Hidden 10 days ago Post by Ryonara
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Ryonara

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Parum was more then happy to shift the burden off to someone else, watching the scene carefully. The cultists seem to be fresh recruits, still cowered by threats of punishment. That man seemed to be someone of authority. Parum would continue playing her part for now. "Oh just had to dump that bucket somewhere far from the mess. Soap scum and all that, it'll stink if we left it there." She looked at this Acolyte, Davis. He seemed like an impressionable young man. "Thanks for the help. Davis right? You been here for a while?" Parum decided to follow Davis so that she could try to win him over to her side, as well as to keep watchful eyes from worrying about her wandering off on her own. If she stayed with Davis they might dismiss her thinking that she's being attended to. She was also interested in this "Dragonclaw Stern", and whether or not that was his real name and titles, and if so, what it meant.

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Hidden 9 days ago Post by Gordian Nought
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The marching off of the half-orc necessitated a festering eye from Torus, as Brannor soon came into view. The arms of the green barbarian swang intentionally as if directing the one man choir in preparation of a rehearsed dirge. The exchange of their spoils and labor signified a likely melodious arrangement and exchange of the very instruments to compose the eventual opus of their escape with the monk and paladin.

Back and forth from the tent and the garbage islet, piling the discarded organs and useless skins.

It was a monumental testament to his historic dedication against the nature he had promised and became accustomed to, when stranded on that island, before Xaron, that spiteful pirate entered his existence. Her mother, a much wanted Waterdhavian psionic Bard, while unknowingly ten weeks with child, Suri Tiram, now discovered as a spy of the Kraken Society, quickly earned the expectant wrath of two councils of the Amnian government. The silently orchestrated bounty was issued by dual competing bureaucratic Houses, that of Selemchant and Nashivaar, to either extract or destroy her recently publicized musical concerti of psychopathic cryptography, complex social magical experiments that subconsciously inflicted mass hysteria in Daranthur’s Hall and Waukeen’s Promenade, ceasing trade for one month, critically paralyzing the commerce of Athkatla. These crafty fractal ballads, wormed their self-replicating patterns, via auditory intrusion, into a person’s synapses, literally establishing a revolutionary serenade that greedy neurons must recursively dance to, all the while spiritually evoking a graveyard spiral of anger, hatred, and disgust within the rat race and status-quo of the slums and docks. Her propaganda dedicated itself as her ciliary obsession, to mathematically and mentally sway the proletariat to a civil upheaval via verbally broadcasted multivariate symphonies. Once authentically exposed, Suri’s intervening capture and exhaustive interrogation resulted in an eventual brain-dead body kept pregnant with a half-elf fetus until term, only to allow the powers at be to mentally reap and rape unhindered any and every rebellious diapason from her desecrated soul.

Her sole birthed offspring, Xaron, was reared chiefly under the Cowled Wizards, in the arcane arts, fissured by the natural talent of a psionic and poetic heritage, crescendoed by her love of all-mighty gold. Cultivated in the ranks, beneath Jann Lane, her malicious appetite and equally poised hatred of the City of Splendors consumed the already decimated cognizance of her mother’s eccrine legacy, as she aspired into adulthood. A shouldered distrust and a ravenously taxed heart, buried in a film of ruby sin and ice, isolated her as a shattered jewel, unable to be polished nor shine within the confines of the City of Coin. Ruminations, rumors, and a remnant of prestige forced her onto the Trackless Sea and along the Sword Coast, upon many vessels, marauding principally Waterdeep ships, pillaging, torturing and slaughtering, seeking to bask in the infamy of reflective appellations from the Council of Five, whenever she returned home.

Yet, not all shared the bated enthusiasm of the daughter of a traitor.

After a miscalculation and bad weather, the Iron Flute marooned at Port Nyranzaru, only to be betrayed and exiled into the jungle of Chult, attempting to seek refuge at Beluarian. Soon enough, mindful scavengers, namely brain flukes, unearthed the lost troop in their immersions, eventually resulting in her trusted crew becoming glorified incubators of opportunistic corrosion and putrefaction. Witnessing the rot and corpses slowly surrounding their camp, with her own mental faculties collapsing around her, Xaron sought intellectual sanctuary by impressing upon a young wild Mezro druid, Torus, the totality of her psyche. A partially successful Mind Seed of the parasite-ridden psionic, one week later, erupted a new older, but partly amnesic man, full of the horror and memories of her recurrent twisted ego.

Through five decades of masochistic pedagogy, the novel duplicate, through the help of these friends, engendered a Vesuvian vision to exist as a pure antithesis to her previous id’s villainous ancestry, now mingling amongst the fateful servants to the largest adversary, the realm would likely ever face.

This righteous legitimate suffering now drove Torus.

Rather Torag.

Slightly off kilter.

Even his very identity hidden, for half a century prior, bred a new race of Jungian penance to the current gospel of sacrificing wildlife to the altar of subterfuge; a remorseful ministry, wandering from Greenest to enemy encampment, finally anchored by the peace, granted by Chauntea with Xaron, to fill his psychological gaps. Yet, would this goddess who granted him amnesty of his fugue, discredit this spiritual salve based on the necessary pain of the few, to save the many.

He stood, leaning on his fang while watching the interaction of Parum and the acolyte Davis, waiting to needle reconciliation with Orchid, Parum and Kyra, ever fearful that his deranged and demented past of his previously adopted voracious perspective would not be betrayed by his acts of slaughter upon the animals to whom he ingratiated.



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Hidden 7 days ago Post by Hekazu
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Davis nodded at the halfling, starting to carry the water towards something that seemed like a place where they'd keep animals. A haphazard shelter at best, probably only meant for keeping the occasional live caught animal fresh a little while longer. "Yes, Davis. A few months, getting used to this whole return of the Queen ordeal. It's amazing how we finally could see her return, isn't it? Who would you be, then? I don't think I've seen you around before?" the acolyte asked from the bard in return. It did seem that if there was some sort of word going around the camp about their little group, it had yet to reach everyone's ears.

As for Brannor and Orchid, the two would be pleased to note that nobody seemed to be making a fuss out of what was going on. At best a few of the cultists gave Brannor a wide berth while a couple of better armed men with Ambush Drakes at the other end of the chains they held seemed to be even a bit too indifferent, passing the two really closely, the other drake taking a prolonged sniff of the air near the now human shaped weretiger. Its handler drew it away, which was probably for the better. The almost feral creature gave the pair an annoyed snarl and continued on its way, along the steps of its handler. But the coast was not wholly clear: It didn't take Brannor long to recognise that the man with the pipe he had seen not too long ago telling the news of the travel ban set upon the 'group of new members'. And he was following the pair with his eyes, calmly breathing in and out the foul smelling fumes of his pipe as he did so.

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Hidden 5 days ago Post by Ryonara
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"Oh, I'm pretty new too. Parum's the name. Haven't gotten to see much action yet, though I've heard a few things about this outfit. Wasn't really sure what to make of it at first. Mostly just about how they had dragons on their side, which was pretty interesting on it's own. I'll admit I'm rather... Excited too." That was one way to put it. Parum had no actual interest in letting the dragon queen come back to this realm, so "excited" to put a stop to it would be one way Parum could spin it. Still, at least this Davis doesn't seem too suspicious of her yet. Perhaps word hasn't gotten around about how this group of strangers managed to find this place and bag the champion of Greenest. She'd have to capitalize on it. "Still, it seems like I missed out on all the action. Not to mention since I came so recently, I don't really have a place in the camp yet. Been on the road for a while, and I cold really use a warm place to lay my head. Maybe you could help a lil lady like me?"



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Hidden 5 days ago Post by Gordian Nought
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The elder pirate sat, suffused with a slight sadness, staring at his soiled palms. He unwittingly abetted the half-orc, in providing food and clothing to the enemy, by sacrificing the very Nature, he had sworn to protect. With his legs crossed in enmity, he poured his hands into the nearby mud, molding the earth around his hands into shackled mittens.

Once encased circumferentially to the wrists, the druid wistfully wore the apparent tragedy as ball bearing cuffs, preventing him from furthering the cause of more slaughter.

Torus watched eagerly, listening to the interchange between Parum and the acolyte. His hope dwindled with the occasional wind, snuffing out a sporadic word between the two.



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Hidden 3 days ago Post by The Harbinger of Ferocity
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The audacity the scaled thing had to so much as encroach on Brannor was infuriating, every underlying fiber of his physical and spiritual essence grew taut. It seemed to possess the same arrogance as the larger scaled ones yet neither the intellect or perceptivity to know better or assume better. There was no question in the wilder's mind that were things different he would make an example of these filthy creatures, whose hearts were as vile and insufferable as their exteriors. He could only direct his glare to Orchid, that restrained fury, and press on, performing whatever other duties the half-blood warrior had arranged for them throughout their deception.

Feigning ignorance to the awareness of his environment, marching, rather slogging into the mud with his bloodstained boots and leggings, his churning was more his focus. Not just the one of the motions he put himself through with their ruse, but more than anything that the time for action was close and that the enemy was, while watchful, seemingly unaware. The smoking man, puffing upon his sickly pipe was a sample of this and Brannor said nothing of it until the pair were long out of his ear and eye shot. After all, he had word to give to the fellow primal, but it took time. When the opportunity arose, he made his effort and spoke to his "captor" during their walk and work.

"Your friend with the pipe isn't fond of you. Rumor had it that you and your friends who brought me in won't be allowed to leave out the camp. Seems you make enemies everywhere you go, from your 'allies' down to the lowly guards at the entrance." His low, almost raspy and deep voice mentioned, taunting.

He fully expected Orchid to strike him or berate him at that point for so much as speaking up, let alone seemingly mocking him however subtly it was said between the two. In either case, the knight-aspirant only prayed that the man understood the message - it was not as though he could legitimately repeat it without risk of someone potentially overhearing the secret exchange. Fortunately, his reputation for defiance might well see him through.

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Hidden 11 hrs ago Post by Lucius Cypher
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Lucius Cypher Your friendly neighborhood deviant

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Orchid heard Brannor's words and took the bait. He paused for a moment and turned to the prisoner, grabbing him roughly around the cheeks and pulling him close, snarling threateningly. "Just you wait." Orchid said in startling concise common. "Tonight, I'll show them where my loyalties lie." A double veiled message. Was it a threat, or a subtle hint that tonight was the night they get out of this camp? Truthfully it was the latter but Orchid's rough handling of Brannor and aggressive growling hopefully made it seem like the former. Orchid was also vaguely aware of the hidden message Brannor told him, though Orchid had already figured that they were under tight watch since they were brought to the leader's camp and questioned. He did note how they wouldn't be able to leave from the front entrance however; Orchid figured it wouldn't be that easy. But he had something of a plan.

Orchid brought Brannor to the stables, pushing him to the ground in front of the other cultists and slaves. Orchid spoke loudly for all to hear. "Go clean stable! Animal, you think you wild, free. But you slave like others! So work. Good beasts get treat. Bad ones be meat." Not really and secret messages this time, Orchid just needed to be rid of Brannor before anyone got too curious. Though hopefully with Brannor's new gift and proximity to some horses, perhaps he could secure the party a means to escape. Either way Orchid swaggered away to maintain the ruse of the boisterous orc, though he did notice Torus acting off. Well more off then he usually did. Curious about how his bear mount was doing the orc went over to the old man.

"Torag! What you do? Play with mud?" The half-orc said with genuine curiosity. He knew that Torag was a druid but he didn't know what he had stuck his hands into the mud. Was he digging for worms or something? Torus also seemed sadden but Orchid didn't know why. Orchid was pretty jolly himself. But he always was. "Orchid play with mud when Orchid was child. Orchid make mug golems! Or little mud men. Orchid wish they golem. He pretend. You make golem too?"

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Gordian Nought

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