I have not played for some time... perhaps I should get back into it, @Carantathraiel. I have not been following it either, so what has changed since a year ago, what other changes are to come?
The Harbinger of Ferocity Member
STATUS: Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics. 6 yrs ago- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
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Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics.
6 yrs ago
The highest, most decisive experience is to be alone with one's own self. You must be alone to find out what supports you, when you find that you can not support yourself.
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7 yrs ago
One cannot live from anything except what one is.
7 yrs ago
The slave to virtue finds the way as little as the slave to vices.
7 yrs ago
The core of an individual is the mystery of life, which dies when it is 'grasped'. That is also why symbols want to keep their secrets.
Bio
The Harbinger of Ferocity
Agent of the Wild, Aspect of the Ferine
Nature, red in tooth and claw.
"There is, indeed, no single quality of the cat that man could not emulate to his advantage."
- Carl Van Vechten
I am, at my core, a personification and manifestation of those things whose blood and hearts run red with the ferocity of the animal world. It is this which convicts and controls my works, my writing, my being; the force and guidance in which I gain wisdom from. It is what inspires me as a creator and weaver of words, the very thing I admire as an author.
My leanings, savage as they are, are of the feline sort as there exists no greater lineage of beasts whom can be drawn from. No others captivate and motivate my talent and skill as the greatest of cats do.
Most Recent Posts
There had been no doubt before that the orc and himself could be of ample use to the people of Greenest, but a faint grin tugged the edge of his stubbled jaw at the pledge of an elven huntress whose lithe hand pocketed her humble flute to her side, the instrument sliding as easily as a honed dagger to its companion sheath. She introduced herself as "Trear" with a particular confidence to her person, adding after that the dragon would become one of the things she hunted following this turn of events. It was at this time Brannor removed his golden eyes from his shoulder where the bronze wood elf had come to idle next to, moving the fingers of one sizable hand to the wedges between the other, settling the thick fingerless leather gloves he wore.
A soft voice caught his keen ears despite the idle chatter of people preparing themselves, lending him pause enough and turn about to witness a small woman approach, stepping up to the group of outdoorsmen. For all the softness and delicateness of her frame and the fact she bore no real armor, she had a dedication and interest that lingered in her blue eyes.
”Count me in! My name is Parum, and I’ll accompany you to save the village and find out why the dragon is here.”
Brannor was not the most intelligent of men, wiser than most he knew, but he too knew better than to dare judge anything by appearance alone; the halfling's lot were a fearless, noble hearted sort, skilled enough too compared to most other folk. So it came not as a shock to see that she pledged herself to aiding Greenest as well. The beast of a man knew not what she was capable of, his orcish and elven company clear enough so, but he was not about to turn down another companion when facing down a dragon's game.
"Good." The man remarked contently with a rumble to his voice.
"Waaaargh! Get ready, fight dragon, make new stuff!"
And the orc was off, setting himself to stocking his supplies - only those essential - and returning not too much longer thereafter. In the time between however, the man was content to run the silver surface of the necklace's pendant between his fingers, mulling over the dull glow of the firelight that was the town and the swooping of the dragon's outline that silhouetted like a ghost in the ash from time to time. The caravan was alive with activity despite the man's apparent idleness, many languages and even a chant of some strange tongue incited other troupes.
It was, in its own way, comforting to know that these men and women were not content to let the ill hour consume others, let alone them.
By the time they set on their travel, leading the incursion and headed by the orc warrior, Brannor drew up the tremendous blade that had rested across his back from the loop that carried it. The greatsword, bound about the crossguard and hilt, bore worn brown leather and strange, crude engravings up the latter half of its fuller and likely under the binding; it was a sizable weapon, even for the man who bore it, but he held it with comfortable strength in one hand as they approached the town, the other remaining free for the time being. Both moon and sun lit the sky ever so faintly, but the mixture of ambient firelight and darkness proved not too great an issue.... for now.
"Strange..." Brannor's voice came under his breath as he followed behind the orc, witnessing the lack of townsfolk and the containment of fire. Either the dragon seemed to have remarkable aim or something odd was afoot; owing to either case, the hackles of the man were raised and he slowly shifted the tremendous sword into both hands, the travelling fall of his boots becoming lighter on the dusted earth.
"Hello? Who here? No one dead?"
Try as he might, the illusions of the smoke and flames, made searching the town through sight alone a difficult matter, attention drifting wherever the orc before him was not; a tactic not unknown to hunters of some experience. All the same, Brannor strove to open his other senses, to call upon smell and sound more than any other where his eyes failed him, but as odd as things were here now in Greenest, he wondered if at all there would be any result to these efforts.
"Seems the dragon might not be alone." His deep tone uttered to those behind him, looking to both Parum and Trear, noting the strangeness that the doors had seemingly been broken down.
@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@VKAllen@Ryonara
A soft voice caught his keen ears despite the idle chatter of people preparing themselves, lending him pause enough and turn about to witness a small woman approach, stepping up to the group of outdoorsmen. For all the softness and delicateness of her frame and the fact she bore no real armor, she had a dedication and interest that lingered in her blue eyes.
”Count me in! My name is Parum, and I’ll accompany you to save the village and find out why the dragon is here.”
Brannor was not the most intelligent of men, wiser than most he knew, but he too knew better than to dare judge anything by appearance alone; the halfling's lot were a fearless, noble hearted sort, skilled enough too compared to most other folk. So it came not as a shock to see that she pledged herself to aiding Greenest as well. The beast of a man knew not what she was capable of, his orcish and elven company clear enough so, but he was not about to turn down another companion when facing down a dragon's game.
"Good." The man remarked contently with a rumble to his voice.
"Waaaargh! Get ready, fight dragon, make new stuff!"
And the orc was off, setting himself to stocking his supplies - only those essential - and returning not too much longer thereafter. In the time between however, the man was content to run the silver surface of the necklace's pendant between his fingers, mulling over the dull glow of the firelight that was the town and the swooping of the dragon's outline that silhouetted like a ghost in the ash from time to time. The caravan was alive with activity despite the man's apparent idleness, many languages and even a chant of some strange tongue incited other troupes.
It was, in its own way, comforting to know that these men and women were not content to let the ill hour consume others, let alone them.
By the time they set on their travel, leading the incursion and headed by the orc warrior, Brannor drew up the tremendous blade that had rested across his back from the loop that carried it. The greatsword, bound about the crossguard and hilt, bore worn brown leather and strange, crude engravings up the latter half of its fuller and likely under the binding; it was a sizable weapon, even for the man who bore it, but he held it with comfortable strength in one hand as they approached the town, the other remaining free for the time being. Both moon and sun lit the sky ever so faintly, but the mixture of ambient firelight and darkness proved not too great an issue.... for now.
"Strange..." Brannor's voice came under his breath as he followed behind the orc, witnessing the lack of townsfolk and the containment of fire. Either the dragon seemed to have remarkable aim or something odd was afoot; owing to either case, the hackles of the man were raised and he slowly shifted the tremendous sword into both hands, the travelling fall of his boots becoming lighter on the dusted earth.
"Hello? Who here? No one dead?"
Try as he might, the illusions of the smoke and flames, made searching the town through sight alone a difficult matter, attention drifting wherever the orc before him was not; a tactic not unknown to hunters of some experience. All the same, Brannor strove to open his other senses, to call upon smell and sound more than any other where his eyes failed him, but as odd as things were here now in Greenest, he wondered if at all there would be any result to these efforts.
"Seems the dragon might not be alone." His deep tone uttered to those behind him, looking to both Parum and Trear, noting the strangeness that the doors had seemingly been broken down.
@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@VKAllen@Ryonara
I am pleased I am not too predictable.
We are all confident and eager to see your post, @VitaVitaAR.
Not one of my best posts, my mind is not so lucid right now, but @Belwicket did get her wish. Sakaala might be an old, battered mercenary, but she still is pretty motherly.
Ignored as she was by the halfling who found herself pulling away to investigate further, the predatory woman looked away with a subtle sigh, rounded feline ears firm to her sleek but broad skull; there was no will in her to mediate whatever was about to happen between the two, so she instead put herself back to work. Grasping the fallen sage by the back of her robe at the collar, the other powerful arm looping under a shoulder, she hefted the limp, greyed figure to her feet then up into her complete grasp with surprising ease. Gritting her fearsome jaws, she started away from the ruin behind her, intending to see if Sir Erran would be willing to lay the woman upon his lap and let his steed do the work for the rest of them by carrying her to...
Wherever they were off to next - the wordy "assassin" had yet to provide them anything of use in their hunt for the demon Zargon, and for all of the frustration that welled up within the Huntress' breast, she accepted that the others had a different mindset. They were mortals and their peoples had different custom and expectation; not that it was an excuse, but this was not a surprise. They wanted to discuss about this matter at hand rather than set off on the hunt itself without further delay.
"As strong as you are, I'd probably weigh nothing to you. Got room in your pack to carry me?"
Regina's voice carried to Sakaala who stopped mid stride, her amalgamation of armor clinking to a halt. From over her sizable shoulder, the blinded warrior's dulled expression at first suggested she would not even entertain the thought, but she did soften; the brow over her milky eye relaxing its intensity.
Like a mother to a child, she silently eased the tiny woman down the slick stone and wood debris, holding Lady Genevieve in one arm to do so; tonight was a test of her limits, in every sense one could imagine. Her patience had been worn so thin that she could do nothing but accept the fate at hand, so by the time she assisted Regina into her pack, she was as calm as she could be once more. A myriad of reasons spawned this outcome, but mostly that she needed to keep her mind off and away that a potential enemy was readily in her midst...
"We should probably cease our idleness; we have no further business being here."
She announced, her voice loud enough to be heard by those in the company, again walking toward Sir Erran with the intent to saddle the lady in bonds upon the horse provided the knight in question was confident he could keep her out of harm. Not that the warrior-mage needed her hands to fight - her body was a living weapon - but moreover that she would prefer to be able to draw the sword that found itself now between Regina's pack and the beastly woman's breastplate.
@ArenaSnow@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@vietmyke@Zero Hex
Wherever they were off to next - the wordy "assassin" had yet to provide them anything of use in their hunt for the demon Zargon, and for all of the frustration that welled up within the Huntress' breast, she accepted that the others had a different mindset. They were mortals and their peoples had different custom and expectation; not that it was an excuse, but this was not a surprise. They wanted to discuss about this matter at hand rather than set off on the hunt itself without further delay.
"As strong as you are, I'd probably weigh nothing to you. Got room in your pack to carry me?"
Regina's voice carried to Sakaala who stopped mid stride, her amalgamation of armor clinking to a halt. From over her sizable shoulder, the blinded warrior's dulled expression at first suggested she would not even entertain the thought, but she did soften; the brow over her milky eye relaxing its intensity.
Like a mother to a child, she silently eased the tiny woman down the slick stone and wood debris, holding Lady Genevieve in one arm to do so; tonight was a test of her limits, in every sense one could imagine. Her patience had been worn so thin that she could do nothing but accept the fate at hand, so by the time she assisted Regina into her pack, she was as calm as she could be once more. A myriad of reasons spawned this outcome, but mostly that she needed to keep her mind off and away that a potential enemy was readily in her midst...
"We should probably cease our idleness; we have no further business being here."
She announced, her voice loud enough to be heard by those in the company, again walking toward Sir Erran with the intent to saddle the lady in bonds upon the horse provided the knight in question was confident he could keep her out of harm. Not that the warrior-mage needed her hands to fight - her body was a living weapon - but moreover that she would prefer to be able to draw the sword that found itself now between Regina's pack and the beastly woman's breastplate.
@ArenaSnow@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@vietmyke@Zero Hex
So I am led to believe.
I almost exclusively play monstrous beings and beasts as it is, so you certainly have my attention, @Primal Conundrum.
Hey people, I just remembered something I needed to ask!
So, we can either do this the traditional D&D way of getting experience from encounters and such, or we can go with the milestone rule in which you will go up a level once you have reached important story milestones. I can go with either and to be honest I like the traditional way, even if it sometimes devolves into murderhoboism. I trust you people not to do that though.
Then I could mention my current plan on level ups. Once the needed amount of experience is reached, you will gain everything your new level brings during your next short or long rest. So you'll have any new spell slots available, your spellbooks spontaneously have spells appear and your current and maximum hitpoints go up by whatever amount your hit die average is. I believe nobody has objections?
I have no issue with milestones for practicality's sake so long as it won't turn into one of those scenarios where we always find ourselves a step behind the expected level for CRs, especially given this is a published module. I have a long, storied history of previous Dungeon Masters doing such things wherein we were always under leveled because whenever we would level, all of the monsters we had fought before just scaled with us; hit points, Armor Class, saving throws, all of it.
That said, I have no issue with your approach where things are unlocked following a rest.
"Sir, if I may say. Maybe I can help you against this shadow you speak of. I have been raised in a kingdom of light, so maybe I can be of use against the shadow."
The corner of a great jowl pulled ever so slightly at these words above all others she had uttered just as confidently before, seeing her forwardness as a good omen, as strange as it was; there was naivety, but genuine sincerity to the blind outsider's demeanor. This void, this dark heart of men, was not so easily banished by the forces of light and every shade of grey in between, but even a small girl - a blind girl lost among a forest no less, fleeing home - was willing to fight back the encroaching storm's shadow.
Watching in a calm idleness, remaining certain to take no action, it permitted her to lay hands upon her staff and reach out afterward in a gesture. Its focus swept over her, determining what it was she wished it to do, to which she elaborated further;
"My name is Sabriye. What is your name?"
"I?" Its chest rumbled in measured but mighty response, "I have many names in many tongues, but it does not change what it is that I am."
It inferred within its tone the irrelevancy of it having a name among the countless words of mortals, content only to be known as what it was; a great beast. A figure of legendary respect and fear, a creature powerful enough to wreck havoc upon kingdoms but noble enough to not do so without fearsome reason. There was little need for such a thing, as its titles were numerous as they were, but all would identify it without question.
"Your people might know me as a Lord of the Wild, be them men or otherwise."
"We are no strangers to one another, for good or ill... but there are times like these when we share a common foe." The grand voice continued, having spoken of its mythic identity; one that has lived and live again throughout ages past, predating times of history.
@Ojo chan 42
The corner of a great jowl pulled ever so slightly at these words above all others she had uttered just as confidently before, seeing her forwardness as a good omen, as strange as it was; there was naivety, but genuine sincerity to the blind outsider's demeanor. This void, this dark heart of men, was not so easily banished by the forces of light and every shade of grey in between, but even a small girl - a blind girl lost among a forest no less, fleeing home - was willing to fight back the encroaching storm's shadow.
Watching in a calm idleness, remaining certain to take no action, it permitted her to lay hands upon her staff and reach out afterward in a gesture. Its focus swept over her, determining what it was she wished it to do, to which she elaborated further;
"My name is Sabriye. What is your name?"
"I?" Its chest rumbled in measured but mighty response, "I have many names in many tongues, but it does not change what it is that I am."
It inferred within its tone the irrelevancy of it having a name among the countless words of mortals, content only to be known as what it was; a great beast. A figure of legendary respect and fear, a creature powerful enough to wreck havoc upon kingdoms but noble enough to not do so without fearsome reason. There was little need for such a thing, as its titles were numerous as they were, but all would identify it without question.
"Your people might know me as a Lord of the Wild, be them men or otherwise."
"We are no strangers to one another, for good or ill... but there are times like these when we share a common foe." The grand voice continued, having spoken of its mythic identity; one that has lived and live again throughout ages past, predating times of history.
@Ojo chan 42
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