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Thread: Cyre Red (IC)

  1. - Top - End - #1
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    Default Cyre Red (IC)

    New Cyre Music

    When Prince Oargev's letter reached you, it also came with the promise of transportation to bring you from the small salvager station of Salvation on the edge of the Mournland back to New Cyre – though it's not quite as comfortable as you might have liked. There are no lightning rail stations or passages through the small 'town', and so you're reliant on more mundane transportation.

    The horse drawn carriage rattles down dusty, uneven streets after days of travel that brought you to your Prince's abode. For those who have visited before, the town is much the same as last time, albeit the tent city in the southeast seems to have grown since you last you came. For those here the first time, the permanent buildings display a mix of facades – some Brelish, and some echoing the architecture and fashions of Cyre, though with a gaudy fragility resembling that of faires – a temporary measure meant to look close to the original, without truly managing to embody it.

    Prince Oargev's manor, once owned by the master of the village before it was handed over to the Cyrans, sits on the southern edge but as a three storey building it can be seen from almost anywhere in the cluster of buildings. Rolling through the town you see little in the way of new buildings being constructed, and the attitudes of those who you pass is muted and passive. Outside one building, a woman sits half curled on her porch, weeping into a blanket, and the stony face on her partner beside her says that this isn't the first, nor will it be the last time, that such a display of utter despair and hopelessness bursts forth.

    The town centre holds a well from which a line of people are queuing to draw water, and some look up as you pass, though most keep their faces forward – they're alive, but it's hard to say if they're truly living. The edges of their eyes are drawn sharp by their drawn-taut skin, their gaunt expressions, but their actual gaze is clouded by thoughts that occupy their minds entirely Noticeboards surround the edge of the town centre, plastered with messages freshly written and others faded with age and elements; some are requests with offer of payment, some are offers of support or advertising skills, and some are pleas for help to find their lost loved ones. Monuments to the dead and countless trinkets or keepsakes surround you on small shrines, and even if each one represented only a single dead Cyran, it's still not a drop in the bucket for how many you have all truly lost.

    A gnome stands outside the manor, apparently awaiting your arrival. When you step down from the carriage she consults her pocket watch and nods approvingly, her loose raven-black hair fluttering at the motion. “Four minutes early. Very good, very good.” No time had been specified in the letter – indeed Oargev had specified you could arrive in New Cyre at your own pace, rather than his own timetable – but that doesn't seem to have affected her expectations. “Duvamil Sparklegem, or Duvi for short. Majordomo to his Highness, I handle much of the day to day running of New Cyre as well as handle matters in his absence. He'll want to see you now that you're here. Come along then, let's not waste your haste!”

    She waves you inside, beckoning you to follow as she keeps a crisp pace beyond what you might expect from her short legs, yet she seems to exert no effort in maintaining it. The interior of the manor is a similar mishmash to the town itself: Brelish decorations interspersed with signs of Cyran items of art, history or other value, and at least one painting you're pretty sure you recovered on a previous expedition. Duvi blazes a trail along velvet carpets, leading you through halls. Without stopping, and without panting despite the pace she's maintaining, she asks “His Highness is currently in a small meeting but it's connected to the job he has for you, so I'll announce you. Do you have any preference for names? Titles? Epithets? Or any other questions before we arrive?”

    Spoiler: Prince Oargev's Letter
    Show

    To the recipients of this missive,

    Word has reached me of your exploits in the Mournland, and I happen to find myself in need of capable people who will serve the needs of the Cyran cause. If you could make your way to my manor in New Cyre at your earliest convenience, I hope that we can discuss the proposition in more detail. Please rest assured that this is not a charity job, and you will be compensated handsomely for a successful mission.

    Enclosed with this document are sufficient funds to cover your travel expenses to New Cyre. Might I recommend Chila for your carriage driver? She has the best sense of humour.

    Tomorrow in Cyre,
    Prince Oargev ir'Wynarn.

    [A green wax seal, bearing the heraldry of the Cyran royal family, is inset beneath Oargev's incredibly aesthetic signature.

    DMing:
    Iron Crisis IC | OOC
    Cyre Red IC | OOC

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    OotA IC | OOC

    Master Homebrew Index (5e)

  2. - Top - End - #2
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    GnomeWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12
    Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5
    Conditions:


    Svek is happy to be back in New Cyre. For all its flaws and decay, it is still home. He loves the Cyran people, and this is where the remnants have been placed. It's slightly less crowded and dirty than High Walls, and it's not immediately surrounded by as many Brelish pigs as you find in Sharn. Mostly, it's the closest thing that Svek has to a home, having spent over a year living on its streets.

    He follows the gnome into the house for the expected meeting with Prince Oargev. When asked what title he would like used, Svek sticks out his chest a little and pronounces in his usual but still surprisingly deep voice,

    "Svek Gazuur, Cyran Sssssoldier," letting the s roll for a second to emphasize the last word.

    It was a bit of an overstatement. Svek had lived with the soldiers and scouted for them, but he had never been given a commission. There were plans for him to officially enlist, but like many Cyrans' plans, those were interrupted. But since then, Adam had made a good point. With no records anymore, and now that nothing matters, Svek could go ahead and be a Cyran soldier. Adam is the only person who would know, and Svek doesn't think he would tell anyone.
    Spoiler: OOC
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    Action:
    Bonus Action:
    Reaction:
    Movement:
    Object:
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    Spoiler: Notes
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    Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
    Last edited by Bobthewizard; 2022-08-28 at 01:51 PM.

  3. - Top - End - #3
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    GreenSorcererElf

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Adam pauses, kneeling in prayer before the empty, moldering shipping crate he was using as a makeshift altar inside the even more dilapidated abandoned box car he was using to host his public prayer session as the floor creaks under the footsteps of a stranger. Is it time, at last? Have the gods decided to conduct my punishment more personally? The dark haired young man, dressed in somewhat ill maintained vestments of the Sovereign Host looks up as the messenger enters, his brown eyes focused on the uniformed young man approaching, and accepts the message. "My thanks." Not responding, the messenger takes one look around the makeshift temple, and skedaddles.

    Adam finishes his prayers, before rising. Perhaps this is the gods way of telling me to act?. He stands there, for a long moment, before opening the letter, and reading it. As his eyes reach the seal, and the scattering of gold within, he nods. Perhaps it was indeed time to make another attempt. Who knows? Maybe it might even allow the mourning to end?

    Eleven minutes later, the plate armoured man emerged from the bare boxcar, his holy symbol and vestments carefully placed back into his bag, before heading to the carriage, to arrange for transport.

    During the travel, Adam is mostly silent, and in his eyes you can see the horrors of the Mourning, even years after the event.
    Spoiler: Image
    Show




    He takes in the structures of New Cyre, noting the fading facades, the despair. The attempts to plaster over a horror that has never ended, the will of the gods. There was no hope here, just men trying to carry on, despite all the gods could throw at them.

    Inside the manor, Adam takes in the various pieces of art, the worn carpets, the scattering of original pieces, and the more recently placed Cyrish pieces as he clanks along, his well maintained armor, shielding him from the world around him. He remains silent at Duvi's introduction, as she clearly didn't expect a response until almost before a final meeting. Adam's response, however, was perhaps less than she had expected. "Adam. There is nothing else." The "anymore" remains unspoken, but, for all that, it can clearly be heard.
    Last edited by Archmage1; 2022-08-28 at 12:29 PM.
    Spoiler: Current Character List:
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    John Smith, Playing in the Dollhouse
    Adam of Cyre, Cyre Red
    Grok Magmaforge, Iron Crisis
    ALADIN, Out of the Abyss

  4. - Top - End - #4
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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Surge the Sellsword
    Shifter Ranger
    AC: 17 HP: 44/44
    PP: 15 PIv: 15 PIs: 14
    Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft)
    Concentration: -

    Surge was annoyed the carriage was so slow. The other had convinced him it was proper not to run ahead and scout the area like some sort of paranoid nutjob. The slower races bored him to no end. As a swiftstride, he typically was faster than anything short of a lightning rail. He kept occupied watching out of the window silently. Not much had changed. New refugees mixed with the old blood of Cyrans. The township constantly grew, but some unwanted elements were likely to be attracted as soon as the town had some sort of money. For now, the feline shifter felt it safe enough. No money? No burglars, robbers and cutthroats. Just weeping women.

    In all actuality, Surge felt strangely welcome here. The hostility towards the lycan-bloods was deafened here, as the people knew him for what he was, even if that was being a mercenary. In Sharn he was ostracised and segregated, but here he was a member of the community, even if it was steeped in suffering. As the majordomo adressed the group, Surge just nodded. Surge is fine. I assume we are here to work, not chat. But one question: Do we need to conduct ourselves as royalty considering Prince Oargev is known as the Pauper Prince? I will not pretend to be his servant, but I do appreciate his work for all of New Cyre.

    The gnome was nice enough to praise their punctuality. It was no point of honor, but of safety to be somewhere early to check out the area. The shifter scanned the manor for entry points. New Cyre was safe but Oargev was inconvenient for more than a handful of powerful people. With him learning more about the Mournlands and its buried secrets as well as extending his reach into Breland, he was at risk.
    Last edited by Spore; 2022-08-28 at 12:07 PM.

  5. - Top - End - #5
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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    First Sergeant Honor
    Warforged Paladin of Conquest
    AC: 19 HP: 54/54
    PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d10 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Lay on Hands- 25/25

    When the letter reached Honor at Salvation he was praying at a small shrine of the Sovereign Host. Kneeled before the small shrine with his eye lights dimmed and his hammer at his side, to an unknowing observer it would be difficult to tell if the man shaped mass of steel was a statue. He was all dark steel with flecks of rust, corded brown material that served as his formidable muscles, and a number of jangling chains hanging from his plates, the latter being a recent addition and the only sign of personalization or vanity. He kept his prayers inside his own mind, which was normal for him, but he had his reasons beyond his normal quiet nature. The messenger had been given a description, and they gently called his name to try to get his attention.

    Dol Arrah guide my mind, that I never forget my obligations, both to my soldiers and to my nation...

    Dol Dorn guide my hand, and let it never forget that I fight side by side with my soldiers without pretense or illusions of grandeur...

    Dol Azure guide my practicality, that I never again forget that my home is more important than my morals...

    May the Three Faces of War restore that which was and will be again... by whatever means necessary.

    My life for Cyre.


    The messenger called his name again, and the warforged's eye lights grew brighter again. Wordlessly, he stood, using his hammer to aid the process, and turned to receive the letter. It took a few moments to read, but once it was finished, Honor took the gold and counted it slowly into his purse. "It is time."

    Some Time Later

    Honor rides in the carriage silently, trying not to monopolize the limited space inside the carriage while also spending his time reading a well worn, tattered book of Cyran poetry. It was a struggle to turn the pages with his inelegant hands, and the warforged read excruciatingly slow, but continued on with dogged determination, using his compound fingers to underline the text. Those who had known him for some time would know that once he reached the end of the book, he would simply flip back to the start and begin again. Honor had always been quiet outside of combat, and any attempts at conversation during the travel to New Cyre is met with flat, succinct responses.

    New Cyre

    Honor stows his book as the carriage passes through New Cyre, looking out the windows and taking in the sights of this place. The despair. The hopelessness. The grim determination to survive. It all only served to reinforce the injustice of what was done to his adopted home, and fuel the burning flame of determination inside the warforged's heart. He paid particular attention to the sobbing woman. There was once a time when he didn't understand her pain. Her loss. Part of him longed for that naivety. His emotionless face didn't betray any of this introspection, but it didn't need to. His drive was his own, and his passion would be unleashed when they returned to the Mournland. Any who thought the warforged dull or mute would be rudely retorted when his battle cry was unleashed. But for now he remained silent, as per usual.

    When they arrived at the manor, Honor removed his full kit from the storage on top of the carriage. This was a matter of realism more than anything- the warforged would have preferred to keep his armaments on his person at all times, but considering their absolute size and mass, that simply was not possible without having an entire carriage to himself. After the gnome majordomo introduced themselves and announced their station there was a metallic scraping or splint plated and a rattling of chains as Honor bowed, giving the respect that he felt was due to the prince's right hand. He followed Duvi inside the manor, admiring the artwork and Cyran relics as they passed them. Once prompted for a name and title, the warforged spoke out, his voice sounding something like a whetstone dragged over a rusted blade.

    First Sergeant Honor, of the Cyran Fourth Company.
    Last edited by purepolarpanzer; 2022-08-28 at 09:25 AM.
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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    The Iron Witch
    Winged Tiefling
    AC: 18 HP: 38/38 THP-/-
    PP: 14 PIv: 15 PIs: 11
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d8 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Misty Step 1/1 Bless 1/1 /LR
    Cannon: 1/1 Fireball wand 7/7

    Witchling
    AC13 18HP
    16PP

    The Iron Witch had spent the coach ride swaddled in her raggedy black wings, whittling a piece of wood into a little owlbear, a pipe clamped between her sharp teeth. Long curls of fragrant smoke crept upwards; small curls of birch tumbled down to the floorboards of the coach. Her longarm was leant into the corner next to her, the runic pattern along the barrel catching the light oddly. Her enourmous witch's hat was angled down, shading her silver-white eyes from observers.

    The group was, as a whole, not very talkative, which the Iron Witch did nothing to change. The Mournlands were a place accursed, and the kind of people who ventured into the hellscape that was once a homeland tended to have something that inhibited easy conversation. As they entered New Cyre, she looked up briefly before looking down again. It was nothing she wanted to see. She couldn't fix it. Some of the tiny trinkets out there that memorialised the lost were hers.

    The little Witchling roamed about, occasionally tugging at the Witch's hands so it could look at the progress on the whittling before, seemingly bored, taking to the air to land on Honor's shoulder to quietly read his book.

    At the end of the coachride, she carefully finished sculpting a miniscule claw on the owlbear and placed the little figure down carefully on the seat as a gift to the rider.

    With a sharp whistle, she called the Witchling over to settle on her hat, tucked the knife back away somewhere hidden, and slung the longarm back on its sling, tight against her chest to not get in the way when flying. She dismounted with a flap of the wings, landing a half-dozen steps away, and swaddled her cloak-like wings around herself again.


    New Cyre

    "The Iron Witch will do," she said to the Majordomo. Her voice was slightly hoarse, but curiously gentle for a ragged witch with sharksteeth. Her brows furrowed as the Witchling tugged at her hat brim, and she reached up to wrap a hand around the tiny construct, holding it where she could take a good look. The Witchling stared back, scowling.

    The Witch sighed.
    "...And the Witchling," she added. "Happy?"
    The Witchling nodded, expression smug, and the Iron Witch let it go to flap back up to its perch on her head.
    Last edited by Awful; 2022-08-28 at 11:13 AM.
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  7. - Top - End - #7
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    BlueKnightGuy

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Aanash
    Tiefling Barbarian/Wizard/Warlock
    AC: 19 HP: 57/57
    PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
    Conditions: Arcane Ward (5/5), Temp HP (7)

    The Ride

    Riding in the carriage, Aanash is leaned back and relaxing, the four long black spines sprouting out the back of the coat he's wearing like a coat or blanket over his shoulders are resting through a window to avoid impaling the upholstery. His arms are reached out to either side, holding on to the frame of the seat and taking up more space than necessary. He leans backwards out of the window and looks at the passing dreary faces upside-down, steely hair sticking 'up' towards the ground like the bristles of a metal brush.

    Between teeth like the blades of a bear trap, he gnaws and rolls a small cylinder of wood back and forth, enjoying the woody taste of sawdust in his mouth. Reaching up to pluck it from his teeth, he leans back into an upright seated position in the vehicle. "Arun but these people make you lot look downright cheerful," he quips at his companions, stretching his arms. "It's a beautiful day. Children should be out playing."

    Arrival

    There is an audible thud as Aan's deceptively heavy frame lands from his hop down from the carriage.

    Setting one hand on his hip, resting upon the comically large belt of black leather and gleaming fake gold, he sets the wood cylinder back in his mouth and lets the other hand settle opposite the first. The strange man, half metal and half tanned leather, scans over the manor with an appraising eye. "Nasse, Sfargles." he greets in a slurring lisp through the gap in his jaw made by the cylinder, whatever word he tried to say borderline incomprehensible.

    The tiefling at least has the decorum to wrench his teeth free from the cylinder and slide the slobbery worry-wood into the inner coat pocket of his looted officer's jacket before actually stepping foot in the Prince's meeting. He's not wearing a shirt underneath the jacket, leaving a chest of black metal plates fused to flesh exposed. "Ay-an-ash," he enunciates his name for the gnomish majordomo. "...Do I get a fancier room if I claim to be a foreign diplomat?" he asks, half-jokingly.

  8. - Top - End - #8
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    Duvi purses her lips, clearly displeased with Surge's question phrasing. "His Highness is a Prince of Cyre and an Heir of Galifar, a temporary," she stresses the word, "loss of land is something that is being worked on. Please address him with the same courtesy you would address any other royalty." She doesn't break stride as she speaks, bounding up stairs two at a time as she leads you to an upper floor, despite her short legs. "My understanding is that if you accept His Highness' job offer he will ensure suitable accommodations for you," she answers to Aanash. "And if you do not then we can still advise you of your options while in town." Her answer is prim and proper just like her clothing, neither taking umbrage at the question nor playing along with the joke.

    She finally stops at a pair of double doors and looks back at you, nodding, and then knocks twice on the door, before clicking her fingers. The doors swing open without being pushed and she strides forward into the room. The conference room is thoroughly practical in its appearance with minimal adornments. The walls are lined with stacked bookshelves, plastered wall maps of Khorvaire, the Five Nations, and more, hanging above writing desks, and small benches for onlookers or attendants. The centre of the room is dominated by a large, unusually shaped table, and after a moment you realise it's shaped into Cyre itself, albeit with its borders by the end of the Last War, rather than the start. Though flat, the table nevertheless has markings and carvings such that it serves as a decent map of a nation gone by.

    Duvi coughs, and then announces in a loud voice: "Your Highness, honoured guests, may I present: Svek Gazuur, soldier of Cyre. Adam. Surge. First Sergeant Honor, of the Cyran Fourth Company. The Iron Witch, and Witchling. And finally Aanash." She'd stepped in front of each of you as she announced your names, and perfectly replicated the pronunciations on her first attempt.

    Around the table are an arrangement of chairs – most empty, but a few are filled. Opposite you, on the far side of the table at the northernmost edge of 'Cyre', is Prince Oargev himself, who rises from his chair and circles the table to you, holding out his hand for each of you to shake in turn as he goes down your line. He's dressed in a mix of regal finery – a glorious green cloak with white fur edging, clasped with an ornate gold chain bearing a bell – and practical military clothes that seem well worn, with more than a few patches here and there. You note he lacks a crown, instead letting his wavy brown hair breathe freely. The destruction of his homeland and sudden position of leadership doesn't seem to have aged him at all visibly, his skin still that of a freshly rested and capable early-20s royal, the glint in his eyes as keen as anyone's.

    “Oargev ir'Wynarn, but please don't make me recite my titles. It's no fun for anybody, and the only important one is 'prince'. It's a pleasure to meet you.” The keen eyes of the Prince dart over you, at once welcoming and peaceful, but at the same time examining and cautious. Once he's reached the end of the line, he beckons for you all to take seats around the map and join the meeting as he moves back to his own chair – a seat that isn't any more ornate or decorated than the others.

    “This,” Oargev gestures to the young woman, likely only a year or two his junior at most, at his side, “is my dear friend and occasional confidant Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath – again, we can skip the rest of the titles.” He winks at his companion with a smile, and Haydith gives you a brief bow of the head in acknowledgement. “It's nice to meet you all,” she offers with the diplomacy of one used to courtly greeting people. “If Oargev,” There's a slight twitch from Duvi (who remained standing) when she doesn't use his title, but the Prince himself seems utterly unbothered by it, “is correct then I expect we'll be seeing a lot of you. I hope we can get along.” She offers a smile that bards could, and likely will, compose ballads over.

    “And this is-” Oargev is cut off before he can finish by the only other person at the table, a tired and displeased looking dwarf, whose left cheek bears a dragonmark of warding. His tunic likewise bears the Kundarak coat of arms – a manticore. “I can speak for myself. Kellar d'Kundarak, from House Kundarak.” He swells with not a little bit of pomp and pride. “Now can we get on with this? You promised me experts but all I see here are a ragtag assembly of common salvagers.” The last comment is directed to Oargev with a sneer, but the Prince takes it well enough in stride.

    “Fear not, dear Kellar, I didn't bring them here to disappoint you and all the tales I hear tell me they're perfect for the job, but perhaps we should let them speak for themselves?” He holds out a hand, to give you the floor to speak. "We've got a job for you in Kalazart, one part rescue, one part salvage, but we can go into more details once our friend is satisfied that you're the right people for the job, though I know you are. If you wouldn't mind, perhaps you can regale us with some tales of your exploits to instill a touch of confidence in the man?” Haydith leans forward ever so slightly, her eyes widening just a touch with not-terribly-concealed interest.

    Spoiler: OOC
    Show

    Should hopefully by me last HUGE post for a while an we can have more naturalistic dialogue back and forth going forwards! An opportunity for the party to big themselves up to Kellar – and the two royals - with some backstory tales or general boast of skills. Make stuff up, have fun with it, either with 'team' activities or solo ones.



    Spoiler: Passive Perception 14+, Oargev
    Show

    When Oargev shakes your hands, you note the slight bulge at his wrists beneath his clothes; a sure sign of a wand bracer, typically worn by military-trained wandslingers. Though it's covered somewhat by his clothes, his hands and body language likewise suggest not just military training, but one who has seen combat.



    Spoiler: Int (History) DC8 on Oargev's Titles
    Show

    Mayor of New Cyre
    Spoiler: DC9
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    Last Scion of Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Dannell ir'Wynarn's Royal Line
    Spoiler: DC10
    Show
    Heir of Galifar
    Spoiler: DC11
    Show
    Soldier of the Queen's Army
    Spoiler: DC12
    Show
    Ambassador to Breland
    Spoiler: DC13
    Show
    Royal Knight of Metrol
    Spoiler: DC14
    Show
    Captain of the 17th Regiment
    Spoiler: DC15
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    Chief Naturalist of the Mourning Thistles
    Spoiler: DC16
    Show
    Sunstone of Cyre
    Spoiler: DC17
    Show
    Duke of Seaside
    Spoiler: DC18
    Show
    Nope, that's all. That's his full list.












    Spoiler: Passive Perception 18+, Haydith
    Show

    A barely visible inkblot on her wrist and the slight smell of incense and candles that surround her suggest she was recently conducting either a religious ceremony or a magical ritual. Or possibly both at the same time. Her fingers lack any notable callouses to suggest she engages in any serious weapon usage.


    Spoiler: Passive Insight 11+, Kellar
    Show

    The displeasure the dwarf feels seems to run deeper than just meeting you, which might be a positive. Given the subject matter of the tales you've being asked about, keeping them on topic to either a) mournland expeditions or b) salvage/rescue missions (or ideally both) is likely going to earn more interest from him than tales of battlefield valour or Sharn gangbusting.
    DMing:
    Iron Crisis IC | OOC
    Cyre Red IC | OOC

    Playing:
    OotA IC | OOC

    Master Homebrew Index (5e)

  9. - Top - End - #9
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    BlueKnightGuy

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Aanash
    Tiefling Barbarian/Wizard/Warlock
    AC: 19 HP: 57/57
    PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
    Conditions: Arcane Ward (5/5), Temp HP (7)

    The way the gnome with the stick up her rear talks doesn't instill Aan with great confidence that he will enjoy this meeting. Growing up on the streets among revolutionaries in a police state did little to instill one with a great love of authority figures. But the man himself wears no crown, and does not seem to have taken any extensive means to raise himself above the others in the room.

    Splitting into a grin as the man's casual demeanor further endears him, Aanash decides he likes this guy. Maybe all royals could do with living a few years mayoring a little town. When the Prince offers him a hand, he shakes it gladly in local custom, then folds his hands together in front of him and bows. "I offer you peace, Good Prince. A gift I rarely offer, so I hope you cherish it," he adds playfully to the end of the near-successful attempt at a formal greeting. It is more courtesy than Aanash has been seen to show just about anyone else. But once Oargev passes, he returns to his sardonic, casual posture.

    Face splitting to truly rival a bear trap, he comments gleefully, "Ragtag salvager sounds about right. I challenge you to find a neatly trimmed salvager, Kellar sir, for I guarantee you if their clothes are not torn and their bodies have no scars they have not set foot in the brutal majesty of the Mournlands. Myself, once I was struck with a bolt of warped lightning," he holds his hands up to the sky and then lowers them down to tap the tips of his hair, a few arcs of red electricity crackling between the metal bristles and arcing to the metal in his fingernails. "Legends say the lightning never came back out."

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Surge the Sellsword
    Shifter Ranger
    AC: 17 HP: 44/44
    PP: 15 PIv: 15 PIs: 14
    Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft)
    Concentration: -

    The gnome's irritation greatly amused Surge who needed to remind himself not to laugh. As far as he was concerned Oargev was to be treated better than a gang boss, and much to the shifter's shagrin he already needed to lick their boots in his past. Fine, I will adress him as ambassador and prince. But none of that political stuff about inheriting Galifar or his mother. We are not here to talk continental politics.

    Walking inside there are no notable weaknesses in the manor's defense, other than it being a civilian's house. Seeing a Kundarak dwarf in the audience chamber was something that relaxed Surge further. They were experts on security. Prince Oargev. Surge even manages a small bow focussing on the wand chamber the noble man was wearing to show he was aware and pleased to see the heir was no slouch when it came to battles. Lady Haydith? Kellar. he finishes on the no nonsense dwarf. I am sure you are not interested in anything unrelated, but our work together. We are experienced salvagers, and have already retrieved items from the Mournlands. If you allow me to draw my bow in here. I do not intend a threat on the prince. He pulls out his bow to put on the table. A fine piece made of darkwood, and gladly not enchanted with the living woods from Thelannis. It was decorated with the plumes of some talenta dinosaurs and radiated a slightly magical aura. A skilled mage seeing his armguards was clearly seeing better equipment than many Cannith vaults housed.

    Surge perked up at the word rescue. Until now they were mostly sent for salvage and information. Rescuing someone was new and unusual. I for one am an expert at salvaging and retrieving information. Rescuing someone is new, but we know how to protect ourselves, and as such subsequentially a ward, too. I do try to avoid fights, where possible. But I know people enter Cyre under the premise of NOT being searched for after their disappearance. What changed?

    Surge looks at Aanash interrupting. Pretty sure taking a lightning to the face is nothing to be proud of, Aan. he says jokingly. It was impressive how much the man had survived.

  11. - Top - End - #11
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    GnomeWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12
    Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5
    Conditions:


    During his time with the Cyran Army, Svek had gone to a few meetings with the Captain and knew that he was supposed to stand still, stay quiet and only speak when spoken to. He assumed those rules counted doubly so for a meeting with a Prince. Not just any prince, either but Prince Oargev, Last Scion of Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Dannell ir'Wynarn's Royal Line, Heir of Galifar, Soldier of the Queen's Army, Ambassador to Breland, Royal Knight of Metrol. Svek thinks there were more titles, but he can't remember them right now.

    So he stays at his place, waiting for the Prince to shake his hand. When the Prince gets to Svek, the Prince bends down and shakes the kobold's hand. What an honor! Svek trembles with excitement, but remains silent and respectful.

    He waits until after Aanash tells his tale of the warped lightning, and Surge gives the details of our current crew. He tries to stay quiet, but eventually bursts, telling his story. He tries to keep the story short, thereby certainly leaving out important details, like the fact that the his whole clan fought the dragon and it wasn't just him, or that the dragon was already severely wounded, or that most of his clan died in the fight.

    "I killed a real dragon. In Xen'drik. Drove a spear through its eye..." He pauses a moment trying to decide if he needs to add more. The others have all heard the whole story, but he decides not to waste the Prince's time with more details.

    "That was before I become a Cyran soldier, sir." He looks up at Adam and nods, as if to say, 'thanks for the advice, it seems to be working.'

    He then returns to Prince Oargev, motioning slightly at the Prince's wrist. "Now I'm a bit of a spell caster, too, sir." It's not clear whether "too" refers to in addition to Svek being a soldier, or the Prince's wand bracer. Either way, he points to his own wand stashed in his belt.
    Spoiler: OOC
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    Spoiler: Notes
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    Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
    Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath
    Kellar d'Kundarak
    job in Kalazart, one part rescue, one part salvage
    Last edited by Bobthewizard; 2022-08-28 at 02:16 PM.

  12. - Top - End - #12
    Colossus in the Playground
     
    GreenSorcererElf

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Following Duvi into the minimalistic, almost campaign worthy conference room, Adam's eyes are first drawn to the table, the representation of Cyre as it should be, and a familiar pain stabs through his heart as he remembers the day he heard the news.
    It takes him a few seconds to recover, just in time to hear Duvi's introduction, and for him to remember where he was, and who he was meeting. His hand starts to rise, in an almost instinctive salute, but he quickly represses the motion. He wasn't in the army anymore. Instead, he offers a nod of greeting as the Prince introduces himself, before resuming his stance of attention. When the Prince reaches him, Adam shakes his hand, his gauntlet moving smoothly.

    Stressful introductions complete, Adam is glad to let his hand fall back, although he allows no sign of his relief to appear on his face. When the cleric, the apparent Princess of Karnnath is introduced, he offers her a respectful nod, noting the signs of an augury upon her. The dwarf, however, prompts a slight deepening of his frown.

    However, as the others tell their tales, Adam realizes what the dwarf was looking for, and what his companions were telling didn't match, so he took it upon himself to change that. "I was among the first to enter Cyre, after..." He pauses, visibly collecting himself, before he continues. "After. My unit was stationed on the border, and when the mists passed... we investigated." He pauses again, shaking his head. "Whatever you think about those mists, know that they are far worse than they seem. They are a scourge, and seem to sap the will from those who enter. We lost three men on the first day, to simple things. A broken leg, a bad fall... they just didn't care what happened to themselves, and by the time anyone found them? It was too late." He looks the dwarf directly in the eyes. "We spent a week searching, seeking for survivors. Those that we found..." He shakes his head. "Their minds were broken. I wanted to press deeper, but our commander, he insisted that we leave before we lost any other men. We got orders to move out, and to regroup." He shakes his head again, full of sadness. "To my sorrow, I obeyed them." His gaze returns to the dwarf. "I would give anything to change that day, but I can't. All I can do is try to change this day. You'll find few humans with more experience in the mists than I, and fewer still who are still willing to go in."
    Spoiler: Current Character List:
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    John Smith, Playing in the Dollhouse
    Adam of Cyre, Cyre Red
    Grok Magmaforge, Iron Crisis
    ALADIN, Out of the Abyss

  13. - Top - End - #13
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Awful's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    The Iron Witch
    Winged Tiefling
    AC: 18 HP: 38/38 THP-/-
    PP: 14 PIv: 15 PIs: 11
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d8 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Misty Step 1/1 Bless 1/1 /LR
    Cannon: 1/1 Fireball wand 7/7

    Witchling
    AC13 HP: 18/18
    16PP

    The Witch shook the Prince's hand, her grip firm but not crushing. With a excessively dignified expression, the Witchling also shook the Prince's hand, her tiny digits entirely swallowed by Oargev's own.

    She listened to Aanash talk about being struck by lightning.

    That explains the hair, she almost said out loud, but managed to hold back at the last second.

    "When a nest of chimeras was preying on the refugees on their way to New Cyre,"
    she said at last, "I found their nest, rescued those they'd taken for... later consumption, and toppled their lair on their head. Problem solved."
    As she spoke, the Witchling mimed out the story on her hat, pretending to roar with hands spread like claws on the mention of chimeras, looking around exaggeratedly, then spinning and throwing its arms wide like an explosion at the talk of toppling the nest. The tiny construct, overbalancing from its dramatic movement, windmilled its arms furiously to keep balance, failed, and dropped off like a stone. The Witch caught it without looking in one hand.
    "So I have experience in search-and-rescue in hostile conditions," she concluded before giving the construct an annoyed look. It looked back innocently.
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  14. - Top - End - #14
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    purepolarpanzer's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    First Sergeant Honor
    Warforged Paladin of Conquest
    AC: 19 HP: 54/54
    PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d10 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Lay on Hands- 25/25

    Honor's jaw dropped slightly when the Prince shook his hand, but he quickly recovered, adding a hasty salute to his greeting, but remaining silent. When Aanash broke the solemnity of the meeting with another infernal story about that lightning strike, Honor went rigid, standing at full height attention, expecting a rebuke of some sort for the impudence. Honor read the room in a quick left and right, sensing the hesitation from the Kundarak dwarf, and immediately moved forward to address it.

    Mr. Kellar, sir. During my sixth year of campaigning, we received word that an officer... a prominent noble's daughter, had been overtaken during winter encampment at an advanced position across a river by mercenaries." Honor's eyelights blinked, and for a moment he vividly remembered the howling, cold winds, the screams of arcane shells, and the voices of the dying. "Dead of night. Frozen river. Deemed too dangerous a mission for most. My unit was assigned because we could endure the cold. We chained up to each other, made our way out across the ice, one careful step at a time. We raided the compound, located the target, extracted. Under assault and fire. There were losses... half the unit got pulled under the ice..." Honor lifted his head, a strong sense of pride steeling his spine. "We pulled them back out. Regrouped. Crossed back to allied territory with the target. Point being, Mr. Kellar, sir, that when a Cyran veteran is told to recover something or someone from a hostile environment, it gets done. I'm not the only veteran in this group, and those that aren't are experts in salvage, the Mournlands, and engaging the worst the world can throw at us. We may not look like much, Mr. Kellar, sir, but we get what needs done... done." He punctuates his point by dropping his hammer just enough for the handle to stamp loudly against the floorboards.

    Spoiler: OOC
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    Persuasion check- (1d20+5)[9]. If someone wants to assist, advantage- (1d20+5)[14]. Honor can make a passable face when the situation requires it.
    The Bear is Back.

  15. - Top - End - #15
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Amnestic's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Kellar scrutinises you as you speak, seeking any hint of deception of falsehood, but evidently he finds nothing he can latch onto. “Convinced, my friend?" Oargev asks, a sly half-smile playing across his lips, open enough to be friendly but with a hint of smug satisfaction beneath the surface. “Hmph. Fine then, send your 'experts' if you must." Kellar pushes away from the table and stomps out of the room, still clearly not best-pleased but seems to have conceded the point. Oargev gives a theatrical sigh once he's gone, though the smile doesn't falter. “I try not to be too hard on the man. He's here as a punishment, really. I promise, most of the other from the Houses are far friendlier. I'd like to hear more tales if you have them - especially about the dragon slaying." “Or the night raid on the ice." Haydith adds, her interest clearly peaked. Oargev nods, but continues on.

    “But we should get down to business really. Surge is quite correct, rescue in the Mournland isn't typical." He taps two fingers to the table of Cyre, and the map carvings swirl, the colours darkening from verdant green to a dull grey-brown, and in a moment the map of Cyre has been replaced with a map of the Mournland. How accurate it is is another matter - the Mournland has a tendency to shift itself around, after all, and any map is only good for so long, but it serves well enough for demonstrations. “House Kundarak sponsored a salvage expedition to Kalazart to recover promissory notes and documents from their vault there. They set off two weeks ago." A round trip to Kalazart from the edge of the Mournland, you can estimate, would be eight to nine days there and back again assuming you didn't get lost on the way - or worse. “After losing one salvage team, they've not had much in the way of volunteers for a second go, so they've come to us, via Kellar, to see if we can 'aid' them." Haydith giggles a soft melody. “Oh they weren't happy about it at all. A House being forced to rely on New Cyre makes them look weak." Oargev's smirk widens. “Haydith's quite correct. They want to keep this quiet or they'll lose face with the other nations and Houses, but it benefits us too - most of the documents they are seeking were Cyran to begin with, and the funds promised in the Kundarak vault could go a long way to aiding the people in town. Better that we see them first before Kundarak spirits them away."

    “So, the job I'm laying before you is quite simple in words, less so in deed: Travel to Kalazart, locate the lost Kundarak salvage team and rescue them if they're still alive, and complete their original mission - find the Kundarak vault and take all the documents you can carry. You don't need to sort them or verify them, just grab everything. They'll be categorised and sorted by other people once you're back." He nods over to Duvi, who retrieves a small chest and opens it, placing a thin shoulder bag and a signet ring on the table.

    “The signet ring is enchanted, it will grant you access to the vault once you find it. The bag is extradimensional but only stores documents and papers - a Sivis design, as I understand it. I tried putting a potion in it to see what would happen, we're still trying to get the stain out of the ceiling." Oargev leans back in his chair. “I'm sure you have questions, don't hold back on my account."
    DMing:
    Iron Crisis IC | OOC
    Cyre Red IC | OOC

    Playing:
    OotA IC | OOC

    Master Homebrew Index (5e)

  16. - Top - End - #16
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Awful's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    The Iron Witch
    Winged Tiefling
    AC: 18 HP: 38/38 THP-/-
    PP: 14 PIv: 15 PIs: 11
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d8 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Misty Step 1/1 Bless 1/1 /LR
    Cannon: 1/1 Fireball wand 7/7

    Witchling
    AC13 HP: 18/18
    16PP

    The Witch reached forward and picked up the ring, studying the play of light of the gold carving upon it. When the Witchling made little grabby motions, she held it up so the tiny construct could take it and begin examining it.

    Her white-on-white eyes looked up from under the brim of her hat towards the Prince.
    "How many were in this first salvage team? And what else was in the vault?"
    Last edited by Awful; 2022-08-29 at 10:32 AM.
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  17. - Top - End - #17
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    purepolarpanzer's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    First Sergeant Honor
    Warforged Paladin of Conquest
    AC: 19 HP: 54/54
    PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d10 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Lay on Hands- 25/25

    Honor looked over the map slowly, then looked to the signet ring being handled by the Witchling. "What are our mission priorities? We will, of course, attempt to complete all objectives, but are the documents or the salvage team more important?" Honor didn't mince words when it came to work, and he wanted this clear from the beginning. He had an idea of what the Prince's response would be, but it was not for soldiers to assume what their superiors wished- that usually led to confusion, demotions, and death. "In addition, we will of course pursue leads ourselves, but I am sure that your highness receives more reports from the Mournlands than we could secure in a year. Is there any reliable intel from Kalazart from any other scavenging teams? Any rumors of other operatives in the Mournlands? If we encounter resistance affiliated with other nations, organizations, or religions... competition, one might say... are we to engage freely?"
    The Bear is Back.

  18. - Top - End - #18
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    GnomeWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12
    Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5
    Conditions:


    Svek's eyes get wide and he can't stop smiling when the Prince says he wants to hear about the dragon later. He tries to stand up tall and proud but no one notices any change in his height. While he wants to start talking as quickly as possible about how he killed the dragon, he knows that he needs to wait until the Prince gives him permission, a permission that doesn't come.

    Instead, he settles in and listens to the conversation, occasionally flapping his wings to lift himself briefly up to see the map. Maps. That's a good idea.

    "Excuse me, sirs and madam, do you have any maps that might be useful for us. A map of Kalazart, and a map of the Kundarak vaults. Those would be most helpful."

    Unsure if he's overstepped is position, he stops flapping his wings and settles onto the floor, inadvertently hiding below the edge of the table.
    Spoiler: OOC
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    Spoiler: Notes
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    Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
    Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath
    Kellar d'Kundarak
    job in Kalazart,
    rescue salvage crew
    Bring back documents

  19. - Top - End - #19
    Colossus in the Playground
     
    GreenSorcererElf

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Adam stands in the background, considering the problem before him, and taking care to not move too much, lest his armor creak. He seems to approve of the questions that his other team members are ask, but he diffidently adds in one more request. "Is there something you might give us to identify ourselves to the scavenger team you sent? And something that we might use to identify them? It isn't unknown for scavenger teams to try scavenging from each other, rather than the alternative."
    Spoiler: Current Character List:
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    John Smith, Playing in the Dollhouse
    Adam of Cyre, Cyre Red
    Grok Magmaforge, Iron Crisis
    ALADIN, Out of the Abyss

  20. - Top - End - #20
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    Amnestic's Avatar

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    "There were four members of the original team they sent - though they didn't tell me any other details or skillsets. The ring should be enough for proof you're on the same job, since they'll have a similar one for vault access. You show your ring, they show theirs, everyone's happy. It was quite a wrangle getting just this one, Kellar spent two days arguing that 'why would they need a second ring if they're going to be finding the first salvage team?'" Oargev sighs, his imitation quite close to the dwarf's gruff tones. "Maybe when we're done I'll take him inside the mists so he can experience it for himself."

    "Officially, House Kundarak wants it noted that the priority above all is the salvage team's safety and that the vault is a secondary matter. They don't want to be seen as a House that wastes lives for someone else's profit needlessly and abandons their hirelings." He purses his lips. "By the time you reach Kalazart, they'll have been in the Mournland near on three weeks. They weren't supplied for being there that long, assuming they hadn't already been picked off beforehand by something dangerous. All that to say I don't really expect you to find them alive. If you do, do your best to keep them alive, but if you can't find them while heading to the vault, don't waste your own lives searching a dead city. If you do find the bodies..." Bodies don't rot in the Mournland, no matter how long they've been dead. Even if they died two weeks ago, they'd still be pristine, and you'd have no way of knowing. "Use your discretion. Kundarak would like the bodies for proof, but again, don't waste your own lives for them."

    "There aren't any new maps of Kalazart that have been made since the Mourning, but we have one from beforehand. How much the topography has changed, I can't say. It's too far out for most salvage teams, and those that do go don't have much in the way of cartographers. Present company perhaps excepted?" Duvi produces the map in question. The city was built in a typical ringed fashion from the centre outwards, but most notably is the lightning rail track that bisects the entire city from west to east. "Thankfully it shouldn't be difficult to navigate if too much hasn't changed." Oargev traces a finger along the rail track. "Follow the track, or what used to be the track to the centre of the city. That's where the station is, attached to the central market bazaar. The Kundarak building was on the south side of the bazaar. Sadly, no maps of the building or the vault, but from the way they described it, it shouldn't be hard to find, and the vault won't be hard to navigate. Or so Kellar said. As for what else is in the vault, they wouldn't tell me that either. 'House Kundarak property' was all I could wrangle out of them, which seemed to be code for 'Take only what you're told to take, touch nothing else'. Knowing them, if there is anything of value it's trapped, and they're not sharing how to disarm it."

    "Word is that The Blades have been operating in the area, but we hear that everywhere, so who knows? I'd say try not to make enemies if you can help it, ideally only act in self-defense. The Last War's over," Haydith mouths 'for now', though her expression says she's not particularly eager to return to conflict, just that she expects it. Oargev's look tells you he expects the same. "If they get in the way of your mission then deal with it as you see fit, but hopefully any other expeditions will spend their efforts on not fighting you. I know I wouldn't be going out of my way to do so." He adds with a smirk.
    Last edited by Amnestic; 2022-08-29 at 02:49 PM.
    DMing:
    Iron Crisis IC | OOC
    Cyre Red IC | OOC

    Playing:
    OotA IC | OOC

    Master Homebrew Index (5e)

  21. - Top - End - #21
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Spore's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Surge the Sellsword
    Shifter Ranger
    AC: 17 HP: 44/44
    PP: 15 PIv: 15 PIs: 14
    Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft)
    Concentration: -

    Pushing himself into the background, Surge watches and listens, does not interfere. I assume you could hold your own against each of us for some time, wand wizard. the ranger finally reveals his observations about the prince's preferred fighting style. He pauses and closes in a bit.

    Pardon me expecting the worst, but what if the original team was warped, went insane or is otherwise hostile to us? I would prefer to neutralize them, I am not keen on travelling with mad or hostile entities. My sense of compassion only reaches so far. He moves swiftly around the table to get a view on the magical map of the Mournland. I am no cartographer, but I will try to take notes about the evershifting lands. This work is dangerous, but the maps are only worthwhile for so long, see it as my token of gratitude for this job. The nonplussed feline face almost put up a smile.

    As an aside, House Kundarak is great with security, but if we see and salvage anything worth taking, is it ours? Or can we sell it back giving them the first option to buy, at our price of course? I value my life, and I will not continue these expeditions forever. He pauses and swiftly approaches the Prince, though with his hands firmly behind his back. I would much rather help New Cyre establish their right to settle than mingle with terrifying creatures. The kindness your people has shown me is beyond that what I know from Sharn. A tenuous friendship and nothing more than this group has given me, but a kind of welcoming if distraught peace.

  22. - Top - End - #22
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    Amnestic's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    When Surge mentions Oargev's fighting skills Haydith giggles again. “Oh, don't let Mialee hear you say that. Boast too loud and you'll have a duel challenge before you know it." The prince leaves the suggestion in the air as he clarifies: “Mialee's a Valenar elf who...well it's a long story but the short version is that we fought, she lost, and now she's helping to train my soldiers. Once you're back from Kalazart perhaps you'll have time to meet the people, and the rest of my advisers."

    “As I said, use your discretion on dealing with them; if they're beyond help and endanger the vault mission, deal with it as you see fit. Between us and these four walls? Kundarak would probably prefer reports of corpses rather than live madmen." It's a distasteful thing to say, and Oargev clearly recognises as such, but the realism of the situation wins out over ideals. It's hard to stay pure of heart and deed in the Mournland.

    At the question of salvage, Oargev looks to Duvi, who promptly answers the question on his behalf: “Regardless of its current position in the Mournland, Kundarak property is still theirs by right and law and they have no legal obligation to pay you anything for its recovery - and legally you would have to turn it all over to them, or be accused of theft. The laws governing the Mournland in the Five Nations haven't caught up with the current situation." There might be just a slight edge to her voice here, but it's hard to tell. “That said, it's likely you would be paid a salvaging fee relative to the value of that which was recovered. If they're seen to not pay salvagers for Kundarak goods, the salvagers will keep it to themselves or sell through fences, and the House misses out entirely. If they pay salvagers, it incentivises them to go through the House first."

    “No one relishes going into the Mournland, but if we're to solve it, we're going to do so from the inside." Oargev says gravely, templing his fingers. “I don't know how it happened, but I do intend to find out, and make those responsible pay. This is just mission is just one small step along that path."
    DMing:
    Iron Crisis IC | OOC
    Cyre Red IC | OOC

    Playing:
    OotA IC | OOC

    Master Homebrew Index (5e)

  23. - Top - End - #23
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    GnomeWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12
    Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5
    Conditions:


    Svek takes the map of Kalazart and studies it for a few moments. He would be willing to let another carry it but they all seem more interested in the conversation, so he rolls it up and fits it in his small backpack.

    Once that is put away, he continues to listen to the Prince, repeating what he thinks are the important parts.

    "Salvage team first. Papers second. Touch nothing else. Follow the tracks. Watch out for Blades. Solve the Mourning. Make them pay. Got it."

    He's not sure if he has it or not, but he nods his head and is ready to get started. Oh, one more thing.

    "We'll need some goodberry wine, sirs. A bottle for each of us for each day. Expensive, but lighter than carrying enough water."
    Spoiler: OOC
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    Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome, Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
    Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath
    Kellar d'Kundarak
    Mialee, a Valenar elf who is training Oargev's troops
    job in Kalazart (have map)
    rescue salvage crew
    Bring back documents


  24. - Top - End - #24
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    purepolarpanzer's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    First Sergeant Honor
    Warforged Paladin of Conquest
    AC: 19 HP: 54/54
    PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d10 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Lay on Hands- 25/25

    When Surge makes mention of the Prince's combat ability, Honor gives the noble a second glance. In addition to the innate respect he holds for the Cyre noble family, he estimation of the Prince grows. Whether it be with wand or hammer, Honor respected combat capability. He'd met his fair share of pompous officers who hadn't drawn their weapon since basic training, but that didn't stop him from following their orders. Like any good sergeant, he would simply make "recommendations" to the officer- things like "Sir, that unit just returned from the field and hasn't replenished their losses yet. Perhaps the Seventh would be a more practical choice. With respect, sir." . He felt a hollow, familiar longing inside his chassis for the days serving alongside General ir'Degurd- there was an officer that remembered both Dol Arrah and Dol Dorn, both high minded duty and the grit of the rank and file. Honor realized he was lost in thought, inwardly shaking himself back to reality.

    All the talk of salvage and reward didn't amount to much for Honor. Gold could buy stronger armor, useful magical gear, and maybe even one day a weapon stronger than his hammer, Onatar's Wrath, but none of these were a priority for Honor. His companions had practical expenses- food, water, Goodberry wine to keep them in fighting shape. While honor occasionally needed new metal plates, machine oil, or clockwork components, his own expenses never amounted to much, so much so that he had accumulated a small fortune that he kept tucked securely in an interior crevice. "Let my companions squeeze every last coin from the Mournlands, so long as they don't seek to tax New Cyre beyond what is reasonable."


    When the Prince stated his dedication to justice for his nation and his people, Honor swelled with pride. Such a statement reinforced that their motives aligned. Svek chimed in with a summary of their briefing, then a practical concern. "If supplying so much wine would be onerous for New Cyre, your highness, then we can ration what is available, but some supply is needed to keep most of our group in fighting form. The healing afforded by my Oaths is reliable in the Mournland, but as you know it is the exception, not the rule. I trust your judgement on what can be reasonably afforded us."
    Last edited by purepolarpanzer; 2022-08-30 at 08:38 AM.
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  25. - Top - End - #25
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Awful's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    The Iron Witch
    Winged Tiefling
    AC: 18 HP: 38/38 THP-/-
    PP: 14 PIv: 15 PIs: 11
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d8 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Misty Step 1/1 Bless 1/1 /LR
    Cannon: 1/1 Fireball wand 7/7

    Witchling
    AC13 HP: 18/18
    16PP

    The Witch nodded thoughtfully.
    "Certainly, something to reduce the amount of supplies we'd have to carry would be useful. Ten days of water and rations is a lot of weight. More if we want a good safety margin or for any rescuees."
    Her eyes flicked briefly towards Honour. For a brief moment, she injected a lightness into her tone.
    "There's some advantage to being made of iron and mechanisms when it comes to supply."
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  26. - Top - End - #26
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Spore's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Surge the Sellsword
    Shifter Ranger
    AC: 17 HP: 44/44
    PP: 15 PIv: 15 PIs: 14
    Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft)
    Concentration: -

    Interjecting Oargev's answer, Surge replies first to Svek's request. I do highly doubt it. We do need the wine, but we will not get more than necessary. New Cyre is poor, to put it frankly. It would be a surprise if they would supply some wine, and I will purchase more on my behalf. I am fond of eating, drinking and surviving myself. Besides, I can feed and uh....water you if the mists allow it. To do inventory for once.

    Aside from Honor and the witchling, everyone needs food and water. I can provide sustenance and find water on the regular, in a pinch Adam should prepare a spell to aid our water intake every other day beginning with the day after the first day we don't find anything worthwhile. We cannot afford to tax our clergy with such mundane tasks.
    Surge says this with earnest respect. The shifter had little love for the fanatics of the Silver Flame, crazed druids or clergymen in general, but Adam was different. Maybe it was the gloomy atmosphere and the utter lack of fervor or fanaticism he carried around. Though I remember you had a very big bag, Witch. What ever happened to it? Someone stole your Khyber Shards from it? Surge half-joked. He knew the shards played a big role in magic items, but he couldn't even differentiate them from pottery shards.

  27. - Top - End - #27
    Colossus in the Playground
     
    GreenSorcererElf

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Adam looks on as everyone discusses the key problems facing them, but nods gravely at Oargev's plan to find out what caused the Mourning, and to seek revenge. The gods permitted it, but will they be willing to admit that they were wrong, or were people able to learn the lesson? There is only one way to find the signs we need, and I will not hesitate to find them, given the chance. Meridith, John, and Serene deserve nothing less.

    As the questions from his companions flow in, he listens, standing silently in the background, occasionally nodding in agreement as the need for supplies and healing are discussed, glad that the critical problems were being discussed. Not much chance of getting enough wine for every day, but two bottles a piece is really the minimum we could require. If House Kundarak is willing to provide them, or cover the cost, that would greatly simplify things. However, given the loss of two salvaging teams, they have either been lowballing the pay, or there is something they're not mentioning. Paper... papers are hard to value, and assign a salvage fee to. And preparation is the key to success. Medical supplies, food, water, warforged components, spell components... all are the difference between success and failure.
    Last edited by Archmage1; 2022-08-30 at 08:17 PM.
    Spoiler: Current Character List:
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    John Smith, Playing in the Dollhouse
    Adam of Cyre, Cyre Red
    Grok Magmaforge, Iron Crisis
    ALADIN, Out of the Abyss

  28. - Top - End - #28
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    BlueKnightGuy

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    Apr 2013

    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    Aanash
    Tiefling Barbarian/Wizard/Warlock
    AC: 19 HP: 57/57
    PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
    Conditions: Arcane Ward (5/5), Temp HP (7)

    Logistics were never Aan's strong suit; or more accurately his interest. He scratches the back of his head and eyes the room while the others discuss supplies. He grins a little at the prospect of meeting some Blades on their expedition. Those ones were always fun.

    "No one relishes going into the Mournland,"
    "Ooh, I do," the tiefling cuts in to mention, holding up his hand. "There is this, this buzz in the air there," he vibrates his hands in front of him with a slightly manic tinge to his voice. "Maybe the thing that makes people stop healing? Ever since the whole lightning thing though, it is different. And the lakes of blood? That place is hardcore. No better way to toughen up fast! You will become exalted or die trying!"

    Patting his chest and brushing his hands along the metallic plates on his chest with a slight scratching of iron on iron from his nails, Aanash tries to tamp down and contain his excitement. "Sorry, sorry. Yes. I am eager to get underway."

  29. - Top - End - #29
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Amnestic's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    “You're not wrong that it's expensive, but thankfully Kundarak is footing the bill for this venture, so it's an expense they've already covered." He seems impressed and a little relieved you both understand the Mournland's dangers, as well as New Cyre's own situation. Duvi produces a writ marked with the sigil of House Kundarak, entitling you to claim 40 bottles of Goodberry Wine bought and paid for, on your way to the Mournland. “Eight each - Honor excepted - should cover you adequately for the journey there and back. They wouldn't include any extra for the first salvage team, I asked." Oargev sighs. “Another sign they don't expect anyone to have survived."
    DMing:
    Iron Crisis IC | OOC
    Cyre Red IC | OOC

    Playing:
    OotA IC | OOC

    Master Homebrew Index (5e)

  30. - Top - End - #30
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    purepolarpanzer's Avatar

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    Default Re: Cyre Red (IC)

    First Sergeant Honor
    Warforged Paladin of Conquest
    AC: 19 HP: 54/54
    PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
    Conditions:
    Concentrating on:
    5 / 5 d10 HD
    Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd
    Lay on Hands- 25/25

    "My questions are satisfied. We should leave as soon as possible. Moments could matter." Honor salutes the Prince with a "Your Highness.", bows to both him and the foreign princess, and steps back, obviously meaning for the rest of his squad to finish up and pay their respects.
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