The Large Dumbo

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

"Do forgive my inquisitiveness," Darunia said, as he looked at the Elven wine. Five silver still seemed a bit much... Ah, well. He placed another gold piece down onto the table before grabbing and slowly sipping on the drink. Though he hadn't had an inclination for alcohol in quite some time, this was a night of celebration. He set the glass down for a moment. Perhaps he should investigate the Underdark. It seemed like it may be his best shot in... wherever this was. While he was at it, it may be in his best interest to prod some of the miners should any of them be around. Of course, he had ten days to get adjusted. He needed to find the most efficient routes to and from all of these places he would be doing business at while he was on the surface. Darunia took a slow sip from the glass, forming a mental list of objects he needed to gather hastily.

The first thing he needed, for sure, was a map of the town. Navigating by himself and finding places to loop around and throw off any potential harassers may prove to be very useful in extending his stay here. It would also help him figure out where the proper residential areas were, as well as the mines. These places would be very key to his survival.

The next thing he needed to grab were some weapons. He trusted the guards here about as far as he could throw them; they were novices, inexperienced. Troublesome, even. If he was going to navigate the city, he needed to gather something that he could use to protect himself. A slender blade, like the one he had practiced with so long ago, would work, but he knew those were terribly expensive... Arms like what the guards were using would suffice.

Finally, he needed to grab some protection. The tatters he was wearing were good for fending off the cold, but cloth would do very little against a blade to the gut. He could try to steal some... No, that wouldn't do. He'd have to buy his own pair, or at least something that would give him even an ounce of protection. Maybe a shield? They were quite expensive as well... Darunia took another drink. How troublesome this process was turning out to be. He sat in silence until he finished the drink, at which point he stood up.

"I appreciate your helpfulness," Darunia said slowly. "I'm afraid I need some time away from the din of the bar... May I trouble you one last time to show me as to where my room is?" A bit of a mental break was all he needed before he could hit the streets of this city once more.

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

Quilrith winced as soon as she realized that this wouldn't be a peaceful discussion. Conflict was present everywhere int he world, but she had hoped she'd be able to avoid it at least for today. No matter, she thought to herself. At least she wasn't going to be fighting alone. In an instant, she retrieved her quarterstaff and swung it down as hard as she could to intercept the man's blow. Although she had missed her original mark, her blow struck true when she hastily readjusted her aim to injure the man's legs. A resounding crack could be heard as she broke the man's leg, watching as he collapsed onto the ground. Wincing a little, she withdrew her quarterstaff and held it at her side. Maybe she went a bit too far... The man probably wasn't a massive threat to her or the halfling. Maybe if she'd been a little lighter in her delivery, he would have gotten the point. In any case, though, the threat had been dealt with. A prideful, and somewhat relieved, grin crossed Quilrith's face as she looked down at her assailant. "I thought I said that you weren't going to do anything unless I say so," she pointed out, shaking her head. With a frown, she shot a glare to the man's compatriot. She doubted he was going to cause any trouble, but she was hoping this was enough of a clue to show him what a defender of the forest was capable of.

The battle now over, she looked over towards the others that had stood beside her. A Dwarf and a Gnome had come to the flutist's aid, a great display of luck in the terrible times behind her. She gave them a small smile and a quiet nod of appreciation, before crouching down to the Halfling's level. "Are you alright?" she asked, then paused for a bit. Quilrith remembered the man's accusation and shuddered. The rush of victory from disarming an opponent in a single blow had immediately disappeared, as a very uncomfortable quarter-smile appeared on Quilrith's face. "Did you... You didn't actually 'tupp' this man's wife, did you?"

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

Brawl at the Tavern
Initiative: 7

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

Quilrith frowned. Not even a proper night into the town, and things were already going sour. She didn't know who these two men were, or who this flutist was, but she could definitely feel the animosity against the small one. In times like these, she had always been taught to act on her instinct, and in this case, her instinct was to hopefully try and diffuse the situation. She stepped by the halfling, holding out her palm towards the brutes as if she were constructing an imaginary barrier separating the two opposing forces. Looking around, Quilrith could feel her courage falter a little, noticing the lack of assistance for the flutist. Perhaps she was making a mistake...

No, she was doing the right thing. If no one was going to stand up for this man, she had to. Steeling herself, she announced her intent to the two men. "You're not going to do anything unless I say so," Quilrith warned. Even if the Halfling had "tupped" one of the wives of the two men, it wasn't up to these two to declare judgment on this man. Hopefully her words would scare the men straight enough to at least quell their anger, so everybody can be heard out.

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

Quilrith Vambash ran a scaly hand across her forehead, rubbing it as she sat against a wall at the docks. Boats were very much a new experience for the young dragonborn, and the constant motion of the sea against the hull disoriented her. She planted her quarterstaff into the ground and tried to steady herself, watching the ground. Quilrith began to sweat a little, concentrating hard on keeping down her lunch. After a few minutes to regain her composure, she finally felt like she was standing on solid ground. Looking around, the gravity of the situation she had found herself in sank in again. Patting at her pack, she felt the letter left by her father. What should be a negligible burden to anyone else had become a hefty weight to her. The letter, which must have been drafted at least ten years ago by Quilrith's guess, spoke of an unseen threat to her family. Something beyond the comprehension of her father. Something beyond her own comprehension. She would have to conquer this threat if she wanted to reunite her family, she presumed, but in order to do that, she had to know what the threat even was in the first place. Her father took no expense to elucidate this enemy to his children, something that concerned Quilrith greatly. Perhaps it had to do with those bandits that attacked that night? Of course not. If her father was involved, there was no way the rest of the clan wouldn't be involved. She'd already considered the possibility several times, but the thought stuck to her mind on a frequent basis.

Clearing her throat, she closed her eyes for a moment and rotated her fingers on her forehead once more. Finally, her sea sickness had departed... She hadn't been alone in this having been the first trip on a boat, it seemed. Several of the people who were filtering throughout the docks looked like they had yet to get their sea legs. Quilrith, for just a brief moment, contemplated whether or not anybody in the crowd could read minds. She envied them; watching all of these people and seeing so many faces made her curious as to what everybody was doing here. Of course, there was the promise of riches definitely played a role in their decision to come here, but she wondered how many of them had a secondary purpose, like her. Who was here to visit a loved one? Who was here to prey on those who had arrived with visions of grandeur? Who was here to explore the untamed lands? Who here had some obscure and strange reason to come here? She decided to guess which one of those categories everybody fell into as she walked past them to the Tavern. Quilrith wasn't quite interested in whether or not these were true, she just thought it would make a fun little game to pass the time as she tried to navigate through the crowd.

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.