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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    DruidGuy

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    Default [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    Sandpoint, the Light of the Lost Coast. A small town in Varisia, barely worth notice in its short history, is hosting a great celebration and everyone's invited.

    On Equinox of Autumn, the yearly Swallowtail Festival began. It is a significant day for Desna's followers, but for Sandpoint it's even more auspicious. The town's church has finally been rebuilt after a disastrous fire took the old building away, and it is to be consecrated on this holy day.

    The festivities take up much of the day as people revel in the town's square, sharing food and drink graciously provided by the town's taverns, free of charge. Throughout the day, many of the town's biggest and most powerful families come up on the podium to make speeches, glorifying and congratulation this fantastic occasion.

    It is several hours past noon, and the sun is still far from setting. The large decrepit tower on the west side of the town is starting to cast an encroaching shadow, slowly reaching for the town's square. Even from the outskirts of town, it's not hard to notice its age and state of disrepair.

    As you home in on the town's square, several speakers are still waiting for their turn on the podium. From afar, you can hear the end of the welcoming speech by the town's mayor, Kendra Devern. Her voice barely cuts through the assorted mirthful noises of scores of people cheering, eating, drinking and celebrating. You can notice a tall, tanned man standing near her, dressed in a not-so-festive combination of leather armor barely covered by civilian clothing.

    The town square itself is a fairly large swath of empty space before the majestic stone cathedral. Or rather, it would be on any different day - today, it is teeming with what seems like hundreds of people. There is a mixture of random furniture and many crudely built wooden tables set to accommodate as many people as possible. Several cooks are working hard to prepare the food, and it's not hard to notice carts bearing wooden barrels and assorted foodstuffs surrounding the square. This is a whole town affair, and it is simply chaotic.

    Spoiler
    Show

    OOC: The books assume that everyone gets to Sandpoint for the festival. Some of you may have unique motivations here, and I'll do my best to indulge them. This may be a good time to introduce your characters and tell me what you might want to do. I'll be proceeding with maybe one more bigger post with some more basic background information that would be obvious to visitors after a few hours in town but I don't want to simply write down a list of names, likely on Thursday morning. Until then, I'll be largely confined to my smartphone so I'll be improvising.
    Last edited by root; 2015-12-23 at 07:31 AM.

  2. - Top - End - #2
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    MonkGuy

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    Nov 2015

    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    *sigh*
    Another day helping at dad's store ...

    The small general goods shop was empty, which was not unusual considering the current situation.
    The whole town was either out in the street or drinking their guts out, celebrating.
    "daaaaad ?"
    "yes darling ?"
    "you probably won't have a lot of customers todays, mind if go to main square ?"
    "*grumble* as long as you stay away from that Ven Vinder crook... "

    Seyica hastly slip by the door, smelling the foul stench of the docks by the "pirate's rest", only to hear something about, boys, booze, and a rusty knife.

    She then makes her way to the White deer Inn, to enjoy a well deserved beer, and go to the town's square to listen to the local public figues speeches.

  3. - Top - End - #3
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Lt Gravemind's Avatar

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    Lak'nah expected to be accosted by guards when he reached this "Sandpoint" - as he had at other villages in his trip south - but to his surprise wasn't as he passed through the northern gate. Did they not have anything to fear this close to the ocean? He momentarily removed his bone mask to wipe the sweat off his brow from the beating sun. The Shoanti didn't know the name of the individual he had claimed it from, but they were a worthy foe whom did right by his ancestors. Lak'nah smiled and slipped the mask back on before continuing down the street.

    The road was quiet too - barren of life - but he could hear the sound of a gathering in the distance. He followed it, and it wasn't long before Lak'nah saw the people gathered together in a large open square, moving about with food and tables and drink.

    He simply stands there for a moment, taking it all in and unsure exactly how to proceed.

  4. - Top - End - #4
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Mornings's Avatar

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings


    Bechal Rossfield - The Misbegotten Auspex




    The speeches of Mayor Devern and the respected members of the town-council had brought a lull to the heart of the festival, a near tangible change in pace as half of the citizens and visitors in attendance divided their attention between their words and the festivities. It afforded him time to do the one thing he had tried to avoid as he tuned his mandolin - Think.

    It had been over a month now since he had returned to SandPoint. A month of quiet. A month of peace. A farcry from the prophetic visions of pain and suffering which had given him cause to venture back to Varsia's eastern-coast once more. Though he had not visited in many years, it still felt like home, somehow. The days had passed without incident, and a question begun to prickle his sensibilities - a thought that tickled the back of his mind. What if he had lost 'the gift', it had been so long since he had received a true vision - a real, legitimate flash of divine insight. He had been playing pretend for so many years, peddling his charade as a diviner, he had forgotten what a real vision had actually been like. But this time everything had felt different - everything was different. After his vision, it had begun to become difficult distinguishing what he saw from the fantasy he sold to naive merchants and drunk Pathfinders. It had changed him, made him... different. Distinguishing from the lies and truth was so hard. For some reason, he actually believed it, the lies of his own invention. The periods of lucidity had diminished drastically, most times he couldn't tell apart what he had fabricated from what he had seen. It could perhaps be easily attributed to the large tax each event had upon his mind - to glimpse a small fraction of the future, he lost a length of time in the present. The clerics in Absalom had taught him of the Curses which plagued the Oracles, with their limited sight. It was not incomprehensible that perhaps he too had been Cursed - Cursed in disillusionment to believe in his own lies. It had been his way of turning away and putting it behind him for so long, making a mockery of his 'gift'. What had become of him? Had his life become some sort of divine comedy? It was laughable, an almost pitiful tale - Who had heard of a genuine tradesman pretending to be a fake? His life had been left in ruin by this bitter cycle - He had languished in the mire of his own bitterness and self-hate for so long, and now he was old. His hands plucked the strings of the fine ebony fingerboard of his masterfully constructed instrument. The haunting complex stream of notes were like nails across a chalkboard in the mirthful atmosphere. He had at least found some respite in the smiles of the women and children he entertained. It truly made him think; perhaps he could give it all up. Perhaps he could let go of all the pain he withheld in his heart, if he could bring smiles to the faces of the young and old. He didn't need to peddle lies, nor linger, surrounded by pain in his misguided sojourn to find some length of catharsis in misery which was not his own. He wasn't that man anymore - he didn't want to be. He could be better, no. He would be better. A man cleared his throat next to him - he realized he had been playing a rather dark Magnimarian tune, The Dirge of Lords - it had been the same song they had played for his father's funeral. He had achieved a lesser lordship before his death for the many great things he had done for the city... the things he had done without him. Though the man had cast him out so long ago, with fear and a wounded heart - he couldn't hate him. He had just wanted to make him proud, but he never got the chance.

    Over a month, and nothing terrible had befallen the town, no fire, no screams, no ring of steel. God, that sound shook him to his bones. He had never fought before - not really. He'd feigned 'combat' - a simple ruse to lure in some well-meaning sod and pick a few pockets. His 'combat experience' had amounted to being beaten mercilessly in the back-allies by some Scarnzi filth, and the Gallowed over in Magnimar... Leaf Grechel for some reason had a strong dislike for him... He thought more on the matter, he did have that run-in with The Dusters too, and the Rat's Teat Boys - they beat him bloody, and those were just the ones that actually liked him. He cringed - then there was that incident he tripped during that one job and pulled off Marlessa Hygne's trousers... that one itty-bitty mistake had put him on The Catsdew Lofties's BlackList for life. He really couldn't go back to Korvosa... He could easily blame half of it on Malcolm, he was possibly the worst thief he had ever seen - but together they had been 'the dastardly due', the thought brought a smile to his face. They had done some impossibly-dangerously-stupid gigs together over the last decade, and some of them actually paid off! That was a long time ago... though technically only 5 weeks, it was a long-time ago in his mind. He was a new man now! He was Ross now, he put his old name behind him, and there was only two people in the entire town who remember who he was: the lovely Alissa Harrinway, and his old acquaintance Aldern Foxglove. The Magician, Performer & Entertainer - Ross, was no petty criminal! He was an adventuring journeyman from Korvosa - he'd spent more time there then any place else, it really wasn't a lie. His visions had never taken so long to come to fruition - perhaps it had all been wrong? He'd like to think so, or perhaps some message to bring him back to the Varsian Coast, away from all the lies and crime, to start over. He liked that, he could accept that - he could leave it all behind to bring joy to others. He sharply changed his rhythmic tune, snapping out a bounding-upbeat arpeggio.

    He looked at those about him within the town square, he saw some familiar faces - the lady at the bakery, that guy from the inn. He didn't know their names, but he could remember their faces, he could feel their personalities. Nothing alike those bank doll-eyed killers that surrounded him, or the hard-eyed Scarnzi scum, they weren't criminals, thieves, and killers. The dredges of society were nothing like these people - he could smell the wonderful aroma of an easy-mark... He shook the thought from his head. Drink, laughter and merriment - yet there was no song, no minstrel besides himself to be seen. He glanced at the stage where a number of once-familiar-faces spoke absently, their words falling mostly on deaf ears. He wouldn't have even remembered Kendra's name had she not introduced herself - which was somewhat difficult to make out with the loud clamor of the crowd. Her 'diplomatic performance' was lackluster - after all, all politicians and men serving an official function of State were performers, she didn't strike him as a great one. It would be no crime if he intervened with his own performance. After all, this festival needed some music, Varsian music! -and he had just that. He slipped his hand into his belt taking a handful of powdered chalk and hiding it in a clenched fist. His mandolin hung off his chest from its doe-leather strap. He begun sliding aside the tankards at his table, clearing out the center. He would have loved to play on stage, but he wasn't so boarish as to commandeer it from the mayor... well, that wasn't true, but this was a festival. A minstrel on a stage was passe, a performers true place was among his audience. He climbed on the table with a grunt, his left knee had been acting up since the trip here - he had considered having it looked at, after all he had to stay limber. He looked out to the crowd from the top of the table, drawing more then a few stares - namely from the people still sitting at his table. He unleashed a stunning chord with his free-hand and then touched the end of his ebony mandolin, tipping it with a glowing orb of light, drawing even more attention.

    Spoiler: Cast Cantrip: Light
    Show
    Bechal casts light on his mandolin


    Without missing a beat he brought both of his hands crashing together over himself, unleashing a vaporous burst of white 'smoke' in a little display of 'stage magic', drawing gasps from those nearby. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. BOYS AND GIRLS. BIPEDAL HUMANOIDS, OF EVERY SOCIAL ORIENTATION! - I AM ROSS BECHFIELD, YOUR SONG-WEAVING ENTERTAINMENT FOR THE EVENING! WELCOME TO THE SWALLOWTAIL FESTIVAL! " He'd pass the crowd back to Kendra, but he'd warm them up a bit first - then maybe she'd actually be able to hold their attention.

    Spoiler: Gathering a Crowd: Bluff
    Show
    False Name: Bluff - Take 10 [20]


    He begun to unleash a blinding and blissful streaming series of notes, sweep-picking across his fret-board with maddening skill. "I WOULD LIKE TO THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING OUT TODAY, AND THANK OUR FOUNDING HOUSES. THE KAIJITSU. THE SCARNETTIS. THE VALDEMARS, AND THE DEVERINS!" He gestured over to the mayor on stage - descended from the original four founding families. He was Varsian-born, and well taught - of course he knew SandPoint's history, perhaps better then even many of those who lived here. " WITHOUT YOU, THIS SWALLOWTAIL RELEASE WOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE! ...SO HOW ABOUT A SONG!? WHAT COULD BE MORE FITTING FOR AN OPENING Of CEREMONY, THEN A SONG TO DENSA!? ENJOY THIS CLASSIC PIECE: 'THE STARSONG & THE SWALLOWTAIL' !" He paused, rearing back and rising the pulsing light-tipped end of his instrument to the sky - offering a short prayer to Densa's Lillend master of song.

    "Sorrowbrand, bless this song!"

    Spoiler: Perform: Bardic Performance
    Show
    Perform (Strings): Take 10 [21]


    With a sudden burst of motion, he set free a frenzy of notes, an intense whimsical roiling melody, a strange rendition of a classic-tune - those devout followers of the goddess were more then familiar with the original melody, and those who had been to a Swallowtail Release knew the classic retelling of Desna's battle with Lamashtu. This rendition, was much faster - with wild-spinning melodies and blinding streaming notes, truly sounding like a song of divine battle, rather then a calm tavern song. He begun pounding his foot on the table with each pause, beginning to leap and stomp with each line, bringing the crowd up into a rocking melody as if it was a war-song or some tavern drinking song. The classic pitch released for something much more involved and moving - threatening to sweep them all away in his mesmerizing-catchy tune.

    "CURCHANUS! CURCHANUS! CURCHANUS HAS RELEASED ALL HIS BEASTS!"
    "THEIR THUNDEROUS CRY ECHOES TO SHAKE ALL HIS PRIESTS!"

    "CURCHANUS, CURCHANUS! DO NOT LOWER YOUR HEAD!"
    "LAMSHTU HAS DECEIVED YOU! ALL MAN WILL KNOW YOUR DREAD!"
    "STILL WITH BOUNDLESS STRENGTH, THE GREAT ONE TRED!"
    "STILL WITH BOUNDLESS STRENGTH, THE GREAT ONE BLED!"

    "OH, GREAT ONE RISE!"
    "THE STARSONG CRIES!"
    "Cries to wake you from your slumber!"

    "OH, GREAT ONE RISE!"
    "THE STARSONG TRIES!"
    "The gather the stay souls who wander!"

    "YOUR EYES ARE WISE, LIKE A MAN WHO TRIES!"
    "To bring a better world for man!"

    "WITH YOUR LAST BREATH, UPON YOUR DEATH!"
    'You grant wings to The Great Dreamer!"

    "FAREWELL DEAR FRIEND!"
    "BUT UPON YOUR WINGS DOES SHE ASCEND!"
    ''THOUGH HER HEART HAS NOT THE TIME TO MEND!"
    ''WITH THE NIGHT TO GRANT FLIGHT SHE COMES TO SEND!"
    ''- LAMASHTU A STARKNIFE!"

    ''FLY, STARSONG! FLY!"
    ''BEYOND THE HEAVENS SELF-FORGED!"
    ''BEYOND THE SKY!"

    ''THUNDER STRIKES, LIGHTNING ROILS - THE GODS EMBATTLED, THEIR BLADES DO CRASH!"
    ''ALL DIVINITY TO WATCH, THE GODDESSES'S FREY!
    ''ALL HEAVENS DIVIDE IN DEATHLY DANCE: TO DASH, LASH, AND CLASH!"
    ''ALL IS SUNDERED BEFORE THEIR BLOWS LIKE BRITTLE CLAY."

    ''WITH FINAL BLOW LAMASHTU SCATTERS THE STARS!"
    ''OH, STARSONG!"
    ''FROM THE UTTERDARK ROVAGUG REARS HIS UGLY HEAD!"
    ''FROM THE DEEPEST DARK ZON-KUTHON WISHES YOU WERE DEAD!"
    ''WITH VILE WORDS THEY CLAIM 'THESE NIGHT'S WERE OURS!' "

    ''OH, FALLEN STARSONG!"
    ''Wounded and broken."
    ''THEY WERE ALL WRONG!"
    ''I will mend your heart and wing!"
    ''FOREVER WILL WE TRAVEL, THOUGH THESE NIGHTS WERE LONG!"

    "I AM THE SWALLOWTAIL! SILVER AND PURE!"
    "FOREVER OF MY LOVE, EVER I AM SURE!"
    "TO YOUR WOUNDS, AM I THE CURE!"
    "EVER AM I THE SWALLOWTAIL!"
    "BLESSED AND FREE TO WANDER!"

    He brought the performance to a grand and crashing end with his rhythmic stomps, as he let his melody trail off into the distance - wearing a satisfied smirk, pleased with the performance. Bringing the song to a close, fairly certain he had thoroughly captured the mobs attention, he cried out over the gathering. "THANK YOU! THAT WAS MY RENDITION OF 'THE STARSONG & THE SWALLOWTAIL' - AGAIN, I AM ROSS BECHFIELD, YOUR MINSTREL THIS EVENING. NOW IF YOU'D ALL BE SO KIND - PLEASE TURN YOUR ATTENTION TO THE STAGE AND MAYOR DEVERN FOR OUR OPENING ADDRESS!" He took a sharp bow, and jumped off the table, putting out the Light spell on his mandolin as if snuffing out a candle. 'That is how you gather your crowd Kendra...'

  5. - Top - End - #5
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    DruidGuy

    Join Date
    Dec 2015

    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    Spoiler
    Show

    I'm going to use green as a default colour for NPCs, with arbitrary colours picked if there are more people speaking.
    This post is going to somewhat segmented, but I've kind of asked for it haha


    Re: Seyica

    As you left her father's shop, you heard him add, "And one more thing! Stay away from Ven's daughters! Those harlots are up to no good."

    He sighed, and returned to the lonesome shop.


    Re: Lak'Nah

    As you approached Sandpoint, the only thing resembling an "accostment" was a sign with a large metal mirror attached. There were words etched on the wooden board above, proclaiming "Welcome to Sandpoint! Please stop to see yourself as we see you!"

    Several guards stationed around the town did little but nod and wave, if give any notice at all, as you walked through the emptied streets towards the commotion. They seemed unphased by your visibly tribal garb - indeed, you may have noticed that at least one of the guards at the gate had heavily tattooed wrists and neck, with twisting Shoanti designs.

    As you enter the square, the richly dressed woman finishes her welcoming speech, stepping off the podium. The dark skinned man behind her locks his eyes with yours, seemingly singling you out in the entire crowd. Despite being formally dressed as some kind of a guardsman, with chainmail and leather armor barely adorned with festive items, this man is unmistakably Shoanti.

    He coughs, and recites the speech in a powerful, if dour, voice. You can't help but notice slight unease, this is a man unused to fancy speeches or large public venues.

    "Well said, Kendra. While today is assured to be a most mirthful occasion, do not let your guard down. With the new cathedral, we recover some of what we lost 5 years ago. But the lives lost in the great fire, or to blade of evil men, must not be forgotten. Not every debt can be repaid fully, and not every wound healed."

    Re: Bechal

    You've walked into the square at a very opportune moment, just as the apparent captain of the guard finished his speech. His dour words have disrupted the joyful atmosphere, somewhat, as several people visibly reminisced about the awful events of the past. Making a good use of the lull in speeches and suddenly all-too-quiet atmosphere in the town's square, you get out the mandolin and play an invigorating song familiar to all followers of Desna, "The Starsong and the Swallowtail". A classic retelling of Desna's heroic battle with Lamashtu, the mother of monsters, this melody brings much needed energy to the lazy afternoon.

    As you finish, much of the crowd erupts in ovation. Several people attempt to hand you petty change, and a small argument erupts on the podium. You can't hear much of it in the great commotion as people surround you. A tall man with an immaculately groomed mustache elbows and pushes his way through the crowd,
    yelling "I must absolutely have you! Good sir! I'm the proprietor of Sandpoint Theater, and you're HIRED!"


    Spoiler
    Show

    Heh that's one way to make an entrance.

    Your performance greatly cheered the crowd, and as you make your way through the crowd, several people yell for more. Others attempt to hand you money in appreciation. If you choose to collect, you gain about 15 silver coins in total, in assorted coinages (mostly copper coins, so there's quite a handful)



    Everyone:

    An unusual number of butterflies still circle around the square. You're not entirely sure what to make of it, but it's Desna's day after all...

    As all of you make your way to the square, you notice several makeshift stands filled with delicious food. There are crude wooden boards, advertising what seems to be the names of the establishments. You can read "Hagfish", "White Deer", "Cracktooth's" and "Rusty Dragon" among the many stands. Soon after the Bechal's performance, the people behind the stands take advantage of the awed silence, yelling things like "Come to Rusty Dragon for your favorite spiced rice and salmon! Great beer and food!", "!Get yer lobster at Hagfish! See if yer can beat the Hagfish challenge, if yar dare, har har!" and largely succeeding in drowning each other out.

    There is still plenty of assorted food, beer, and mead at the tables all around. Following what seems to be a brief argument at the main podium, the crowd's attention is still mainly focused on Bechal.
    Last edited by root; 2015-12-25 at 03:57 AM.

  6. - Top - End - #6
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Mornings's Avatar

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings


    Bechal Rossfield - The Misbegotten Auspex




    The opening speeches and ceremony had seemingly concluded in short-order. Looking up he saw the Swallowtails had already been released - and he'd not even noticed their carriage had even arrived, or that the crowning event had already concluded. He scratched his head with some confusion, perhaps he had been too preoccupied with his own matters to even had noticed.

    The enthusiasm of the crowds ovation and the shower of coin caught the entertainer off guard. In Riddleport, the crowd didn't throw money - they threw rocks, and that was only if they liked you. The degenerate-filth of Lubbertown could find much worse things to hurl at a traveling performer then stones - so he made it a point not to perform in their grime-covered grace. Korvosa wasn't much better - at least in Old Town. He was quite the memorable figure, and the gangs of Old Korvosa had a habit of bullying and intimidating him and his audience, making quite the unpleasant experience. He gathered the coins with a massive grin - for all his suave and dashing grace... he was dirt poor. He'd been living off bread and water, spending the last few coppers he'd saved paying the rent for his room. He took a few more bows giving thanks to his captive audience. Oh, yes. He could do this - getting paid for his well practiced art was more then enough to leave the matter all but decided.

    The sizable man who shoved through the crowd and addressed him made him raise an eyebrow incredulously. His well-versed cognitive-vault of useless facts and local lore spit out a stream of information into his thoughts. He smiled at the man, shaking his hand - "My! That is a wonderful proposition - one I would gladly accept! Indeed, by some measure of fortune you have found me before I you. I had intended to come onto The SandPoint Theater for the new production. I had heard the theater would be debuting 'The Harpy's Curse', a program I've wanted to participate in for quite a long while. Ah, but where are my manners? I am Ross Bechfield, traveling musician, entertainer and magician. I hail from Korvosa, but I have played in many cities, to include Absalom, RiddlePort, Magnimar - and a number of other less glamorous theaters as far as Caliphas. Though perhaps the most significant was for goodly-Caliphas itself. Surprisingly the Haraday Theater delivered a performance besting even Kaer Maga's Lakeside Amphitheater with their production of the classic High Chelish Opera, 'Beneath Frozen Stars' - unfortunately, true to it's origins it was written in Azlanti and I understood not a word of it... but I digress. You must be the one-and-only Cyrdak Drokkus. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance - I have heard you are quite the splendid musician. It would be my honor and privilege to play a ballad for your theater." It finally seemed things had begun going his way - he'd planned on applying to the theater after the festival concluded, but it seemed a measure of self-advertisement went a long ways here, though the man himself brought a large number of notions with which he had considered... Cyrdak Drokkus, Oh, he knew him alright. In part, for exactly the reasons he had expressed. But that was only part of the entire explanation. Cyrdak had fled from Magnimar years ago for illicit activities. That much was known to most individuals that knew anything about the man's past, but as to what those 'illicit activities' were - most didn't know that much. Much like himself, Cyrdak had a run-in with bad-luck. Luck which became all the worse when the man had his first encounter with The Gallowed. Fronting the bill for his failing business, left the performer in drastic debt - one which he managed to pay his way out of. Unfortunately what the naive man had not understood at the time, was how gangs like The Gallowed worked. Something Bechal had also learned from a hard life of experience. It didn't matter if you paid the bill or not, once you put your hand in the gang's pocket - they put you in theirs. There was no 'cutting ties', once you had a taste you didn't get to leave. Cyrdak got in over his head, got involved with the wrong people and wanted out. A story similar to his own. But Bechal never did get out, not then and not now - but he kept the old-boys at arms length and stayed out of the city as best he could. The man reminded him of himself in many ways and it was no lie that he truly did intend to play for the theater.

    Looking out upon the crowd, seeing he mostly still had their attention - he considered simply beginning another performance, or taking the stage. Though the argument between some of the figures still on the podium seemed to dissuade him from that trail of thought. He glanced by at his new employer, "My friend, It seems there is some commotion upon the podium - surely my performance could not have been so abrasive as to elicit such a disruptive response... What might that be all about?"


  7. - Top - End - #7
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    DruidGuy

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    The man who approached Bechal was momentarily taken aback by your sudden burst of knowledge. With a quick sweep of his hand, he removed the sweat from his forehead and laughed.
    "I see my reputation preceedes myself! I am indeed Cyrdak Drokkus! It's good to have fans from even as far as Korvosa."
    Shifting his eyes slightly, he added, in a quieter voice, "This may not be Magnimar, but Sandpoint Theatre is a pretty big deal..."

    Noting your comment about the commotion on stage, he looked over his shoulder and waved it off. "Ah, it's our own little crop of 'nobs arguing over a speech or some other. I'm sure your magnificent performance had nothing to do with it. They were planning to have Lonjiku Kaijitsu speak and I don't think he could make it... Speaking of which, this is my cue to go! Do meet me at the Theater later once this whole thing blows over, we'll have a nice chat."

    Cydrak winks at you as he pushes his way back through the crowd, shouting greetings and blowing kisses at several people barely noticeable in the surrounding chaos. He climbs onto the podium, authoritatively pushing the people away as he takes the center. Performing a quick gesture with his hands, he begins to speak in a loud, booming voice, easily drowning out the crowds.

    "HELLO SANDPOINT! I am Cyrdak Drokkus, as I'm sure you all know, and tonight is a very special day indeed. Poor ol' Lonjiku of the Kaijitsus couldn't make it today, it seems, but have no fear. I'm sure he's just too busy blowing his glass! I will gladly take his place here." He coughs slightly and fingers his mustache, inserting a much needed pause. "We sure have been through a lot in the past couple of years... The great fire, the horrible ol' Chopper, but we've come through it all - stronger and happier in the end! I could speak for hours and hours about how hard we all worked to gather the much needed support and finances to rebuild this luxurious cathedral. But you're all here for a good time, so I won't. This is a day for celebration!"

    Cyrdak turns theatrically, ready to leave the stage before coming back on and shouting, "Oh and before I forget - do come by the Sandpoint Theatre for an amazing new production of the Harpy's Curse! The queen Avisera will be played by none other but Allishanda herself! And there may be a certain local talent involved... Don't forget! It's tomorrow evening!"
    Last edited by root; 2015-12-25 at 05:53 PM.

  8. - Top - End - #8
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Mornings's Avatar

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings


    Bechal Rossfield - The Misbegotten Auspex




    The bard nodded at Cyrdak's words taking a mental note. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing - Lonjiku Kaijitsu was doing well, though in truth he really did not wish to see him. Kaijitsu Glass had played an important trading commodity for The Rossfield Trading Co. during its height and he oft attended to his father during his business meetings with the man long ago. The last time he had seen the man was nearly five years ago during his wife's funeral - to pay his respects. It had turned into a messy ordeal after a family argument erupted between himself, his son Tsuto and his daughter... He pushed the thought from his mind. The pained look on the boys face after Lonjiku struck him with his cane soured his mood. He wasn't fond of Tsuto, actually, he really didn't know him - as he had been cast out of his family since his birth, rumored to have been a product of Atsuii Kaijitu's infidelity. True or not, he had no idea - he made it a point to try and keep an arm between the Kaijitsu family's discord and himself. There was only one reason why he really bothered remembering the Kaijitsu name though - and The Rossfield's and The Kaijitsu partnership was not it. Ameiko Kaijitsu. Lonijiku's eldest child. Just thinking her name made his face warm up. He'd had something of a crush on the willy-women for some time... years in fact. He coughed. He'd never found the courage to court her directly... and they had only talked a handful of times. Often he'd avoid eye-contact. Hide behind someone else... or generally try to look inconspicuous. She was the finest bard he knew - well, he was of course very biased... and he might not have been judging his endorsement on her performance alone. He turned his finger around-and-around in his red-locks which were so drastically discolored from the rest of his dark brown hair. It was his natural color. Supposedly he may have possessed some misbegotten Azlanti blood, but even if such was true, it was diluted beyond recognition. Ameiko had two-toned hair too... So did he... So did she... One word: DESTINY!

    He smiled to himself sheepishly, grabbing the tankard he'd left on the table and taking a large swig to calm his wild-raging thoughts. Perhaps he was too much of a romantic. It might explain his bad luck with women. He didn't have any children (that he knew of), nor did he have any significant-other - most men his age would have an entire family, have settled down and done... things. He was still a wandering-song-singing-bachelor. He didn't have a problem wooing the fairer-sex, but for whatever reason. They tended to be... well. Not what he expected. Typically thieves, murders, or just evil - his last shot at romance had been ruined when he found out she was an Ustalavian Necromancer. Charming girl, but much like dogs - undead frightened him like nothing else! It just wouldn't have worked out. Still he had to credit The Whispering Way in finding such a lovely evil cultist. Cyrdak prattled on atop the stage as he discussed his venue. This was why Ameiko was perfect for him - Bard's weren't evil. Who'd heard of an evil bard right? Mistrals were wonderful peopl- He sprayed ale out of his nose, coughing in a violent fit as Drokkus's last words caught him squarely. "....Allishanda. He said Allishanda!? Queen Avisera being cast by Allishanda!?" He spun in a circle, jumped back and danced a merry-jig on the table's bench. The cast for the production hadn't been announced yet! Who would have guessed Magnimar's premiere Diva would be casting the lead role herself! Yes! Yes! Amazing! Allishanda was a theatrical legend in the Inner Sea! Her renown even crushed the respected Chelish Diva, Shensen in her wake. Men traveled from as far as Rostland and Okeno to see the Diva on stage! - Just last year he himself had snuck back to Magnimar, risking life-limb-and a chance meeting with Ayala Javeski, again... solely for the purpose of seeing the Diva perform at The Triodea. Tickets had been sold out, but Starsilver Plaza had been beyond crowded, thus he made use of his slippery hands. He stole the ticket off some young Alabaster-born lordling who had spent the last five-minutes moaning and complaining about being forced to attend the performance. The little-sod didn't deserve the privilege, so he took it upon himself to liberate him of his burden. It had been one of the finest productions he'd seen - now he'd have the chance to perform a balled with The Allishanda!? He would have done a back-flip if he knew how, fortunately he didn't - so he danced. It would surly be the highest profile performance he would take part in - who knows how much tickets would be sold for or who would attend! Perhaps his name would be catapulted into fame - this was the beginning of a new life. He ceased his danced and hopped off the bench with a beaming smile. At last things were looking up, he didn't need to think about his past anymore - not with such a bright future almost literally before him. "Densa be praised..... Surly nothing could ruin this day now."



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    Lak'nah made note to find the other Shoanti later, but it looked like he was busy with his own duties. The loud noisemaker took to the stage after and he stopped paying attention.

    The masses of the crowd caused him as much unease as it must have to the man on stage: people weren't clustered in these numbers often, except for battle where he was from. Their clothes, their buildings, their people, the smells were all so very... different. He wasn't sure what to look for when the shamans sent him down this way, but perhaps the other Shoanti would be able to help him once they were satiated from their own festivities.

    He heard the call for competition at this "Hagfish" and Lak'nah's stomach roared in protested. He didn't know how to participate in their festivities, but he understood challenges.

    "What do they consider challenge?" Lak'nah asked himself in Shoanti as he made his way to this "Hagfish" stand.
    Last edited by Lt Gravemind; 2015-12-25 at 10:34 PM.

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    The man behind the Hagfish stand smiles at Lak'nah, noticing his approach. He is a stout man, just under 6 feet in height, with wide shoulders and thick dark hair covering much of his exposed arms. He grins widely, revealing yellowed teeth with many shining fillings.

    "Yer don't seem from around here, young man! Think yer up for tha Hagfish challenge? Yer gonna have to see ol' Norah at my bar fer that..."

    The man walks out from behind the table, with a wobbly gait. It's plain to see that one of his legs is wooden as he approaches the young barbarian with a plate of assorted seafood in hand. Lobster tails, shrimp and unidentifiable white fish fillets. The food looks delicious, if not at its freshest - the banquet has be going on for a while, after all.

    "Or perhaps such a fearless young man such as you would like to know just how Jargie Quinn has lost his leg? I was an adventurer once, you know... A truly harrowing tale... "
    Last edited by root; 2015-12-26 at 04:05 AM.

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    "I hunger, but I will hear your tale Elder." Lak'nah responds, placing his hands together and giving a slight bow.

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    Haldavyr the Red:

    From beneath the shadows of a Church Street shop, an old man glowers towards the podium some ways away, his thin and wrinkled arms crossed over his chest, a stern look of disapproval on his twisted face. Beside him, a dense looking staff of burnt steel leans against the rather lonely shop's wall. With nearly everyone closer to the podium waiting for the speeches to finish, the shop was left relatively untended, which suited Haldavyr's needs well. The maimed wizard preferred to be left alone, where the biting stare of little children couldn't pierce his consciousness. As the performer plays his song and sings his tune, a dark fire burns low in his good eye. The nerve of the youth never failed to astound him, the disrespect. This festival, or any, was no place for him. The sooner he could get back to his work the better, for there was much to do and only so much time to do it. His frown deepens into a glare, and for a brief second the red wizard feels envy as the young minstrel is offered work at the theatre nearby.

    "Fool."

    The man quietly utters a word under his breath, before turning his back to the podium and fetching the Steelscorch Stave off the wall, making a left, and beginning his slow walk towards the nearest inn. Damn the first of Rova, this festival was nothing more than a miserable waste of time, another obstacle in the way of his research. It was intolerable, how many people were around, crowding the square as the wizard attempted to leave. "What does that boy know of monsters, of thunder and lightning, of true power." As the old man thinks to himself, he gazes down at the scar on the palm of his right hand, his accursed 'tattoo'. Wrath. It ached, the scar did, more than ever now. He was getting closer, ever closer, he could feel it in his old bones. It was coming, the breakthrough he needed, the final piece that would finally unlock the infernal puzzle that plagued him during sleepless nights. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Not yet." As he walks, a breeze picks up, and the wizard pauses, seeming to have heard something. However, a jolt of pain rushes through his body. Another migraine was beginning, it seems.

    "No, not now." He suddenly spits out the words like fire, before raising a hand up to press against his temple.

    ---

    As he grimaces, Haldavyr begins to gaze off at sea, stave in hand, before shaking his head and continuing on his way.
    Last edited by The Mad Hatter; 2015-12-27 at 01:44 AM.
    don't click this

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    The show and speech left seyica mostly unimpressed, Cyrdak was as pompous as usual, although that Bechal fellow sure knew how to make an impression.

    Seyica spots an aged man in the crown, drawing her attention. He looks ... out of place in the festival, filled with bitterness and pain. She had a bad feeling about this man, but he was obviously in pain, and she decided to offer him her help anyway.

    "Is everything alright sir ? May i be of any assistance ? I'm no doctor, but you look like you could use some help and i got some herbs and ointments that might help you" She said, with a cheerful smile, reaching out for the man.

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    Bechal Rossfield - The Misbegotten Auspex




    With all that had happened this day - he felt like he could take on the world, and perhaps even old challenges. He downed the last bit from his tankard and picked up another, still frothy and full. Perhaps another song? No, no. I should make the most of this good fortune... but how? There really was only one answer. The Rusty Dragon. The calls from the various merchants and employees supporting the half-dozen taverns of the town dropped the thought right into his lap. He'd tried to avoid The Dragon whenever he could - he didn't have the fortitude for it, after all Ameiko owned the establishment, she'd of course be there. Perhaps this was the day, perhaps he'd find the courage to march through those heavy oak doors and actually do something. Thoughts flooded into his mind, hypothetical's of what he'd do; the fantasy that settled in his mind was simply marching through the door, downing a full tankard of the hardest stuff he could find before snapping his mandolin off his back and crushing the audience with a flawless performance of 'The Baelis Strand' it was the hardest song he knew, he'd only played it completely once. The old bard Hagevald used to play the song nearly two-decades ago at the old White Deer tavern... well, before it burned down during 'The Late Unpleasentness'. Hagevald had died quietly in his busted old chair in the tavern, with an empty tankard in one hand and a smile on his face - like any old-and-grey minstrel should. But before he passed on to pay Pharasma a visit, he taught him his song. An insanely complex balled about the first battle of SandPoint during its founding, telling the story of Alamon Scarnetti's attack, but from the perspective of Baelis Scarnetti, one of the three cousins Alarmon left behind to die after he and his-own were overwhelmed by the Varisian natives. He'd always suspected that Hagevald had been there, at the battle - simply because a dead-man couldn't write his own song, but the salty geezer never did confess. He'd always retort with the same line; 'Listen, and let the song tell the tale'. With nothing but free-time on his hands during his father's business ventures, he dedicated the countless hours to mastering Hagevald's command of stringed instruments. Yet, still - 'The Baelis Strand' had always seemed nigh impossible to play like the wily-old-coot, unless he grew a third arm and a hand with seven fingers... Even today, he didn't feel comfortable playing it due to its difficulty - yet today, he felt like he just might be able to pull it off, maybe. It was an obscure song which hadn't been played in over a decade, but a few old faces would probably recall it. Garridan Viskalai probably would, Hagevald had practically lived in the man's tavern after all. But then again, the song was old enough to have perhaps been forgotten entirely. He sat up from the table he had slumped into while lost in thought, standing as his confidence begun to mount. He was going to do it. He would do it. He was going to play for The Rusty Dragon! His stomach growled, interrupting his surmounting conviction - he'd only been drinking during the festival... Best not play on an empty stomach.

    He kicked up Telles Riddle from its leaning place against the table, catching his long cane in the air and giving it a small spin before sliding the stick into his long baldric hanging by his thigh, as if it was some child's wooden sword. It had a somewhat stylish flare that he enjoyed to sport while not actually using it as he walked - but he didn't need the cane right now, this was a festival! Festival's needed music! He played a simple series of chords, bending over his mandolin, plucking with one hand, while pressing bar-chords with one finger with his other hand as he held a full tankard of ale, taking intermittent sips from the mug as he bobbed through the crowd to his own music with tender steps, occasionally spilling ale. Music. People. Free food and ale... He loved festivals.

    He gingerly nudged his was through to get his eyes upon the various food-stands of the different vendors. The cries of The Hagfish caught his ear. He chuckled to himself thinking of old Jargie Quinn. That salty-one-legged-coot never changed, and his tavern still smelled like scum-water and fish, but the place was so damned old it was the most popular drinking-establishment in town. Still, he had to admit - Jargie did have some fine seafood, but most importantly you could always find some good company and new friends. He stepped past a sunburned child, bit-down on the lip of his tankard and spun around a well-endowed maiden - taking two or three extra glances down her loose blouse, and slid past a group of mottly looking boys fighting over something-or-another. He frowned, they looked like just the kind of kids who'd get suckered into damned Jubrayl's game and end up as fresh Sczarni-scum. He shook his head in disappointment as he finally came into view of The Hagfish's stand and free seafoo-
    His clay tankard fell out of his numb hands, shattering at his feet, spilling ale on his fine shoes and pants. His eyes were wide in horror, as if they would fall from his skull - his knees shaking in silent terror at the sight before him. Some massive beast of a creature stood lumbering in front... Nay!, lumbering Over! The Hagfish stand. His mind raced, looking for answers - a few hundred books and mental notes exploded open within his cranium, spinning through pages and pages of useless and and random information. His terror was made all the more real as the metaphysical tomes in his head closed sharply with no answers... He felt a seeping moisture run down his legs, his trousers gaining some weight and sticking to his legs...

    At first he had thought the thing a Shoanti, that wasn't so uncommon, but aside from the Shiikirri-Quah traditions, Shoanti were just normal people! He'd never heard of a creature like this wandering the Storval Plateau, or even the Cinderlands besides giants and orcs. The man-beast easily stood seven-feet off the ground, and weighed close to half a ton - his massive mit's were the size of Cornish Hens! He felt dizzy. He'd seen orcs... he'd never seen a giant, but the strange skull-masked, scarred, axe wielding murder-beast made a giant seem so much more... mundane. His legs finally begun to respond, though it felt like they were weighed down with blocks of lead. He pulled one foot up, awkwardly, then placed it down behind him. He pulled his other foot, and dragged it into place underneath him as if he had stepped in a tanglefoot bag - skulking backwards into the crowd... his stunned wide-eyed expression burned into his visage. His mind wildly jumped to extraordinary conclusions, looking for some explination. He had to have an explination - something to make it all make sense, to make it... real.

    It wasn't an orc.. probably. A half-giant? He knew nothing about those. It didn't look like any kind of giant. A Jadwiga! He nodded to himself vigorously, while hiding under a table, pulling his knees to his chest - deciding to himself, for himself that was the truth they, he, would settle for. 'Yes. Yes. A Jadwiga... that makes sense. Some strange creature, that. Quite frightful, but no one's screaming yet... so we'll be okay. Right?' - Right. He clawed his way out from under the table, Who was he talking to? He shook his head, he wasn't good under pressure. But he had to wonder, what was a Jadwiga doing this far south? They were a very long way from Irrisen. It didn't matter... Jadwiga or not, nothing was going to ruin his day!

    He looked down at his soiled pants with a frown. Well, who wouldn't have... complications? It was only natural, after all, he'd never seen such a ferocious creature in person before. He was a minstrel, not some ungodly fiend-slaying hero. He clenched his fists a few times to get the feeling back in his hands then strummed a short series of chords. A glimmering sparkle of dim shimmering sapphire light sprinkled down from his instrument, the arcane energy vanishing as it touched the ground leaving his cloths dry and, once again, clean.

    Spoiler: Action: Cast Cantrip
    Show
    Cast: Prestidigitation





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    Quote Originally Posted by Lt Gravemind View Post
    "I hunger, but I will hear your tale Elder." Lak'nah responds, placing his hands together and giving a slight bow.
    "An elder, huh? Yer really not from 'round here..."

    Momentarily taken aback by the giant's strange manners, Jargie shrugged and bounced back with greater vigour.

    "Yer might wanna start eatin', the grub is free after all, for this will be a mournful tale of the beast of Sandpoint Bay..."

    "Twas a fierce storm one night, three years ago from this very day. Gozreh herself was throw in' all she got against th' shore cliffs! A great time for fishin.

    Me and me poor late nephew braved the' seas, for the storm brought a hidden boon. All tha bestest an' biggest fish from tha sea, stunned by tha storm, served to us on Gozreh's own platter. Yer could just reach into the' water an' pull out a salmon half as big as you!

    We din't bother with tha fishing poles. I've had a spear, an' Timmer had a net. Our lil boat bar'ly kept above tha' waves, filled to brim with bounty of tha seas.

    Then Murdermaw struck. Enraged by man's great fortune, the gods have sent a horrid beast to punish us. Tha first blow took our boat to pieces...

    But Murdermaw was not satisfied. He lept from tha seas as we swam back to the' shore, a horrid thing of teeth, an' fins, an' scales, and gobbled Timmer whole.

    Jus' like that, one moment there's a man, the next - a giant fish in his place, wit' hunger for man flesh.

    Jargie's no fish food! I jabbed th' beast, righ' in its eye, an' boy was it enraged. Wit' shore in sight, there was finally hope fer me.

    An' then, with a sickening crunch, Murdermaw got me leg. I figured I was done for, but ta' spite the beast, I gave 'im one final kick in tha' snout.

    An jus' like that, ol' Murdermaw fled. Perhaps I was blessed tha' day, or perhaps me poor nephew was enough fer him, or perhaps he din't like the taste o' me... Nobody may know.

    I got out of it with me life intact, and Murdermaw still lurks th' bay on stormy nights... Missin' an eye an' more angry then ever.
    "
    Last edited by root; 2015-12-27 at 03:54 PM.

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    Bechal Rossfield - The Misbegotten Auspex




    No screams... Screaming was bad. Party and laughter good. He slapped himself in the face sharply, snapping himself back into focus and regaining his wits. His courage mounted, building to perhaps levels they had never seen - for truth be told, and he knew it well. He was a coward at heart. But this man... this dashing bard he found himself to be today, was fearless, Nay! Dauntless. It was as if Hagevald had possessed him. He played a powerful chord and stepped through the crowd back in sight of the Hagfish and cracked his knuckles. Something he'd never done before - ouch. He shook his hand painfully. Something he'd never do again. Jadwiga, half-giant, troll, bugbear! He didn't care. This was his day! And right now, for all intents-and-purposes Densa had blessed him, he was unstoppable. Jargie still had his other leg, and he was shooting-the-breeze with the Jadwiga like he was just another big-dumb-fish.

    He made up his mind. Then and there, as if his very will somehow imposed itself upon the world and made it reality. He was going to eat some damn seafood. He was going to explode into The Rusty Dragon in a sliding-knee-dive. He was going to play that goddam song. He was going to woo Ameiko: This was happening! He marched over to The Hagfish stand with a smirk on his face, listening to the last of Jargie's tale. He leaned on the counter with one arm. "Jargie, I didn't know you had a nephew named Timmer. Hey- Last time you told me you jumped off the boat and stabbed Murdermaw in the eye! Haha." He actually couldn't remember what old-Jargie had said last time, the story was always different - but he might have actually had a nephew... he made a mental note of that. "It's good to see you're still kickin', sorta. It's me, Bech. The old Rossfield kid. Changed my name sometime back after my old man bit the dust - didn't want to be all tied up in the business and whathaveyou. Can I get some of 'yar ol' fish', going to go play over at The Rusty Dragon." He leaned over the counter, keeping his voice low "You wouldn't happen to know if Ameiko is over there would you? Going for a surprise visit."

    He leaned back from over the counter taking a gander at the massive murder-beast. He cleared his throat "Why, hello.... friend." He saw the man did indeed have features under that mask. Whew, he had started to expect he'd be looking at a skull with only black holes in its face. He lifted up his hand awkwardly, gesturing at the man's entire face. "So... that... All that... the mask... Is that a common, uh. Tradition? in Irrisen? I've heard the Jadwiga and scarred-witch doctors at The Crown of the World sometimes wear similar masks. I've never been so far past the Kodar Mountains before... or even to them, So i wouldn't know. Uh, so you're from.... Whitethrone? No-no-no... Don't spoil it, I'm good at this. Uh.... Algidheart? No, Waldsby! Right? I'm right arn't I." He crossed his arms triumphantly, he could see the confused-inquisitive look in his eye, wondering how he'd known, probably. He was so good at this game.




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    "You callin' me a liar now? A poor ol' one legged man? Shame on yer..."

    Jargie laughed loudly and reached out to slap Bechel on the shoulder, almost dropping the plate of assorted fish in the process.

    "I was wondering' why yer seemed familiar... Bechel, was it? Yer always welcome at Hagfish, just don' try the Hagfish challenge..."

    He winked knowingly.

    "I'm getting ta' far ahead of meself here... Yer looking for Ameiko? She's here, too. All the finest bars an' eateries are here tonight, think she even brought her bes' dish! Jus' across the crowd, righ' there, I don' even know how yer missed her."

    Jargie waved his hand in the general direction of Ameiko's stand.

    Spoiler
    Show
    funny thing, I rolled perception check to see if Bechel noticed Ameiko in the crowd, a while ago... He didn't fare so well...

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    Bechal Rossfield - The Misbegotten Auspex




    He laughed at the old man, shoving a few shrimp in his mouth as the plate hit the counter. "Haha, even I'm not crazy enough to and stomach-down a tankard of that old grimy-sludge. I'd probably be wretching that up for a good hour!" He bit down into a lobster tail, trying to make quick work of the thing so he could shove off to The Rusty Dragon, talking and almost drunkenly gesturing at the titanic barbarian as he tried to guess which frozen wasteland he hailed from. Jargie's words flushed his thoughts away like a Magmarian latrine. He sharply turned back to Jargie with a lobster tail hanging from his mouth and followed the old man's hand out towards where he had come. He squinted his eyes, looking out past the crowd to the stands... his face went limp, the lobster falling out of his mouth, before he snapped to and caught the morsel. "Wha-whaaaa!?" He turned back to Jargie, sharply. "Wait... wait... wait-wait-wait. Pause! - That mean's I stood on a table, and played 'The Starsong and Swallowtail' in front of her already!?" His face begun to flush. He smashed his fishy hand and lobster-clenched fist to his red face to cover his shame. AAAAHHHHHH! THAT!? THAT WAS HOW I MADE MY GRAND ENTRANCE!? THE GODDAM STARSONG AND SWALLOWTAIL!? He brought his face crashing down to the counter with a resounding thump.... defeated.

    He thought and thought... no-no-no... this can't be happening, maybe she didn't see it!? who was he kidding, everyone saw it. Jargie saw it. Right? - It was a heavily altered rendition of the song, but it was so.... so simple! He'd played that damn song countless times when he was still learning to play with Hagevald. Maybe he should get up on stage, and play something better... but how could he muster the courage now to play, knowing she was watching. He shook his head. His amazing plans... ruined! He felt deflated, but maybe this was good... after all, he'd managed to actually play something. He lifted up his head, he got a job offer, a standing ovation from a standing crowd.. okay maybe that didn't count - but they did throw money at him. Money was good. He could do this...

    "Hey, Jargie. How'd you like my last song? I got another performance to play, but not sure what it should be yet. Have any ideas?"




    Spoiler: OOC
    Show
    Loooools. Well, that's good then. Bechal probably would have choked if he knew Ameiko was that close haha.
    Last edited by Mornings; 2015-12-27 at 07:23 PM.

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    Quote Originally Posted by SneakyZombie View Post
    The show and speech left seyica mostly unimpressed, Cyrdak was as pompous as usual, although that Bechal fellow sure knew how to make an impression.

    Seyica spots an aged man in the crown, drawing her attention. He looks ... out of place in the festival, filled with bitterness and pain. She had a bad feeling about this man, but he was obviously in pain, and she decided to offer him her help anyway.

    "Is everything alright sir ? May i be of any assistance ? I'm no doctor, but you look like you could use some help and i got some herbs and ointments that might help you" She said, with a cheerful smile, reaching out for the man.
    Haldavyr's forlorn gaze out to the horizon is interrupted by the young sounding voice of a woman behind him. Well, that was unusual. Perhaps she hadn't yet seen his face from beneath his crimson hood. No one was kind to Haldavyr, and he preferred it that way. Made things easier, it was a pattern familiar to him. You can trust the fearful, who knows who this friendly individual could be? Perhaps another spy from Nidal, come for him yet again. With the luck he was having, it might just be the case. The red wizard turns slowly to glare at the girl with his one good eye, before shaking his head slowly, a curt sign of clear distrust. He gestures with a hand forward, as if to dismiss her. As he does so, a small symbol can be seen burnt into his hand, scarred. A sickly tattoo. Most likely it would be a sign utterly unfamiliar to the young woman, and Haldavyr quickly pulls it back if he notices her staring.

    He speaks a sentence with a cold and rushed tone in his voice, before aiming to walk right by her and beyond. "No, thank you, I'm fine, I don't want what you have to sell, good day."

    Spoiler: Haldavyr's 'Tattoo':
    Show
    don't click this

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    Lak'nah simply remained attentive at the story of the elder man, taking the moment to grab a lobster tail and devour its contents. One thing he did note was that Outsider food had the propensity to be more flavorful. It wasn't home cooking, freshly hauled in after a kill, but it was good in its own right.

    When the Elder finished his tale, he replied "A good tale, Elder. The beast saw your worth if it permitted you to live."

    Lak'nah was actually starting to feel less tense at this moment among the crowd until the loud thing of twitchy demeanor sauntered up and began making loud noises. When asked about his origin, he simply responded "Shadde-Quah, Burshket."

    The Bursket was a loud, colorful bird of cowardly demeanor up north. It was popular to hunt for it's feathers, but the meat was terrible. This boy reminded him on one. Regardless it seemed to lose interest in Lak'nah quickly enough, thankfully, and move its attention to some prospective mate.

    "I would take your challenge Elder." Lak'nah stated, returning his attention to Jargie.

  21. - Top - End - #21
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    MonkGuy

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    Seyica stays a bit baffled.You offer help to a man obviously in pain, and you get treated like a damn peddler !
    "Whatever, old man, good day to you too ! " she blurts, storming off through the festival's crowd, obviously upset by the exchange.
    " Stupid codger ... still, i wonder what is this tatoo means"
    She walks it off, quickly calming herself, wandering through the streets, and trying to enjoy the rest of the festivities.

    In insight, she might just caught him off guard, and she shouldn't have reacted so vividly.
    Meh.
    It's not like they will ever cross path again ...

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings


    Bechal Rossfield - The Misbegotten Auspex




    After a moment's pause, the towering man's brutish words caught his attention. He looked at the man - then at his axe - then at the man again. Oh... Thinking more on it, it did make sense - but the man-beast didn't look like any Shoanti he'd ever seen before. Nor were Saddle-Quah nomads - they were perhaps one of the few clans you never saw, because they actually had permanent homes... He sighed, digging his chin into his fish-smelling palm. He could have sworn he was right - heck, he'd still believe it, maybe the big man was just playing a joke on him because this was Varisia and he happened to be carrying an axe. "Huh. Shoanti, eh? I must admit my beefy-friend... you are like no Shoanti I've seen - and they are quite common in these parts. Your stature alone is unlike anything which wanders through the Cinderlands, and your uh... mask. Well, that's just unique this far south of the mountains. I've traveled south of Magnimar to the westen coats where many of your people still dwell. But as perhaps the finest seafaring-folk to walk Varisia - I can't say I've ever seen a Saddle-Quah warrior who wears skulls. Not to say it's not done, truly I'm unfamiliar with perhaps the more obscure of your clans traditions. I'm a minstrel by trade, I know a great deal of nothing and a little of everything."

    "At the least, allow me to explain my previous train of thought - it might interest a man such as yourself. You see, your mask is actually quite common - in another place, far to the north. A cold and wicked land known as Irrisen, far-far to the north, past the impassable Kodar Mountains - buried deep within the Crown of the World. The songs paint its dark history quite clearly - but there, massive and great warriors roam dauntless through eternal freezing winds, wearing a skull-mask. Much like yourself. They are The Jadwiga, The Children of The Witch-Queen... so they say. The Jadwiga are the most fierce of warriors, and wrestled their independence from The Land of The Linnorm Kings close to a thousand years ago."
    He figured by now he had the big-man's attention, and he was starting to run out of actual facts to work with, though he used the term 'facts' somewhat liberally - he figured mixing in the bits he knew from the songs with the two-or-so pages he'd read over the shoulder of some grouchy mage at the Golemworks was more interesting though. "It is said there are no new Jadwiga, that they are unnaturally long-lived juggernauts of battle wielding weapons larger then a grown man! -Though it is simple rumor, the songs sing of their three greatest; said to be immortals. Though nameless to any south of the Kodar-Wall, they are known as The Red, White, and Black Riders for the great frozen beasts they mount while riding through the wastes. So great their battle prowess, it is said they enforce the rule of The Witch-Queen with their own hands and lance, judging their subject's loyalties and slaying any who attempt to flee from Irrisen's frozen grasp!" He nodded to himself with a smirk, now that was a good tale - far more interesting then some dusty book. He cleared his throat. "By your... Um, physical appearance. You looked much like one of these famed warriors. After all - I'm sure they are truly just increadibly hardened men... probably... It really was... is, a very good match. It's almost hard to believe you're Shoanti... but even so, I won't pry further. " Most of that was true... well, as far as he knew anyways. As for what he'd pulled from the songs, that was any-man's guess. Minstrel's did tend to take quite a bit of artistic license when it came to their stories. There was even songs about The Riders riding Linnorms... but that was a little too far-fetched even for him. Either way, it didn't really matter how much was true or not - he wasn't a historian! It was about the story, and that one was very interesting. He'd have pat himself on the back if it didn't look so strange.

    ...And what was a Bur...shket, wasn't that one of those colorful dresses? He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but maybe it was a compliment. Lets go with that, Burshket.... Burshket. Yes, he liked it. Maybe it'd make a good stage-name. He made a mental note of that.


    Last edited by Mornings; 2015-12-28 at 07:03 PM.

  23. - Top - End - #23
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    DruidGuy

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    As the people of Sandpoint continue to lazily while away their afternoon, gorging numerous foods and guzzling vast amounts of mead and ale, the sun continues its unstoppable trek to the west. The Old Light's shadow begins to stretch towards the town square, hungrily reaching towards the cathedral. The crowds have been slowly thinning out in the past hour, having partook of all the festival brought. There's still a fair number of people left in the square, however.

    The lull of festival slowly dying down is suddenly interrupted by a loud bang accompanied by a flash, high above the podium. A new arrival has taken place on the barren stand, a middle aged man with well groomed beard. He's adorned in a ceremonial-looking white robe, accompanied by a noticeable glint at his side - a star knife.

    "My dear friends and family, old and new! Desna surely smiles upon this day. But let us not forget the reason we are here today." He chuckles, his voice obviously amplified. "Yes, the delicacies brought onto us by the gracious hosts today are a reason enough to be here. I am quite fond of Ameiko's salmon, myself. But I digress. We are here today not only to celebrate Desna's blessings, but to renew her sacred touch upon our town's newly rebuilt cathedral."

    You hear whispers in the crowd, "Father Zanthus?" "It must be time for the consecration!", "We can still finish the food, yea?" and "What was that noise!?"

    The man on the podium, Father Zanthus, cleared his throat, and is suddenly interrupted by a woman's scream. A few moments later, another scream rises, then another. Beyond them, a sudden surge of strange new voices rises high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human. The crowd parts and something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee as the stray dog gives a pained yelp and then collapses with a gurgle, its throat cut open from ear to ear. As blood pools around its head, the raucous sound of a strange song begins, chanted from shrill, scratchy voices.

    Spoiler
    Show

    This is going to be the first combat encounter of the AP. It's a bit wonky as presented in the book but I think I figured out a way to do it reasonably well.
    There are several groups of goblins currently in the square. I will be using a single initiative roll for each present group to speed it along.

    I've rolled perception and initiative in my DM rolls thread probably jumped a bit too far ahead, was intending to roll initiative for players in IC but oh well. You don't need to concern yourself with that thread, I'll mostly be doing "behind the screen" rolls there when I don't have any dice on hand. Feel free to make your rolls in IC or OOC, preferably spoilered.

    Currently the players are basically split up into 2 groups (Lak'nah and Bechel are near the Hagfish stand talking, and Seyica pretty much just spoke to Haldavyr some way across the town square)


    Results of rolls from the thread linked above:
    Seyica and Haldavyr surprisingly both made the perception check, despite like 9 point difference in their scores. They're aware of the goblins that just ran past them, and are able to act.
    For group near Seyica and Haldavyr, initiative order is: Seyica, Haldavyr, goblins.

    Lak'nah and Bechal both managed to fail the perception check. Goblins get a jump on them, but since you're literally in a crowd of people without making yourself much of a target, there's not much to worry about... yet. Initiative order after surprise round: Goblins 2, Lak'nah, Bechal.

    Initiative overall: Goblins 2, Seyica, Lak'nah, Bechal, Haldavyr, Goblins. But since players start in 2 groups somewhat apart, might as well treat this as 2 different combats or whatever.

    Will be posting a map in next post alongside more tactical details.
    Last edited by root; 2015-12-29 at 01:05 AM.

  24. - Top - End - #24
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    DruidGuy

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    Spoiler: Combat Map
    Show




    Legend:

    The black rectangles are tables. They're largely empty and flat, with only some food and leftovers on them. About 3 feet tall on average. Not necessarily continuous but small details in paint are a pain.

    The black spray represents difficult terrain due to crowds. While quite a few people left the festival already, many were expecting to see the consecration ceremony. They're non-combatants and will attempt to flee combat. Will not be tracking them individually unless a goblin decides to take a slash at them, but there are still at least 50 people left on this map.

    The groups labeled as "Goblins 2" and "Goblins 1" are self-explanatory. Individual goblins are marked with numbers. Goblins will act on initiative as groups (G1 and G2)

    Black circles with initials are players. (B - Bechel, L- Lak'nah, H- Hadavyr, S - Seyica) Disregard other black circles for now.

    Initiative order: G2, Seyica, Lak'nah, Bechal, Haldavyr, G1. Treat it as true initiative - don't wait on people before you if you don't want, just post what you want to do and it'll be tracked according to initiative order. Include an alternative action if you think yours' might be obsolete by your turn. Keep it within the same round though.

    If you want to move to a spot, refer to the coordinates on the sides of the map.
    Last edited by root; 2015-12-29 at 02:07 AM.

  25. - Top - End - #25
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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings



    Momentarily after the loud bang accompanying the start of Father Zanthus' ceremony, Seyica and Hadavyr noticed blurs of movements through the crowds and under the tables. By the time the screaming started, several seconds later, they were well aware of the cause.

    Goblins. Violent, utterly unpredictable, and quite insane, have flooded into the town square. Through the screams and yelps of panicking denizens of Sandpoint, you could hear what appears to be a crude song, sang by many screeching voices, in Goblin and Common alike.


    Goblins chew and goblins bite,
    Goblins cut and goblins fight.
    Stab the dog and cut the horse,
    Goblins eat and take by force!
    Goblins race and goblins jump,
    Goblins slash and goblins bump.
    Burn the skin and mash the head,
    Goblins here and you be dead!
    Chase the baby, catch the pup,
    Bonk the head to shut it up.
    Bones be cracked,
    Flesh be stewed,
    WE BE GOBLINS YOU BE FOOD!
    As the panic starts, the goblins seem happy about the reaction. The three goblins on the north end of the square, just behind the Hagfish stand, scream loudly waving their crude weapons. Two (1 and 2) jumps up on Hagfish' stand, one taking a slash at Lak'nah and another attempting to fill its pockets with remaining seafood on the table. The third goblin (3) attempts to slash at Jargie's wooden leg with his dogslicer, cackling madly.

    Spoiler: Mechanics
    Show

    ROUND 1
    Initiative order: G2, Seyica, Lak'nah, Bechal, Haldavyr, G1

    Goblins in group G2 (near Bechal and Lak'nah) move closer (will update map) and attack.
    Goblin 1
    (1d20+3)[16]
    (1d4+1)[5]
    (against Lak'nah's Flat-footed AC of 14)

    Goblin 3
    (1d20+3)[17]
    (1d4+1)[5]
    (against Jargie's flat footed AC of 11)

    Goblin 2 just tries to stuff as much seafood as possible into its pouches and pockets.

    Actions left in ROUND 1:
    Seyica, Lak'nah, Bechal, Haldavyr, G1

    Last edited by root; 2015-12-29 at 02:36 AM.

  26. - Top - End - #26
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    MonkGuy

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    "GOBLINS !" yells seyica in an assured voice. "Everyone get to safety !"
    Look, mom, i know this party isn't for you and stuff, but please give the strength to keep the innoncent from your ream another day.

    Seyica does her best to remember Kora's teaching, and empty her mind, still shaking off her confrontation with the burned man.
    She makes a series of quick gesture in the direction of the first goblin she sees, and two blue bolts of energy quickly fly towards her target

    Spoiler: Rolls & actions
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    Pretty sure the goblin 4 of group 1 got cover from the crowd, so that's a -4 to hit for me, and i get Point blank shot
    Rapid shot being used (Full round action)

    +5 base (-2 rapid shot) (-4 cover) (+1 PBS) = 0

    (1d20)[6]
    (1d8+1)[5]
    (1d20)[19]
    (1d8+1)[7]


    Spoiler: Alternate action
    Show

    Given the amount of people, if she can't shoot at the goblins, seyica ready an action to attack the first goblin she can (use first roll in this case)
    Last edited by SneakyZombie; 2015-12-29 at 02:35 AM.

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    DruidGuy

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    Default Re: [IC] root's Burnt Offerings

    Spoiler
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    Don't expect such quick updates every time but since I'm still up, here it goes.

    I will do a large detailed recap at the end of each round, with updated map. If possible, I'll post small notes on whether or not someone is dead so people don't have to worry too much about alternative actions, whenever, like right now.

    Goblin 1 of goblin group 1, now relabeled "4", is dead like a doorknob.

    I've re-labeled the goblins to make it less confusing now; group 1 goblins are now labeled "4, 5, 6" as opposed to "1, 2, 3".


    Just as the marauding goblin leaps out from behind the tent, he gets hit by Seyica's soulbolt. Pierced, he falls, lifeless as the rest of his companions scream what appears to be insults in Goblin.

    Spoiler: Updated map after Seyica
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  28. - Top - End - #28
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    Lak'nah snarled as the goblin's blade cut into him. Suddenly his eyes widened, his pulse quickened as his vision turned to red and he let out a roar, snatching the greataxe off his back and taking a powerful swing at the goblin.

    Spoiler: Actions
    Show

    Lak'nah enters his rage.

    Power Attack: (1d20+6)[16]
    Damage: (1d12+12)[17]
    Last edited by Lt Gravemind; 2015-12-29 at 10:40 AM.

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    Lak'nah's mighty axe blow splits the opportunistic goblin in half, covering much of the Hagfish stand in gore. So much for the seafood...

    The second goblin on the table yelps in horror as it sees what happened to its companion. Jargie swears profusely, trying to shake the third goblin off his wooden peg leg, bleeding from a deep cut on his good leg.

    Spoiler
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    Goblin 1, goblin 4 dead.
    Remaining turns this round: Bechel, Haldavyr, Goblins 1 (5 and 6)

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    Bechal Rossfield - The Misbegotten Auspex




    The momentary clatter of the roused crowd in the square caught his attention, then was shortly dismissed as Father Zanthus made his way up onto the podium. The man was already late, he really should have performed his little show during The Release. Now it was something of a stale act with half of the gathering filtering away and the other half gorged and half asleep. He clicked his tongue at the man's passing comment about Ameiko, somewhat irate. He didn't like priests, but who could blame him. He hadn't exactly had the most wonderful history with the sisters of the cloth during his tenure in Absalom. However, short lived...

    The crack and crash in the distance hardly drew his attention, nor do the loud 'bang'. Around this time the drunks had a habit of crawling out from under their booze-laden tables to find something to break. It drew a slight chuckle from him - he could watch drunk people all day. Then came the screams, an alarming jolt made him sit upright, as if his spine snapped stiff. His head frantically darted about. Something was wrong - a cold sweat begun to bead on his brow. He had a bad feeling - What was going on. Frantic cries. Frenzied steps. The flash of blood. No. No. No... this can't be happening. But it was... it was happening. The vision. Amid his own fortune to herald the chaos - doom had come to SandPoint. Had he not come to stop it? To face it? - No. That hadn't been him, right? That couldn't have been... It was someone else! He was Bechal! The musician, the boy, the coward! ...Right? He turned frantically to Jargie "Jarg, we need to get ou- " A spray of blood on the ground and twisted cackling, followed by the man's screams shook him to the core. He sharply turned to the big man "Beef-cake, HELP!" He'd not even seen the creature, how'd it get so close!? The goblin-song filled his ears - the raucous gibbering laughter of the demented horde of little freaks surrounded him from all corners like some infernal choir. Blood coated his coat's arm as the monster hacked into the great man with its worn-twisted blade. The goblins hacked at poor Jargie, slashed at the Shoanti - chanting insistently, insolently! This was not music! It was all so surreal... No. It wasn't real. This couldn't be real, he was dreaming. It had been such a good dream - he might have finally confessed his feelings to the woman he'd been so found of... but now it had become some nightmare. His body froze in place, his knee's shaking. "....Wake up. Wake up. Wake up... It's not real." Then the giant warrior ripped his great-axe from his blade, reeling back with a mighty howl and brought the blade to bare. A brilliant crimson blossom bloomed in the evening light - it lashed out angrily at the waning sun with its petal hands, slapping him in the face, painting his horror-branded visage with the thick spray of gore.

    "AAAGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!! - AHHHHHHHH!!!" THIS WAS REAL! He kicked off from the stand's counter, screaming like a madman, flailing wildly at the air and whipping the thick foul-smelling goblin sludge from his face. What was this madness!? He hit the ground behind him in a back roll, tumbling through the dirt with a hard crash - pain ran through his shoulder as he came to, landing on his feet in a crouch. Tears ran down his face, perhaps in terror, perhaps from the terrible filth that burned his eyes - or maybe... He struck a chord, his hands seemingly to move of their own violation. A series of plucking strings crying out, as if to deny or contest the chanting chorus, that was both profane and out of key. He wasn't the boy he was! He'd chosen to be here - this was his final affirmation. He wasn't mad! -and all the pain had not been meaningless. The stream of plucking notes turned into powerful hammering chords that carried out with magical energy, amplified and twisted to some tone unnatural to the world by some arcane power. His hand's quaked as a dim blue light begun to manifest - The sound became like a pulsing wind, carried by the notes of his song. He lifted himself from the ground, as his song built in volume and intensity, his blood-caked hair danced wildly about him giving him the appearance of some musician driven past the precipice of his own sanity. He hit a crashing chord, crying out over the song about him, as if to drown it with his own in some battle of ballads.


    "The storm is rising... and night comes to fall."
    "All alone... you're drifting off."
    "...And none will come to hold your hand"

    "WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?"
    "THIS COLD SEA IS SHORELESS!"
    "The autumn wind blows..."

    "THE AUTUMN WIND BLOWS!"
    "BLOWS, TO STEAL THESE TEARS!"
    "The storm creeps upon us, soon to forget..."

    "FORGET THE PAIN OF THESE HOURS! FORGET THE PAIN OF DAYS PAST!
    "THESE DAYS ARE NEW AND FLEETING! FLEETING AS THIS SUN'S LIGHT!
    "SO STAND ANEW BEFORE STORM'S WIND!"

    "THIS AUTUMN WIND BRINGS RENEWAL... A LIFE TO CEASE!"
    "A LIFE TO LIVE YET LIVED!"
    "SO GRASP THE SKY'S FLEETING LIGHT, AND MAKE DUE WITH TODAY!"
    "THIS NIGHT BRINGS STORM, WHICH KNOWS NO DAY!"
    "DARK BRINGS REST, BUT NO TOMORROW! THE STARS FOREVER GLEAMING IN DANCE AND PLAY!"


    He reeled back the neck of his instrument and leapt up. Screaming the last of the song's lyrics at the sky, he came down with a final crashing chord unleashing an explosion of sapphire light that sizzled in the air with a thousand sparkling star-like lights. The blast of energy erupted directly from the goblin before him and washed over the other short-beasts.




    Spoiler: ACTIONS - COMBAT
    Show
    MISC: 5-ft Step to J-9
    Standard: Bechal Casts Sleep: 10-radius burst from Goblin #2, hits all goblins in area. DC16 Will Save to negate.
    Last edited by Mornings; 2015-12-29 at 03:57 PM.

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