New Horizons in a New World (IC)

[purepolarpanzer]

Aboard the Starry Morning

Ambiance

The dawn has risen in front of the ship, brightening the horizon as well as the futures of all those aboard the Starry Morning. Sailing east out of Reevesport, the ship boasted a crew and passenger compliment of fifty souls from all over the Old World. Some came for fortune, others for glory, but all came with hope. That hope flared high when ship passed a series of rock spires standing straight up in the ocean in the rough shape of a hand. "Thars the Fingers of Dawn, ya lot of landlubbers! Assumin no misfortune, you'll all be standin on the sand of New Venture for your lunch!" He turned the ship's wheel and swept close by the Finger, bringing cheers from the passengers who eagerly awaited the first sight of land. Friends and companions began to gather together and go through their gear, making plans already for landfall. For those of you employed by the Aldaine Geographers Society, each of you has been given a missive with the names and basic descriptions of the other four members of your band. The Society was very clear that you would all have to work together in the New World, "In the spirit of cooperation and imminent success". This missive also gave some basic directions to the Society's office in New Venture, but nothing that can be used to extrapolate much about the port town. The ship's bell rings and all hands begin working to bring the ship to readiness for it's final approach. The sea is swelling high, sending the ship crashing through tall waves and rocking it fiercely, but the day is clear with no risk of storms. It would appear that your first day in the New World is going off without a hitch, at least as long as you can hold your stomachs!

Spoiler: OOC

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Roll fortitude saves for sea sickness. DC 12. No real mechanical penalties if you fail, just an interesting point to start an adventure with!

[Imbalance]

Treb Orlozor

Having been underfoot much of the journey, Treb's exuberance had almost showed signs of dying down the night before. But when the lookout called for land, he clambered up to the crow's nest as if he had four arms. The sailor there humored him with a view through the glass, but the shadow on the horizon was still too far off to distinguish any features. Still, the wait was finally over. It was real.

Treb had a bit more difficulty on the descent. With his feet back on the deck, he pulled off his kerchief and looked to the dawn, with tears of vindication streaming down. To no one he whispered, "hello."

Spoiler: fortitude

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(1d12)[1]

[Epimetheus]

Tali stood at the bow, letting the salty air wash over her face, her hair blowing back in the wind. After a long, but not unpleasant voyage, she was ready to be back on dry land once again. More than that, she was ready to have proper work to do again. Sure, there was plenty to do on a ship, but her most valued skills were rarely necessary. Some patches in the sails here, smoothing out a nicked blade there, these tasks were, in her mind, a waste of her considerable talents. But all of that would soon be in the past. Her mind was filled with the bounties of the New World, and all it had to offer. Soon, she'd have access to troves of rare and exotic materials to work with, something she could use to put all her previous work to shame. That is, if she didn't succumb to seasickness at the sudden lilt the Starry Morning had taken on as it began to approach the port...

Spoiler: Constitution Save

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(1d20+3)[14]

[Ramsus]

Ekram Grene Half-Orc Fighter AC: 17 HP: 13/13 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Senses: DV 60ft. Conditions: -- Ekram had been terribly sick the first few days of the voyage, but had quickly adapted and now was able to handle the swaying motion of the seas quite well. Not so quickly as to have been able to avoid having to glare someone down after they made a crack about him "looking a little green", unfortunately. Though some similar jest at his expense probably would have occurred anyways. During the voyage he'd made himself useful with all manner of odd job (mostly holding this rope or lifting this box or such) and replaced a few of the older boards in the ship. He hadn't had much opportunity to speak to the others he was going to be accompanying, and he never thought much of that as he figured they would have plenty of time to do so in the days ahead. As they approached landfall he took a few minutes to appreciate the view and then went to help the crew with their preparations. Spoiler Show Con save: (1d20+5)[20]

[Silent_p]

Dawyn's experience with ship travel was, to be generous, modest. She'd sailed between a few ports around... well, it was the Old World now, wasn't it? Still, that had been coastal, never open sea like this journey. It was eerie, the emptiness of it, nothing around but the ship, the water and the sky. No land and no trees. She supposed it had its beauty but it wasn't something she intended to make a habit of acquainting herself with.

On deck when the shout rose up about the Fingers of Dawn. Among those cheering the promise of dry land, an excited Dawyn rushed past, through and around the others on deck to find a better vantage point to see the rock formation. Notebook at the ready, as always, she studied the spires for a while, jotting down a few thoughts and queries for later. A ringing bell soon broke her reverie and she realised that they would soon be making landfall. She carefully returned her notebook to its place and made her way to ensure she had all her belongings.

Well, until the sea began rocking the boat heavily once more. She refused to let this bother her, though. A smile on her face, she whistled some birdsong. "Nearly there!" She called out cheerily to Ekram as she stumbled past him.

Spoiler: OOC

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Con save vs DC12: (1d20+1)[4]

[miinstrel]

Finley Hollschauer Stuart Ackworth III The rocking was simply dreadful. And the creaking. And the gaseous expulsions of some of the less refined crrewmen. Finley had demanded to pre-emptively eat most of the citrus on board after learning about scurvy much to the sniggering of a few of the saltier fellows. Today was no different, though the announcement of the journey's coming end was met with an "Oh thank heavens," escaping his lips. Making heavy use of the railing to rise to the deck of the ship, a locale he had not graced often, preferring the relative comfort of his cabin, Finley joined the others with a weary smile and a spittle stained kerchief in hand. "Glory and riches abound, my good men, if only we are to find them. But never fear, I, Finley Hollschauer Stuart Ackworth the Third am here to lead us to victory!" he announces in his most leader-y voice. You all notice he is not dressed at all appropriately for a journey like this, remaining in a more courtly and non-functional attire. Spoiler: CON save Show (1d20+2)[9]

[purepolarpanzer]

The chop causes the ship to rise high before splashing down into the next wave. This make many people who are less experienced with the sea a bit green as the ship makes it's final approach. Slowly, oh so slowly, the sun rises higher into the sky, almost like a curtain being drawn upward for a show. And just as slowly land appears in the distance. First you all see a thin line of brown, but as the hours pass it grows and becomes more defined. What brings the most awe is the green of the trees, stretching north and south as far as the eye can see. Aldaine has forests, but they tend to be well cultivated and controlled. This is a sprawling wall of dark green that fills all of your vision. As you all come closer still a rocky coast becomes visible- it looks formidable and a bit foreboding, with jagged teeth that look like they could shred a ship apart. Finally, as the sun reaches it's zenith above your heads that smoke can be seen on the horizon, rising above the trees like flags. From this distance all that can be seen of New Venture is the port extending out into the Blue Mother and a smattering of buildings around it, but after two months of crossing the naked expanse of water, it is still a welcoming sight, despite it's diminutive size. The first mate bellows "Prepare to go ashore!" as the ship cruises towards the harbor, nearly there. With only minutes remaining of your voyage, even those of you who are feeling ill have another surge of anticipation- Welcome to the New World.

[Imbalance]

Treb Orlozor

Treb was familiar with the sudden churning in his gut. Nimble though he was, waves of that magnitude would sometimes cause him a violent bout of sickness. While everyone else moved forward to see the spires, he shuffled and partially rolled to the aft of the ship to retch out of the way. The water slapping the boards was kind enough to both drown out the inhuman noises that accompanied his involuntary actions and cleanse the evidence from the hull. He hoped only the crew had seen him.

At length, he felt strength enough in his knees to rise from the rail and hold on to the sternpost. He looked back at the rock formation that seemed to wave at him. Beyond it lie the vast empty ocean they had just crossed. Just then, the First Mate's voice startled him, and he wheeled around to take in the sights over the bow. The horizon was full of possibilities, and he remembered why he was here. He nonchalantly wiped his mouth with the kerchief before dropping it into the rubbish barrel, as if to symbolically discard the Old World.

"Thank you for a fine voyage, ma'am," he said to the Captain as he went to wait by the gangplank, looking around a bit for his colleagues, but mostly unable to take his eyes off of the wonders on shore.

[Ramsus]

Ekram Grene Half-Orc Fighter AC: 17 HP: 13/13 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Senses: DV 60ft. Conditions: -- After a while of helping out the crew, Ekram hears the first mate's bellow and figures it might be a good idea to meet the people he's been assigned to. Almost certainly as muscle, but that's fine. Maybe even one of the more valuable roles to play in a developing land. Walking over, message in hand, Ekram spots one of his assigned people before the gangplank. "Hello." he says somewhat flatly as he looks down at the paper and back up at the man and back down to the paper. "Treb Orlozor?" He looks back up to make sure he got that correct. Then he extends a hand, "Ekram Grene." he doesn't say anything else, just waits to see how Treb responds as he silently sizes the shorter (though tall for a human) man up.

[Silent_p]

Despite her attempted resolve, the roiling sea gets the better of her and Dawyn spends some time standing on a crate, leaning over the rail. She'd hoped that the excitement and novelty of finally reaching this new world after so many weeks at sea would take her mind of it but there was no such luck. Gradually, the sensation passed and she stepped back and down, getting out of the way of those preparing the ship for docking.

Taking a brief stop to rinse her mouth from a water barrel, she spotted some of her erstwhile colleagues near the gangplank. "Well, not sure I ever found my sea legs but the crew certainly got us here." Dawyn looks up at both figures, a bright if slightly queasy smile on her face. "The ocean's grand and all but it'll be wonderful to get some solid ground beneath our feet." She glances around briefly. "Have either of you seen the others recently? I think I saw Mr Ackworth with the crowd earlier but I lost track of Ms Calarel..."

[Imbalance]

"Yes, Treb's the name," Treb said as he turned and grabbed the extended hand prior to observing the large arm and burly frame that did the extending. Curious eyes quickly traced from the green wrist and up the thick muscles to the eyes peering down at him. Feeling the might in the grip gave him a brief pause, but having glanced over his missive and shared a mealtime or so he knew who this person was at least in name. With some humility, he had to admit, "sorry for not introducing myself sooner. I'm bad at that sort of thing."

It was a good time for Dawyn to approach, otherwise the way Treb was staring at Ekram's tusks might have been awkward. He knew immediately who was speaking this time, and looked down to return the smile.
"<hello>," he greeted her in Gnomish, suddenly regretting that he hadn't learned Orcish.
"I think I last saw them just before...the rock formation. Actually, wasn't the Ackley...er, Ackworth fellow giving some sort of speech?"

[Ramsus]

Ekram Grene Half-Orc Fighter AC: 17 HP: 13/13 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Senses: DV 60ft. Conditions: -- Ekram appreciates Treb's firm shake. A good sign. "No. Um. Mnnn. Same." Ekram replies sounding perhaps a bit sheepish. He shakes his head at the gnome's question and then at Treb's response he grimaced while saying, "So that's Mr. Ackworth?" pretty clearly not to happy about that news. "You must be" he says to the gnome and paused to look at his paper. "Dawyn Garrick?" another pause as he looked back to her again. "Ekram Grene." he finishes and leans a bit over to shake her hand.

[Epimetheus]

As she prepares to disembark, Tali checks over her gear one last time, making sure she didn't leave anything behind. It seems that her voyage, while not quite making a proper sailor of her, had at least given her enough resistance to seasickness that she didn't lose her lunch, while others weren't so lucky. She approaches the gangplank, and her long, pointed ears perk up as Dawyn mentions her name.

"Ah, yes, that would be me." She smiles warmly, and offers a hand to shake, to anyone who would take it. "And no need to be so formal, just Tali will suffice."

[Silent_p]

Dawyn shakes hands all round with a reasonably firm grip, her smile increasingly more normal. <“And hearty greetings to you as well!”> She replies to Treb in gnomish, delighted to find a fellow speaker.

Greeting the others in common, she takes a look at the group, then over her shoulder. “I believe you’re correct about Mr Ackworth. There was something of a oration taking place. I didn’t quite catch it, though, too caught up in those rocks.” She pauses to gesture back out to sea. “You all saw them, I imagine? The Fingers of Dawn? Majestic, truly. I wonder at their creation. I’d suspect erosion of some pre-existing rocks but to culminate in such a striking pattern? Uncanny! It reminds me a little of the Servant’s Cluster back home which...” Dawyn continued outlining her thoughts pending interruption.

[Imbalance]

Treb had known few High Elves in the Old World, yet as he shook Tali's hand he was surprised that her fingers and palm felt worked. He had also noted that while her voice carried the usual Elven lilt, there was also a hint of gruffness. His mouth was open to express an Elvish greeting, but had not begun to utter it when Dawyn started in about rocks. "I'm Treb," he said instead with a polite nod, and was quickly distracted.

"...Servant's Cluster?" he interjected. "Fascinating..."

[Ramsus]

Ekram Grene Half-Orc Fighter AC: 17 HP: 13/13 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Senses: DV 60ft. Conditions: -- After shaking hands with Dawyn and Tali, greeting her with his so far standard, "Ekram Grene." and getting firm handshakes all around he was at least satisfied on that front. A good sign for their relations to come. He just watched at the exchange of what was probably gnomish (though that guess was based entirely because one of the people was a gnome and through no personal knowledge) and the slight rambling about rock formations.

[miinstrel]

Finley Hollschauer Stuart Ackworth III The sea air felt surprisingly good; his room was getting a bit stagnant despite his best efforts at ship-bound cleanliness. He returns from below decks with a durable canvas pack on one shoulder full of clearly unused equipment, and another finer bag much more in line with his attire. He looks about at the people assembling on deck as the ship nears land. "ALDAINE GEOGRAPHERS SOCIETY?" he calls out loudly. Finley notes the foursome clustered near the soon-to-be gangplank perk up at the announcement and approaches. "Well then, I take it you are to be my new companions for the next few months, hmm? We're certainly a colorful bunch, aren't we?" he titters excitedly. "Allow me to introduce myself... Finley Hollschauer Stuart Ackworth the Third, of the Kiernsberg Ackworth's naturally. A pleasure." He extends a somewhat limp hand to the center of the circle though directed toward Talindra first.

[purepolarpanzer]

Finallly, your long journey is over. The ship docks easily enough into harbor, and the sailors begin throwing ropes to haul the ship into position. The captain, a seasoned, grey haired human woman, strides to the side of the ship. Her underlings quickly run down the gang plank, which plonks down on the dock with little applause. She turns to face the assembled crowd of passengers, looking all of them over before speaking in a loud, authoritative voice. "All of you lot! Welcome to New Venture. May you all find your fortunes in this "New World". Respect this place and I'll see you all in a year when we come back around. But know you this, if you aren't prepared for it, this place will eat you up as fast as a gull taking a fish. Now get off my deck so we can start moving cargo!" This rallies laughter from some, confusion from others, and a resentful look from a few. With that, people are ushered off the Starry Morning and onto shore.

New Venture smells like salt and damp wood. The sea air continues well into the town, along with flocks of seagulls which flap from log building to log building making an annoyance of themselves. It is early spring, and all around you the smell of wet, fertile earth, torn between the last of the snow and the promise of new green life. There are only two roads, with most of the town being accessed through muddy paths These streets are named, however, as though someone was already planning for the town's expansion. The road you find yourselves standing on runs west to the shore and east towards the treeline is marked "Pleasant Harbor Road", while a thoroughly abused little sign standing at an angle points further into town with "To Venture Coast Road". It looks like this sign has been put up and knocked down multiple times as of late. These roads themselves are dirt and just as muddy as the paths that spiral off of them. In a rush of movement, an out of breath halfling with full arms runs into the road ahead of the crowd coming off the boats. Setting up a bucket in the road, he clambers on top and stretches his arms high, holding yet another sign. This one reads "The Plump Pig Inn" in simple, blocky script. He tries to shout across the murmuring crowd of sailors and passengers, spinning and waving his sign to catch attention. "Warm beds! Hot food! Cheap ale! The first night is free at the Plump Pig Inn! At the corner of Pleasant and Coast!" His energy makes up for his small body and smaller sign, and some of the crowd begin grumbling about eating real food or sleeping in a real bed, heading past him with eager looks on their faces.

All of you have been told that there was a Society representative in New Venture who would provide you information and payment for your services, a half-elf by the name of Byron Button. He is to be your main contact in the New World. Where he is located, however, you may need to ask someone.

Spoiler: OOC

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I don't mean to spoil the introductions, but I didn't want to hold you all in suspense, either. The conversation can easily travel with you off the ship. My apologies if anyone feels rushed.

[Silent_p]

”Indeed,” Dawyn replied to Treb’s interest. “A rock formation near the ruins of the Cevalis Tor. The inhabitants had trees grown in specific rows which we believe created a tunneling effect for the prevailing wind...” She continued for a few minutes before Finley arrived.

She paused to greet him and shake his hand, then turned back to Treb. “Now, their gardeners at that time were generally servants of high status and, given that they tended the groves exclusively...”

Soon, the ship is fully docked and the captain bids them a pragmatic farewell. Joining the others in descending the gangplank, Dawyn stops on the docks, taking in a first view of this new world.

She takes a deep breath, relieved to be on land once more. “It’s funny how coastal towns smell more like the sea than out there alone on it.” She remarks with a soft chuckle.

[Imbalance]

"Yes, Mr. Hollworth. Treb Orlozor, a pleasure," he said, taking Finley's hand right after Dawyn let go before turning his attention back to her theme.

At arrival, he thought to ask the captain some questions, but he was no less intimidated by her at the end of the journey than when they had left Reevesport. Instead, he followed the others down to the dock and beyond without stopping until he reached firm earth.

A more dramatic fellow might bow and kiss the land, but Treb hadn't got to know it that well yet. Instead, he walked a few paces and knelt off of the side of the muddy trail. He pressed his palm down on a patch of thin, undisturbed fescue. Moisture seeped up and between his stretched fingers, and he felt the grit in the soil. He stood up with a pinch of dirt and rolled it around under the sun, squinting at it, listening to its crunch. He stooped once more, gently wiped his hand on the soft grass, then stepped back to the road with a broad smile for the Plump Pig's barker.

"Excuse me, would you happen to know someone by the name of Byron Button?" Treb asked, emphatically. "And where we might find him?"

[purepolarpanzer]

The halfling never stops spinning, flapping, and waving his sign, nearly falling off his bucket, but he does respond to Treb's question. "Mr. Button? From the Society? He lives near the east end of town, past the Coast Road. But he takes his noonsies at the Plump Pig Inn! You might be able to find him there if you hurry! He always stops in for our delicious made-from-scratch beef and barley stew, but he stays for our world famous honey brown ale!" He grins wide, as though he's won some small victory in relaying this information to you.

[miinstrel]

Finley Hollschauer Stuart Ackworth III "It's Ackworth, my good man," Finley corrects pleasantly. "Not a worry, I'm sure it will be a part of the vernacular here soon enough." Finley is nearly carried off the boat with the crowd. Not that he wasn't eager to leave as well, but orderly exit seemed beyond some of them. "Hot food! Well I for one think a plump pig sounds positively heavenly compared to the gruel they served on the ship. Daddy always said, 'a fine meal's the mark of a fine man.' If fate should see Mr. Button at this quaint bed and breakfast all the better, but surely he can wait a few more hours, hmm? Yes, one pig please. And one warm bed. And a bath," Finley requests of the halfling. He stands expectantly before him.

[Ramsus]

Ekram Grene Half-Orc Fighter AC: 17 HP: 13/13 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Senses: DV 60ft. Conditions: -- Ekram frowns a bit at the limp handshake. It wasn't particularly inspiring. On the other hand, the fellow didn't seem to balk at shaking his hand. Of the two, a limp handshake was preferably to a refusal to do so. "Ekram Grene." he greets simply, the same as he had for everyone else. Ekram had just followed the others and waited to see what they would do. And they spoke and he found himself saying, "I can't see a reason to pass up a free meal." He mentally shrugged and guessed he spoke because the desire to eat something other than fish was more pressing a concern than he'd thought.

[Imbalance]

Treb wasn't sure if it was hunger, lingering sea legs, or the dizzying acrobatics of the halfling's pitch, but the actual answer to the question he asked got lost in what he thought he heard, which he reiterated.

"Noonsies? Barley? Honey?! By the gods, has this colony left anything for us to tame?" he lamented.

Turning to his associates, he agreed, saying, "we might as well start there and at least dine on something land-based for a change." The enthusiasm in his voice trailed. "Perhaps there'll be new...spoons to discover," he added.

[purepolarpanzer]

Finley Hollschauer Stuart Ackworth III "It's Ackworth, my good man," Finley corrects pleasantly. "Not a worry, I'm sure it will be a part of the vernacular here soon enough." Finley is nearly carried off the boat with the crowd. Not that he wasn't eager to leave as well, but orderly exit seemed beyond some of them. "Hot food! Well I for one think a plump pig sounds positively heavenly compared to the gruel they served on the ship. Daddy always said, 'a fine meal's the mark of a fine man.' If fate should see Mr. Button at this quaint bed and breakfast all the better, but surely he can wait a few more hours, hmm? Yes, one pig please. And one warm bed. And a bath," Finley requests of the halfling. He stands expectantly before him.

"We can help with all those needs at the Plump Pig, sir! Well, except the pig. There's uh.... not any pork at the inn currently. But our family pig has more on the way, as long as the wolves don't get em." The halfling grins even wider, seemingly very satisfied that he convinced someone to patron the inn. More encouraged, he looks to the rest of the party. "Will all of you be rooming at the Inn? The rooms fit five, and there's five of you. Seems like it was meant to be!"

Spoiler: Edit-

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This is where I'd like everyone who hasn't posted recently to check in before I move us along to the inn. I know it's hard to post due to the board issues, but I appreciate you all for trying.