I love it! 

Nomad, check you PM's! 

By tomorrow. 

i've already started working on update posts for Cas, Soren, and Bory, and I should be posting updates between 9pm-11pm EST on Friday. 

You lot are all fantastic. 

Impulse - Totally fine with that the performance fix, great job! And yes, you can take some minor lierties with the NPCs, but if you have any questions PM me, it's the quickest way to reach me. And I agree, clearing up collab posts through PM looks way neater than ((these notes and comments)) which kind of break the narrative flow. Also, you're a great wordsmith, and your posts are going to reflect the time and energy you've put into your character. You know him so welll already, and I am excited to see how Karos steps into this. 

I am really happy with how things are going so far. You all are fantastic. 

Alrighy, everyone has their letters! posts due in a week, and we're off to a fantastic start! I can't wait to read them all! 

Just as he reaches the door to the forecastle, Maggie “Hellfire” Cole pulls the barrier open and ducks through, stepping out onto the main deck, her freckled face shaded by the broad brim of her hat.

Into the narrow hall she steps, her mood dark and tense and restless. At sight of Cracker, she lifts her head a bit higher, eyeing him with a fiery gaze. Her lips are set in a grim line, the strain of recent event stil set at her brow that's creased with thoughts darker than her mood. She leans to the side, stretches a long arm out, palm to the wood, to block his path. Head cocked, she regards him for a silent moment, and tries to puzzle out what that look on his face might be. 

"As I live'n breathe. So ye made it back, did ye? Fall into any trouble on yer way?"

((OOC: an exchange of minor pleasantries, I'm guessing, before getting to the point))

Maggie draws herself up and crosses her arms over her chest. For a single petulant moment, she half considers refusing the summons, just to see the look on his young face. the idea almost makes her smile - almost. How would he react, she mused, if she just went back into her quarters and locked it? She bites her tongue a bit too hard to keep from a chuckle and instead, she bows with an exaggerated "after you," gesture. She'll follow him to the Captain. No need to toy with thim for just doing as told. 

“Come!” Captain Cole’s sharp command pierces the red-painted door almost immediately after the knock sounds.

Stepping through to the relatively large room, the first mate and boatswain stare across the seemingly extended and long space between the door and the captain’s desk to where the older of the Coles is sitting imperiously with her fingers steepled before her shadowy face.

“Bosun,” Anne snaps. “Yer dismissed.”

“What in the name of all nine hells,” Anastasia doesn’t raise her voice; there’s no tremor of rage either. She’s cold where Maggie runs hot, but there’s no mistaking her mood, “are ya doin’ killin’ officers o’ the city?”

"I be jus' fine, thanks fer askin," Maggie snaps back, fire rising to meet her ice. "I didn't set foot on that cursed rock wi' th' intent to do them in, and it weren't no picnic, i can prome ye tha'. Or had it not occured to ye to think I might have been forced to it?"

((OOC: A few back and forth remarks complcated by the bonds of sisterhood)) 

when they stop a moment, and there's a break in the talks, Maggie throws herself into a chair, a leg over the arm, and lets her head fall back, hat falling to the floor. She doesn't bother with it, but reaches up to pnch the bride of her nose. "Look. I be truly sorry fo rwhatever fresh hell this send our way. But you asked for it, so I'll tell it ya plain...."

And she does. She shares with her sister the details of all that transpired the moment she stepped foot on dry land, leaving nothing out, embellishing nothing. She doesn't see any reason to shave a bit here or there, aand knows Anne will see past her rashness to the facts as Maggie presents them. And her dander rises again recounting that bitter old man in the dress shop, who only had to but giver her a damned dress. She tells up to the moment of seeing Cracker before her in the passage, and closes her eyes. 

"An' I didn't come to ye straightaways because I jus' needed to get me head straight again or else all we'd 'ave done is fight and squak at each other like two mad ol' hens."

(OOC: Assuming thr conversation eventually gets back to the task Maggie had been assigned)

Maggie raises her head and frowns, watching her sister. "Aye, I got some o' that done. Though, bein' fair, not a whole hell of a lot." And she proceeds to lay out for Anne all she was able to glean about the physical layout of the island, what litle she got before things went sisdeways. 

"Next time i go ashore, might do to have a change of clothes, after all. And as hateful an idea as I find it, parading about as washer woman might not be too terrible. in terms o' gettin' more better aquainted wi' the lay o' th' land, as it were. But maybe after a bit, when they're not roustin' up the womenfolk lookin fer me?" She laughs joylessly, with a bitter edge to it. 

((OOC: Assuming a resonse of some kind, if not, she'll rise and wander the room in search of a drink.))

"I won't lie," she murmurs, turning to look at her sister. "Fear comes in many flavors, and today I tasted a new one." Taking a long pull on the bottle she lowers it and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "so what's our next move?"

my post cometh on the day of the camel, matey. Promise. 

1. New update schedule: Fridays I will be updating. Not this Friday, obviously! Next friday I will update.

2. you'll be getting a letter from Lys (or Haradaya, lookin at you Bory ) and you can post before you get the letter or wait till after. your call. 

3. Thank you again for beeing so patient with me

"Ghostwood waslittle more than a glorified logging camp but a few years ago," Lys explained as a gentle breeze danced across the meadow. "When we recieved a request for representation, we were skeptical. Still, the opportunity to help others and to enrich the lives of those with whom we share this world gave us reason enough to send out a delegation to investigate."

Here, she pases, and dips a hand into the clear cool waters of the pond. "They fell upon hard times and it is widely believed they did not arrive. To be fair, the emissaries we sent were still green, and it seemed...such a harmless task. We sent another team to investigate their disappearance, for we were not even able to recover their bodies. We found only the remains of a necromancer's hovel nearby, at the Runis of Ilis. Not even our strongest Diviners were able to ascertain... well, you get the picture, surely."

"I suppose you went as far as asking the Arcaren?"

Lys lowers her head, and her eyes cloud and sting with held-back tears. "I went, and I spoke with the Whisper of the Hand of Order herself," she managed, her voice small and quiet. "and in doing so I may have set my sister upon the way that led to her death. After I spoke with the Arcaren, I asked Lya if she might, after tending to another matter, stop at Ghostwood herself. I thought, given her affinity for nature, she might have more luck. I thought perhaps her ability to tap into the memory of the land could aid us."

"Her talents were impressive, I admit," the druid chuckles softly, gently, but the unfolding tale of his friend's demise worries him for several reasons that he keeps to himself, for now. 

"Indeed, nature possessed her soul, i believe," Lys replies wistfully, and there is a moment of silence that passes between them. "The official investigation was over, and there was no rush. I only felt the families of those lost would want closure that we could not provide. Lya agreed to look into the matter once she had freed the children from the Arcaren threat, and I returned to my duties with a lighter heart."

"But she never made it to the Gaeleris temple."

"No, and we lost those children, and we lost Lya."

"Years have passed, my friend. Why now? Whhy must you reopen these wounds again after time has done what it could to close them?"

Lys stares at her hands, the folds of her robes. For a moment, she closes her eyes and pictures Lya in her mind, and with her, the echoes of the cries and sounds that still haunt her dreams. "Because of a thing I heard as she died. It may be little. it may be of no consequence whatsover, but I swear upon my faith that I heard someone mention "the other ones," and another spoke  of Ghostwood. And I can no longer sit on these theories and wish them away."

Haradayan ods and passes her a bit of bread and cheese. "If it were truly the Arcaren, are you not worried for your own safety? Or that of your sisters?"

Lys nods. "I do worry. Which is why I will not be going myself, but rather, I would like to... i would like to send a very select few to look into this matter further. I have several people in mind, but none of them have the connection to the natural world that you do, and so I must ask..." and now Lys looks up, tears streaming down her facce, "will you help me in this endeavor?"

Time passes, and the silence that carries it weighs upon her heart. "I fear I am too old now for such adventures," he replies gently. "But I know someone who might be just what you need. Allow me to send word to him at once."

Lys rises and looks up at the sky, a frown marring her features briefly. The day has gotten away from me, she muses. "As you wish, my new old friend. Should he agree, this one in whom you place such trust, have him meet us in Watertown, at Halfred's Bake Shoppe. He must ask for Girta'a. I  must go, there are others to contact."

Haradaya rises as well, and extends his arms. tHough she towers over him, his embrace is all-encompassing, and soothes the raw parts of her exposed by sharing her story. without another word, she returns to the tree and steps into it, through it, to emerge back in her suite at the temple in Watertown, to begin crafting her letters. 

I really am sorry for the delay. Part two of the intro is coming, and I'll be adjsuting the due date to account for my delay. 

i should have the post up tonight or tomorrow. Chess, your feat is still in the works, and if i owe info to anyone else, PM me with a reminder please! 

Thank you guys for being so patient, you're all super and I can't wait to see what you all do  

Sorry, RL got me again, will have the post up soonish. I appologize for being so scattered the last week or so. My 2 year old is giving us a rough time of it lately, and I'm trying to manage life on 4 hours of sleep a day, and I'm not winning this battle. 

Appologies for the short post, RL has be over a barrel and I wanted to get something posted before I get overrun again. Also, I need to do a bit more research for this role! 

Tom Harris is the sailor manning the oars at this time of day and he looks up from the shell he’s inspecting with a bit of surprise when she calls to him to get the boat in the water. Scrambling to obey the fiery redhead, Harris drops the iridescent conch into the lapping waves and turns to heave the launch from its rest in the sands. Maggie is quick to set her right hip to the starboard edge of the boat and roll her toned body up and into the lurching longboat where she plants herself on the foremost bench and pulls her coat up about her shoulders. Only when Tom turns the boat with the oars so that her back is towards the Dog and her eyes are able to easily scour the beach does she see the patrols she’s just missed stopping women and pulling them up to inspect.

“Enjoy yer time ashore, Miss Cole?” Seamus smiles.

Watching the distance between them, wind off the waterstirring her hair about her face as the patrols scurrying around rousting up women, a self-satisfied smirk twists her lips. "There be no place like home," she sighs, feeling herself relax a bit. 

Reaching the Dog, Maggie ascends the rope ladder and moves past Chimwemwe without a word, heading for her cabin and the relief that it holds.

But once inside, the confines of her cabin feel too close, and she pasces, her energy building. nothing satisfies her. not the bottle of rum stashed in her bunk, or the peace of being finally off that wretched rock. She takes only a few moments to assemble herself, to make sure she's presentable and fearsome once more, before storming out and off in search of her sister. What happened back there may well have inuntended consequences, and the Captain will need to know. Better from her own lips, than from a too quick lawman if they start searching ships. 

Still waiting on characters, and RL derailed me from providing some inportant details to a few people. I'll be catching up on all of that over the next few days, and will post the adventure intro on April 1. Everyone will have one week to post, and I will update every sunday, fates allowing. 

With her dreams of finding a suitable disguise dashed, Maggie races past the ladies in the back and bursts out the door like a force of nature. Beneath the awning, she pasuses in the shade to get her bearings. The sea calls to her, sending her its beloved scent on the breeze. Taking another precious moment, she secures her weapons before taking off to her left, towads the safety of the sea. With her feet pouding the ground rapidly, she pushes herself farther, faster, almost flying. 

She knows people will turn and stare, thart some will whisper and point. She doesn't care. She just wants the ship back beneath her feet, wants to just put some distance, and with it perspective, and move on. And deal with whatever her sister has in store for her. While she runs, she works out what exactly went down, and the many ways this may have affected the upcoming work they hoped to find here, and the ways in which it might actually help them. And wouldn't that just be an unintended bonus if that turned out to be the case. 

Ahead, she could see the masts and sails of the ships in port, and a heavy weight lifts from her chest. Something inside her relaxes, just a little, and she scans the horizon as she races towards them, looking for her ship, her home, her world. She can't wait to throw herself down onto her bunk and decompress after this mess, and heaven help anyone who might stand in the way of that. But she knowsit wont be that easy, and she knows she won't get that chance for a while. 

It's not till she's in sight of the longboats that she feels truly back in control of herself. And once aboard, the uncertainy and fear she'd felt is gone, leaving those around her to bear witness to the walkngmaelstrom that is Maggie Cole. 

We have a Chessicfayth joining us! This will bring the party to 5, and full. 

I'm going to be busy with the fam this weekend, so please forgive any delays in getting back to you about things. 

OMG I CANT WAIT TO GET STARTED! I am so excited to see everyone in action! 

I'll have a post up tomorrow! Tonight's laundry and house-cleaning and possibly givin my mountain troll of a cat a bath... 

Over the next few days, be looking for PMs from me with important info regarding your backstories! I am really into everything you all are putting together! 

And I've added some additional info on some of the Divines, including an alignment disclaimer. More will go up slowl thoughout the day and over the weekend. As always, if you have any questions, drop me a line and we'll talk! 

my husband was playing a gnome monk, and since he was so short his favorite go-to attack was nut-punching all the bad guys! 

There's an arena in Port Sacrifice that's used for training by the city soldiers. Once a week, they host Amateur Night, where civilians are encouraged to fight against the best and boldest of the soldiers. There's also the Weekly Invitational, where select civilians are invited to try The Ladder - a civilian starts with a single enemy combatant and, if successful, moves on to a second tougher one. When all single opponents have been defeated, they move on to 1v2, 1v3, 1v4, etc. Nobody has ever made it past 1v5. 

There's a fighting pit in Watertown owned and operated by a group of contract mercenaries/bounty hunters that's open to the public and used to recruit the best. The pit is usually running three days a week. 

There's an arena in Ahl-Jhian, shared by several groups, that is open 6 days a week. (They need a day for scubbing out the blood and sweeping out the loose teeth) and is, for the most part, open to anyone. THere are some restrictions, based on whhat group has the arena that day. 

In general, life in Khadask is harsh and often brutal and depressing, and there are two travelling circuses. They end up trading performers and helping each other out with info on where best to stay, what to look out for, ideas for adding stops, etc. They work well together, and the people are always glad to see them roll into town. They definitely have monks. 

Hope the info is of use! I'd be happy to see any of those characters! 

I think so? Possibly? And thanks for getting that posted up. I also added a post for any sketches you might want to add, Eol  

Alright, peeps! Head on over whenever you like to post your characters into the Q&A! 

Originaly, I had said I was looking for 4, but I am good with 5, since I am pretty sure Chess wants to play?

So we have Nomad, Impulse, Ayrn, Eol, and possibly Chess?

Watertown, 1:23am

Robed and hooded, a lone figure sits outside a bakery, a steaming mug before her on the table, beside a paper box tied with twine. In these early pre-dawn hours, there is a special kind of peace to be found here, before the pubs and taverns force drunkards, tourists, and ne'er-do-wells out into the streets to make their way back to their rooms and homes. The very air smells delicious here, and easily overpwers the stench of low tide that wafts inland from the docks. One can hear the deep booming baritone of Halfred within, singing opera as he moves about his ovens, joined by the voices of Girta'a and Uula'a, his half-orc daughters. The figure chuckles as the song devolves into shrieking and laughter, and Girta'a bursts from the door to join the person at the table, face and apron, and mostly everything, covered in flour. 

Youthful and bright, with a figure already growing into her heritage, Girta'a sits, and props her feet up on another chair, a wide tusked smile creasing the flour on her face. "I know this looks bad, but you should see my sister," she chuckles. 

Her companion lowers the hood, revealing a woman, face shielded by a delicate and ornately painted porcelain mask. With a quick glance, you might think it an actual face, how masterful the art. She reaches out, places a pale hand on Girta'as. "Oh, I can believe it, my dear. I am glad to hear you all getting on so well together now."

"I can't thank you enough, Lys. Papa and Uula'a and I, we just... After mother died, I didn't think we would ever come together again as a family. I didn't think there was any way to fix things again. but... we're okay now. I think we made it through the worst of it. Thank you."

Lys laughs lightly, shakes her head. "i did nothing but offer good people a chance to find their way out of a dark place, You and your family did all the hard work. Look, I brought you something for Uula'a." She pulls back her hands to slide the tied box across the table. "Please, don't open it here. My appologies that it took so long to acquire."

Gairta'as eyes widen and she sits up attentively. "You risk too much," she chides her friend, but her hands move to the box all the same. Quicckly, the half-orc rises, taking up the box. And from the corner of her eye, she notices a figure approaching. "Forgive me, Sister," she adds, louder now. "I will return with your correct order. I must have had flour in my eyes, or something. One moment." Behind the mask,  Lys smiles as her young friend disappears back into the bakery. 

There is a tense moment as Lys takes the steaming mug to her lips and imitates sipping at the beverage. When she sets the mug down again, another has joined her at the table. The stranger says nothing, but takes the mug in a gloved hand and drinks it fully, before setting the empty vessel back down. 

"Well met," offers the stranger. "It appears the fine weather will hold."

"It would appear so. Though a living storm might clear away ill winds."

Silence passes as the two visibly relax a bit. Girta'a returns, placing a fresh box on the table. She offers a polite nod to Lys. "May you find joy today in all you do," she whispers with a wink, and is gone again. 

The stranger sighs and reaches for the box. with deft fingers, the twine is undone, and lifting the lid reveals fresh baked pastries, still warm. A frosted donut is selected and shoved into an eager mouth. "ohmahgah," he mumbles around the mouthful. "Halfred's is the absolute best. I simply must get Emrick here one day."

Lys' smirk is unseen. "your husband has a bit of a sweet tooth, and a bit of a weak will. I'd wager you'd lose half your fortune to a single trip," she teases, before sitting up straighter and leaning in. "Bring you word from Ghostwood?"

It takes a few minutes, but the stranger does respond. From within his cloak, he withdraws a single rolled parchment, which he slides across the table towards her. "I do, but none of them good. Our mutual friend is in grave danger, and there are no signs of the other. I fear the worst, and so should you. I trust you to see this through."

Lys nods, slipping the parchment into the folds of her lavender and periwinkle robes, rises from the table. She hoods herself once more and gives a bow. "Give me three days," she whispers, and sets off towards the docks to take Bermund's ferry back to the Temple. 

Deeper Wilds, 5:32am

As Lys stepped out from heart of the mighty oak, she raised a hand to shield her eyes and looked around. From Lya's notes, she'd become lost in the Deeper Wilds and broken had been found by the wise old druid, Haradaya. Though she herself had never met him, Lys hoped he would aid Lya once more, even if that help came six years after Lya's untimely death. 

You mean her murder, hisses the voice of Lyr, her older sister. instinctively, Lys lowers her head for a moment, and focuses on closing off her thoughts. She can feel Lyr and Lyn object, but there is no need for them to be involved in this. Moving lightly, she followed the ghost of a memory that wasn't hers, to find a place she remembered without ever having been there. 

It didn't take long to find the pool in the meadow where Lya would sit with Haradaya. He was there, even now, Lya's shared memory stood in his place, and as she approached, Lys removed the hood, revealing her mask. 

"Please, do not be alarmed," she offered gently. "I am the sister of Lya, whom you cared for before her... before she left us."

Haradaya nodded, and watched as Lys removed her mask. Haradaya stared into her true face, and knew Lys to be the sister he had heard much of years ago. "I must admit, I never did think you'd come. But I'm glad of it. It's a little bit like having her here."

Lys chuckles joylessly. "i wish our sisters felt the same. We speak to each other little, see each other less, but for what we share. Lya's absence is still deeply felt. Though it warms my heart to meet someone whom she held in such high esteem and cared so deeply for. And I am afraid I must ask you, may I call upon that friendship now, in a time of great need?"

"Of course. But first, would you.. How... how was her end?"

They sat beside the water, two old friends only just met, and she told him of her passing, how the final moments had splashed across her vision, and because he had asked, she spoke honestly. As she told of the things they saw, the sensations felt,  conversation turned naturally to the task at hand, when she shared the reasons Lya had left for Ghostwood. 

Astryliene - The Living Storm

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