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Literary Hatchetman

STATUS: Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4… 8 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
Current Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4…
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10 yrs ago
Example of a "Character Flaw": roleplayerguild.com/posts/32..
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Bio





"Character Flaw"

Keystone's Daydream

Checking for Mental Intrusion

The Power Of Pain Compels You

The Greater Good

Burial & Origin of James Mandingo Grady



Most Recent Posts

In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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Weather: Slightly heavier snow than during the hour or so that Tea was supposed to last. The wind isn't particularly bad by itself, but as the temperature lowers and snowflakes get a little broader, it's more than noticeable. Still not a proper snowfall, though one can tell that it isn't far off.

Time: Late afternoon. The first mealtime past Luncheon has officially (by Halfling standards) passed, that being Tea, and after the lengthy item identifications and introductions to new and exciting realms of conversation, we have moved much closer to dinner. But yes, late afternoon sums it up fine. Maybe "prevening," if you're feeling more transitional about it.

Ambience: Shadows lengthen outside, even as the light dampens somewhat within the Taproom. While everything is fully stocked, there remain the mundane tasks of personal upkeep from hour to hour. Luckily, in the Coach House, this is easier than many other places. Oil lamps and a dwindling hearth fire provide flickering, but adequate light for one's needs. Only occasional gusts of wind can be heard against the walls, promising a waiting chill for those who exit, but thankfully it is nothing like the recent winter storm. This is a comfortable, fully provisioned spot; excellent to wait out the season within. It almost makes one forget about the remains in the cellar.

*****


"If everyone is done?" half asked, half observed Lizbeth, making a simple gesture toward the table of magical goodies. She gathered up the remaining items, noting that the people she was sharing a roof with did not immediately scramble to squeeze every last drop of loot from the haul as quickly as possible. "If you need this stuff to help you, we can talk about lending or something. You're helping me too with this, right?" Nevertheless, and with a touch of wonder, Lizbeth took up the last two wands - the Ilexxian Taper and the Wand of Disturbing Smiles, and added them to her growing set of personal equipment. For a girl who just fell in with an adventuring party, she had amassed a formidable set of equipment, which might have been fitting, considering the fact that she was thrust unbidden into the world of magic, and was training martial skills with a noble-born Knight and a Duergar of uncertain history.

Her armor additions slid into place seamlessly, an example of the talent of its crafter, changing her ankheg breastplate into a solid set of half plate armor, all made of the cured, treated, glossy green chitin which made it exceptionally light and quite strong. It matched perfectly with her leaf themed shield, and now her circlet. The short, curved sword liberated from her grandfather's study didn't match with the overall esthetic, but it did pair with the kard dagger she had claimed earlier. The crystal vial around her neck was filled with her own blood and lightly pulsed with her very life force, a thing which apparently only she could bond with. And now, added to her belt were two wands. She was far better equipped than any beginning Adventurer had a right to be, and she wasn't even one. She was technically still a child, and an heiress to a cursed wine fortune. Regardless, it was apparent that she was not without defenses. Just experience.

Perhaps that lack of experience was what made her turn much paler when the idea of a child bride scenario was mentioned, and not her penchant for "playing dead." Between that and the idea that Frostval might be the occasion for the apex of the horror, thoughts were considered. Lizbeth coldly made an observation, "Frostval isn't the last holiday of winter. In... in the Vineyard, I mean. I turn fifteen a couple of weeks after that." The topic of what age constituted adulthood in the region of Avonshire had come up in conversation. According to local custom, that was still a year further away.

Urmdrus, yet still the object of questioning but not showing any objections to it, took to Baronfjord's further query with as much gusto as he was apparently able to demonstrate. "Everything." It might have been a question, for the way he spoke the single word. "Built much. Sheds. Tools. Hmm. Built Study - part of. Fixed much. Made door, Distillery. Made distilling equipment - some. Made gravestones for L'Rose family." Urmdrus went through a decent enough list of things he had built or fixed over time, mostly in general terms. It seemed that he had been on the land for quite a while, and his hand had been involved in a lot of the maintenance and expansion of the vineyard. "Once made stone cellar covers. Long storage. Never placed. Don't know where they are. Was long ago. Before..." he motioned again in Lizbeth's direction.

The Mosswaters were still listening to the conversations afoot with interest keenly invested. Kathryn's insistence that they not repeat anything heard in the Coach House was met with a wink and a nod from Barbal, who was pitching a mild grin at being involved. That grin started to falter as realizations hit him. Tarace made an exaggerated motion of pantomiming locking his mouth with a key and tossing it. Barbal regarded his partner with concern replacing his mirth, saying, "Tarace, my dearest and very good friend, I want you to take our things back to the farm and keep yourself safe, okay? Just do it." The last sentence in response to a not-quite-uttered objection on Tarace's part.

He then turned to the adventuring party. "What you're saying is, I'm going to have horrible nightmares because I drank that really nice hooch over there, and it's related to all the dead people walking around, like you owe them something. That's just perfect." He sighed, resigned to his course of action. "Well then, I hope you make a tidy supper and have a spare bed. There's no sense in coming back out here in the morning, if I dream something useful." Barbal rose and meandered his way back over to the cask of brandy. "In for a penny..." he mused, refilling his teacup. "Oh, and I take four eggs with my breakfast. Cheese if you have it."
In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5
HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A
Location: Coach House (Taproom)
Action: Skill Check - Arcana
Bonus Action: Morty, Familiar
Reaction: N/A
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Victoria mulled over the question that Kosara posed. She seemed to remember revealing her thoughts on part of this topic out loud, but didn't recall if her fellow spellcaster was in the room at the moment. Still, objectivity demanded that she reevaluate the words that the mischievous Tiefling lady had spoken, with the extra knowledge they had accumulated since the last time the nature of the Prince was brought up. "I still don't believe that Farid is a Lich. It doesn't add up. A Lich with resources and decades to brood could obliterate us all and take what they wanted, unless there's some other factor involved." Her verbal poise was academic as she mused over their potential destruction.

Victoria considered the implications of making some sort of "deal" with a man who eventually believed that no preternatural help was actually needed in the first place, with an entity who then bought off the man with the occasional scribble of arcane knowledge or lesser magical trinket. "Arnaud L'Rose was offered what? Successful harvests and magic in exchange for silence and the metaphysical equivalent of 'a price to be named later?' From the state of things, I can almost guarantee that he never became a Wizard, proper. I believe Monsieur L'Rose was being conned." The Bard's voice was measured, even serene as she spoke, giving a very matter-of-fact quality to her words.

But Victoria was aware that she was getting off topic. "Yes, there are a couple standardized but powerful spells that accomplished Necromancers might use to inhabit someone else's body. There are also noncorporeal Undead that can possess sentient creatures, but none of them require that the person be magically active. None which I can recall having read about, in any case."

Victoria gave herself a moment to consider the possibilities and limitations of various undead creatures and even long-lived spellcasters. "I believe that Prince Farid, in whichever form he presently exists, is powerful. I also believe that he is lying."

The drink in Victoria's hand moved to her lips, whereupon she took another small sip. Maybe it was cursed. It was also, by any metric, excellent. Which led her to Baronfjord's concern. "Kathryn has proven that there is a connection between the brandy and the land. Urmdrus drank some, and he was the third of three to have similar dreams. Point of view dreams, of things which might have happened. As long as the effects don't get too dangerous, I suspect this will provide further insight." Victoria's gaze swept to Barbal, who had helped himself to some of the brandy earlier, himself. "Which means you are number four. Pleasant dreams, Monsieur Mosswater."

Though humility was not Victoria's strongest suit, the possibility of her being wrong about something had consequences beyond her ego in this circumstance. So she turned back to Kosara, intoning, "Liches persist by binding their souls to a physical object. If their body is destroyed, they will reform near it after a while. It's called a phylactery. Destroy the phylactery - the Lich cannot return."
In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Huzzah, huzzah. We are doing stuff. Along with all of the stuff that we're doing, let's get the loot division correct, with the proviso that I set up last time:

Baronfjord is keeping the Geta of the Long Kick. Okay. All good.
Kathryn is keeping the Misty Step Boots and Amber Trowel. Also good.
Victoria is keeping the Combs of Beauty and Obsidian Fang. Figured.
Kosara has claimed the Wand of Wonder. Okie and/or dokie.
NPC Lizbeth retains the Bloodwell Vial, in addition to her armor upgrade.

What this leaves is, in no particular order:

- Wand of Disturbing Smiles
- Ilexxian Taper

Per IC and OOC statements made, these are unclaimed and subject to the results of the previous discussions.

Anyway, it looks like we're starting to get better equipped and informed as a party, so by all means, let's continue. Ask what questions you need to, make whatever plans you think are best. If you need a die roll, have a question, need stuff in general, get in contact through our Discord and I'll try to get it sorted asap. Oh, and if I forgot to mention it earlier - HUZZAH!
In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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Weather: The clouds are clouding, the cold is colding, and the flurries have gotten just a little bit heavier. The temperature continues to lower as the day deepens. We are firmly at or below freezing.

Time: Late afternoon. We have passed the span whereupon civilized folk recognize Teatime, though the people involved are still present.

Ambience: The fires begin to burn a little low within the Taproom's hearth; a situation which might easily be remedied with the addition of a few good sized splits of wood, which are readily available. The domestic folk who take care of the Coach House have been good about keeping things orderly and stocked. During the winter, these things are important. Oil lamps illuminate what tables have been in use, casting flickering shadows but holding back the gloom of the indoors with dutiful purpose. The place has all of the folksy charm of a well maintained, rural, roadside Inn, without all of those nagging customers to distract.

*****


The interrogation of Urmdrus took on a more serious note, which the older Dwarf paid growing attention to. The gruff but detached exterior slowly began to tighten to wariness in this room full of people who had more recent combat experience that himself. Still, he attempted to address the questions he could as simply and directly as possible. "Tasked with the Study. In the Big House. And this one. Collect things - powdered silver, pure iron. Grave soil. Other things. Tasked to keep the little one safe. Until she could fight. Fight good."

Urmdrus looked to Lizbeth and spoke a short sentence in oddly accented Dwarvish, which prompted a smile and a couple of tears from the girl. Showing an apparent gift for linguistics, the younger L'Rose answered back in the same manner, though slightly halting with her words.

"Could not talk sooner. Land has ears. Long memory. Prince... If things in Coach House, HE might know things. You killed things. Safer talk now."

The Mosswaters took an appreciable amount of entertainment from the situation unfolding in front of them. "This is more exciting than the theater!" confessed Tarace quietly, unsure of what direction the moment would take next.

Barbal, ever the voice of practicality, waved away any potential difficulty with the inexpert teamaking skills of Kathryn, instead urging her to take a seat and watch the drama unfold. It looked like Urmdrus was in the hot seat, and he was going to take just a moment or two for the purposes of taking in the scene as it unfolded. He sipped his tea, winced only slightly, and reconsidered the sweetener.

Urmdrus's now open statements about Lizbeth, coupled with that of the adventuring party, finally got to the heiress with greater clarity. The exchange between her and the Dwarf cemented her investment in the conversation as something that she could not avoid, even among a troupe of experienced warriors as she was. "I'm not going anywhere. I don't think I can go anywhere - not for long. That trip into the Township was... I don't know, some kind of exception, and I felt like I had to get back here after Grandfather was buried." Her face became grave for a moment, and she admitted, "It's been feeling urgent lately, like whatever's going to happen is coming faster. It might be why I'm pushing myself so hard with the soldier training, even if I'm not so strong."

It was amazingly accurate to say that Lizbeth had been pushing herself. There were morning training sessions with Kathryn, evening training with Urmdrus, and now she had planned to explore her magic with Victoria. This was a girl of almost fifteen years, still not a woman yet by the standards of the land - but not far away from it. Just over a year from that point, and the weight of being the elder L'Rose would settle on her inexperienced shoulders.

The discussion went back to the Mosswaters rather abruptly, which was taken up by Barbal. "What we know about this place. Okay. Let's get to it." He cleared his throat, and continued, "Roundabout every few years, there's some sort of calamity. Every region what's tucked away has things that happen, so no one ever thinks too much about it after some time passes. This thing with the Constable though... well, that was rough. But back in the day, back when Lizbeth, well," Barbal picked his words carefully, "When she came into her aunt's care, there were a number of people who didn't make it out of the sickness that year." He motioned over to Victoria with a teaspoon, saying, "She's seen what happens when illness takes the area." It was a flat statement, in reference to the epidemic that their local Healer treated with the help of her daughter and new student, who happened to be the party's Bard. "That one, back then? Wasn't natural. Like it wanted to target folks. The L'Roses lost a lot that year. Not with their business; it was one of the best growing years ever. They lost a lot, regardless."

Barbal looked to Baronfjord, who had specifically called them out. "But I'm mostly here to answer questions you got about this place or Southmoor in a general way. Open, outsider look. Voice of the people around the area sort of thing. And to bring you those Ankheg sausages I told you I would. So ask me what you need to about the area. I'm your local resource, is what I'm saying. Especially now that good, honest folks are getting their insides outsided and their skin turned into a winter coat. Damn shame about Toombes. He was a good lad. Real good lad."

Back near the table of wands and such, Lizbeth was slowly pulling on the supplementary pieces of armor which complemented her green, chitinous breastplate. The grapeleaf circlet slid over her hair, and she took the opportunity to recover her masterfully constructed Ankheg shield. While she was obviously still a girl, one might have caught a glimpse of the woman she might become, unless tragedy befell. Or to put it differently, she looked very grown up just then, like a child sent to a war they had no control over.
In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5
HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A
Location: Coach House (Taproom)
Action: Ritual Magic - Identify
Bonus Action: Morty, Familiar
Reaction: N/A
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"Very pretty, indeed." This last sentence was delivered after Victoria recovered her hand mirror from her belongings in the Taproom. She kept a number of items in her errand cart there, available for transport via Morty in case they had to move quickly (and because navigating that thing up exterior stairs in the winter was just begging for difficulties), and the small mirror was just the thing to ease her puzzled thoughts. She held it a best she might, angling the small, reflective device this way and that so that she may get a good glimpse of herself in the firelight.

Victoria might have liked a larger reflective surface to fully take herself in; not that her sense of vanity wasn't already present before, but there was a mote more of genuine appreciation. She was considered flawless to behold by many (including herself), having naturally surpassed the threshold of Human standards, but now, she was downright ethereal. Nothing changed about her. No details particularly sharpened or smoothed away, Victoria just seemed marginally more herself in ways that attracted and asserted. Her smile, now visible as a self-satisfied expression of contentment, became even more of a phenomenon that could inspire mortals to great - or terrible - acts of devotion.

Victoria wished she had a larger mirror to appreciate it.

But duty called, as it usually did, and the Bard had responsibilities which were greater even than her own sense of self evaluation. "The brandy, of course," she crooned melifluously. Rather than spend time setting up a potentially unnecessary Ritual spell to see if yet another Ritual was needed, Victoria deferred to one of her more recent acquisitions: the wand that could reveal magical auras. She looked at the results of the minor divination with puzzling uncertainly, remarking, "This barely reveals anything. A slim shimmer of Necromancy, but this is influence, not an effect. A polite, quiet whisper, like a subtle suggestion. There isn't enough magic to Identify." She tilted her head to the side slightly, considering possible implications, given what they already knew about the land. "How curious."

Her curiosity likely motivated her to refill her teacup with a bit more of the brandy, which ahe then appraised like a fine wine. A swirl, a quick inhale through her nose, a brief atomization over her palate as the brandy was reintroduced to her senses. In the end, she shrugged. It was fine enough brandy; very fine. Perhaps the best she had ever sampled, and there was most of a cask just sitting there. So, it was colored by necromancy. Maybe it helped to age the spirits. Or maybe it gave robust notes which were otherwise unable to manifest in the grapes. Either way, this was top shelf and she was impressed, if just a hint wary.

All of that notwithstanding, her more Wizardly work was done, and so she resolved to deal with the logistical and social issues at hand. To start, she turned her ethereal visage to Kathryn, whi had made her an offer recently. "Don't mind me, Kathryn. I know enough not to make a fool of myself when swords are drawn. My talents..." She let the sentence hang for a full second before she gave a mischievous smile, "...lay elsewhere. Besides, this is the season to make a warrior of young Lizbeth. She shall be stronger than us all, in time. I can just feel it."

Practicality moved Victoria to give a quick side mention to Urmdrus, who had just given his confession. "Master Urmdrus, given that I now have two wands and nowhere convenient to carry them, would it be too much of an ask to commission you to craft something in that regard? I have a bit of silver, of course, but I might also trade in spellwork, if you are open to it." It was one of the greatest assets of a spellcaster when dealing with skilled mundanes. Broadly, she said to the room, "Then maybe we might find homes, temporary or other, for the remaining items?" Slyly, she added, "I might be thrilled to increase my own collections, of course."

At that time, her brain put together the insinuation that Urmdrus just made about Arnaud's debt to the Prince. "I'm afraid that I agree with Tarace Mosswater, if I am understanding this correctly. 'What the fuck' indeed, sir?"
In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Let's review:

Here are the items that were made available to the party, which were not claimed by our dashing Bard or present NPCs. I mention this purely because, at present, no one has stepped up to officially claim the items in question. I assure you that, within the context of IC interactions, it has been established that you're free to use the stuff available, and frankly, I need to know where they're all going. If anyone's feeling a little frisky, I'm sure NPC's wouldn't mind a piece of magic to elevate their lives - but that might be misconstrued as un-adventurish of you. Otherwise, anything not specifically claimed by the end of this posting cycle will be retained by Lizbeth.

To be as open as possible with the items in question, the unclaimed ones are listed here, with images and descriptions:













There are three other items which have been recovered from the "study" downstairs, but your friendly neighborhood Ritual Identifier only discussed them in passing, and/or were claimed. The first one was mentioned out loud as a "Bloodwell Vial", briefly mentioned in the notes of Arnaud L'Rose as "The Well." The other items not reside in Victoria's possession. One is a set of hair combs, the other is a wand made from a shard of obsidian with a wire wrap handle. As she did not leave written information about those, one needs to either guess from post details/dialogue what they do, or resort to IC conversation.



ANYWAY, you all know the drill. Get with me in our Discord for questions, clarifications, die rolls, etc., and best of luck with the upcoming.
In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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Weather: Cloudy, windy, and with the start of light snowfall (barely a flurry, but slowly increasing in strength). It is cold, as one might expect from winter. Luckily, the situation looks to be different, milder, than the recent blizzard.

Time: Late afternoon, still. Tea Time has officially began to run late, and if one were a Halfling, one might already be preparing for their next meal. It would be inaccurate to say that the day has crossed from late afternoon to early evening - perhaps we should refer to this as "prevening," seeing as it's a rather cuspy time of the day.

Ambience: Not a lot has changed in the past stretch of time. Conversations continue, things are revealed, the remains of dead things remain in the cellar and parts beyond, yet none of this really changes the folksy, comforting surroundings of the Taproom. Lighting is dim but adequate in every place that is not overseen directly by candle or lamplight; in those places it is more than sufficient. The scents of food, woodsmoke, tea, and grapeseed oil linger, but to not overpower. Overall, were this place not the site of an ongoing problem and immediately passed skirmish, it would be a nice, cozy retreat from the road.

*****


The general agreement with Lizbeth's desire to keep magic training and combat training separate gave her an amount of well-needed reassurance. She even sighed with relief as she realized that there wouldn't be pushback on the subject. She gave a nervous smile and followed up with, "I'm not even sure what I can do yet." It was sheepish, uncertain, and with an expression that did not quite match the custom breastplate of green chitin, layered, curved shortsword, and lightly pulsing crystal containing her own blood that she bore upon her. And she still a child, by the metric of the land.

The acquisition of the pen nib seemed to puzzle Lizbeth. "Yes, it's fine, pray don't mention it, but..." she started, somewhat puzzled by Victoria's odd request and odder use of the writing utensil, "...what do you mean by 'Bard cliche?' Is it, um, is it like the rumors I hear about Bards? You're the first one I've ever met in person, and you don't seem like the stories, Mademoiselle Belmont." She did not elaborate on what rumors those might be, even if they were evident.

But past all of the issues of her training, the fight that was recently done, and even the proclivities of stereotypical Bardfolk, Lizbeth seemed really interested in the wondrous bits of minor magic that were being catalogued, even going to far as to take occasional note of her own. Maybe she couldn't cast magic like this, but it didn't stop her from wanting to know about it. She read every one of the papers that Victoria wrote for the items, occasionally picking one up to see how it felt in her hand, before returning it to the table where it lay, keeping it available for the real adventurers to utilize.

The Mosswaters, sensing a change in the overall air and attitude of the room coming like an ill wind, kept firmly to themselves and simply allowed things to play out. True to Barbal's declaration earlier, he made himself quite comfortable looking over the magic items as they lay there, identified and ready for use. His fingers flexed and there was the slightest glint of avarice in his eyes, but he controlled himself accordingly and simply read the papers. Tarace seemed to recognize that look in his partner's face and quietly took one of his arms, ushering him back to the table with a steady, "I saved you a few of those fish canapes you like so much, Barbal. Come now, before your tea goes tepid." For all of his fussing about, Tarace had listened to Kosara's warnings about the brandy and surreptitiously replaced Barbal's cup with good, amber tea instead. If nothing else, despite his eccentricities, he was a Halfling who looked out for those close to him.

As if to change the subject far away from whatever might or might not be happening, Barbal did respond to Kathryn's question of sweetener preference with a straightforward, "Not just now, Miss Lady. Not in the mood for it, you see. Besides, I'm sweet enough." It wasn't a great joke by far, but it was something to hopefully pass attention away from himself.

Meanwhile, Urmdrus seemed to have gotten a lot of attention. The words from Kathryn about being jealous, joking though they were, prompted a dry response of, "Get more Ankheg. Work out trade. I can make more." Truly, a Dwarf of great linguistic capacity in the Common tongue of the region. Or not.

But so far as the near-to-interrogation that Baronfjord had for him, Urmdrus could do little but attempt to explain, be it through the halting amount of the local language that he spoke. "Yes. I built other room in cellar." He clarified, "Most of the room. Stonework. Door. Locks." He took a sip from his drink, cleared his throat, and continued, "No. Don't know what you found. Know you found something. Master L'Rose tasked me. Tasked me with lot of things. Secret room, just outside original border. He said, harder to be seen there. Harder to be seen by - HIM." He let this settle for a moment, then offered, "L'Rose knew what last debt was. Why he tried to break deal. Said HE already marked final debt. Tasked me with protecting that debt, if he failed." His eyes glanced in Lizbeth's direction very briefly, inferring an explanation without actively saying anything aloud. "Can't leave for long, without finishing the deal. One way, another way. Maybe," he glanced over to Lizbeth again, "In time, strong enough. Finish things for Arnaud. Before..."

To her credit, Lizbeth still seemed involved in the very stuffs of magic. At least, she didn't seem to react openly. The same was not true for the Mosswaters; especially Tarace. He looked equal parts angry and confused, turning to Barbal to confirm, "What... the fuck did I just hear?"

In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5
HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A
Location: Coach House (Taproom)
Action: Ritual Magic - Identify, Spellcasting - Healing Word
Bonus Action: Morty, Familiar
Reaction: N/A
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"Very pretty." It was a continuation of Victoria's last thought. This was aimed at a set of subtle but lovely, floral hair combs, just perfect to tuck securely into one's locks as either decoration or to tastefully pin things up. The purpose of them eluded her to begin with, but this was rectified with the application of her continued Ritual Magic. Looking into Wizardly spellcasting had swiftly paid for the effort required to learn it, and then some. This thought paired with the fact that she now had a spiritform extension of herself in the form of a Raven Familiar, a thing that she didn't know she wanted or needed until she acquired one."I really must find a suitable name for you, O noble shadow mine." The Raven on the back of her chair made a quiet, croaking sound and fluttered its wings in response. Victoria slowly shook her head with a smile and returned to her work.

When she was done with the combs and the appropriate knowledge filled her mind, Victoria looked to her younger counterpart and declared, "I accept your offer, Miss L'Rose. In exchange for identifying the Bloodwell Vial, I claim this for myself. Agreed?" The accepting nod and accompanying monosyllabic affirmation following, Victoria wasted no time in fixing the comb into her hair just behind her ear, pinning up the side from which she favored playing her violin. The change was subtle. In one with traditionally appealing features anyway, there wasn't a flaw to smooth out, nor a dull thing to brighten. But something about the overall look of the massively charismatic, undeniably beautiful Half-Elf sharpened, clarified, became slightly more intense. Victoria's aura seemed to hum with simultaneous intimidation and approachability. Slowly, the floral elements of the comb shifted to compliment her outfit, as if it was designed with her fashion in mind.

Between identifying more items, Victoria absently rubbed her head where the odd footwear had stuck her. It wasn't necessarily a bad wound, but it was annoying to the extreme and almost soiled her new favorite black-and-gold pashmina. Kosara had lent a bit of her healing to patch the wound up, but her healing abilities didn't seem to do quite as well for herself. "We can't have that," she thought with (an only slightly) mischievous smile, and quietly sang the short syllables of a minor healing incantation. She dug a little deeper into her tiers of arcane power than was strictly necessary, just to make sure everything came together satisfactorily.

She also took note of Lizbeth's responses to Kathryn, concerning their training. It was interesting to her. She wasn't learning how to "soldier" because it was some novelty. This was a backup for her because she didn't fully trust what was happening, so far as her newer, arcane gifts were concerned. It was pragmatic and showed dedication. Victoria wished to continue to witness the girl's development, if she were still in the area for that long. Or if a viable alternative was imminent.

But back to Kosara - her sudden assertion that the brandy was magic and/or evil wasn't really a shock, nor completely unexpected. She remembered having the slightest inclination in this direction herself, but there wasn't much else to be done about it. Though suspicion was not outright declaration, and the Tiefling lady put it out there first. All Victoria could do was acknowledge and follow up with whatever divination she might bring to the table. "Of course, Kosara. No stone unturned, yes? I will look into it when I finish with our finds here." It seemed that she was indeed the closest thing to the party Wizard that they had.

Daxos's exit was almost as uneventful as Victoria might have dreamed. Though without the pomp commonly found in such situations, it was probably the smartest thing the fellow might have done, as he was not exactly as lashed to the problems as the rest of them were. She offered a simple gesture to the Dwarf as he exited the building. An easy parting for a recent introduction.

Victoria finished off a tiny pickle sandwich and cup of tea, then got back to the work. She would have to schedule some time to practice her music later; not that she was going to get rusty, or anything of the sort, but a little break to the monotony that wasn't apprenticing under the town's Healer, or hand copying instructional manuals on anatomy, surgery, and ailments. Music later. Rituals now. The other items present in the wall cache were a small collection of fractured arcane formulae on good parchment, fine, high quality inks, a couple of interesting pen nibs, and a slender, sharp shard of black volcanic glass with silver wire wrapped around the slightly thicker end. When the Bard was done, she looked to Lizbeth, stating, "I'm not sure that your grandfather knew what these things were, child. He tried his best, I am sure, but these scrolls are useless to you. Half of it is useless to me, and I am less restricted with my spellcraft." All the same, Victoria set the papers aside for a more thorough inspection when the other items were handled. Except for one of the nibs. She removed one of the feathers from her great, wonderfully bardy bard hat and set the nib on the end of its shaft, capped it, and replaced it in her hat. She shrugged sheepishly, saying that, "I shall compensate for this, I promise. This is a Bard cliche that I cannot help utilizing as a guilty pleasure." A decent pen nib was worth its weight in gold. Thankfully, they were also very light.

The black, glassy wand went next. The thing had cut Lizbeth, and to look at it, Victoria could see how that happened. It looked like you might readily impale someone with it, even though it was a wand. Her findings gave pause, and she addressed the party directly when she was done. "Interests of disclosure, I should like to hang onto this one for now. It provides close and mid-range options to attack with necrotic damage, a limited number of times. My spells can run out, and I could use this as a backup until I find safety." She held it up for everyone to see before putting it back on the table. "If there are no objections, of course."

The last two items were both footwear of very different types; one a finely stitched, navy to royal blue leather set of boots with silver accents, and the barest wisp of airy condensation emanating from the soles, and the other an odd pair of wooden sandals, reinforced with metal in places and decorated with regionally foreign artwork. The latter strangely had a pair of cleft stockings with it, which Victoria couldn't make heads of tails of, except for the enchantments which it possessed.

Finally, after the last assessment was made, Victoria pushed back her chair and stretched, intoning, "I believe that does it for the haul. I shall have to translate the writings here which I believe are attempts at spellwork, but for the now (unless we missed something), we have a complete inventory of a number of things which may become useful in the near future. Enough for all of us to find something relevant to our professions." She looked at the shard of obsidian on the table again and took it up, admiring the reflection of firelight from it. "Not the greatest of things against the undead, but serviceable. Artistic, really. Hmm."





In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

And Daxos makes his official exit.

This bit of unfortunateness aside, we're going to basically continue with the same deal as our last update. Tea is being served, people are in the middle of conversations, observations are being made. It's an interesting time to be alive and adventuring. Ooh! With tea! Lest we forget.

Getting business out of the way - We officially have an opening, if anyone knows and/or can vouch for interested persons. Standard character making rules will apply.

Finally, per our usual, get with me in our Discord for questions, comments, if you think I missed something, or for die rolls. Thanks again!
In Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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Weather: It is cloudy, and it is hovering at windy. Cool colors of blue and white are at the cusp of changing into the softer colors of evening. Light snow flurries tease the earth with the possibility of more solid snowfall as the day deepens into evening, though not with the foreboding of the recent blizzard.

Time: Late afternoon. The abstractness of time after a physical conflict has a way of muddling its observation, which in turn begs the question: Has it been an hour? Ten minutes? Are we keeping guests until supper, and/or is this a sleepover? Whichever of these things winds up being the most accurate, there is time to accomplish things with, or before, the loss of the light.

Ambience: It seems quiet in the Taproom. A sense of a lull that really only happens in times in introspection, study, or the application of decent food that satisfies a need you weren't sure you had in the first place. Warming tea, a decent fire, and many, many questions which need answers take a formidable forefront.

Lighting here is homey and comforting; not too bright as to make things uncomfortable, and not so dim as to make reading difficult. Lanterns of grapeseed oil and decent wax candles are available for those who want a little more personal illumination. The occasional popping sound issues from the fireplace, giving the Coach House a welcoming feel to match the warmth it provides.

Herby and savory scents mix with woodfire and grapeseed oil, cut through sharply by freshly brewed tea. Even if it is getting late for a proper "Teatime," persay, one would be hard pressed to refuse a comforting offer of a cup and tiny, open-faced morsel or another. The overall feel and furnishing of the Taproom hasn't changed in the weeks of its occupation; flat, even tiles of grey stone comprise the floor, upon which are sturdy, comfortable wooden chairs and tables with nary a wobble nor creak to be detected. The same polished wood makes up a bar which runs the length of one wall and is stocked mostly with wines bottled on site, though other items may be located by the aspiring imbiber. The exception, of course, are the two casks, tapped, on one side of said bar - one containing local ale and the other a brandy of amazing quality and questionable background.

*****


"I'm fine," answered Lizbeth, a look of surprise more than alarm on her face. "I didn't do... I just..." There was a struggle of words as the girl attempted to put descriptives together to answer Baronfjord's questions. It seemed simple enough. But as she wasn't sure what happened, and only partly if she was well, the task was uncertain at best. Lizbeth flexed her hand from the cut she was received earlier, a thing which, being trivial at worst, had almost completely closed up by then. Except that some of her blood had used that minor opening to defy gravity and fill the hollow of her late grandfather's crystal pendant. "I feel well. I mean, as well as I might after all that in the cellar." The pendant's pulsing color, now synchronized with her heartbeat, began to fade until it settled into a faint point of barely registered glow, which still pulsed, but so faintly that one had to really look for it to notice.

As the efforts of the Mosswaters were noticed, or at least vocalized, by members of the party, Tarace and Barbal saw fit to act in manners which were shy, or noncommittal, varying quite predictably between the two of them. They were a mismatched pair, the Mosswaters, but things with them seemed to come together well enough. Despite the grumbling and occasional comments of an only marginally disparaging nature, Barbal made sure that everyone's plates were full of the various goodies he brought. In fact, his disposition was downright neutral - even interested - when the tea was brought out. "Can't call it Teatime, really, unless we're serving it. Right? Hmm?"

On the other side of the table, Urmdrus had quite made himself at home. One could see him occasionally looking from Lizbeth, who was rather involved with the events of the moment (not to mention becoming part of another arcane mystery), and then look back to his off-colored Bag O' Stuff. It looked like he was biding time for something. This was no reason to neglect packing various foodstuffs into his mouth with the practice of a seasoned professional, as well as drink basically whatever was put in front of him. Except for the brandy, as he had mentioned. Answering Kathryn's question, "Eh. Bad dreams. Sapper for an army. Dead people. Lot of dead. Lot of screams. Don't need more of that." He nodded gravely, and sipped from his drink again.

Lizbeth's response to Kathryn was a little less sure, like she was trying to figure out what her opinion about mixing magic with fighting as she went along. "I don't know. Not, hmm... not yet, please? I don't know what I'm doing yet, and ah, most of this stuff has been accidental, you know? I need her," Lizbeth motioned absently back in Victoria's direction, "to help me figure out what I can do first, right? Besides..." Her voice grew more serious, "I don't want to have to rely on this. Magic was forced on me and I don't understand it. Please, not yet."

The latest arrival to the Vineyard, Daxos Irombow, made it a point to grab a fair amount of what goodies were portable, a bottle of wine or two, and his belongings. He had taken the brunt of a vicious attack downstairs, and gave the impression of a person thoroughly done with whatever was going on. "A'v haed enouch o this. This isnae any safer than soakin ma head wi honey an sleepin wi angry badgers. 'Safe House' indeit." Daxos made his way to the door and turned back to his fellow Dwarf, leaving with one final statement. "Let me know whan the guild sends ye the okay, Master Urmdrus. Yah?"

Urmdrus nodded and issued a compliant grunt. This wasn't the best situation for enyone, granted, and the younger fellow seemed to have gotten the rough end of the day. He gave a quick bit of instruction in the Dwarvish tongue, and settled back to the contents of his bag. From this, he pulled out a few more pieces of armor, made to compliment a certain breastplate he had created for a young Human girl. "Pieces of shell. Mosswaters give, from cooking." he thought for a moment, trying to rephrase, "Before cooking sausage. Still good after treatment. Keeps you safe. Safer." There were enough parts which Lizbeth could attach to her person to give respectable coverage of armor. Not as much as a full suit of plate; but the girl might yet be able to move around unencumbered if fully donned, and the protective sections of deep green, chitinous plating were quite striking in the light. Lizbeth marveled over it all for a moment, and was about to speak words of gratitude, but was cut short. Urmdrus held up a circlet of various colors of green which resembled a laurel wreath, or arranged grape leaves, which he placed loosely upon her head. Urmdrus took it back, made a quick arrangement, and placed it back. "Better than no helm. Ran out of shell. Early Frostval present."

Lizbeth wrapped the older Dwarf in a huge hug. To his credit, Urmdrus reached one arm around to reciprocate, even if he did look a little uncomfortable.

The sudden cry from Kosara, warning of the magical and/or evil nature of the brandy, gave Barbal a start."Is this some trick to get me to vomit in public?" he accused, pointing a rigid finger at Tarace. "Because 'fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...' Well, you're not going to fool me... twice." His meeker partner could only hold up his hands and wordlessly insist that no, this was not some odd trick. Again.

Victoria had finished the Rituals of Identification on a few of the items, and even wrote down the general effects of said items. She placed them upon the table with the notes that Baronfjord had marked for everyone to read, atop sheets of paper which explained their use:










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