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8 mos ago
Current Arguing over petty details at times of dimensional emergency was a familiar wizardly trait.
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8 mos ago
It's my birthday! I wish you all an excellent day!
18 likes
9 mos ago
A wizard never had friends, at least not friends who were wizards. It needed a different word. Ah yes, that was it. Enemies. But a very different class of enemies. Gentlemen.
2 likes
9 mos ago
It takes more than a bit of magic and someone being blown to smoke in front of him to put a wizard off his food.
2 likes
9 mos ago
A wizard without a hat was just a sad man with a suspicious taste in clothes.
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Here comes the welcome party! They consist of a score of knight with heavy weapons and horned helmets, as well as a knight captain armed with a long haleberd astride a wyvern. You're free to play out your interactions as you like; these aren't player characters or important NPCs. If @Rosellangel hasn't responded in a few days, Qal will meet it's end in this encounter.

Let's have a cool action scene! :D

H O L G A R T H


Holgarth was adressed by two people; the strange tall woman and the half-orc man. His eyes narrowed at the womans words. She spoke like a sorceror, not plain but in riddles. He remembered she had also seemed on good terms with the Witch, which did not bode well. Whatever it was she held in her hand looked dangerous, too. He would have to watch it with that one, but decided to answer her as best he could. I do not fully understand your words, he said, But I am no butcher of children. I am a slayer of men and beasts. What are you?

As he finished speaking, the half-orc man took his turn. Holgarth listened to his words intently. He was a scout, and a damned good one at that. There was always the possibility that the man was a fool, but Holgarth decided against this - he had an air of competence and command about him, unlike fools who usually stank of a false sense of self. This man, the Frail, he could be useful, Holgarth decided. He would keep him close, for the time being. Close and alive. Then, suddenly, the man seemed to notice something. A moment later, Holgarth heard it too, faint on the wind. The rumble of hooves. Someone was coming.

He turned and saw movement on the horizon. He couldn't tell their exact number, but they were many. A score or more, from what he could gather. They could be easterling barbarians, in which case Holgarth and the others were lucky. They might be savages, but they were manageable enough and would sometimes agree to duels of honor, in which case Holgarth had no fear of losing or dying. His hopes were quickly dashed, however, as he saw another shadow on the horizon. Trouble was, this shadow was above the horizon, suspended in the air. By now, he was beginning to see the horned helmets of the Sulfreyan knights, too.

Wyverns, he growled, drawing the Underblade from its sheath, Tricky. You, Frail, stay close to me. Take the weapon from the first foe I fell, and watch my back. This will be a hard fight.


S i m b e l m y n ë


Simbel quietly came in through the same window she'd used to exit the inn on the previous night, shifting back to her true shape and landing sitting on the rafters. She dangled her legs, observing her would-be companions below. Some of them were busy rummaging through chests; apparently, their forbears had left them gifts. It didn't take Simbel long to find what she assumed was her chest, adorned with goat. She jumped down from the rafter, sending the serving lady scrambling, and went to her chest. Opening it, she drew a sharp intake of breath.

It was too much. In it lay not only Mothers shillelagh, but her prized Ungolianth-stringed hornbow, too. Simbel picked it up, testing its draw strength. She would hav had a hard time pulling it, had she not been imbued with the power of her patron. Along with the bow came a quiver of obsidian tipped arrows; treasures all. She decided to only use the bow in emergencies, as loosing even a single arrow would be a shame. She had half-expected to find an amulet in the chest, but was relieved there was none to be found. A problem for later, it seemed.

Simbel donned her Mothers possessions - hers now - and rose. She turned to face her companions, and nodded. She was ready to go.
@Expendable Not really a calendar, or a list of kings for that matter, no. Then again, the Westerlands haven't been united under a king like Tyronde before. If you're thinking that Cian remembers another monarch or ruler from long ago, feel free to make something up!
@Mole No rush, take your time :)
@Rosellangel How sad! Would you like to write a final post for your character, or will you leave that to me?
@Rosellangel Been a while since your last post, friend. You still with us?
Sorry for the delay, I'll have a post up within a day!
@BigPapaBelial I haven't really thought about that! Do what you think is best for the story, the group, and your character, in that order 🙂
@BigPapaBelial@Kassarock Looking forward to your posts! I will wait a day or two before going again.
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