The Large Dumbo

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Sorry for not posting for the past couple of rounds! I've been a bit busy for the past couple of days, but I'll have something up tomorrow!

Lost Realms of Arann: Northmarch [D&D 5E]

Quilrith Vambash

Backstory

Third youngest of her six siblings, Quilrith was born to Nesqax and Bicoria Vambash. Her family made up a small clan, with the driven goal of protecting the woods that they lived in any way they could. Tragedy struck, however, when several brigands struck in the middle of the night one fateful day, catching the clan off guard. A bloody battle was fought to ward the aggressors off of their lands, but when all was said and done, neither of the parents of the six remaining members could be found. A search was performed to try and locate either of the two missing Dragonborn, but the only information they were able to gather was that their mother, Bicoria, had been abducted for reasons unknown to any of the children. As retribution for discovering their presence, the ring that kidnapped Bicoria then set fire to the forest, with the intent to oust and slay the clan. While their forest was destroyed, and the Dragonborn were without a home, they suffered no losses in the resulting escape.

Once they were safe, the eldest sibling and stand-in leader of the clan, Yorfarn, decided that it was time for the broken clan to split up if they were going to make any headway in their search. They were to scatter across the world in pursuit of answers, and, on the way, strengthen themselves from the trials in the world so that something like this will never befall the clan again. They all set off at dawn the next day, with naught in tow but their skills they had learned to defend their woods. The two eldest, Yornfarn and Brenfarn, both had magical inclinations born of study and distant heritage respectively. They left bearing the strength of the arcane, in pursuit of their parents. Eshpora was a born soldier, and went across the land selling her protection in exchange for the gold that would unravel the mystery that plagued their clan. The second-youngest, Jinskan, was a master of hiding within the shadows of the wood, and left, swearing to plunge his blades into the neck of those who had brought disaster into his family. Yet, it was only Quilrith and the youngest one, Pazire, who truly embraced the teachings of the forests. Wielding the power of nature, her quest to rebuild her clan has begins. Quilrith seeks only to see her parents brought back, a new sanctuary established for her and her clan to return, and experience of life outside of the reaches of the woods.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

@Lucius Cypher

Darunia

Looking at the man, Darunia nodded slowly. In the back of his head, he hoped that his joke was lost on the two, especially one of the owners. A joke like that taken the wrong way would definitely sour the disposition of the owner of this establishment, though he already felt as if he was under some scrutiny. Being the object of attention for anybody was something that annoyed him; with attention usually came trouble, and he wasn't looking for trouble for now. Especially of concern was the fact that he wanted his name, for a registry. Did they typically ask that of all of their patrons? His eyes wandered over to the key in the barmaid's hand, watching it for a moment in thought. This felt like a less extreme interrogation, as if the two were going to peel and pry at the Drow until he spilled everything. His life story, how much gold he had, what his plans were... He felt hesitant to answer, but knew that there was certainly no reason why he shouldn't have to answer.

"Darunia," the Drow whispered under his breath. "My name is Darunia."

His own name always sounded strange when he said it out loud. Writing it, drawing it in some dirt, or even saying it in his Elven tongue was fine, but in Common... Urgh.

"This is a rather well put together establishment you have here," Darunia said, looking around the room. "I am pleased that you are welcoming me into your doors. Not everyone I have met has shared the views that you do. For that, I am grateful; may I be so kind as to ask a few questions of you and your employees?" He cleared his throat and slowly rubbed his hands together. "I hope you understand when I say that I require special accommodations that this town, from the looks of it, cannot provide. Are there any stores that stay open into the later hours of the night? I require goods that, unfortunately, I have either lost or had stolen from me... Specifically, goods to offer me protection where the city guard may not. Likewise, I am looking for an opportunity to earn some gold. May I ask for more information about this incident, or, should you be unable to provide me with this information, could you point me towards someplace that I may learn about this incident? I believe I may be able to assist with whatever is the matter there..." Darunia took long, heavy pauses between his questions. He did not want to impose on this man, having just met him, but he was sure that the tavern was where the most gossip flowed. This man would likely be more helpful than those brats who stood guard around the city. "Finally, I was wondering... How much information on the registry is able to be viewed by the public? I understand if you are inclined to keep such information visible, but I do hope that you understand why I ask as many questions as I do."

With a sigh, Darunia closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Though I cannot afford an entire bottle of the wine, it has been far too long since I have indulged in the luxury of my kin's drink." Turning to the barmaid, he raised a hand skywards for a brief second. "Forgive my difficulty, but would you be so kind as to provide me with a mere glass of Dancer and Prancer?" The Drow gave a sheepish smile. His head was still spinning... He couldn't wait to be further inside of the building, away from the grasp of the sun. Disorientation was his strongest sensation at the moment, brought on by an onset of fatigue from traveling, his current experiences in the city, and having spent so much time in the terrible, terrible sun.

D&D 5E West Marches

I'd be interested in hopping on board as well.

D&D Fifth Edition: Land of the Old Curse

Mark

---

With a groan and a small hiss - caused by his arms, not his false voice - Mark stepped away from the group. People were everywhere, and it looked like complete pandemonium at this point. An agitated whir escaped from the "mouth" of the Warforged. No wonder his creator never had a desire to live in the city; for all of the expensive gold and silver that seemed to flow through the streets of the city, this was quite the jarring contrast. The gas was the final straw, and he watched as it began to spread, taking a few cautious steps back. He was sure that he would not be susceptible to whatever it was that this assailant was attempting to use against the crowd, but he also knew that there was no need to not take an unnecessary risk if he had to. If, for example, it turned out to be corrosive, Mark would be in as much of a pickle as the other civilians. Mark let out another aggravated grunt, crossing his arms for a second. He couldn't quite discern what was going on, and not having a complete grasp on the situation angered Mark like nothing else. He detested not knowing information he should know, whether due to logic or otherwise having it hidden from him simply because people were too stubborn to tell him. He had the same rights to know as those who crossed him. He had broken arms and legs just to find out the name of the leader of those who would invade his creator's home, and to prepare accordingly. Being in control of the situation was the only way to win against conflict, he had been taught. "Alright, ya fools!" Mark shouted as loud as he could to the group of civilians behind him. An unnatural, mechanical fury rang throughout his words: despite having merely a basic grasp on emotions that normal organisms possess, aggravation and anger were instrumental into ensuring that Mark would do his job of scaring others off.

"To yer houses! Yer not doin' anything but makin' things worse now, ya hear?!" Mark chastised the onlookers. He realized he held little actual authority in directing these people, but he figured if he could make his voice sound loud and forceful enough, he could certainly try to make himself sound important. He wasn't sure how, but it sounded like some of the others approaching the body had managed to amplify their voice further. How curious, Mark thought for a brief moment, before continuing: "Go on, get out of here, all of you!"

Actions

Mark attempts to intimidate the crowd into partial submission, at least so they can clear out. He makes an intimidation check, the results of which are noted below:

Intimidation+Charisma = 1d20+0 = 19.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

Darunia watched as the man was ejected from the tavern. Looks like this is where the rabble gathered... Well, that couldn't be helped. He was a bit surprised that people would be drinking at this hour. It may be typical in Drow society to be drinking at sunrise, but he was under the impression that those that were not of his kind typically waited until the later hours of the night to engage in such activities. Should he still stay here? With a grimace, he thought to himself about how unlikely it would be that he could find respite anywhere else. This place was hungering for enough gold to be taking his own, Drow touched coin, and for that he would have to be grateful. A distant thought briefly considered heading outside to pilfer the man's belongings, but his common sense rejected the idea. Getting into trouble was a swift way to get an unfavorable reputation in... whatever part of town this was supposed to be. He hadn't really paid too much attention to his surroundings on the way here. Anyways, news travels fast. One incident would certainly bring ruin to his new future here, especially as a Drow.

"Rowdy lot, eh?" Darunia mumbled with a chuckle. "Is business usually this good at this time of day?" Darunia chuckled wryly, an equally dry smile creasing his face as he drew his finger in circles on the bar. Fifteen gold... This was way too much. He'd have to skip the wine, he supposed. A real shame, too - he had no doubts that the fine object before him would be a great way to celebrate the new life before him. In fact, he was almost heartbroken over the fact that he would be missing such a great opportunity.

The wine within the bottle also looked pretty good, too, he admitted to himself.

"So, ah... Fifteen gold for all of that?" Darunia frowned. It was not a frown out of malice, nor was it one to elicit pity from the barmaiden. "I'm afraid that will leave me a bit closer to the position of a beggar than I'd like. Perhaps in the future, I'll have the chance to enjoy such a divine drink - Elven wine is quite lovely, after all." He chuckled again, his nerves tensing up just a little. Of course Elven wine would be expensive, it's an export for a reason. It had been forever since he had last been graced with a sip of wine from his own kind, but even he remembered their exquisite taste. They were most certainly not for the common tongue, after all. "Forgive me for wasting your time, but I'll have to settle for the rooms," Darunia apologized. He could probably find more suitable places to get a tool to defend himself with than here, anyways. Bottles made good weapons in a pinch, but he needed something that would help him out in several situations. Reaching into his purse and placing the five gold on the table, he shoved it towards the woman before him, using a single digit to push all of the coins in unison. Celebration would have to wait, it seemed.

Actions

Darunia shuts down the prospect of buying an entire bottle of Dancer and Prancer and pays the barmaiden five gold, leaving him with ten gold.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

The Drow blinked twice. Given the treatment he had received by the guards, he had half-expected the place to refuse him service upon stepping in. The woman didn't seem to be harboring any sort of hostility, and he could not perceive any sort of reason as to why this particular barmaid would have any ill will beyond his race... Yet he still felt the strings of caution fret at his mind. The only reason why he imagined this woman would be treating him with this kindness was because, as long as he was doing business, they couldn't care less if he came in here and murdered someone. A quiet sigh escaped from his lips as he skimmed over the menu. The options were quite overwhelming to the young Drow, and for a moment he felt some of the cause of excitement dissipate a bit. He drummed his fingers a bit on the bar, reading over everything to himself for quite some time... Wait a second.

"Rooms are 5 silver a night, you say?" Darunia coughed under his breath. Apprehension grasped at him, as he felt himself falter. Staying in one place for so long was such a foreign concept to him at this point that it almost made him afraid to even consider staying here through the morning. The Drow bit his bottom lip nervously, looking up at the barmaid, then back to the menu, then back to the woman again. How long should he stay? Should he even stay? He set the menu aside and rubbed his hands together in thought for a moment, tuning out the world around him. Asking people for things was something he would have to do if he wanted to rise for power, but being so vulnerable made the fairly young Drow feel great apprehension. Was somebody listening? What if one of HER lot was here somewhere in the bar? What if that gang had tracked him down and was lying in wait? What if somebody here was watching?

"Could I look into purchasing a room for 10 nights? A-As well as a bottle of that Dancer and Prancer, if it's not too much," Darunia slowly asked, a smile creeping onto his face. "Please," he added quickly.

Beneath an almost-forced smile, Darunia could feel his heart pound as he spoke. He could not for the life of himself figure out why that was, and it terrified him a little. There was no reason why he should fear this woman, or anyone in this tavern for that matter. He needed some time to collect his thoughts... Yes, that was it. Some wine to calm his nerves and commemorate his first steps in this new life, and a brief moment of mental rest to quell his doubts. Confidence would keep him on his feet, even if it would likely be just a hollow mask at some points. He'd seen some societies of non-Elves retreat to their homes after a particularly long and stressful day, simply to fall asleep. Such needs were beyond Darunia's kind: a simple self-reflection and contemplation on life was all that was needed in order to get what other races needed in several hours. Ironically, he was quite desperate for the relief of such at this moment. The road here had been long and harsh, especially in the harsh gaze of the sun.

D&D Fifth Edition: Land of the Old Curse

Mark

---

From the very moment Mark had wandered into the town, he was very, very sure that he would hate it here. The noise made it hard for the slapdash creature to focus, and the sheer number of people made it very difficult for him to tell whether or not someone was approaching with the intent to attack. Such concerns were always in the back of his thoughts since he had been with his creators, and while he had learned that such behavior would not be commonplace in the city, he still had yet to convince himself of this. Another thing he hated was having to talk to people. He preferred to get to the "important" part of most interactions. With his creator, that was getting Mark fixed up. With the common rabble, it was to flash his weapon and warn them that they were trespassing on private property. With brigands, the important part was culling their numbers and sending one off to advise the others not to endanger the Stormhammer family again. He would have to ask somebody at some point a few questions, if he wanted to achieve the goal that had been set before him, and given how dull his creators were... The Warforged imitated the sound of sighing, not having the lungs to do so. This was going to be a very troublesome mission, this one. A warm surge caused his eyes to glow gently as he remembered the goal that had been set before him.

"Yer gonna find my daughter, Marina. Yer gonna bring 'er to me. And yer gonna make sure nothin' like this ever happens again."

Of course, however, being a greenhorn to the act of information gathering - well, gathering information from those who aren't bleeding profusely or suffering from broken bones - Mark had no real place to start. What good is it to go to a bar and exchange a few drinks when you have no need for the liquid? Why go to an inn when you require no sleep? "How u'erly pointless," Mark complained to himself. His thick, Dwarvish accent was a reminder of his creator's rather macabre decision to base Mark's voice off of his father's. Mark's eyes scanned the town, as he tried to figure out where a good congregation of people would be. The crowd gathering in the middle of the town had caught his attention, but even a fool would be able to see that they were enthralled by something. Questions would have to wait. Shoving past a group of people, he nudged his way to the front, very curious to see what the matter was. To see what had attracted the attention of those who had decided to gather around. Silently, he watched as the processions occurred, up until the moment that the lever was pulled and the 'Whiteheath Witch' was executed. Specifically, when the reveal was made that this person was not who they appeared to be. With a muffled whir, the Warforged placed a hand on his chin, the gesture that his creator had often performed when something curious or unfavorable was placed before him. Something about this business didn't sit right with him. Had they mistakenly executed someone who was supposed to be this Whiteheath Witch? A dull stream of thoughts suddenly popped up into Mark's head: Could Marina Stormhammer have been here? Could she have been executed prior, under a similar guise of magic? Was Marina being held captive by the Whiteheath Witch?

A course grunt escaped from Mark's voice synthesizer. What a bothersome chore this assignment was turning out to be.

Once things had calmed down a little, he was going to have to ask some questions. He was unsure as to how well immediately consulting those responsible for the execution would go as well. For now, he would simply have to sit back and wait, perhaps coming up with a more water-tight plan that wasn't "ask random people that he sees." As if on cue, he noticed the group approaching the body. If he could, a small smirk would have escaped from the mouth of the Warforged. Several heads worked better than one, after all. He approached the bunch in front of the body and placed hand to chin again, carefully looking over the body. He needed to figure out if there were any more secrets this woman was hiding...

Actions/Rolls

Mark approaches the body and attempts to examine it via a Medicine check, hoping to specifically gather any sort of information on wounds that may have been inflicted prior to the execution proper.

1d20+Wisdom Modifier(1)

Result:9

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

Darunia grinned at the snide remark. "Clever one, aren't you?" Darunia responded. "Sadly you'd have to pull more than that to get under my skin... Very well, then. I suppose I'll follow you two." They say that greed can drive a man to do many things, but it takes a honeyed tongue to guide the path. Clearly, Darunia's tongue was a bit lacking today. Regardless of who was taking him anywhere, he needed to go inside. These two could threaten to kill him at his destination, and he'd still be just as willing to follow them as long as it meant staying out of the painful rays of the sun.

On the bright side, he had at least learned something from this chance encounter. All of the guards he had seen thus far looked young, and if there's one thing that Darunia was aware of more than anything else, it was that age was a good sign of experience. These ones looked to be incredibly young. In the future, he might need to make use of this lack of experience. On the flipside, he also presumed that this little incident of his would not go unnoticed. He was not too sure about how much stock would be put into the words of these recruits, but he would have to be cautious if it spread. Immediately burning the bridges of the common guard was no way to start a new life in a new town, especially when he had as little as he did.

At his destination - the Drunken Dragon, according to the sign outside - he paid the two guards a very brief and tired glance. After all, this was something he could have done himself, he supposed. For the time being, he needed to sit down and take in everything that had happened so far. He sat down at a table by himself, taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes. The harshness of the light outside was so unbearable... Darunia could still feel his eyes burning despite walking inside. He needed to collect himself for a moment. The long travel here had fatigued the Drow, especially due to his disdain for the sun. He began rubbing his face furiously, as he began to hatch a plan for what his next move would be.

Obviously the first step would be to secure a place to sleep. He wasn't too sure how high the cost was to live here, and given his status as a Drow, he could ensure that a place to live would come at a much steeper cost than normally. Coin was not the only way to inflate the price of a home, as Darunia was very well aware. What sorts of places would be free for him to use as his own? Try as he might, Darunia realized he was simply too tired to rack his brain right now for an answer. He needed to just come up with a bare bones idea of his goals, and he'd have time to sketch them out further at dusk. His next plan was to get something to protect himself. All he had was a very distant surge of arcane energy he could manifest, but even that was something very convoluted in the mind of this Drow. Mastery of this technique, referred to as the creation of "dancing lights," was something that was typically taught to those who serve the matriarch of Drow clans. To master this technique was to ensure one's place in righteous servitude, avoiding the often-deadly label of uselessness.

Maybe taking the old hag's altar wasn't such a good idea, in retrospect.

He knew that he likely stood little chance in actual combat against the men and women in this town. Much like how he had seen this place as an area of opportunity, he was also aware that there was always a bigger threat than he. Men and women who were stronger, smarter, and quicker than he was. Darunia gritted his teeth in aggravation. Nothing has changed! After a moment of reflection, he sighed. Of course nothing was going to change immediately. He had to give himself time to grow, and learn. He had to become better, and it would take time. All he could do for now, though, was come up with a plan.

A sigh escaped his lips, as he rubbed his face. This was getting to be too much for him right now. He was frazzled and tired. Perhaps a drink would help. In fact, Darunia decided to take the opportunity to make this a positive experience. He could call this a drink in celebration of his new life, and of a potentially new home. Darunia approached the bar cautiously. A single misstep could have potentially disastrous results, in a literal and figurative sense. "Excuse me," he said, with as jolly a smile as a tired and mildly pained Drow can construct, "I was wondering what you had in terms of drinks, as well as the rates on your rooms."

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

A very dry smirk crossed the Drow's face as he could sense the two forms approaching. Of course taking the first step into his journey would not be as easy as... well, taking a step. With the sun beating down on his face, he clenched his teeth and held a hand over his eyes, squinting them to further reduce exposure. The sun always put him in a foul mood. What good was it for aside from growing crops? Civilization has created substitutes for its other purposes, so why have they not made it obsolete yet?! Darunia sighed, shaking his head. "Do you always ask redundant questions of those who come to your city?" He asked. "I am a traveler. I travel. What more is there to it that you wish to know?" Speaking in such a tone was, he knew, not very likely to push any sort of idea of friendliness to the group before him. The sun's overpowering glare made it quite hard for him to try and converse while making eye contact, and while he could put up his hood, he was sure that these two rapscallions were simply looking for a fight. The flap of a hood would be all it would take to send fists flying. At least, that's what most of his experiences taught him.

Of course, he knew that they were really after why a Drow was lurking around here in the first place. Quite frankly, he was none too sure himself. Such an answer would not satisfy a guard, if experience had taught him. This was going to be his first chance to make an impression in the city, and, while he couldn't get a solid grasp on the precise ages of the guards, they appeared to be quite young. He considered the most hassle-free way to deal with this scenario... He wasn't too keen on spending his money so soon into his trip, but it seemed like it couldn't be helped. "Perhaps we can make an exchange," Darunia quickly proposed. Fishing out two gold coins and flashing them to the guards, he forced a smile. "I need to get someplace to stay for at least the next morning. Should one of you escort me to the nearest inn, I promise I will make it worth your time." He was not a charmer by any stretch of the word, but he was left with no choice. Begging and sniveling not to be assaulted by these young guards... A flicker of anger flared up in Darunia. He would have to let this pass. Just this once.

Actions/Rolls

Darunia pulls out two GP to both hopefully defuse the situation, and to gain some guidance as to where he would be able to stay.

Making a Persuasion Check: 1d20+Charisma Mod(3)
Result:4

(hoo boy)