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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Well, (much to Adrian's chagrin, I'm sure)...
...Jal seems to have an abundance of spells that would be conducive to deception and sneaking about - Invisibility, wraithform, spiderclimb, etc... Geez, but could I get creative with a handful or two of these. 
By the by, Al, Jal will more than happily cast invisibility on Dapple and Char if they wish... heck, he'll even feather fall or fly them off the cliff if they want. 
Posted on 2007-01-24 at 19:32:00.
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Topic: Vote for the Inn
Subject: So...
...that means no more "I didn't see the link" excuses! Get out there and vote people! Free faclick on the person of your choosing for the next 10 RDINN members to hit that link.  
Posted on 2007-01-24 at 16:21:27.
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Topic: The Tides of Fate Q&A
Subject: Pity my left.....um... eye!
I'm still interested cuz I wanna cut somethin' in half with that durned saber! 
I'm in and the only pity I feel is for those that get in our way. 
Posted on 2007-01-24 at 16:04:45.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Y'know...
...I actually thought about that wehn I had Dash order that drink and wondered about it, myself. The way I figured it was that while Wyatt's probably trying to "clean up" he may be prone to taking a little nip on occassion but nowhere near as "dependant" on the stuff as, say, when Sam first met him... Your choice, of course, Brom (Wyatt is yours after all)...If you decide he's completely sworn of the sauce, I'll edit that last so that Dash brings him a coffee or a coke or something. Dash is a yukker but he wouldn't bring his "best friend" a glass of hooch if said friend was trying to stay "dry".
Posted on 2007-01-23 at 11:57:13.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: Last movie...
Hmmm... the last movie I actually went to see in a theater was Jet Li's Fearless, I believe. Pretty good flick if you don't mind subtitles and whatnot... Jet's always fun to watch.
Now, on DVD is another matter entirely... It just so happens that I watched Nanny McPhee just yesterday. Surprisingly enough, it was thoroughly entertaining if a bit predictable.
Posted on 2007-01-22 at 19:51:39.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: We do have shuttles! Cool!
I'm not sure why I assumed that we didn't but it is good to know otherwise, thanks.
Blammm - as far as Asher ordering milk, you're right, Sam probably is used to that; however, Sam bein' Sam, he's probably prone to razzin' the Kid about it, anyhoo.
P.S. Thanks for the kudos... right back at ya.
Posted on 2007-01-22 at 19:30:58.
Edited on 2007-01-22 at 19:31:57 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Argh! I keep forgetting to ask...
...and I'm not even sure if mention has been made of it but does Rocinante have any shuttles? I've been going on the assumption that she doesn't but would like to make sure.
Might not hurt to post a "character sheet" for our beloved boat, eh?
Posted on 2007-01-22 at 19:16:36.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Aaaaand one more li'l sumthin'...
Just cuz I wanted to see 'em all together.
Voyages of Rocinante Wallpaper (?)
Posted on 2007-01-22 at 18:55:47.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: No jokes about the "colloquialism"...
...but yer nuts if ya think Sam's not gonna rib the boy about orderin' milk in a saloon.
By the by, I just added a Wyatt portrait to the collection (se pg 4, as usual)... It's not quite exactly where I want it, yet (still working on getting a hat worked in there and such), but it is up and ready for a peeky-peek!
Posted on 2007-01-22 at 18:31:15.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: *bites tongue*
“Milk?!” Sam’s expression went all befuddled at Asher’s choice of libation and he couldn’t help but snort out a laugh when the kid tried to explain his selection. “Ma’s gonna be right proud of ya, son,” he chuckled, shaking his head and clapping a hand on the Kid’s shoulder.
Sam smirked and nodded an affirmation to the barkeep; “Bring the boy ‘is moo-juice, I reckon. I’ll take a mug of whatever ya got on draught an’ slide me a whiskey, too… neat.” As the tender went about filling the order, Dash turned, leaned against the bar and let his eyes slide over room once more. It looked as if Wyatt and Griffith were getting their pleasantries out of the way and, much to Sam’s delight, he couldn’t pick out any other overly-recognizable faces in the seedy little canteen… Looks as if it’s gonna be smooth as the Kid’s milk, he grinned as his gaze tracked away from the Cap and found the guncheck girl’s inviting form, er that li’l doll’s belly.
“That’s half a platinum,” the bartender stated, setting their order on the bar and drawing Sam’s attention away from the ‘hostess’.
“A’ight,” he nodded, fishing in his pocket for one of the few platinum coins he had left. “There ya go,” he said, laying the thing down in front of the man, “go ‘head an’ keep it fer the next round.”
As the tender palmed the coin, Dash nudged the milk towards Asher, took up the beer and the tumbler of whiskey, and gave the seedy little saloon another quick once over. “Looks like everythin’s gonna be peaceable, Kid,” he said, offering Asher a wry smile and nodding in the direction of the gunchecker, “When yer done suckin’ on that cow’s teat, I don’ reckon the Cap’ll be none too offended if’n ya was to take a run at them-uns. I’m gonna take this ta Wyatt…”
Sam took a quick swig of his beer, wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, and worked his way across the room to where Wyatt stood talking to Griffith. “Cap,” he said, offering the tumbler full of whiskey to Wyatt, “figgered it’d do ya ta knock some dust off.”
He regarded Royale’s captain, then, and flashed a crooked grin. “What say, Grif,” he asked, not failing to eyeball the sizable stack of chips in front of the man, “Winnin’ enough ta patch that big ruttin’ hole in yer boat an’ pay Wyatt off, ta boot?” He took another swig of his beer, burped, and looked back and forth between the two captains, seemingly not concerned that he might have interrupted a conversation or breeched the debt subject prematurely… “Who inna gun was at th’ wheel when that mi tian gohn happened, anyhoo?”
((OOC: After the Kid ordering milk and such I couldn’t resist throwing up another post… ))
Posted on 2007-01-22 at 16:50:21.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Thanks, Van... :)
Now, perhaps, Jal may be a little less of a mystery, eh?
Finally got the little oddball caught up with current events, too. Looking forward to a little sneaking about and getting into trouble...
Posted on 2007-01-19 at 15:38:13.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: A new day... all caught up... :)
Jal awoke much sooner than he would have liked. His dreams hadn’t been torturous but neither had they been pleasant – they rarely were on those occasions when he let himself recall as much of his past as he had last night – and, in truth, the odd little mage was somewhat afraid of what the others might think of him now that they, too, had had a few quiet hours to fully absorb his revelations. Thus, when he awoke, Jal offered very little by way of good mornings or any other sort of conversation. While the others ate their breakfasts and tended to their individual morning rituals the spellbinder wandered away from the group (but not out of their sight) and paced a short circuit around the tumbledown waymeet speaking softly to the air. Most of what he said was scarcely loud enough for the others to hear but it was obvious, at times, that he was pensively calling for Wynter.
“I’ve upset her,” Jal mumbled, rejoining the rest of the party when he noticed that breakfast was done and camp was to be struck, “she won’t answer… she’ll come back…”
The mage fell into the routine of breaking camp and loading gear and made no further mention of it afterwards (not even as much as a hushed muttering into the air). Even as they traveled on toward their destination, Jal did very little speaking to the living or the dead and, in fact, seemed content for the most part to go without his cowl raised and enjoy the warmth of the sunlight. On occasion, though, his head did swivel about expectantly and search for any sign of his ghostly companion. She has been upset with you before and left you alone; she’ll be back, he told himself more than once. He wanted to believe it and, yes, Wynter had left him on occasion when Jal had ‘scared her’ and she had always returned before too long. Over the years, he had learned not to worry when she left and to apologize to the girl the instant she returned… but that was before he had seen those dark hands reaching for her… Stop it. She’s fine. She’ll come back.
Everyone, it seemed to him when he finally took time to notice, seemed to be a bit more cheerful for the sunlight and the warmth of the day. Even Dapple seemed a little less… severe… in this light. Strangely enough, by the time Char had found the cave in which they would hide their mounts, the difference in today’s weather as compared to the dismal conditions of the day before had lightened his own spirits enough that he almost made a joke about bears. He thought better of it, though, and allowed nothing past his lips but a faint smirk at his own unspoken attempt at humor. The morning had started out well, after all, with scarcely a suspicious glance cast in his direction. Why risk spoiling it?
The ascent was a bit more taxing on his strength than that of the other party members, of course, but Jal still managed it fairly well without calling on magic (this close to their objective, he thought it wise to conserve mana for when it might truly be needed) or too much assistance from the rest. He was glad, however, when the climbing came to an end and they found themselves on the outcropping overlooking the keep. Like the others, Jal took his turn at peering down upon the keep that was nestled in the gorge below and, as he had expected, it looked exactly as Gwanele’s illusion had indicated. After a cursory glance at the landscape below, the urchin-mage stepped back from the edge and found a spot to sit and rest his legs.
A faint smile crossed his lips, though the way his hair had tumbled over his features, most might have missed it. His magic may have been useless when it had come to sheltering this group the previous night and his overheard conversations with spirits may have been the cause of some misgivings amongst them but now that they were close… now they would be able to see that he was not as much a burden or a threat as some would like to believe… they would see that his magic was not flawed… Yes, I have spells that will be of great use here, don’t I, Wynter, he grinned.
He received no reply from the girl, of course, as she had yet to return from where ever it was she had run off to. Jal was still more than a bit worried about her but, at the same time, fairly excited about being so close to the keep. In an attempt to distract himself from his concern for Wynter and to help him focus on the tasks soon to be at hand, he unslung his pack and plopped it down between his feet before opening it and rummaging through its contents, making sure that all of his spell components were at hand and in order. It was then that he came across the odd compass that he had taken from the thri-kreen mage, again. After divining its use that first night, Jal had checked the thing at various times as they had traveled and noticed that his had always seemed to point vaguely in the direction that their path was taking them. Now, just to satisfy his own curiosity, the vagabond sorcerer checked the thing again and, not surprisingly, found that the needle was pointing unerringly at the Keep as if the building was magnetic north.
I thought as much, he nodded, getting to his feet and holding the compass out before him. “Look,” he said to the rest, holding the compass so that they could see its face, “the bug-mage’s amulet points at Lord Dwan’s target, as well… whatever magic lies inside must truly be powerful…”
((OOC: Good stopping point, I suppose… when it comes time to recon the place, Jal will offer to go along… he’s got plenty of “flawed magic” that should come in handy for sneaking about, deceiving, and surveilling… ))
Posted on 2007-01-19 at 15:35:41.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Backpost II... Nighttime at the Waymeet...
As he had promised, Jal did what he was able to in helping to shelter the horses and equipment once the party reached the ruined Waymeet and, after that was done, begrudgingly sought shelter inside the magical sphere that Valentine had conjured. Given recent confrontations with some and despite more understanding interjections by others, the urchin-mage had almost resigned himself to weather the evening with the horses rather than impose himself on the rest of the party… It had become obvious that he made many of them nervous at the least... He had decided, though, that to do so would be to invite even more distrust and possibly further sunder the already damaged unity of the group as a whole. Thus, Jal sought out a spot within the sphere of protection that was as far removed from the rest as could be found and remained quietly withdrawn while he pondered on how he would best be able to tell the others what it was they wanted to hear.
After a while, and after a few unsuccessful attempts at coaxing Wynter back to apologize for earlier letting his thoughts get the better of him, Jal sighed softly and finally lifted his gaze to meet Dapple’s. The rogue had been staring coldly at him since they had settled in under the sphere; it was obvious that the lad was still awaiting his explanation… His eyes panned slowly from face to face and, as Talas hunkered down near him, finally came back to Dapple.
“My name is not Jal Spellbinder,” he began uncerimoniously, wrapping his cloak about him as if the threadbare patches of the thing would keep him safe from his memories, “at least, it is not the name I was given by my parents… if I even have any… if they even cared to give me one…”
((For the sake of brevity and getting my in game posting caught up with “current events” I’ve posted Jal’s “bio” in the Q&A thread… the urchin mage will relate most of the info contained therein to the party at this point, in his own words, of course… … warning, Jal’s liable to get pretty darn emotional when it gets to the part about Wynter’s death… ))
“…and so, now you have all the answers that I can give, Dapple Moon, about how I know what I know,” Jal finished a bit later. Sometime toward the last portion of his tale, the Spellbinder’s voice had cracked more than once and he had retreated behind the tangled veil of his unkempt hair to hide the tears that had welled in his eyes, “unless, of course, there are naught but more questions you may have. Ask them if you will, dear boy, and I’ll… I’ll do what I can to answer…”
He swallowed hard, then, closing the shirt he had opened during the telling of his tale to show them his scars, brands, and tattoos before wrapping his discarded cloak around his shoulders again. “If you are satisfied, though, and your questions about me and my flawed magic are answered,” he rasped, “I shall bid you all good night. I find myself… tired… by all of this.”
With that, Jal let his forehead fall to his knees after hugging them closer to his chest, and tried to find the path to sleep. As Talas shifted his great bulk into a position sufficiently comfortable for sleep, the urchin-mage risked a glance at the big man who, in the short two days they had been out from Freegate, had become more of a friend to him than any living person since Wynter. “Thank you, my friend,” he whispered, “for not caring about my madness…”
((Aaaaand there’s the last of the backpost – unless of course anything more arises from it … Next post, catching up with where we be now…))
Posted on 2007-01-18 at 17:59:13.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Jal's history...
The man who now refers to himself as Spellbinder spent the earliest years of his life as a homeless urchin on the streets of Freegate and, like many others in his situation; he was forced to eek out a meager existence by resorting to the typical street-rat skill set of panhandling, picking pockets, and petty thievery. If he had ever had a family of any kind, he had no memory of them – not so much as a fleeting image of his mother’s face hovering over his crib – and, in fact, the boy didn’t even have a name of his own until, at the age of 8 or 9, he managed to pilfer enough extra coin from a loosely strung purse to pay for a reading from a Gypsy fortune teller who had set up a tent in the city’s bustling market. For a neat sum of 6 coppers, the gypsy woman was able to divine that the boy’s name was Jal (a moniker that, he would learn later, was little more than the gypsy word for ‘wanderer’), and, thus informed, young Jal returned to the streets a little happier than he had been moments before and with a little brighter outlook on his life. A name was a start, after all…
Now, firmly affixed with a name that he could call his own, young Jal was still set apart from his peers by a much better than average intelligence. While those urchins that he huddled with at night for warmth and safety were content to take their daily haul to the nearest fence and sell it for the first flash of coin, Jal was a bit more deliberate about the black-market trades that he would make. Should an open pack or cut purse render up something more than coin or baubles, Jal would keep the item in question close to him and, as he could read and write almost as well as any noble’s child, would spend quite a bit of time sneaking into libraries and researching his treasures, learning as much as he could about them before deciding which black-market hawk would be best to trade with for the particular item and, in pursuing those transactions, was not afraid to use the information gleaned from his study and research of the loot to haggle with the fence and boost his profit substantially by doing so. Things went well for Jal for quite a while until one of the aforementioned acquisitions happened to be a scroll case from the pack of a member of the cult of Iuz. Initially, Jal was successful in the theft and escaped with what he later determined to be at least part of the wizard’s spellbook. In fact, he might have eluded the wizard all together and made a nice, tidy profit from the sale of the scrolls but, as had become Jal’s way, he spent a great deal of time researching the scrolls – making trips to the library and referencing his own collection of pilfered tomes and parchments – trying to determine exactly what it was that he had. Really, if he had considered it at the time, he would have realized that he was spending an almost ridiculous amount of time on the scrolls… he couldn’t help it once he realized that he could actually decipher some of the spells and even, after a bit of practice, cast some very minor cantrips.
As fate would have it, Jal spent so much time pouring over the scrolls that their original owner eventually caught the young pickpocket in his own ramshackle hideout with the scrolls spread out before him, trying to make another spell work for him. For some reason still unknown to Jal, the wizard chose not to kill him outright (which was no small allowance for a follower of Iuz). Instead, the wizard “suggested” that Jal accompany him back to his tower where the urchin would receive a “proper education” in the arts arcane. Unfortunately, that education was not at all what Jal had been expecting. Rather than take him as an apprentice, the wizard used Jal as a slave and worse. Over the next few years, Jal was subject to the sorcerer’s whims and abuses, and the closest he ever got to practicing magic with the Devotee of Iuz was when the wizard required his blood as the component to some spell or if the wizard happened to run out of materials on which to scribe newly crafted or learned spells, the young urchin’s skin made for a handy tablet, didn’t it? Despite all of this, Jal still managed to gain somewhat of an education in the use of magic. Many times it was by sneaking out of his room and secretly observing the wizard but, just as often, he found lessons in the moldy and musty closet in the cellar of the tower that, until his arrival had served as a repository for the wizard’s “useless” tomes on magic – and, of course, he accompanied the wizard (as little more than the slave he was) on several of his travels. It was on one of these trips that Jal decided it would not be long before he would have to leave the wizard’s service one way or another.
The details behind this all are still fairly unclear, as it is something that the spellbinder is reluctant to talk about and, typically, the mere mention of the subject sends Jal off into what might appear to some to be gibbering insanity – if confronted with his past and/or mention of his master, Jal tends to withdraw into himself, muttering under his breath apparently talking to himself… In all actuality, when Jal gets like this, he’s talking to the “memory” of a miller’s daughter named Wynter. This girl – perhaps the closest thing to a true friend and true love that Jal had ever known – lived in a town not far from the wizard’s tower where Jal was trained and befriended the young slave/mage on one of his first trips into the town (Jal was tasked with gathering provisions while the Master went about more pressing business). Jal and Wynter became close friends over the years – a secret that the boy kept from his master, of course – and as they both aged, Jal came to believe that he loved the girl. Unfortunately, as seemed to be the case with many secrets he had tried to keep hidden from the Iuzian, the sorcerer discovered Jal’s infatuation with the girl… had even seen him enjoying himself in her company… and by way of punishment for the unauthorized dalliance, killed Wynter and her family. Jal literally went mad when he discovered the smoldering remains of the mill on his next trip to town and, upon returning to the wizard’s tower that evening, shuttered himself away in his room for the next two weeks, and, at the urging of Wynter’s voice – which now constantly whispered in his mind – spent every possible second of his time copying spells from the moldy tomes in his room and carving them into his flesh (spellbinding as Wynter called it) in preparation for his own escape. Nearly a month later, Jal’s opportunity presented itself. The wizard had retired to his rooms after casting a particularly draining spell and, while the Iuzian recuperated, young Jal gathered his meager belongings, slipped from his room and stole into the Master’s laboratory. With Wynter’s voice to guide him, Jal cast every spell scribed into his flesh at the center of the wizard’s lab… the results were cataclysmic… Jal remembers very little after that until he found himself wandering along a road that he didn’t recognize several days later… Wynter’s voice whispering in his head for him to “go home”… So it is that Jal Spellbinder spent the next several years traveling from one town to the next, existing as he could by hiring himself out when necessary – but only to those who did not expect him to use his skills for evil as he had seen his master do – and trying to find his way “home,” wherever that may be.
Bits added by the DM: It was some years later that Jal found his way back to Freegate, only then realizing that he had been taken deep into the Empire territory with his “mentor”. Vague recollections came to him in the streets and alleys and he found himself staying here in hopes to find something called “home”. His studies as a mage began again under the gentle and watchful eyes of the Mage’s Guild. There he has even taken lessons from the great archmage herself – Gwanele. So it has remained for a year now. Then just before the fall ended last year, you were encouraged by your ghostly companion to join a group of adventurers in dealing with an ogre problem to the North West. It was good to work in a group, but most of all you had the chance to unleash power like you never had before. After the winter, the call came again for another group, and you barely had to wait for Wynter’s urging to sign up again.
Posted on 2007-01-18 at 17:40:10.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Backposting -- Char and Adrian...
Surprisingly enough, it had been the ranger that approached him first. He hadn’t expected any of them to get within an arm’s reach of him after what had just transpired between them. Even more surprising was Char’s tone; instead of the venomous and threatening words Jal had expected, the woodsman seemed to be forcing himself towards civility.
"Th' cave'll no' do," the man said, actually reigning his horse in alongside of the urchin-mage close enough that his low voice could be heard.
“I know,” Jal mutterd in reply, “ and I am sorry. Had she told me of the bear, I’d not have suggested it.”
"Da waymeet be rubble an' I no' 'ave any luck findin' somet'in' proper." With a sigh, Char glanced back at where Valentine endured the weather. "So, if'n one er two o' you spellslingers'd kindly make somethin' dry an' warm where's we can' take 'r res'... I won' be objectin'."
“Would that I could, ranger,” Jal confessed, smiling weakly and almost hanging his head in embarrassment, “but, if there is such a spell scribed upon me, I don’t yet know which it might be or how to make it work...”
That’s not your fault, my love, Wynter offered reassuringly.
Jal’s ice-colored eyes shifted from the ranger and regarded the girl hovering on the opposite side of his horse and, at the sight of her, his smile warmed a bit. His gaze swung back to the ranger; “…I will, however, do what I can in helping to build a shelter.”
"… it will not be comfortable, but it will be dry,” Valentine’s voice sounded from behind them, “I can summon a small sphere of protection, fifteen feet in diameter…”
Of course you can, the Spellbinder sighed inwardly, trying not to let the battle-mage’s thinly veiled arrogance get under his skin, you’ve had proper training, haven’t you?
Jal knew that Adrian’s spell would likely be better received than the haphazard, shanty-style lean-tos that he had learned to make over the years of sleeping in alleyways and such. To that end, Jal offered the ranger a tight smile and a faint nod. “A shelter for the horses, then,” he muttered as the party formed up behind Arien’s already reatreating warhorse, “if not for the rest of you.”
It wasn’t much longer after that, once Char had galloped ahead to the front of the party and Jal had thought himself to be thankfully forgotten for the time-being, when Adrian decided to pull up alongside him.
"Why is it your magic is flawed, diviner,” the former Red asked in a voice loud enough to be heard by the rest, “When I decide to summon aid, or enhance my abilities, my magic never witholds from me."
Flawed!? Jal stiffened and his teeth clenched as he felt Valentine’s glare burning into him and, at the same time, several of the brands and tattoos on his slender frame prickled in anticipation. Of those, the one that worried Jal at the moment was the last spell that the Master had ever carved into his flesh – the one that, Jal was sure, had been used to kill Wynter. For one brief moment the urchin-mage almost allowed himself to fall into the spell’s calling… wished that he could decipher the formulae through the feel of it alone and then reach out, place his hand on the ex-Red’s sleeve, and watch the flames…
JAL!!! Don’t so much as think it! Wynter’s voice was terrified and, after her warning, Jal sensed that she had fled from the darkness of his thoughts…
"You may have them fooled with your voices, Spellbinder,” Valentine continued, now in a hushed tone meant only for his ears, “but any airborne familiar could have spotted the cave, missed the bear, and quickly told you. A priest of power equivilent to me can speak with the dead rather easily, and only a small dip into arcane magic would be required to summon your winged companion. Despite your sufficient use of color spray earlier, Spellbinder, I am so far unimpressed."
“Wynter is not a familiar, Red” Jal snarled through clenched teeth, “and I am trying to fool no one!!!” He returned Adrian’s glare, finding it difficult to mask the anger that he suddenly felt and doing his best to ignore the all too familiar tingling in his finger tips. “Furthermore, had I been told that part of this mission was to impress you, warmage, I certainly would not have petitioned Granitecrusher to be part of it!
You say that my magic is flawed and yet you seem to require your magic to speak with the dead. The dead follow me and speak to me unbidden, Imperial! There is no arcane manipulation necessary for me to see the spirits that saturate this world, nor talk to or summon them! Could it be, then, that your magic is just as flawed as mine? Maybe moreso, yes?
I imagine it is easy for you to be so condescending when your instruction in the arts came under the structured regimens of the Empire, though, isn’t it?” Jal’s voice rose with his anger. “Unlike you, I didn’t have the benefit of a teacher and was forced to learn the craft on my own by reading moldy tomes in the reeking hole where my Master kept me for the better part of my life, and by deciphering the spells that he carved into my flesh! Do not speak to me of flawed magic! Do not ever again speak to me of the dead as you just have! And, should you ever,” he jabbed a finger in Adrian’s direction, “EVER attempt to summon or otherwise use your skills on Wynter, Valentine, I swear to you that you will discover exactly how flawed my magic is!”
Shaking with anger and the fear of what he might do in its clutches, Jal put his heels to the mare’s ribs and galloped away from the former Red before he could say anymore and sought out the comfortably familiar spot alongside Talas. He imagined that Adrian would view this as hiding behind the big gladiator but Jal found that he really no longer cared overmuch about what Valentine might think.
((More coming soon... this is turning out to be quite the lengthy catch up session ))
Posted on 2007-01-18 at 16:09:12.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Covering some of that in a backpost, Van...
Both Char and Adrian have asked some questions that will probably bring about a couple of revelations and I had planned on having Jal, perhaps, try and speak to Dapple once camp was made (if that's okay with you, of course)...
Working on wrapping up a fairly lengthy post, atm, so you may have something to "work with" very soon.
Posted on 2007-01-18 at 14:48:37.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Keepin' on...
“No one is in there Captain! She’s locked up tighter than Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiou sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo.”
Dash glanced in the direction of the dock chief as the older man approached Wyatt and replied to the captain’s unspoken question regarding the crew with a curiously quirked brow and a faint shrug… We’ll be off ta th’ Idoru, I reckon, he thought, knowing that would be Cap’s next move.
His gaze drifted over Royale again, lingering on the destroyed thruster for a long moment… How in th’ hell do ya not miss a crybaby?... before panning the length and breadth of the dock. He had hooked his thumbs over his gunbelt and was pondering how even the dumbest of autopilot programs should have been able to avoid something that obvious when the Alliance patrol showed up. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and one hand drifted instinctually towards his iron as he nervously scanned each face in the patrol (he didn’t figure to find a familiar face among the group but, for some reason, he always expected it). At the same time, he had stepped back a pace or two into Royale’s shadow and positioned himself as to keep a wary eye on the Purple Bellies but keep himself out of their direct line of sight. Gorram it, Wyatt! Ya had ta go an’ put the rule o’ threes out there, din’t ya? He listened intently to the exchange between the Sergeant and he dock chief, mumbling something about the standard Alliance BS and politics as the soldier warned the chief against asking too many questions.
“C’mon, boys,” Wyatt said. “Time t’ see if’n ol’ Griff’s been sharin’ his luck, er if’n he’s sharin’ ours.”
Paranoia aside, it didn’t appear that the Alliance patrol had an interest in him; nevertheless, Dash made sure to keep Wyatt and the Kid between himself and the purple bellies. “Ku,” Dash nodded, grinning as he fell into step beside the Cap. “I could stand a beer an’ I wouldn’ hate seein’ somethin’ nekkid.”
“Captain San!” Dash couldn’t help but grin wickedly as Willow appeared on Rocinante’s ramp and cooed all pretty-like to Wyatt about the provisioning run.
Ai ya! Speakin’ of… Course, I’d prob’ly go blind if’n I was ta get so lucky… His stomach growled as Willow mentioned the fresh Bao that Ma was famous for whipping up when food stores were plentiful. It wasn’t exactly a t-bone steak but damn was it good. The way things had been going, though, Sam was pretty sure that there wasn’t going to be a whole lot of extra scrap to fill out Trish’s grocery list. Nevertheless, he cast a quick, hopeful glance in Wyatt’s direction as he answered the lovely Doc…
((OOC: Backposts and/or edits as necessary of course.))
**********
The Idoru was Sam’s kind of place – a dark, rough and tumble little hole where a fella’d be hard pressed to find a lawman of any sort let alone an Alliance goon. The fact that they didn’t actually lock up your iron at the guncheck didn’t hurt none either. “Ni how, ladies,” Sam purred, his gaze trained on the attending girl’s ample cleavage more than on her pretty face, “how’s the mountain climbin’ round these parts?”
The guncheck girl offered an immodest… no… downright suggestive smile as she ushered them past the checkpoint. “If you’ve got any money left later, honey,” she replied, coyly fingering the neckline of her blouse, “you come back and find out.”
“Damn,” Dash grinned, still ogling the girl, “talk like that’s like ta make me spend all my money!”
His gaze didn’t linger overlong, though, and as he and Asher strode into the bar-proper in Wyatt’s wake, the pilot’s eyes swept appraisingly over the scattering of patrons. “Ya up to a drink, Kid,” he asked Asher after completing a visual circuit of the place, picking out Griffin (and not failing to notice the large stack of chips piled in front of him) as well as a few other faces that pinged against his twitchy nature. “I won’t tell Ma,” he promised jokingly as he edged towards the bar.
((OOC: Good enough for now, I suppose… Dash is heading for the bar not just to get a drink but also to ensure he keeps an “extra angle” on the place while Wyatt has his chitty-chat with Grif.))
Posted on 2007-01-17 at 21:50:26.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Thank you...
Actually, I used Emmy Lou Harris as a base... Glad you like it. 
Wyatt's the tricky one, I must say... still wrestling with that one, but I should have it soon.
Looks like I also need to post... in several threads... Where does the time go?!?!
Posted on 2007-01-13 at 20:25:04.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Another update
Trish's portrait has been added. Link can be found with the rest on pg 4.
Next up: Our Big Damn Cap'n! 
Posted on 2007-01-12 at 23:36:40.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Updates....
Added a link to Willow's "portrait" on pg 4 of this thread. Also, found a nice, simple, uncluttered Map of the 'Verse for those of you who may need/want a peek to get an idea of where all them planets're lurkin'.
Posted on 2007-01-09 at 22:02:56.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: LOL @ don't eat our horses...
Yep, I understand animal empathy but I didn't figure Wynter (or even Jal) might have a good grasp on how that worked.
By the by... I sort of ended my last post with Jal "separating himself" from the party... Just to be clear, he's not trying to lead anywhere and he's not really going any particular direction...just keeping some distance for the time being.
Posted on 2007-01-05 at 11:01:15.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: You can't handle the truth! LOL
“Who or what is a winter,” the rogue demanded, “Is that your familiar, or maybe one of those, uh, unseen servents? I’m thinking we don’t have another psuedodragon around or Sunset would have given some sign of it. So… friend…” the lad spit the word as if it were a curse rather than any sort of endearment, “spill. I’ve had enough of your mutterings without a bit of explanation.”
Jal shrank bank a bit in the face of Dapple’s barrage. Firstly, because the lad had just strung together more words at a single time than he had in the few short days Jal had known him and, secondly, because he was truly at a loss as how to explain Wynter to make the rogue understand… A familiar? No…Jal pondered as he blinked rapidly against the flury of Dapple’s questioning… A familiar would serve to impart knowledge of magic and the like. Wynter has never done such a thing; though, I suppose, she has offered encouragement and guidance at times…Unseen servant? Definitely not… Unseen to all of you, perhaps, but not a servant…never that…
Still looking a bit puzzled, Jal had opened his mouth to speak – though he had no idea what he might tell the lad – when Char came thundering back into their midst and informed them of the bear that currently occupied the cave he had suggested at Wynter’s urging. He had tried to explain it to them again but defining Wynter and how she… how any still-Oerth-bound spirit perceived things and worked around them. There had been more than one time in the past when the ghost-girl had asked him to follow her only to disappear through the wall ahead of them, for instance. Even if Wynter hadn’t seen the bear, its presence in the cave wouldn’t have been a consideration for her… she may have wanted to know if it was a cute bear, or if it was a cuddly bear but, otherwise, she wouldn’t have wondered or worried any more over it. The more Jal sought the words to make the rest understand, though, the more he found he agitated Dapple (and, likely, the rest as well).
At least this lot speaks to you, Jal, Wynter noted, her voice fading a bit as if the conversation was boring her and she was wandering off in pursuit of more entertaining diversion, the last scarcely noticed you unless they needed a spell or some such…
Jal’s gaze had shifted, following the diminishing voice, but snapped quickly back when Dapple, once again, angrily challenged Wynter’s motives (as Jal saw it anyway).
“Intended any harm?” Dapple grated through a throat gone tight, “Let’s bunk with a bear and maybe we can sing him to sleep!? Are you mad?...”
“Perhaps,” Jal replied simply… early on, when he realized that he saw people that others didn’t, the urchin-mage had questioned his own sanity on several occasions – even now, at times, he found himself brooding over the state of his own mind but then Wynter was always there to bring him back by reminding him that the ability to question ones own sanity was surely the sign of a lucid mind; “Many seem to think so, and I’ve been called far worse…”
“…Do you think we are?”
“No,” the urchin-mage said, shaking his head before reaching up to push aside the rain-soaked strands of hair that had become plastered to his face, “I do not.” His gaze ticked, following the lad’s exasperated glances, from the face of one party member to the next. He sighed heavily and glanced up at Talas for an instant, then turned his ice-hued eyes back on Dapple; “But I don’t think that you would understand even were I to explain it… The dead do not see the world as you might, Dapple Moon,” he shook his head slowly, turned and moved to haul himself back into the saddle, “or any of the rest of you, for that matter…”
Jal! You’re being rude!
“I begin to wonder if I even care,” Jal snapped back, now openly conversing with the nothingness rather than trying to hide behind mumbling and muttering, “Even were I to explain it, they’d not understand!
And why shouldn’t I be rude? From the moment I left that damnable tower, people have treated me no better than he did! Thrown stones at me… spit on me… hid their children at the sight of me… called me evil, mad,” he shot a glare in the rogue’s direction, “Spooky!”
Not Gwanelle, Wynter reminded him softly, and what of your new friend, Talas?
“No,” the mage replied, lowering his voice again, “not Gwanelle, dear Wynter…” And Talas… his gaze turned in the direction of the big gladiator… so far, aside from Wynter, Talas was the closest thing he had ever had to a true friend but Jal wasn’t sure that the man really understood. Neither was he sure the man would remain his friend after this…
“Let us find some shelter from this weather,” he sighed, once more tugging the rain-heavy folds of his cloak about him, “and then, if you’ll listen, I shall do my best to explain…”
What are you going to tell them, my Spellbinder, Wynter asked curiously as Jal, without waiting for a reply from the rest, urged his horse away from the group.
“I don’t know, my love,” he mumbled, “Everything?”
Posted on 2007-01-05 at 10:20:10.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Speaking of Chinese...
...I've stumbled across a few words and phrases here and there that don't seem to be included in any of the "official resources" (i.e. the rulebook, the pdf's on the site that Al linked earlier in the thread, etc)... Don't seem to have that pile of notes with me at present but I can stick them all togehter and post them for reference if you like.
Posted on 2007-01-04 at 14:31:39.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: How' d you miss a bear, dear girl?
“A bear?”
Jal shrank a bit from the suspicious and scrutinizing eyes that were trained on him and cast a questioning glance at Wynter who lingered nearby; “Why did you not mention the bear, my love,” he whispered, half-hidden behind Talas’ hulking form (and, currently, more than happy to be shielded so as the limited trust the others may have had in him seemed to have been stripped), “First bandits that turn out to be nothing more than boys and now a cave with a bear?”
I knew of the bear, Wynter returned, but I didn’t think it was a concern. Does this one’s kind not have the capacity to speak with beasts, her ethereal arm swept out to indicate Char, causing Jal’s eyes to follow and come to rest uncomfortably on the glaring woodsman; perhaps he could simply ask permission to use the shelter?
Or, the ghostly girl continued, between yourself, dear Jal, and this Valentine, I’m sure that the creature can be convinced to remain a-slumber…There was a skittering mote of light dancing behind her eyes and, Jals was sure, at any moment, that mote would spill forth in the ghostly equivalent of tears… I’m sorry, my love. Have I gotten you into trouble?
The mage couldn’t help but smile at Wynter’s answers and suggestions and he found himself on the verge of reaching out a hand to touch her cheek… “No, dear girl. All will be well,” …but then he remembered that the others were watching… and listening. His gaze ticked nervously from Wynter to the soaking knot of adventurers and the tender, loving smile diminished, turning instead to something more appropriate to apology and embarrassment.
“Wynter…” Jal began, stepping from behind the protective wall that was Talas and nodding a silent thanks to the gladiator as he did so. He swallowed and tried his best to meet the ranger’s stern glare; “Wynter imagined that you… Char… could ask the bear for permission to share the cave,” he explained, “or that, through the use of our skills, that Adrian or I could perhaps keep the animal asleep whilst we rested...”
He glanced back over his shoulder at the spot where Wynter last floated, offered another smile, and then turned to the living members of the party again. “She… she has a great confidence in my abilities, it would seem,” the odd little mage seemed as if he might be blushing, though it was difficult to say for sure through the rain, “and… I suppose, of your’s, as well… I don’t… I don’t think that she intended any harm…”
((OOC: Just “running with it”… ))
Posted on 2007-01-04 at 10:46:04.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: On relationships...
See, that's the kind of "clarificatin" I was looking for. Thanks, Vanadia. Like I said, most of what I put in that post was derived from a scribbled note here and a stray thought there trying to figure out what the relationships might be like as we've all been crewed up for a year or so... I'll revisit some of Dash's thoughts on Willow.
And yeah, I figured Sam (in his life-that-was) was likely entertained by a "true" companion on at least one occassion (one of those "perks" for being the one of the Alliance's "top bomb droppers" or what have you... y'know, corporate/gov't bribery ... I seriously doubt, even with a pilots salary, that he'd have paid that one out of his own paycheck, though...)
Posted on 2007-01-03 at 19:07:20.
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