Gisk

Between the hammer and the anvil

Rolf had his back turned to the shore, his wand out and moving about as he murmured to the sky. When the two men approached the boat, he tucked the wand back in his sash surreptitiously and turned toward them, as a stiff breeze started to lash at he ropes. He didn't like inviting more strangers onto the boat, it made doing magic difficult, as he already wasn't sure if he should do it in front of the fisherman. But Bergoda had already put the answer into the hands of the old man, who had turned to look the two newcomers up and down.

"Thish ish no pleasure cruise, the lady's right," he answered toothlessly, "But if you have the shilver, I can take you as far as Blackrest, just outside Blackmarsh. Can't have no extras in the boat after that, though. Expect to have some gators we'll need to haul out of the marsh."

Rolf grimaced at the answer, but said nothing. At least they wouldn't go the whole way, and it looked like the old man knew that they had to keep secrets, which made him more trustworthy, in Rolf's book. That, or Lady Dulcena had lied to him too.

Between the hammer and the anvil

Rolf stepped down from the carriage. They had come far enough out into the country that towards the end of the journey the ride had roughened up some. Most of the party made their way toward the boat ahead of him, but Rolf looked behind to see the last remainder in the carriage. She was a tall Elvish woman, her supernatural beauty irreparably marred by a brand burned into her face. It was a crescent, like a moon, each corner overlapping one of her eyes as the arch went across her forehead. Her clothes were woolen, with a conspicuous lack of leather and bare feet. Rolf noted that at dinner she had not touched any meat, either. She carried a hand-and-a-half sword with a worn wooden grip and scabbard. She tucked this into the sash around her waist as she stepped down and past him without a word, heading toward the boat and the others. She unnerved him a little, but every elf he had met had that effect. There was something inherently magical about them that those attuned to the arcane couldn't help but pick up on.

Rolf followed her, coming to walk next to her as confidently as he could manage, and met up with Bergoda, whose talkative nature he preferred.

"Alright," he went all out and kissed the railing as he boarded. "I'll defer to you on boat rituals, but say, if you tell me where the best breeze should come from... might be we'll see it happen," he finished with a wink.

The boat's apparent owner was setting about his work, but spared Bergoda a smile and an answer, "Wavehalk, though she sees more river travel than on actual waves these days."

Hello!

@Ammosword Hey, not to be a creep, but I saw your post in a tabletop interest check, unfortunately it looked like that thread was long gone.

If you still wanted to do something DnD, I'd be happy to start something up. I just started playing myself, and as a DM of all things, so I'd love some extra practice, and I've been at this RPing thing in general for quite a while, so I can probably help when and if you need it.

Between the hammer and the anvil

Rolf watched Bergoda and Zarwin peer over the map and wondered briefly if anyone in the party could actually read.

"Aye, ghosts don't bother me, but if this strapping lad is scared," he smiled good naturedly at Zarwin, "We can steer clear of them."

Rolf was dressed simply, forgoing armor, he was in a brown and gray tunic and trousers, with some good leather boots. Better than he'd ever had, in fact. His one concession to ornamentation was a fine blue sash about his waist. Tucked into the sash was the branch he had been carving on at dinner. It was roughly as long as his forearm, and about two finger widths wide through most of the length. The rough bark had been carved away, and there were symbols and marks, inscrutable to most, carved deeply into the wood.

He climbed up into the cab of the wagon, frowning when he was facing away from the others. He wasn't as confident as he sounded, but mystery and ignorance kept wizards safe just as much as their actual magic. He didn't want his party to know that much of his power had been stripped when he'd been imprisoned. Creating a new wand felt almost like beginning his training again. Or maybe more like he was training the wand.

"Let's get a move on, then, eh?"

Between the hammer and the anvil

Would it be alright if I put a second character into one of the untaken spaces?

Between the hammer and the anvil

If we split so that PCs are going for the one, the other team should fail so that we have to go get the other objective anyway.

Oh, but I'm good with either way. If we split up, Rolf wants to go to the Black Marsh, though.

I can see advantages to both, but if we split up, we have to come up with who the other guys are. But if the PCs stick together, we can just say they all died and we never have to see them again.

Between the hammer and the anvil

Is the gm gonna roll us some sweet random loot throughout the game?

Also, does Dulcena equip us?

Between the hammer and the anvil

“I'd be ‘fraid of a viper because its bite could kill me, not because I don't like the feel of it on me skin. But I'll go. You need someone who does understand, to stop brasher fellas from looting cursed rubbish.”

He had relaxed some, having gotten used to the idea strangely quickly. He had to admit, if only to himself, despite his protestations it held a certain attraction to him. But that was the problem, wasn't it? To someone whose life is bound by rigid rules, the allure of breaking them is often greater than his reason.
He had taken up a stick that he'd brought with him from the courtyard, and was carving at it thoughtfully with a table knife.

He looked at the other man over his carving, “The magic of Whitehall is the less friendly sort. You oughta be careful what you even touch in there. Forget about taking things with you. Though,” he looked back to The Lady, “I s’pose there's something you do mean for us to bring back.”

Between the hammer and the anvil

The party was just starting to have a good time, if not quite forgetting the prison they had left, when the Lady of be house got down to business. Whether it was just something about her presence, or the circumstances of her introduction to them, her quiet speech rendered them all silent almost immediately.

Rolf was taking a sip of beer as she continued. His eyebrows raised as Whitehall was brought up, but when the intention to unseal it was announced, Rolf dropped his cup and spit his drink out.

”What? Just put me… no, don't.” He crossed his arms and slumped deeper into his chair. “Better madness by magic than by isolation. What do you want from there?”

Between the hammer and the anvil

Rolf was across the lawn, facing an attractive elm tree, his back to the others. Clean, in newer clothes and inexplicably rejuvenated, Rolf looked almost as if he had never been a prisoner. He had also completely forgotten his promise to himself to take better care of his natural body.

When Bergoda approached, he suddenly dropped a jagged rock he had been holding and faced her, his body half concealing a series of lines and shapes he had been carving in the tree.

“Aye, Rolf,” where Bergoda had an urban accent, Rolf’s speech was more telling of the countryside. “I thought I heard you introduce yourself as an eel, but now that the prison’s been scrubbed off, I see that y’are a lady after all.”