Metronome

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

The satyr could tell they didn't believe him. All this distrust over a small joke? Or was there a little prejudice involved? One dwarf seemed to take his side, but the other dwarf seemed all against him. The satyr turned to the salty dwarf, whom he realized barely came up to his waist.

"I'm not sure of an exact number, but enough that the forest dwellers have given up fighting them. Captured and murdered an innocent nymph, I stopped going that way." There seemed to be a bit of sadness in his statement. The escapist that he was, the satyr would rather not face his problems. Evading them was much easier. But when he stopped to dwell on it: his home being invaded by horrific monsters, his friends being tortured and killed just for wandering too close, the feeling of helplessness at the inability to fight them and just hoping they move on soon...

"I would say in the hundreds, for sure. Your party could try to fight them, but I watched a herd of centaurs try the same and die. They have blades that aren't the crude norm for such beasts; probably stolen."

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

The path could lead them by Rowan's treehouse, and they could stop there for the night :3

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

Can I suggest a future event?

Perhaps our characters and a few npcs decide to trust Rowan and follow him down his path, while the rest of the caravan decides to stay on the main road. While traveling down the smaller path, the group is accosted by a few stray goblins and worgs, which leads to distrust towards Rowan, since this path was supposed to be safe. As they finally reach the town, they find that the rest of the caravan was massacred while passing through the goblin camps, just as Rowan had said, building a little trust between the trickster and travelers.

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

The satyr's ears flipped back. Clearly she had said something wrong. "Isn't that what satyrs do?" He repeated, "Yes, all satyrs, each and every last one, wants to lead innocent travelers astray and then leave them to die. Just like all satyrs love to kidnap and rape human women, steal, loot, and otherwise be evil, nasty creatures. In fact, we're no better than goblins! Hell, you might fair better with them." With his floppy ears pinned back, the creature looked a bit more intimidating. He was quite tall, and very well toned. His horns were sharp, and currently, his face held irritation. But he didn't show any sign of attacking, despite being offended.

The satyr glared the elfin woman down for a few seconds before he sighed and relented. "I was just playing around before. It was only a joke. But I mean what I say about the danger down this road. If you go down that way, someone is likely to be hurt, or worse."

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

As the conversation between the dwarf and the elf began, one of the satyr's long ears wandered back to listing in. He had no intentions of letting them kill him, and was pretty confident in his ability to escape should he desire. He did this sort of thing on a day to day basis, after all. The dwarf, a curiously aggressive creature, was beginning to grow on him.

A few words in the neighboring conversation tore the satyr away from his own with the dragon beast. The party was heading to town? On this road? That simply would not do. The satyr broke off from the dragonborn and scampered to the elf and dwarf, butting in to their talk.

"You don't want to go down this road, my friends," He said. "Not if a town is what you're looking for. About half a mile down, you'll find a fork, and the one that leads to the village runs straight through the worg and goblin camps. They set up just last week. Nasty tempers; don't take well to jokes. They won't be as hospitable as I." The satyr crossed his arms knowingly and smiled.

"But I can take you a safer route through a small path in the forest. It'll take just half a day longer, with a guaranteed reduction in goblins and worgs."

The satyr was completely sincere in his offer, but he seemed to fail to see that his guests may not trust him. To him, this whole incident had been a fun joke. But even if they lacked trust in him, he couldn't just let them wander into the goblins' midst. After all, he wasn't evil.

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

I just now noticed how short my last post was =P It looked longer on my phone, where I wrote it from. I guess that serves me right for trying to write out more than a paragraph on my phone.

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

"A merry time with friends," the goat laughed, "and maybe a little brew." He stopped dancing to eye the scaley creature who spoke to him. The satyr had never seen such a beast before.

"May I ask where you hail from, friend?" He said, hopping down from the cart. His ears perked up in a comical manner as he tilted his head.

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

The beast was quick, his hooves nimble and true. He saw the oncoming dwarf and flitted away from his blow before the stumpy man was even close. The satyr seemed to find amusement in this, ever eager to show off in front of the wood nymphs.

The bold creature grabbed a blanket and waved it around in front of himself, imitating a bull fighter. He laughed and gave a few more notes on his pipes before dodging the next inevitable attack. His speed was impressive if nothing else.

The satyr leaped onto the top of a cart and danced mockingly, his hooves clacking on the wood. The beast seemed to be enjoying himself. But as he danced, he slipped up by playing a faster tune on his pipes. Those around him began to wake without his notice.

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

A soft giggle trickled through the forest, like a jingling bell. Another joined in soon after. The cheerful sounds belonged to two beautiful young females, or so they appeared. The sunlight trickled through the trees, radiating off their fair skin as they stood in a clearing, huddled and giggling as they watched a playful satyr dance and play his pipes. They whispered to each other, and giggled some more.

Nymphs and satyrs had a famous history. Both were known for their promiscuous nature and their love of the forest. Nymphs where known to lead traveling men astray, use them for their desires, and then leave them lost in the forest. Satyrs were known for their tricks. Either way, neither of the two spirits meant well for a band traveling through the wood.

As the satyr's lively song came to an end, he flitted in front of the two female, bowing low and earning himself more giggles. "I'm glad you find me entertaining my dears," He said with a grin. "Perhaps, if you aren't bored of me, we could go back to my hutch." The two looked at each other, and more whispers were exchanged. The satyr's long ears perked up, trying to listen in.

Finally, one of the nymphs turned to him. "We were on our way to see the caravan. Our sisters told us of a few handsome men traveling through."
"A caravan?" The satyr straightened up. "No one told me we had visitors." A mischievous grin crossed his face, a twinkle in his eye. "Well, let's go greet them, shall we?" Eager to show off his tricks, the satyr turned and bounded off into the woods towards the dirt road that ran through it. The nymphs flitted behind him, wanting to watch the show.

Nimble hooves came to a quick stop on a rocky outlook, peering down at the road and the party that was stopped for lunch. The satyr hunched down as he spied on them, his tail flicking as he thought of all the fun things he could do with newcomers. None were too malicious, but the trickster couldn't help himself. It was in his blood.

"I'll make them sleep," He said quietly, to himself and to the nymphs that lingered in the trees behind him. "And we can put squirrels in their trousers and watch them dance as they wake up." He grinned.

"Such a silly goat," One of the female commented, laughing at his idea.

"Silly?" The satyr questioned. "Me? Why, never." He grinned and turned back to the road, vanishing beyond the rocks in the blink of an eye. In seconds, he was near the road, slinking just within the trees. He whipped out his pipes and began to play a slow song, enchanted with the pipes' magic. As the travelers seem to settle, he took a chance and revealed himself, wandering out into the caravan to get close enough to make the members slip into a slumber.

Astaria: General Fantasy RP

Name: Rowan Blackhoof of Nowhere in Particular
Age: 25
Gender: Male
pecies: Satyr
Classes: Bard

Equipment: Possesses an enchanted pan flute. When played, all who listen are at ease. If played close enough, it can lull a person to sleep.

He carries a bow and arrow with him for safety. While he rarely uses it for violence, he practices with it quite often.

Personality:
Rowan is a gentle creature, as far as satyrs go. His species is known for being trickers and theives, attacking those who travel through their forests and kidnapping young women from villages for their own brutish sport. Of course, in actuality, it's a fairly small part of the population that do these things, but they give the whole species a bad name.

He's peaceful, not caring too much for the wars that pop up between other species. You'd have to twist his arm to get him to give a rat's ass about politics. Rowan would rather spend the day roaming the forest, picking on the occasional traveler, eating berries, and flirting with the wood nymphs.

Other:
Rowan is a vegetarian.

Although he has more human traits than goat, sometimes Rowan will be plagued by the urge to just mindlessly chew on something. Since bubblegum probably doesn't exist in this world, he's found all sorts of creative solutions: sticks, blocks of wood, rubber, or really just about anything.

He quite talented at playing the pan flute.

He enjoys visitors, as long as they come peacefully.

He is a very good climber. His balance is impeccable.

Although not quite as promiscuous as most satyrs are known to be, Rowan isn't likely to turn down a good offer.

Appearance:
Rowan is a full blooded satyr. His human half has olive skin and curly, reddish brown hair. He has a bit more hair than your typical man, his arms sporting shaggy, almost furlike growth near his elbows. His form is muscular, particularly his arms.
He was cursed with a boyish face, which he hides under a trimmed beard and mustache. His goofy, floppy goat ears don't help. He's rather big, standing at nearly 6'1". The horns on his head curl backwards and are very strong.

His goat half is that of a tahr, with long, brown fur and smaller hooves. He's very nimble on his feet, faster than a human, and able to climb and balance uncannily well. As for clothing, Rowan often goes without. With his bottom half so heavily furred, he doesn't really have anything to hide. If he's attending a more proper occasion, he has a couple tunics to pick from in various colors.

History:
When Rowan was a young kid, he lived with his clan in the forests outside of a human village. The two communities lived in tense harmony, not fighting but not particularly enjoying the company. Rowan was always told to keep away from the human village, but curiosity drew him to it. When he was a teenager, he finally crossed the line and ventured into the humans' civilization to see just what they were all about.

When his clan found out, they weren't happy. When Rowan refused their orders to cease and desist, they banished him from their midst. He tried to tell himself that he was better off without them, and moved on. The satyr began his travels, all across the lands. He was taught many different skills from all sorts of creatures: music with elves, baking with dwarfs, drinking with orcs, and, most importantly, archery with centaurs.

In recent years, Rowan has settled down a bit. He's getting to the point in his life were he wants stability. He's spent the last year or so building himself an impressive treehouse home, with gardens of fruit and vegetables to suitable itself. Since he doesn't eat meat, he never has to worry about hunting. Although, he will occasionally brave the city to purchase goods, with his bow and arrow to protect himself.