorsa at his side, Jolt wonders about this mysterious job offer. He considers the possibility that the offer is the lure for a trap, but if so, it would still be better to go and be prepared for betrayal, than deny the invitation and face an ambush later. Besides, if the job was legitimate, it might give Jolt a reason to travel, something Rorsa has been pushing him to do lately. As much as she enjoys exploring the city, being around so many people makes her more nervous than she would admit, and the weather didn't help matters.

    It still surprised Jolt that Rorsa had agreed to travel with him. Most animals shy away from Warforged, but Rorsa was more curious than afraid. And she is not an animal. Jolt chided himself at the thought of comparing Rorsa to an ordinary wolf. Jolt looked at Rorsa now wondering if the rain was bothersome to her beneath her thick fur. Luckily it was not far now from their destination.

    Jolt is unsure about the establishment the address leads him to. It seems a place one like him would be unwelcome at, a place that is frequented by those who never had to slog through knee deep mud and blood to crush a mans skull. Nevertheless, it meant that his employer had the funds to back the job offer, or was doing a good job portraying that image. Jolt orders a rare steak for Rorsa and walks with her over to the fireplace to help her dry off and warm up while they wait.
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    "Ah, I see it's going to be another one of those jobs." Liselle recognized void, of course. And his appearance here as well could only mean that whatever was about to happen would be far... messier... than Liselle's usual choice of mission.

    Still, the little musteval was friendly enough, even if the person it was sitting on was a total grouch. So she'd wave back to Steven, and add in a little greeting of her own even as she knelt down by the fire to examine the wolf more closely.

    Steven: "Well, hello again. Shame you haven't managed to get Void to change out of his grumpy pants yet... Still, we can but hope he dresses differently tomorrow, right?"

    Liselle knelt down about a meter away from Rorsa, watching her carefully. Then she looked at the warforged Rorsa had entered with, and back to the wolf again.

    If they'd hired her and Void, the others in this forming party probably had... special... talents as well. So she played the odds, and extended a thought towards Rorsa.

    Rorsa: "If I call my cat back from her hiding place, will you chase her?"

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    Speaker

    What's Cannith got itself into this time... Speaker pauses at the threshold of the door, holding it open with his oversized metal fist. The light from the fireplace reflected off the gleaming metal and shown on the changelings pale grey skin, his eyes glancing around the room. "Jolt!" He shouts with surprise as he sees his former companion and lets the door bang shut behind him as he makes his way to the warforged.

    He nods to the elf and leans his polearm against the mantle, then holds out his battlefisted right hand to grasp hands with Jolt, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's been a long time, friend. Glad to see you again."

    Spoiler: bcool999
    Show
    As previously discussed, Speakers battlefist and warforged graft arm would be a new thing for his former companions, Jolt and Linksy.
    "We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"

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    Rorsa

    The dire wolf tolerates Liselles close inspection, she gets stares all the time after all, at least she wasn't reaching out and trying to touch. That was annoying at times. She regards Liselle with intelligence in her gaze before deliberately shaking herself to shed water, raising angry hisses from the fire and splashing Liselle and the already wet Jolt.

    "Your 'pet' will be fine as long as it leaves me be. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I have a steak on the way and being compared to a mindless dog does not aid in the digestion."

    ----------------
    Jolt

    Before he has a chance to apologize to the elf for Rorsa's behavior, he is interrupted by Speaker's familiar face. He hesitates when he sees the hand held out to him, but clasps it nevertheless and asks, "Lose something?"
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    Linksy and Tate

    "Rain is bothersome."

    "It will only be a short detour."

    "It is harmless, I know, but a drop hitting at just the right angle can send ripples of sound through the entire section. Multiply it by rate of impact and you have an cacophony coursing through your very being."

    It was a short detour. If this was a follow up to the last great expedition, then a visit to Onatar's shrine would not hurt. He was not sure if it would help either, but there was no harm in it, beyond the rain. If he asked him to lead him to the third of the four pieces, would it change anything of what was to come? Again, he doubted it, if the world itself could warp to comply to a lone being's prayer, then the laws that ruled it would be meaningless. If this job lead to it, would it have been his doing though? Maybe, perhaps that's how gods worked, you attributed what made sense to be by their will, discarding the rest. That seemed odd though.

    "I can hardly think straight like this."

    "Nor can I, it is rather loud... May my craft improve." That was as far as prayers usually went. It was vague enough to fit most occurrences, and it was, after all, what he wanted. The schemas were just one possible path. A promising one, but one of many. "Further down, right?"

    "Yes, Houndshunt, 48109."

    ---

    "Elegant." Once inside, Linksy moves carefully, rather against the idea of damaging the floor or decor through harsh movements or bringing in rain. At least not while Tate was committing the establishment and those within it to memory. He thanks the host, asks for some dry towels and heads to the fireplace to dry.

    The sight of familiar faces brought high hope. If patterns held... Perhaps this was Onatar's or Speaker's God's or both of their doing. "Speaker, Jolt, Rorsa. Whatever this is already looks rather promising." When he sees the battlefist, he reaches into his bag and draws a monocle. "That's new... may I?"

    Spoiler: OoC
    Show
    Just drawing the artificer's monocle from his bag of holdings.
    Last edited by Ryuuk; 2015-12-02 at 02:24 AM.
    Will be edited by Ryuuk : Sometime in the future.

  9. - Top - End - #9
    Orc in the Playground
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    Lady Loraine d'Cannith

    Loraine stood in front of the tall building, invitation in one hand and an umbrella in the other as she considered her options. The invitation would have been innocuous, put away with the invitations to balls and parties, had it not been carefully pressed between two pages of her private blueprints. But with that, it took on new implications. Favor with House Cannith - a threat? Something about my research? Probably not, but it'd been unsettling enough to demand an in-person appearance. Besides, maybe it would pan out?

    With a sigh she tucked the paper away and headed into the building and out of the driving rain, tucking the umbrella into her bag and heading for the group in the center after picking up a drink from the bar. She skirted around the unbound servitors and the - what was that? - before finding a seat near to one of the few people she recognized. Loraine smiled at Liselle, waiting for the touch of mental communication, before giving Void a more measured nod. "Fancy seeing you two here," she said before taking a sip of the surprisingly good brandy. This at least made things a little more - well, not stable. Interesting.

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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Liselle

    Despite Jolt's not-expressed fears, the splashes didn't seem to have annoyed Liselle at all. She may have dressed like some noble's barely-grown daughter trying for an 'incognito' night out, but she'd spent most of her childhood wading through mud and rain as she followed her parents from pointless battle to hopeless stand and back again. Rorsa was, at least, not spraying mud over her.

    Rorsa: "Mindless? Oh, I didn't think that, dear. No point in touching your mind if you can't use it, is there? Besides, I'm fairly certain my familiar can deal with a dog. You on the other hand... from the company you keep, I can only guess you're anything but normal, even for a wolf..."

    Besides, the wolf had managed coherent humainoid-style thoughts as a response. Regular animals could barely understand - or generate - anything more complex than a collection of sense impressions shot through with a particular emotion.

    Anyway, with the wolf clearly more interested in her steak (and who could blame her? Just the mention of it had reminded the Bard that she should have ordered dinner as well...), Liselle calls the all clear to Veluthe.

    In Familiarese: "Fire's safe so long as you don't try annoying the wolf."

    Of course, to onlookers not using magic to understand her, Liselle just appeared to be making a noise half-way between a hum and a purr.

    Business completed, Liselle went to head back to the bar to get herself a steak as well. Wolves, it seemed, could also have good ideas...

    It was while heading back to get her food that Loraine's greeting had registered. It didn't stop Liselle following her stomach, of course, but she did send the thought back "Looks like the old gang's together again, huh? Actually, from what I've heard so far, I think the rest of them are another group that once adventured together. I can't help but wonder what our mysterious hirer has in mind that needs two sets of us... Hope it's not another mournland expedition, I've done one of those this year already."

    Veluthe
    When Liselle's call came in, Veluthe had been engaged in her traditional tavern entertainment - miaowing underneath tables until she found someone desperate to feed her bits of their dinner. There was always someone who wanted to make friends with a loose cat, after all... and Veluthe was ever happy to shamelessly exploit such people for food.

    But with the all-clear sounded by her master, Veluthe stalked her way back to the fire, looking for a nice spot to dry off in. And she found it, in the form of Lady Loraine's Lap. It only took one leap to reach it, at which point she'd happily begin making herself comfortable, all the while staring up at Loraine as though daring her to object...
    Last edited by whoiam; 2015-12-02 at 08:54 AM.

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    Speaker

    "Of course!" Speaker says to Linksy, turning to see the other Warforged. "Let me guess, you got a letter as well?"

    He holds the battlefist out and flexes his metal arm. "Didn't lose anything Jolt... gained something." He says with a gleam in his eye. "Built the arm myself." He turns to the others and nods. "Pleasure to meet you all, I'm Speaker. I guess we're all here for the same reason?"
    Last edited by Chambers; 2015-12-02 at 05:59 PM.
    "We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"

  12. - Top - End - #12
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    Esara

    As the others exchange greetings and introductions around the fireplace, they are joined by a white and brown mottled hawk gliding across the foyer to alight beside the hearth. It's feathers are damp, and after shaking water from its tail and wings, it begins to preen itself, sparing only a brief and seemingly indifferent glance to the large wolf seated beside it.

    Esara follows a few moments later, her arrival coming as no surprise to those who recognize her avian familiar. The Lyrandar notices Liselle first, smiling wide as she steps closer to give her friend a hug. "Found you too, did they?" she says with a laugh. "I guess it's only fair."

    She spots Loraine next. "No kidding? It's been too long," she says warmly. "Do we have you to thank for these?" She pulls the letter of invitation from her pocket. "Or are you on the receiving end as well?"

    "Steven, is that you?" Esara wears a sly grin as she addresses Void's companion, taking up the sides of her coat in playful mimicry of a curtsy. "You'll understand, I hope, when I say I did not expect to enjoy the pleasure of your company again."

    "Null." Unable to resist poking fun at his choice of professional alias, she greets the halfling with a simple nod, her playful expression only half-heartedly restrained. "They really did their homework, huh?" She looks then to those she has not yet met, extending a hand and a smile to each in turn. "The name's Esara."
    Last edited by rypt; 2015-12-03 at 12:46 AM.

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    Jolt & Rorsa

    Rorsa merely nodded to their old acquaintances, speaking in public caused too many complications she'd learned, but Jolt lightly raps Linksy with his normal hand and nods at the metallic ring that ensues, "Looks like you haven't rusted away yet. I feel more confident in this request by the minute." With his tentative attempt at humor completed he responds to Speaker merely saying, "Gaining one thing often means losing another." It is difficult to tell if Jolt is chastising Speaker or merely advising caution with what he sacrifices.

    In response to Esara's introduction, Jolt gives a slight bow before taking her hand and introducing himself. "Jolt. Originally of Cannith in Cyre, then Thrane, and now Sharn. I look forward to working alongside one another."

    Spoiler: OOC
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    Who's up for some Jolly Co-operation? \[T]/
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  14. - Top - End - #14
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    Lady Loraine d'Cannith

    Loraine smiles at Esara and pulls her own letter from the pocket where she'd stowed it, shaking his hand warmly with her other. "They got me too, I'm afraid. I'm glad to see you here, though. I wonder if it'll be another airship escapade this time as well?" I hope not as well, Loraine thought to Liselle as she spoke with Esara, carrying on the two conversations simultaneously. The weather there is simply dreadful this time of year. Worse than this rain, even. At least the rain is less likely to try to murder you.

    She smiled pleasantly at the changeling, studying his - battlefist? - with interest. Something to do with why her letter had been sent, perhaps? "Would you mind if I took a look at that? Designs like that are something of a specialty of mine."
    Last edited by RPZip; 2015-12-03 at 02:55 AM.

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    As Esara hugged Liselle, she received a rather sudden burst of impressions. It's something she'd probably recognise as Liselle's reaction to being startled - a sudden dump of her current thoughts into whoever happened to be touching her. True, the Telepath knew her craft well enough to suppress such effects... but she had to be paying at least a little attention to be doing so, and the promise of food had robbed her of the chance to keep her thoughts to herself.

    Spoiler: Thoughts dumped to Esara
    Show

    In no particular order:
    • Veluthe sulking on Lorraine's lap
    • Steak, over a light mushroom sauce, over another steak. With an egg on top.
    • Void's Identity (she doesn't know it yet) on one side of a set of scales, an angry Void on the other.
    • A large tavern whose shadowy audience is laced with young bards



    "Ah, the Hero of the Golden Dragon is to adventure with our humble selves again!" It's clear from the tone of voice that Liselle is far from being in awe of Esara. She's also reasonably far from keeping her face straight as she says it...

    As Esara went on to introduce herself to the others, it gave Liselle time to take care of a couple of bits of business. The first was ordering a steak of her own... It would be in incredibly poor taste to try and mind control the wolf to steal hers, after all, and besides, neither of them would really want to share, would they?

    The other was a message to Lorraine: "Generally, I was more worried about the wildlife and the lack of local food than I was about the weather. Now onto lighter matters - my cat! Shoo Veluthe off your lap or pet her, but don't ignore her. She'll try using you as a scratching post if you do that. And while I don't think those little claws will be getting through your armour any time soon, I'll be stuck listening to her sulk all evening if she tries and fails..."

    Order placed, Liselle comes back over to the fire to join the others.

    "So, for those of you who aren't big music fans, my name's Liselle d'Phiarlan. As you can tell from the accent, I was from Cyre. Well, I was originally from Galifar, but turns out I've got this nasty habit of outliving whichever nation I'm a citizen of. Anyway, no, I'm not holding any grudges, (not outside of my own house, anyway) and seeing as how I'm mostly just a sweet voice and a pretty face (or 'a professional Bard', if you want to be technical), there's probably not much I could do to you even if I was."

    Esara and Lorraine: "[Eeeeeeevil Laughter]"

    "And yes, like the rest of you, I received a note. It was light on reasons for us being summoned here, but there was such an interesting number written on it that, somehow, I just didn't mind the vagueness of the summons..."

    With a rather broad grin to the lot of them, Liselle retakes her seat.
    Last edited by whoiam; 2015-12-06 at 11:30 AM.

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    Lady Loraine d'Cannith

    Loraine started a little at Liselle's message, realizing that she had been so distracted by the interesting modifications that she'd completely ignored the cat landing on her lap. This was something that was difficult to do, given that the cat was currently digging her claws ever-so-slightly into her finely tailored pants, but achievable by a mind of true genius. Or one that had seen a shiny object.

    Loraine juggled her glass around to the other hand to start petting Veluthe behind the ears. Once, while working the Saint-Demaine case, she'd been so distracted by studying some clues that the cat had taken the opportunity to absolutely shred her skirt. They'd had a somewhat more nuanced understanding since then, but she'd been pushing the boundaries of their arrangement. Her fingers found that little spot behind Veluthe's ear that she liked so much, and settled into a steady pattern. Ah, my mistake. You know how I get with new things. She inclined her head towards Liselle and continued, this time speaking out loud. "It was such an interesting summons, too. I wonder when whoever called us here will deign to make an appearance?"

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    Esara

    As Esara pulls up a chair, she dismisses Liselle's comment with a wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes. "You know, your humble self could at least pretend to be enjoying this less. I missed a departure last week because my skycoach driver recognized me. He insisted on showing me the view he had of the Dragon's christening party. I literally watched my ship leave while he recounted the night's events."

    "Well, I'd be a fool to complain if it was," she replies to Loraine. "Airship escapades are how I make my living, but it sounds like it's your house holding the coin this time, not mine. Have you heard of these Shatterglass folks before?"

    Spoiler
    Show
    Knowledge (Nobility & Royalty) to see what, if anything, Esara knows about the Shatterglass Initiative: (d20+13)[16]
    Last edited by rypt; 2015-12-06 at 08:29 PM.

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    Spoiler: Steven/Liselle
    Show
    "Don't count on it. The only thing that seems to improve is his taste in scotch. And his killing."


    Ranzol took in the activity of the room a bit more, idle talk here and there that didn't interest him but he should at least participate in. The warforged enthusiast worried him a bit, so he decided to ask a few questions, "Mechanical grafting, that's a new one to me. Are you already affiliated with House Cannith by any chance? That sort of craft seems to be in their wheelhouse."

    When Liselle had another moment to speak, he decided to see if he could be social to pry about one of his long-term targets. "Have you heard how Victor has been, recently? I haven't heard from him since Baron Trelib hired us."

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    Jolt

    "Considering the capabilities of those I know gathered here, I very much doubt that you are helpless. Especially if you have indeed lived through the entirety of the war from Galifer to the Mournlands." Jolt says to Liselle, "My talents are rather typical for a Warforged. I stand at the forfront and take blows so my allies don't have to. I also return the blows dealt to me. Outaide of conflict, I can do a minimal ammount of healing though I am more effective at restoring my fellow Warforged."

    At this point Rorsa looks up from her meal and glares at Jolt, "Rorsa assists me in combat. She is quite proficient at flankimg maneuvers." Jolt says to appease the wolf who returns to her meal.
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    Speaker

    "Not at all." He says and takes hold off the battlefist with this left hand, pressing a series of release mechanisms and umattaching the battlefist. He holds it while flexing the metal fingers of his right hand. "The fist I got from a friend, but the arm I built myself." He raises an eye at the mention of Cannot and laughs. "No, I don't think they want anything to do with this." He says, nodding to his graft.

    "It seems most everybody knows at least someone here." He says after reattaching the battlefist. "As these two fellows know, I was a soldier." He says and nods towards his ppolearm leaning against the fireplace. "Experienced in crowd control, I suppose. In more ways than, right Jolt?"
    Last edited by Chambers; 2015-12-11 at 08:36 PM.
    "We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"

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    Jolt

    "True," Jolt says in response to Speakers claim of beimg able to handle a crowd, "In the short time I've known you, I have seen you successfully keep a crowd you insulted from causing you bodily harm with both words and with force. Of course, you also 'experienced' being thrown through the window that one time." Jolt's expressionless face makes it hard to tell if he is merely stating fact or poking fun at Speaker.
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    "Ooh... being thrown through a window, hm? That's usually life's way of telling you to find some fresh material for your act..." Something of an occupational hazard to starting Bards. Luckily for Liselle, she'd been travelling with an experienced troupe at that stage in her career, so she got saved from that particular experience...

    "Still, speaking of fresh material, this is why I'm so happy with being included in such a group of... heavy-weights... Songs about whatever we've been gathered together for will keep me booked into taverns for years to come."

    But Jolt's comment did deserve an answer. "Jolt... At 102 years, the Last War was about the same length as an elf's childhood. More or less precisely so in my case - I was 7 when the war started, and 107 at the day of mourning. Almost every adult elf on the continent has lived through as much - or more - than I have. That said, I'm not helpless - but I am useless in a mundane fight. So if we get drawn into an alley brawl or the like, I'll probably be taking cover behind you. Or doing the Bard-ey thing and trying to inspire the rest of you to greater heights of slaughter, instead of trying to fight by myself.

    Best you get some idea of what not to expect from me before we start doing... something... together.
    "

    Veluthe
    While, yes, she was smart enough to realise most of Lorraine's attention was on other things.... Well, she was a good scratcher. So Veluthe obligingly rolled onto her side, hanging her paws off her host's lap (thus saving Lorraine's pants from further penetration) and began to purr.

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    Raising his helmet to use the monocle, Linksy found himself distracted by the arm, though mostly the implications. It was a step in the right direction, it could not all have been crafted entirely in a creation forge, seemed more than what standard repairs could do. The face underneath is still that of a warforged, but thinner, lacking defensive plating that the helmet and armor seemed to compensate for. He's mostly quite after Jolt's greeting, though Tate speaks up in his stead. "I do not intend to let him rust or rot, much as he may drag me through the rain." The voice comes from a dragonshard embedded onto the upturned visor, in a deep, matter-of-fact tone. "Still too much to see."

    "...and to do, yes." In contrast, the second voice is more curious than sure of itself. Done with his inspection he steps back, nodding in approval, and instead returns to drying himself. "May it serve you well Speaker, I would gladly help maintain it if needed, as you have helped me."

    As others take interest in Speaker's new limb, Linksy watches for their interpretation, taking special notice of the woman who claimed this was her specialty. As introductions come and go, he adds his bit.

    "We are also of Cyran make, but were intended to serve the Brelish forces. My last, formal designation was Link #6, but now most call me Linksy. I was assigned mostly ancillary roles in the war, but if this task requires conflict, we will stand in front of you, Liselle d'Phiarlan."

    "Back then he pointed where and I went forward, now the roles are reversed. We can still break through bones and metal." This time the voice comes from a dragonshard on the back of his right gauntlet. "Together we are almost as good as I was in the war. Call me Tate."
    Will be edited by Ryuuk : Sometime in the future.

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    A small cabinet of sorts, waist high and walking gracefully on four stumpy legs while pushing a small, equally high rolling tray, moves toward the lot of you. It stops in what middle it can find between the seven of you and begins to pull out requested drinks, as well as some unexpected trays of food. Two bottles of something blue and swirling are held out for Liselle, labelled "Stormreach Wanderer: Get Lost Inside The Taste". A refill is offered to Loraine, and a note is offered as well, reading: "Sharn Fusion Reserve III: Redeye Berries and Red Bell Peppers". A plate is slid hesitantly toward Rorsa, and a note is offered to Jolt: Brixashulty. To Void, a small table is pushed near, and on it is placed a glass and a bottle of bronze liquid, which reads: "Aerenal 72K", as well as a platter of thrakel-seared beef in red sauce.
    On the tray it was pushing, the cabinet places three dishes of food, and four vials of pulsing red oil. Karnathian Vedbread, Thrakel-Seared Dragonhawk Dumplings, and Dragon Turtle Stew in five bread bowls. A pitcher of water and several glasses sit on the lower portion of the tray. And finally, a letter is placed on the tray itself.

    "All food and drink, courtesy of the Initiative. Winston d'Cannith will join you shortly."


    The cabinet waits for a moment longer, presumably awaiting orders.

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    Your knowledge of the Houses, Royalty of the Five Nations and Religions provide no insight at this time.
    I currently do not check the playground forums. If you would like to reach me, you can find me on twitter as HTTPaladin.

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    "At this point, perhaps we should draft a contract with the house, but who knows, perhaps that would be self defeating." There was more, but it was left unsaid, curiosity for more inconsequential things. This, at least as far as they both understood it, was a high class meal. Linksy felt Tate trying to imagine a taste, then how each of the meals here would differ from this baseline of 'taste'. It was strange, like the blind trying to describe a color, but it was part of the scene. If he would later describe it, this would add much detail... He felt the slight frustration at knowing that this element was beyond his grasp.

    "Cheers, may the taste be pleasing." Linksy would prefer to focus on the odd construct, he for one wondered how awake it was. It hesitated with Rorsa, that was... indicative. He reads the note on the center, and wonders aloud to those gathered, the cabinet included. "Winston d'Cannith, does anyone know of him?"

    Will be edited by Ryuuk : Sometime in the future.

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    Jolt

    Shrugging at the question as to who Winston d'Cannith is, Jolt merely states, "We will soon find out."

    Turning to the server, Jolt asks, "Would you happen to have an empty bowl for me to use?" Should Jolt recieve a bowl he pours water from the pitcher in it and sets it down near Rorsa for when she gets thirsty.
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    Lady Loraine d'Cannith

    Loraine takes the offered glass and snags one of the dragonhawk dumplings, popping it into her mouth as she considered. "I hadn't heard of them before, but the note did mention House Cannith. Winston, though... hmm..." she says, taking another sip of the red reserve. "I'm trying to place it."

    Spoiler
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    Does Loraine know the name, just based on her contacts? For the rest of it I'm rolling blindly here, I figure it'd be Nobility; if it'll matter/is the right skill to use here, Loraine will spend an Inspiration point on the roll to boost it by another 7, for a total modifier of +14. (1d20+7)[27]

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    Esara

    Esara smiles amusedly at the squat proportions of the refreshment-laden automaton. "Why, thank you," she says with a light chuckle as she pours herself a glass of water. Looking over the the tray of food, she pauses above the soup to smell the rising steam. "Is that dragon turtle?" she asks, seeming pleasantly surprised. Picking up one of the bread bowls, she tastes a spoonful for herself and then turns to the hawk still tending to its feathers by the fire. "Fiowyn," she says, "I think you might enjoy this." In answer, the hawk looks up, flutters over to the arm of Esara's chair, and then leans in to try the soup for herself. She does not soon look up, seeming to approve of her master's palette.

    When the oddly armored warforged inquires about Winston d'Cannith, Esara thinks for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I'm afraid not." She looks across to Loraine, waiting to see some spark of recognition in the artificer's eyes.
    Last edited by rypt; 2015-12-17 at 03:37 PM.

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    Default Re: [3.5] War Stories: IC I

    Speaker

    "That window wasn't structurally sound in the first place." Speaker says with a laugh. "I already ate, no thanks." He says to the serving cabinet. "Can't say that I've heard of this Initiative before...but that's not that surprising. Probably high society folks."
    "We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"

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    Default Re: [3.5] War Stories: IC I

    Liselle, the second smallest and lightest member of the group, can but stare at the two bottles of drink with a hint of bemusement. Although she does eventually take them, and sit them next to her chair.

    Lorraine + Esara: "I think someone wants me tipsy enough to sing bawdy songs before we leave tonight..."

    What she does instead is help herself to one of the stew bowls, and add some of the Dragonhawk Dumplings to them. As she's doing so, a pale blue crystal (around the size of a human hand, but rather more angular) crawls its way out of her pocket on a collection of spidery, translucent legs. It climbs down Liselle's right arm as she's serving herself, and grabs another two dumplings, then holds on to Liselle's wrist for dear life.

    When she retakes her seat next to Lorraine, she holds her arm out, and the crystal climbs across into the artificer's lap. There it holds the first of the meatballs out in front of a suddenly very attentive feline face...

    Meanwhile, Liselle began to sample the stew, safe in the knowledge that Lorraine knew far more about local nobility than she did...


    Veluthe
    Oh, yes, the meatball got her attention. Still... it just didn't feel right eating something that was being more or less waved in front of her nose. It's but the work of a moment to bat one of the meatballs out of the crystal's grasp (which appears rather weak, all things considered). The cat can then jump down from Lorraine's lap and give chase under the nearest tables, safe in the knowledge that she'd at least given it a *chance* to run away...

    ...and leaving the crystal sitting in Lorraine's lap, holding up the other meatball and waiting.

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