I'm workin' on it lad, don't start sassing me now; I barely made it through the gate before it closed, let alone the fact it opened up again right behind me! :P
In addition to that, of the last 16 hours since I posted I’ve been at work 5 of them and was asleep for eight. Haven’t had much time yet; after work today I should be able to knock it out. Inbetween building minis.
Yeah. Inbetween building minis. That sounds like a great evening plan.
In addition to that, of the last 16 hours since I posted I’ve been at work 5 of them and was asleep for eight. Haven’t had much time yet; after work today I should be able to knock it out. Inbetween building minis.
Yeah. Inbetween building minis. That sounds like a great evening plan.
Have fun with the minis. I still need to finish some for my AoS army.
Personality Zavakri is an eccentric woman. She is occupied by obsessive compulsions and nervous tics that render her a difficult person to directly engage with in a meaningful manner. She desires cleanliness and hygienic well-being, as well as order and logic to the structure and organization of things. Things being crooked really bother her, to put it succinctly, and she can't quite stop herself from trying to straighten things up.
She has a queer sense of humor. Amusement is seemingly found in all things, especially things that work out Just Right or Just So.
Above all else the woman is a curious bundle of nerves; She is simultaneously willing to open Schrodinger's Box whilst being terrified of what might be inside of it.
There had been an argument. Zavakri could remember having it. She could remember seeing her sister's face; eyes full of tears and that lip twitching with youthful petulance. The worst part is, Zavakri could remember her own cruelty...
"I don't care what you want, Tara! I only brought you along because mum said I had to look out for you!"
These words had a profound affect upon the young girl known as Detara. Her face scrunched up. The tears fell. Her small hands curled into grubby fists. A deep breath filled her cheeks, before she yelled back into Zavakri's own stubborn indignance;
"If you don't care what I want, I don't care about you!"
A classic child's tantrum tactic, well executed and expertly crafted. Detara was good at this 'being a younger sister' thing; it came to her naturally from birth. This had meant that for nearly eight years she had plagued Zavakri's own social efforts and parental needs- but it had all come to a head today, with a split vote on what to do at the Carnival. Detara had a wondrous solution to their seeming incapability to resolve their differences; she turned, shut her eyes, and sprinted into the crowd.
Leaving Zavakri stunned and gazing after her. In a few more seconds the world came crashing down and she realized that her Older Sister Duty was to chase after her, and so logical pathing set in.
Hours passed. The day passed. The sun began to set. She found herself alone at the entrance to the Carnival. She was hopeless, looking around in a manner best described as 'frantic' for any sign of her wayward sister. The carnival only came once every eight years- so far that was once in her lifetime!- and Detara had thoroughly secreted herself away in the crowd.
Zavakri needed help. She turned and accidentally bumped into two important-seeming Elves who had come to wave away the last of the guests. She lifted her face to them, enthralled in wonder by their visages. She asked if they knew where her sister was.
"Silly little screeching cricket," said Witch. "You forgot to buy a ticket."
"The carnival goes round and round," said Light. "The multiverse is our playground. Nothing's free and nothing's lost. Every visit has its cost." Order. The world needed Order. The world needed Logic. The world needed a Foundation. Zavakri was a sinking girl with nowhere to plant her feet. No ropes to grab hold of. No ladders to climb. The weight of a lost sister forever on her shoulders. Depression claimed her. Absconded with the rest of her childhood and and waged a strong war against her lesser teenage years.
Nothing made any sense. The world was a hopeless spiral of guilt and shame. Nothing held her interest- certainly not the family farmstead, of which she was now the sole daughter of the lot and therefor the one tasked with assisting the mother with cleaning and cooking. Days blurred into weeks which blended into months which faded into forgotten years.
Until one day something clicked. It all started with a bump on the head. More precisely, a thrown apple. An apple thrown by a boy. A cute boy. A boy who was feeling brave today.
Zavakri had been sitting at the riverside, contemplating absolutely nothing and dreading absolutely everything, as she idled beside a laundry basket that desperately needed her attention. Three brothers and an uncle sharing the farmstead meant there was always plenty of cleaning to do, and never enough energy to contemplate the best order to do it all in. Which meant she had to trudge through inefficient cleaning methods and tasks, which only further spiraled her into her depressive state.
She sighed. Dramatically, mind you. A proper dejection. Then she leaned forward onto her knees and braced her elbows upon them, servicing her head with a platform of her hands as she rocked forward to stare down into the waters. It was a good, deep, existential crisis. Until the apple hit her upon the head.
It collided with her squarely. A proper throw, from an athletically inclined arm. She yelped, eyes wide, and watched the reflection of the apple as it arced through the air-
Let Apple equal X. Parabolic function presented, X moving at V of...Account for air resistance, coefficient Fd...Let Hand, right, move to position coordinate X,Y,Z...
And swiftly snatched it out of the air with her right hand as her left rose slowly to rub at the soreness of the back of her head. It was a boyish method, to be sure, but it had accomplished its task. Zavakri lifted her eyes in what felt like the first time in her life.
And to top it all off, there was the spark of magic in the air.
"Do you see that, Rirvudd?" She whispered it quietly to the young man beside her. He was maybe a year older than her, and by now she herself was a woman of eighteen- and both yearned for more than the simple village they called home.
"Aye." He whispered back, smirking. "Though you'll have to explain it to me. I don't quite know what it is I'm seeing." It was easy bait, he knew she'd bite- he just liked listening to her ramble. And ramble she did;
It was a star- or perhaps a planet- maybe an asteroid?- It was impossible to tell with the naked eye, but from how Zavakri talked you wouldn't have known that. They were outside the village, high atop a nearby hill where they had an unobstructed view of the night sky. She waxed and waned about it all, clutching in her hands a quill and parchment- both well used by now. The quill's feather had practically withered away, whereas the parchment was meticulously filled with painstaking notes of astronomic geography. A detailed and thorough star map, gracefully and lovingly drawn by Zavakri herself.
After a polite amount of her torrential musings, Rirvudd cleared his throat and caught her eye.
"You can't avoid the festival every year, Kri." He said softly. Already the girl had tensed up and looked away, but he'd already tread upon the landmine. "Lliira's Night is a night of joy, dancing, fun-"
"I can't." She said quietly. "You know I can't, Riri, you know I can't." Despite her closed off physicality- her arms having dropped their possessions and fled to the safety of hugging her own torso- and visibly shaken nature, Rirvudd can be applauded for his boyish bravery for wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. She accepted his offer of warmth and leaned her head upon his shoulder.
"...I would like to." she added, softly. "But I just can't. The music- the dancing- it reminds me of Tara. If I'd just-"
Rirvudd was ready for this. He wasn't about to let her do this to herself again.
"Baldur's Gate. It has an Astrolabe, right?"
"Well, a big city like that'd have a Planisphere, dioptra, an astrolabe-"
"You know what I mean. It'd have a proper facility for doing all this, right?"
"Well, yes. I suppose it would."
"Then come with me. To Baldur's Gate. Father said I was old enough to handle the Market trips. You and I both know that without you I'd be lost on the economics of it all, anyway, and end up costing the village some silver. Or, maybe, if you don't go with me I'd see a pretty skirt or two and lose my hea-"
Before he could conclude himself, Zavakri rolled her eyes and shoved him. He toppled over as if she'd pricked a balloon and tossed it aside. She crossed her legs and stared at him, leaning back against the rock they'd made their small camp against.
"You? Chasing skirts? Riri, you'd only be running because I'd be behind you about to tear that stupid beard off your face for even trying."
She stood up, her hands moving in the air-
Light is merely a visible interference on the electromagnetic spectrum...Light move in waves, waves have frequencies, frequencies have patterns, patterns are formulae...Let Light equal X, let wave length...
-And suddenly her hairband was glowing faintly, illuminating the area around them in a soft light.
"Of course I'll go with you. Now stand up and dance with me, you stupid boy, before I change my mind."
He would have been truly foolish not to take her outstretched hand. As it turns out, her rhythm was impeccable- though she did lack in style. Zavakri arrived in Baldur's Gate sopping wet and cradling her work fervently in her arms like a mother would a sick babe. A storm had rolled in, ruined a portion of the harvest they'd come to sell, and forced Zavakri and Rirvudd to take shelter in a traveler's inn for several days before Zavakri managed to pry herself away from her lover. A storm could no longer delay her. A storm could no longer risk her timing.
She'd made sure of it. After their first few trips to Baldur's Gate, Zavakri's guidance and studies of the Markets coupled with Rirvudd's ability to talk a bird out of its feathers had resulted in the purchase of a low quality telescope. A low quality telescope had afforded Zavakri an infinite amount of study and furthering of her notes.
Her notes were now something precious indeed, and unless she was wrong- The math was there, it added up, it could not be wrong! The math is never wrong!- there was something very special happening indeed. She ran through the streets, her hood heavy with the rain but of that rustic farm quality that expects such burdens and thus still serviceable and safe to be wearing.
To her own senses, her footfalls felt like lightning and the echo of her steps rolled like the thunder. Haste was of the essence. It was happening tonight, and if she could prove it there's no way they'd turn her away this time!
Every trip she'd approach the sages of Baldur's Gate with her studies and findings only to be refuted and turned away or otherwise doubted by those with more practical education and study than her- prejudice against the plain peasant girl as brazen as a bull within the higher tier educated society of the big city.
Every trip she swore she'd return with more knowledge and more passion until one day she'd truly amaze them.
Turns out this was the trip, she was right.
The Garden had shifted in its orbit a fraction of a degree! The implications of such a thing-
While to the rest of us this may seem absolutely inconsequential and ludicrously infinitesimal, to those who watch the sky for a living such a claim has centuries of interest baked into it. For it to have been noticed by Zavakri of all people?
Why, it earned her a job. Doing exactly what she spent all those years on a hilltop doing for free, she was now to be paid and lauded for. A year passed, her spirits higher than ever- but her mannerisms all the more eccentric. She and Rirvudd were engaged now, but their work kept them separate for much time. She was often required to keep an eye on some such thing in the stars, and his work had grown under her advisement from simple village merchant into that of a fledgling caravanner. Things were looking up for them.
It is perhaps unfortunate that the two had lost track of time in their joy. Rirvudd was away on a trip to Waterdeep when the news came and took Zavakri by storm; The Witchlight Carnival was returning. Her world shook, fractures appearing in the stable foundation of her life.
She'd never sought adventure before. Danger was something that happened to other people- her career was built on all the action happening an incomprehensible distance away!... but she had to go back. Curiosity had always been her greatest strength, and greatest weakness. She had to find out what had become of Detara.
She'd only been as certain of one other thing in her life.
Stat Generation Rolled That 4d6 And Lived With It.
Personality Zavakri is an eccentric woman. She is occupied by obsessive compulsions and nervous tics that render her a difficult person to directly engage with in a meaningful manner. She desires cleanliness and hygienic well-being, as well as order and logic to the structure and organization of things. Things being crooked really bother her, to put it succinctly, and she can't quite stop herself from trying to straighten things up.
She has a queer sense of humor. Amusement is seemingly found in all things, especially things that work out Just Right or Just So.
Above all else the woman is a curious bundle of nerves; She is simultaneously willing to open Schrodinger's Box whilst being terrified of what might be inside of it.
There had been an argument. Zavakri could remember having it. She could remember seeing her sister's face; eyes full of tears and that lip twitching with youthful petulance. The worst part is, Zavakri could remember her own cruelty...
"I don't care what you want, Tara! I only brought you along because mum said I had to look out for you!"
These words had a profound affect upon the young girl known as Detara. Her face scrunched up. The tears fell. Her small hands curled into grubby fists. A deep breath filled her cheeks, before she yelled back into Zavakri's own stubborn indignance;
"If you don't care what I want, I don't care about you!"
A classic child's tantrum tactic, well executed and expertly crafted. Detara was good at this 'being a younger sister' thing; it came to her naturally from birth. This had meant that for nearly eight years she had plagued Zavakri's own social efforts and parental needs- but it had all come to a head today, with a split vote on what to do at the Carnival. Detara had a wondrous solution to their seeming incapability to resolve their differences; she turned, shut her eyes, and sprinted into the crowd.
Leaving Zavakri stunned and gazing after her. In a few more seconds the world came crashing down and she realized that her Older Sister Duty was to chase after her, and so logical pathing set in.
Hours passed. The day passed. The sun began to set. She found herself alone at the entrance to the Carnival. She was hopeless, looking around in a manner best described as 'frantic' for any sign of her wayward sister. The carnival only came once every eight years- so far that was once in her lifetime!- and Detara had thoroughly secreted herself away in the crowd.
Zavakri needed help. She turned and accidentally bumped into two important-seeming Elves who had come to wave away the last of the guests. She lifted her face to them, enthralled in wonder by their visages. She asked if they knew where her sister was.
"Silly little screeching cricket," said Witch. "You forgot to buy a ticket."
"The carnival goes round and round," said Light. "The multiverse is our playground. Nothing's free and nothing's lost. Every visit has its cost." Order. The world needed Order. The world needed Logic. The world needed a Foundation. Zavakri was a sinking girl with nowhere to plant her feet. No ropes to grab hold of. No ladders to climb. The weight of a lost sister forever on her shoulders. Depression claimed her. Absconded with the rest of her childhood and and waged a strong war against her lesser teenage years.
Nothing made any sense. The world was a hopeless spiral of guilt and shame. Nothing held her interest- certainly not the family farmstead, of which she was now the sole daughter of the lot and therefor the one tasked with assisting the mother with cleaning and cooking. Days blurred into weeks which blended into months which faded into forgotten years.
Until one day something clicked. It all started with a bump on the head. More precisely, a thrown apple. An apple thrown by a boy. A cute boy. A boy who was feeling brave today.
Zavakri had been sitting at the riverside, contemplating absolutely nothing and dreading absolutely everything, as she idled beside a laundry basket that desperately needed her attention. Three brothers and an uncle sharing the farmstead meant there was always plenty of cleaning to do, and never enough energy to contemplate the best order to do it all in. Which meant she had to trudge through inefficient cleaning methods and tasks, which only further spiraled her into her depressive state.
She sighed. Dramatically, mind you. A proper dejection. Then she leaned forward onto her knees and braced her elbows upon them, servicing her head with a platform of her hands as she rocked forward to stare down into the waters. It was a good, deep, existential crisis. Until the apple hit her upon the head.
It collided with her squarely. A proper throw, from an athletically inclined arm. She yelped, eyes wide, and watched the reflection of the apple as it arced through the air-
Let Apple equal X. Parabolic function presented, X moving at V of...Account for air resistance, coefficient Fd...Let Hand, right, move to position coordinate X,Y,Z...
And swiftly snatched it out of the air with her right hand as her left rose slowly to rub at the soreness of the back of her head. It was a boyish method, to be sure, but it had accomplished its task. Zavakri lifted her eyes in what felt like the first time in her life.
And to top it all off, there was the spark of magic in the air.
"Do you see that, Rirvudd?" She whispered it quietly to the young man beside her. He was maybe a year older than her, and by now she herself was a woman of eighteen- and both yearned for more than the simple village they called home.
"Aye." He whispered back, smirking. "Though you'll have to explain it to me. I don't quite know what it is I'm seeing." It was easy bait, he knew she'd bite- he just liked listening to her ramble. And ramble she did;
It was a star- or perhaps a planet- maybe an asteroid?- It was impossible to tell with the naked eye, but from how Zavakri talked you wouldn't have known that. They were outside the village, high atop a nearby hill where they had an unobstructed view of the night sky. She waxed and waned about it all, clutching in her hands a quill and parchment- both well used by now. The quill's feather had practically withered away, whereas the parchment was meticulously filled with painstaking notes of astronomic geography. A detailed and thorough star map, gracefully and lovingly drawn by Zavakri herself.
After a polite amount of her torrential musings, Rirvudd cleared his throat and caught her eye.
"You can't avoid the festival every year, Kri." He said softly. Already the girl had tensed up and looked away, but he'd already tread upon the landmine. "Lliira's Night is a night of joy, dancing, fun-"
"I can't." She said quietly. "You know I can't, Riri, you know I can't." Despite her closed off physicality- her arms having dropped their possessions and fled to the safety of hugging her own torso- and visibly shaken nature, Rirvudd can be applauded for his boyish bravery for wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. She accepted his offer of warmth and leaned her head upon his shoulder.
"...I would like to." she added, softly. "But I just can't. The music- the dancing- it reminds me of Tara. If I'd just-"
Rirvudd was ready for this. He wasn't about to let her do this to herself again.
"Baldur's Gate. It has an Astrolabe, right?"
"Well, a big city like that'd have a Planisphere, dioptra, an astrolabe-"
"You know what I mean. It'd have a proper facility for doing all this, right?"
"Well, yes. I suppose it would."
"Then come with me. To Baldur's Gate. Father said I was old enough to handle the Market trips. You and I both know that without you I'd be lost on the economics of it all, anyway, and end up costing the village some silver. Or, maybe, if you don't go with me I'd see a pretty skirt or two and lose my hea-"
Before he could conclude himself, Zavakri rolled her eyes and shoved him. He toppled over as if she'd pricked a balloon and tossed it aside. She crossed her legs and stared at him, leaning back against the rock they'd made their small camp against.
"You? Chasing skirts? Riri, you'd only be running because I'd be behind you about to tear that stupid beard off your face for even trying."
She stood up, her hands moving in the air-
Light is merely a visible interference on the electromagnetic spectrum...Light move in waves, waves have frequencies, frequencies have patterns, patterns are formulae...Let Light equal X, let wave length...
-And suddenly her hairband was glowing faintly, illuminating the area around them in a soft light.
"Of course I'll go with you. Now stand up and dance with me, you stupid boy, before I change my mind."
He would have been truly foolish not to take her outstretched hand. As it turns out, her rhythm was impeccable- though she did lack in style. Zavakri arrived in Baldur's Gate sopping wet and cradling her work fervently in her arms like a mother would a sick babe. A storm had rolled in, ruined a portion of the harvest they'd come to sell, and forced Zavakri and Rirvudd to take shelter in a traveler's inn for several days before Zavakri managed to pry herself away from her lover. A storm could no longer delay her. A storm could no longer risk her timing.
She'd made sure of it. After their first few trips to Baldur's Gate, Zavakri's guidance and studies of the Markets coupled with Rirvudd's ability to talk a bird out of its feathers had resulted in the purchase of a low quality telescope. A low quality telescope had afforded Zavakri an infinite amount of study and furthering of her notes.
Her notes were now something precious indeed, and unless she was wrong- The math was there, it added up, it could not be wrong! The math is never wrong!- there was something very special happening indeed. She ran through the streets, her hood heavy with the rain but of that rustic farm quality that expects such burdens and thus still serviceable and safe to be wearing.
To her own senses, her footfalls felt like lightning and the echo of her steps rolled like the thunder. Haste was of the essence. It was happening tonight, and if she could prove it there's no way they'd turn her away this time!
Every trip she'd approach the sages of Baldur's Gate with her studies and findings only to be refuted and turned away or otherwise doubted by those with more practical education and study than her- prejudice against the plain peasant girl as brazen as a bull within the higher tier educated society of the big city.
Every trip she swore she'd return with more knowledge and more passion until one day she'd truly amaze them.
Turns out this was the trip, she was right.
The Garden had shifted in its orbit a fraction of a degree! The implications of such a thing-
While to the rest of us this may seem absolutely inconsequential and ludicrously infinitesimal, to those who watch the sky for a living such a claim has centuries of interest baked into it. For it to have been noticed by Zavakri of all people?
Why, it earned her a job. Doing exactly what she spent all those years on a hilltop doing for free, she was now to be paid and lauded for. A year passed, her spirits higher than ever- but her mannerisms all the more eccentric. She and Rirvudd were engaged now, but their work kept them separate for much time. She was often required to keep an eye on some such thing in the stars, and his work had grown under her advisement from simple village merchant into that of a fledgling caravanner. Things were looking up for them.
It is perhaps unfortunate that the two had lost track of time in their joy. Rirvudd was away on a trip to Waterdeep when the news came and took Zavakri by storm; The Witchlight Carnival was returning. Her world shook, fractures appearing in the stable foundation of her life.
She'd never sought adventure before. Danger was something that happened to other people- her career was built on all the action happening an incomprehensible distance away!... but she had to go back. Curiosity had always been her greatest strength, and greatest weakness. She had to find out what had become of Detara.
She'd only been as certain of one other thing in her life.
Stat Generation Rolled That 4d6 And Lived With It.
Because this OOC thread was full of good vibes and great conversation, there will be a bit of a benefit to you guys for in the carnival in this module. I won't say what it is just yet, but I will once you guys make it through the carnival. XD
1x Laugh
