Sweet sheets!

Also, should let you all know that, for the next two weeks, Im out of my home office environment and on base for a test cycle of the software I support. As such, my access to the Inn will be curtailed a bit. Im still here, of course, but may not be exceedingly quick to respond until after 5.

I'm still here... just lost in the shuffle, at the moment. Feel free to move ahead as, like Roger said, not really much for Sam to say/do at this point. I'll jump back in soon

That is awesome! Thanks, Brom!

Wow! Nicely done, Princess! I had no idea you had this kind of talent! Can't wait to see more!

Also, given our very recent conversation, I may try to take a whack at scribbling up a pic of Ch'dau and Kith.

Keep it up, dear! You've got talent.

Note: While Ch'dau did do the kazari bloodlust scream and leap thing to begin with, please, don't take it to mean that he won't follow orders and/or adjust his tactics based on things called out from his compatriots... He's a beast but not quite a berserker.  For example, Kith calling out about not being ready to get snatched may just make him think twice about going all "I'm gonna eat these things" and cause him to fall back to ensure that, no, nobody is grabbing my friend! By the blood, I'll not have that!

Also, if Aranwen or Gib were to shout orders following the kazari's boredom fueled charge, he'd most certainly comply as quickly as kazri-possible. He's a soldier/mercenary at heart, after all, and a well structured battle is a joy to him. Point and grunt, o' my leaders, and I'll kill or defend whatever you say!

Finally, welcome to the fray, Oz! Mind where you lob that fireball. If you singe my fur, I may eat your lunch (assuming it's not all vegetables).

We're super happy to have new blood hereabouts and it's always fun to play with folks you've never gamed with before! As to bearing with you, dude, we've got that in spades!!! When I first came here I was more a writer than a gamer so, like you, Blackthorn, I had a bit of a learning curve, myself (only reversed from yours) once I was coaxed out of the freeform and personal creations arena. You'll get the hang of it, I gave no doubt... And, hey, if you need a hand or something, don't hesitate to drop me a line! I'm more than happy to help you get settled in or give you some writing tips, etc!

...I don't think I would have expected anything else. No apologies needed, here.

Combat!!!! I  it!!!

Also, super oogy silver-screen moment, Olan! I totally threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Ch’dau’s ears flick and twitch in reaction to the moans emanating from the file of fetid robes. Even from his position at the rear of the column, he could veritably smell the weakness of the haggard bunch… These pose no threat, he judged quietly, Even if they were, they would be no trouble… A faint snort of what could have been either disappointment or amusement escaped the beast, then, and he turned his gaze back in the direction they had come on the off chance that these shamblers might be a decoy intended to distract his companions from something more formidable.

“Block not our path,” came a voice from amidst the moans and groans, “We cannot tarry here, not with what stalks this road at night. We seek the blessed shrine of Lysora in the Taverton wood; we dare not stop, lest we never reach it.”

Stop your mewling and carry on, then, Ch’dau snarled inwardly, glancing over his shoulder at the leader of the pilgrims, you delay us as much as we do your pitiful band.

“You would do well to be off this road by nightfall,” the scratchy voiced monkey cautioned, “They are coming. They never rest!”

A low growl rumbled in his chest once more but, this time, the kazari didn’t bother to try and stifle it. While the priest’s words were far from a direct threat to his companions, something in the veracity of the gaunt man’s words troubled the man-cat and, as the moaning throng of robes shuffled past, he eyed them warily from beneath his hood, one clawed hand moving to rest on the hilt of his blade…

“Sir!” He heard Gib bark, attempting to forestall the pilgrims a moment longer. Then, in a softer tone; “Kind sir. Who are They and, pray tell, what has befallen you? What should we be prepared for? Please, stop and share your knowledge with us that we may not fall prey to the unknown which you infer.”

The leader of the pilgrims shakes his head.  "We have traveled far, lost most of our supplies and a third of our number.  They come at night - the restless ones.  They never stop.  They never tire."

He stops, and his gaunt face fixes as he stares into nothingness.  "As bad as they are, the laughers are so much worse.  They are cunning, and merciless."  He glances towards Kith.  "And they seek the fairer sex... we have lost brothers, but all of our sisters were taken by them."

Another snort escapes the cat, then, more derisive than the last. “Let them come,” he snarled, “I grow weary of this endless slogging and would welcome a battle!” Honestly, he hadn’t intended to speak the words aloud but the priest’s simpering admonition had done little to repress his impatience.

Again, the pilgrim shook his head. “We have tarried too long,” he wailed, “We must go, with haste! The Blue Lady’s blessings be on you all.”

He watched the whimpering pilgrims shuffle away, his ears flattening against his head and his tail now lashing angrily in the air behind him as they went. The ragged group hadn’t made it far when the giggling started…

“The cowards mock us,” he growled softly, reaching up to tear the hood away from his head with one hand as the other, still gripping the hilt of his falcata began to tug the blade free of its sheath.

Ch’dau had taken only a step in pursuit of the pilgrims before he realized that the cackling had not, in fact, come from one of the bedraggled priests but from somewhere beyond them. His ears pricked up, tilted forward, then flattened against his head again when the moaning followed the tittering laughter – first, the moans of the terrified priests, then the moans of several figures emerging from the dusk.

“Lysora save us,” the leader cries over the panicked wailing of his followers, “they have come!”

At that, a dark shape rushed from among the emerging figures, and darted in among the screaming pilgrims who were now screaming in terror and bolting in every direction.

“Lysora be damned,” the kazari roared tearing the sickle-bladed falcata free and charging into the blooming fray, “it is Rrowl you need!!!”

((OOC: Beast-mode activated!!! Ch’dau has the battle he asked for, apparently, and he’s going to make the merciless best of it. He’ll do his best to protect any of the scattering pilgrims, of course, but he’s going straight for the closest enemy with the intent of tearing it apart. He’ll use blade and claw and fang as necessary with no intent of stopping until every last attacker is a quivering pile of meat.))

"Does that cat thing lick himself clean?"

No... He licks himself dirty!!! 

Welcome, Oz, the great and powerful!

Ch'dau would likely vote for Aranwen to lead the party, as well, for much the same reason as Gib.

Also, I've posted... sorry for the delay, got distracted by my neighbor's birthday celebration last night.

At first this weather had struck chords of longing in the heart of the kazari warrior known as Ch’dau; the heat and the damp evoked memories of Capasha’s jungles and made him ache for his homeland. They were fond recollections, to begin with, but, as the rain began to seep from the clouds and coax a thick, clinging mist from the ground, winsome memories of a long-missed homeland became muddled with dark remembrances of a place he’d seen in more recent times. The darkening of the skies, the sultry oppressiveness of the heat and humidity, and the incessant, irritating drizzle of the rain began to remind him of the dark dungeons of Sendria and, the longer he trudged through it, the more his mood soured. He scarcely managed to suppress the low, angry growl that rumbled in his throat as, with an annoyed shake of his shaggy head, he sent the offending rivulets of rain flying from his fur and, flattening his ears, tugged his makeshift hood over his head in vain attempt to shield himself from any more of it.

It is not just the weather, Ch’dau mused, his tail swishing behind him in annoyance as his gaze swept from one side of the mud-laden track to the other, but the entirety of this place. Shadows moving where they should not. Shapes in the mist that allow but a glimpse only to steal from one’s sight an instant later. The rumbling growl welled in his chest, again, and his massive fingers flexed, extending and retracting his claws as he pondered what fresh hell the party might be trudging in to this close to the Sendrian border. Surely the demons that occupied that place would have no trouble finding their way here.

The big cat’s musings and mood grew darker and darker as the party slogged on and, as they rounded a bend in the sorry excuse for a road, he found himself more than ready to lash out at something just to alleviate some small bit of the gloom that clung to his soul the way the mist and rain clung to his fur. It was then that Aranwen called the troupe to a halt and drew all eyes’ attention to the knot of aged and ill pilgrims that approached them. He stopped dead in his tracks at the bladesinger’s command, claws extended and eyes narrowed, intent on the approaching party… at least until the little cidal mage bumped into him.

“Oomph,” Midge grunted, thudding off of Ch’dau’s leg. “Sorry,” the little mage whispered, “what’s going on? There’s too many legs in the way and I can’t see.”

“Trouble, perhaps, little one,” Ch’dau rumbled, “Aranwen sees more than us all. We shall find out soon enough…”

...a snack sized cleric and a bit sized mage, right in the midst of it all! Who needs rations? 

"Well met, Cedric." *licks chops*

How is it you humans say... third time's a charm?

Also, whilst I'm thinking about it, a quick thought or two on our party's marching order:

1. As we appear to be without a ranger, I'm assuming that we'll have one of the fighters and our rogue on point. I'm completely flexible as to whether that fighter is Ch'dau or Aranwen. I can see the big cat wanting to be up front and, thus, first into the frey, but as I don't see him as actually leading the party, he won't bluster (too much) if he's relegated to rear guard while on the march.


2. Our casters/clerics, of course, should likely be kept in the middle of the column so that the warrior types can provide a buffer between them and who/whatever we might encounter... precise order is up to you all, of course.


3. It may not truly matter what order we march in as I'm fairly certain Olan is going to KILL US ALL!!!

Aaaaaaaaanyhooo... unless I hear otherwise, I'm going to start my post assuming that Ch'dau is, in fact, in the rear guard position.

Looking forward to seeing you all in the drizzly, mucky world we've just gotten dumped into.

Nice intro! I'm currently on the phone with a collegue, prepping for a two week test cycle that begins on Monday. I'll do my best to get something of a post up for Ch'dau once I'm done trading notes. Also, I'm still working on the remainder of the big cat's bio/history but, for those of you who may be interested as to how you came into the company of the Kazari, I have in mind something along the lines of the following:

The last campaign Ch'dau saw with the Silver Wyverns had his unit facing of against the Sendrians. Due to the dark magics employed by the Sednrian forces, things did not go well for the Wyverns and Ch'dau found himself captured and imprisoned by the darklings. The rest of his troupe was luckier and managed to get themselves killed whereas Ch'dau was taken back to Sendria where he was to be experimented on and, quite possibly, used as part of their oogy blood magic. Being the "crazed monster" that he is, the Kazari managed to escape his captors and, soon thereafter, encountered one or more of you and has been in your company since. Details, of course, are negotiable and, if anyone would like to collaborate on some "behind the scenes" stuff as to how your character met Ch'dau and/or the relationship between them, feel free to shoot me a PM or something and I'll happily discuss and such.

So nice to see new faces and have the opportunity to game with new players! Loving the concepts, here, already and can't wait to get this group together and interacting!

That said, allow me to introduce you to your "tank."

Description

When looked upon by human eyes (or even those of Sylvari and Khord), Kh’ur Ch’dau is certainly easy to call a monster. Standing at a height above six feet and heavily muscled enough that his weight is often debated, the Kazari appears every inch a humanoid tiger, teeth, claws, tail and all. His powerful frame is covered in a thick coat of silvery-grey fur that, in certain lights, can appear almost white save for the streaks and stripes of black that run through it. His blue-green eyes are large with slitted pupils and, were it not for his fangs and whiskers, might be the first things one would notice should they gaze upon his distinctly feline features. His broad torso is criss-crossed by a pair of wide, leather bandoliers, studded with steel and bone in which his curious, sickle shaped sabers (called falcata) are sheathed when not being employed with deadly effect by the Capashan Cat. Belted about his hips is a distinctly kazari garment called a dak’tar; essentially a skirt of leather strips, studded much like the bandoliers, that serves to protect the upper legs and allows his long, lashing tail to remain free. The kazari’s powerful forearms, too, are wrapped in bracers of the same bone-studded leather as the rest of his garb but, beyond these items, Ch’dau wears no true armor to speak of (though it appears not to trouble him even when faced with battle). There are no gloves on his clawed hands and no boots covering his cat-like feet (or should they be called paws?). Truly Ch’dau’s appearance alone is enough to strike fear in the hearts of any human, elf, or dwarf who might face him.

History

Rumor, myth, and legend abound all across Antaron and, as those sorts of things are wont to do, they all flourish or fade with time. Those that fade often do so in absence of substantial proof or even strength of belief, causing the tale to spread only so far and be believed for only so long before the legend withers. The legend of the Silver Cat of Coria is not one of those. In fact, since its first utterance, years ago, as little more than rumor that the Silver Wyvern Company had a Kazari among it’s ranks, the veracity of the tale has only grown and, recently, The Silver Cat has actually been named in first-hand tales told by known members of the Wyverns themselves.

The precise circumstances of how Ku’hr Ch’dau (or simply Ch’dau, if you prefer) came to Antaron from Capasha have yet to be told, but it is known that he was found, near death, on the beaches of Iirlastor Bay along the southern coast of Coria by a contingent of Silver Wyvern mercenaries. Many in the troupe, having never encountered, let alone seen, a Kazari in their lives wanted to “finish what the sea started and put the monster out of it’s misery.” The group’s leader, Roddric Cliff, knew a bit more about the cat-folk of Capasha than his underlings and took the discovery of this rare creature as equal parts omen and opportunity. Cliff and company relieved the comatose cat-man of the curious blades he carried, bound him (for his safety and theirs), and made their way back to the guild hall in Calestra to present their find to Lord Captain Aliex Unthar. The Lord Captain, himself having heard more than a few tales of the cat-folk and their battle prowess, was fascinated by the Kazari but, also, more than a bit wary of the savage looking beast...

 Would it even speak a language they could understand? Would it even bother to speak when and if it awoke or, rather, would it come unhinged and try to tear it’s way through his men the moment it’s eyes opened?

…Again, at the behest of Roddric Cliff, the Lord Captain was convinced to keep the Kazari safe and to see to it that the beast was nursed back to health. “They are not only fierce, my Captain, but honorable, as well,” Cliff had explained to Unthar, “The creature’s arrival on our shores was surely no doing of his own and, should he return to health under our care, I’m willing to guarantee that his honor will find him indebted to us rather than wishing us ill.” Given the trusted counsel of Roddric and his other lieutenants, Unthar conceded and the Kazari was, in fact, restored to health by the Wyvern’s clerics and healers.

The first weeks following Ch’dau’s recovery were difficult in that there was a clashing of cultures and, of course, the language barrier previously worried on by Unthar. However, the cat was quick to learn, it seemed, and was speaking broken Apanonese in a very short time. Also, the violence that the Lord Captain had feared never came in the way he had imagined it might; instead, “The Silver Cat” seemed relieved and honored to have awoken in the company of warriors (in spite of their strange, monkey faces). Once the language barrier had been breached and a modicum of familiarity (if not complete trust) had been established between Ch’dau and Roddric, the pair delved into deeper discussion and what some might have even called negotiations.

The big cat was scarcely on his feet, again before asking… no, demanding… that his weapons be returned and that he be released so that he might find his way home. Upon securing an oath from Ch’dau that they’d not be used against any of the Wyverns’ men, Cliff was happy to return the Kazari’s exotic blades and even engaged in some sparring sessions with the cat-man by way of alleviating some of the creature’s boredom and frustration. The cat’s other request, though, was far more difficult to fulfill. Cliff found himself struggling to explain why it wasn’t possible for them to provide a way back to Capasha from the shores of Antaron and, on more than one occasion, took Ch’dau to the shores where he had been found to point out the storm wracked Titans Walk on the far horizon, explaining that, for all the people of Antaron knew, the imposing stretch of reefs, were impassable if not deadly to any ship that might be available. The disappointment and frustration that Ch’dau felt once he came to understand the futility of trying to cross the reefs became an almost palpable thing and it became clear to Roddric that, should the Kazari’s dejection be allowed to fester without hope, things could quickly get much worse for all of them. So it was that, after some discussion with the Lord Captain and his counsel of Lieutenants, Roddric crafted a deal with the big cat… If Ch’dau would stay and serve with the Wyverns, the mercenary company would use whatever resources it could to discover a way to return the Kazari to his home and people.

With the bargain struck, the legend of The Silver Cat of Coria was truly seeded and began to take root outside the confines of the Wyverns’ garrisons. Tales of a fierce tiger that walked and talked like a man but fought with the savagery of a beast spread quickly beyond the borders of Coria in those first months Ch’dau served with the Wyverns, bolstering the roots of the legend and causing it to flourish, quickly enough, throughout the Five Kingdoms in the months and years that followed. There were few who had faced the Kazari on the fields of battle who survived to relate first-hand accounts, of course, but there had been plenty of tales from witnesses of those battles to elevate the rumors from the level of fairytale to worriedly whispered concern about a monster in the ranks of the Silver Wyvern Company. In time, the stories were given enough credence that those who faced the Wyverns saw desertions from their forces increase at just the prospect of having to face The Silver Cat of Coria in combat. Even those that contracted the Wyvern’s found themselves uneasy at the prospect of a monster in their midst and, in whatever garrison Ch’dau served, people kept their families and livestock far from the mercenary outpost, making sure that they properly secured against being eaten by the “savage beast” despite the fact that the Kazari was fighting at their behest.

Edit: I still need to do a bit of spit and polish, here, but, for the most part, there he is... Despite how monstrous he's made to sound, Ch'dau is actually quite noble and honorable (especially where his companions are concerned) just don't try to rub his belly and certainly dont grab his tail.

Rrowl is my hero!

...rogue is a "comfort zone" class for me, anyway. I'm rather looking forward to going fighter, tbh... no sneaking, no spells, just scream and leap! 

Now, as to Gib having a pet... are we sure that it's not Ch'dau that has a Gib?  Either way, I refer you to any number of the cat petting guides to be found on the interwebz. Don't want anyone losing a hand or a life on accident, you know? 

I'm actually rather counting on it!

I'm entertaining a kazari mercenary for this, now, as our returned princess has called dibs on the rogue... (I'll save "Mouse" for another time).

I'll do something about putting together a solid concept, today, but, as long as there's no objection to having a kazari in the group, that's where I'll start with Ch'dau.

Been a crazy few weeks for me but things are beginning to settle. Hoping to grab a few minutes to post very soon.

Between work and home it's been a crazy few weeks for me. Things have begun to calm back down to their normal level of insanity, though, so, with luck, I get a post scrawled out for Cas in the very near future.

I'll attempt to get something posted for Tochi, today. Been a bit of a madhouse for me between work and home, lately, but I think I'm catching up with myself and should be able to settle into some posting soon.

Cracker wasn't sure what to think of the plan.  He was nervous about having the Dog stay in port, but their options were limited.  He'd trust his captain on this.  And they would be getting the Frist Mate away from here for a while.  That made sense.  But now it seemed that a small group of them were to leave the Dog and find a different ship to take off on this other side trip.  That didn't sound much like pirating to him, but he wasn't so much into the thing of it all - he just wanted to have a way to survive, have some freedom and believe that he wasn't part of some big machine making his and everyone else’s life miserable.  If the way to fund that life was with some side trip to catch some guy, so be it.  

With his mind wandering through a slew of scenarios, the Bosun looked at Crowe with a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth.  "A night to gather m' s#y^e together?  You think I'm some pomp with a chest full of necessaries to bring?"  He chuckled at the thought.  "What sailor you know needs more'n a minute to dump their worldly possessions into a sack and run?  I'll be by your cabin shortly - I'd like to have more of an idea of what we are trying to do."  

Maggie, largely silent through the bulk of this meeting, gives a nod. A little more space between them would likely be better for the sisters right now, and she's eager to put a little coin in their pockets. Cracker's remark gives her a genuine chuckle as he's right, no season water rat would need more than but a minute. But she's glad for the chance to rest a little before jumping into another adventure - and maybe this one won’t go as sideways as the last. 

"Aye," she agrees, "I'll tag along. Best we give the man a few to put away those frilly things he be hiding first," she teases with a playful wink.

Cracker grinned at the First Mate's jest.  She seemed a bit uptight and nervous at the moment, which was probably reasonable, but she was still a Cole.  "Don't need to see Crowe's frillies . . . there isn't enough whiskey in the world, let alone that bottle, for that!" he noted indicating the now nearly empty whiskey bottle in front of them.  With that he stood and gave the captain a nod.  "With your leave captain, I shall go get my necessaries together for this little trip."  He grinned at Crowe.  "I shall see you shortly once you've tidied up a bit."

He walked away from the table whistling Booty and the Beast.

Fin smirks at the remarks from Maggie and Cracker. “Aye,” he rumbles, taking a backward step in the direction of the forecastle, “I’ve go’ frillies fer ye.” His grin widens a bit as he raises the middle finger of his left hand in the Bosun’s direction; “Thar be one fer you, Cracker,” and wider still as he offers a similar gesture to Maggie with his right, upon which a simple gold ring glints in the moonlight, “an’ a fancy one fer you, as well, poppet.” Chuckling softly and with a scant shake of his head the quartermaster turns on his heel and strides purposefully toward his cabin.

He pushes through the door to his cabin, not bothering to close it behind him, and reaches for his shirt. The fabric is still mildly damp but he shrugs into the thing, anyway, and then flops himself down on the bunk and sets about rolling a smoke. That done, Fin tucks the thing into the corner of his mouth, reaches for his blade and whetstone, and, for a long moment, loses himself in the staccato rhythm of honing the cutlass’ edge as he awaits the arrival of Cracker and Maggie.

((OOC: I've got more in the works on this, just figured that I'd post this much as I've held thing up long enough... The first bit, here, of course, comes from the collab that Lady D, Nomad and I worked on, with the rest being Fin's reaction to their comments. So, now he's sitting in his cabin, waiting for them to show, at which point he'll give them a rundown on the job Oken offered. Feel free to post arrivals and such before I get the rest of this written up, if you like.))