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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Scourge
The morning was filled with the same routine Scourge and Orion had gone through for more years than either could remember. Communion had been finished, and spells for the day had been memorized, clothing and pack were secure, an Endure Elements was in place and there was but one thing left to do.
Scourge returned to the enchanter in the market, and retrieved his new armor, looking it over, tracing his fingers along the intricate mithril links. To his satisfaction, Scourge concluded the business by placing the remaining coin, and Gems necessary atop the counter, and moved to the side of the stall and removed his robe. There, ashen hued muscles flexed and gleamed in a layer of sweat as Scourge donned first the undershirt, then the mithril chain, feeling some of the cool links against the bare skin of his arms. So perfect in its creation, Scourge need not worry about chafing or wear and tear, this was the pinnacle of craftsmanship. He had paid a hefty price for the creation of his armor, but he felt stronger, more confident with it on.
Replacing the rest of his gear Scourge and Orion upon his shoulder moved to the docks, where a strangely familiar sight awaited them. There stood a familiar looking woman, more of a girl really; Marie Tanner. The woman had been lost since their crash some days prior, but here she now stood in the flesh, and none worse the wear by the look of things.
"Resourceful lass," Orion cawed into the morning sun. Scourge meanwhile stood silent, awaiting Teros to secure them passage upstream. Stoic as ever, the monstrous man, for more monster he truely was, was content with just getting things on the road, and leaving the reunion to those who cared.
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:27:40.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Rinrin
After an amusing night of new desert experiences, floating glasses, and pomegranites, Rinrin awoke wide awake and ready to catch the ferry. She went through her usual routine, trying her best to get all of the sand out of Conjori's coat as she brushed, or at least as much as was possible.
The party made their way to the docks, but no sooner had they arrived than Rinrin was left in complete confusion. The entire party seemed to stop as a whole after Damien whispered a name...Marie if she had heard correctly.
Her inquisitive look was rewarded with a quick story about the party's time with Marie, and her previously unknown fate.
"Oh..." Rinrin smiled, it was probably a happy time for the rest of the party, reuniting as it was with an old companion. The gnome was excited about meeting a new person, but still she felt a bit out of place; intrusive into the party's past, even. Patting a hand on Conjori's side, she stood waiting for the rest of the party to make their greetings, assuming they would come, before making one of her own.
((Rinrin's just gonna chill until the rest of the party does something.))
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:27:21.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Damien
Despite Damien’s dislike for Teros, the bard had never heard him say anything more sound than the fact that they could take a boat up the river, rather than walk through the blistering heat of the desert. His delight was clear at this knowledge, though he said nothing, save a quick ‘excuse me’ as he arose from the table, gathered his things, and set out. He had one errand to run before they left for the day.
Making his way through the marketplace, Damien returned to the stange man he and the Scourge had dealt with the day prior. He had something that belonged to the tortured performer, and he desired to have it back.
Approaching the stall, he gave the merchant a steely look before leaning his hands on the countertop.
“Have you completed the job?” He asked, his voice low and carrying dark tones.
“I have, but you could greet me at least, for doing the job I have done.” The merchant said to the bard, who stared at him, unmoving. Pausing for a moment, the merchant quickly produced the horn, still with its ocean-blue color. “Just as you asked.”
Protective of the trophy, Damien snatched it away, leaving the second half of the money on the counter in the same fluid movement. With a quick nod, he held the horn tightly, noticing with admiration the strength of it. Now, it resembled a long steel spike, though with a blue color to it. Indeed, just as he had wanted it to be.
Quickly pulling the sword beneath his cloak, Damien moved gracefully through the crowd, heading for the tavern where he intended to rest his day away, out of the sun. It was getting to him very badly, and he had no desire to be out and about. Now, with the suggestion of Teros, he wouldn’t have to give up his preferred clothes, though it was still unbelievably hot to be wearing all black. He was stubborn, though, and had no desire to conform to the ways of the Ralnarians.
***
Awakening naked, atop his sheets to fight off the heat, Damein felt little motivation to move. The swordfish horn lay beside him, gleaming in the morning sun just as it had when he first retrieved it from the sea. Forver, the trophy would be his, and his alone. And now that it was as hard as steel, he would be able to enact his further plans, though he needed more coin...
Going through his morning ritual, he moved with the others to the docks, where Teros explained that they would arrive in Quasal the next evening. What they found there, though, was something that nobody had expected.
Damien could have sworn that Marie had been killed in the airship crash, for no sign of her had been found. True, that could have also meant that she escaped, but he found the probability far too unlikely. But here she was, standing before them, and seemingly very confused about where she was.
“Marie...?” Damien whispered as he stepped closer, simply unable to believe the perseverance of the woman, especially after Thrundier had killed two of their number - one being the very mighty warrior Derak Rigwall.
Realizing that Rinrin had never met Marie, Damien filled her in about how she had been traveling with them before, but had disappeared after Thrundier and the raiders had downed their airship. Now, she had reappeared before them, though how she had reached Ralnaria, Damien had no idea. Perhaps she had caught passage? Maybe she had washed up and been taken in by the locals? Whatever the case, he trusted she would explain in time.
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:27:07.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: El Jalnine
September 4th/Thursday
Riverfront Inn/ Kuball/ Capital of Ralnaria
Central Ralnaria, on the Siris River
The strangely clad group of northerners were clustered about one of the several, grimy tables that occupied the Waterfront Inn, as was labeled by the gray beard keeper. Sprawled in their midst was a worn, leather map, bits of pomegranate, and mugs of water that the Keeper had brought them. He still had not introduced himself, and seemed a grumpy old man. As quick to boil as the stuffy air within his tavern. Or perhaps it was the air that made him this way.
Sweat ran down their faces; even that of Vilyamar, and elves had far less sweat pores than men. His hood was down, and in this land of brown skin, thick brows, and dark hair, his elven features stood out the more. He had noticed many looks, but then, the entire party received looks. To add to that, standing next to The Scourge gave him an air of normality, even in a city of desert humans. His suggestion was a fair one, yet the party seemed to favor daylight travel.
Elandor paid little heed to his companions conversation. He had faith in their ability to get where they needed to go, and he was certain they didn’t need his help. A second round of water was called for, and the old innkeeper set to refilling their mugs immediately.
Filling them from one of the large, wooden barrels that lay, propped behind the counter, he began setting them on his carrying tray, when suddenly, one of the mugs lifted into the air. The old man frowned down at it, as if it were a spot on a napkin, rather than a floating mug. Reaching one brown, meaty arm, he grabbed it by the handle, and slammed it back in place. Straightening himself and wiping his hands on his greasy stained apron, he peered around the inn, assuring himself noone had seen the mug.
The mug lifted again. Startled, the old man reached for it, but it hovered over the counter and, to his dismay, made it’s way towards his group of possible customers. It landed in front of a particularly small being, with tiny spectacles, and a topknot of graying, brown hair. The “Little Person” was staring right at him. Forcing a chuckle. The old man said
“Desert sprites. Invisible when they want to be. I use them for as servers. They do enjoy tips.”
Another mug lifted and made it’s way towards the party. The old man forced a breath and turned to work on slicing a flatbread cake. Since when was his tavern haunted? Nomatter. Depending on how his little white lie panned out, he may or may not call in the exorcist the next day.
Back at the table, Teros spoke up for the first time in a while. He had been silent most of the trip, and particularly broody. Most assumed that the death of his friend, Derak, still haunted him, and so he had been left alone. Sitting backwards in chair, facing the party, but slightly apart from them, he looked very much at home in the tavern. He wore a long, flowing white headpiece. It remained strapped to his head by a gray strip of material, wrapped around his head. He had not yet redoned his armor, but rather, wore an off white robe. His armor lay, slightly protruding from the brown satchel at his side.
“You know we don’t have to walk to Quasal.”
He said matter-of-factly.
“We can catch a ferri north. There are many transportation services on the Siris, and their fees are minimal. If you wan’t Ill secure us a ride tonight, for the morning.”
********
It was midafternoon, and the heat had not let up. The party was able to secure rooms for themselves at 3 coppers a piece, and spent the rest of the evening loafing, in their rooms, in the common room, or perhaps on the docks, where they could soak their feat in the cool waters of the Siris. Slowly the sun sank over the white washed towers of Kuball, and the air danced with the gold that gleamed from her lofty towers. As if the gold from the city had bled into the sky, it too began to turn a brilliant orange. Clouds crept up from the horizon, washed in lavender, but their edges blazed in fire. The temperiture began to drop, steadily, until the air outside was cool and crisp. Despite the flowerbeds that lined the river, the air still smelled faintly of fish, cooking fires, and dung. The windows of the Waterfront Inn opened, and the front door remained agape to allow the heat out. Several tables dotted it’s front; washed with the yellow light from inside. The party could sit here in comfort during the evening.
On a quest to purchase clothing more suiting to the Ralnarian climate, Vilyamar took to the streets in the cool of evening. He was surprised to see that more shops were open now than during midday. When he asked a fellow shopper about this, the man looked at him, at first surprised that a half elf stood before him. He regained his composure, for it is only polite, and furrowed his brow.
“Most people work midday. Besides. Do you enjoy shopping in the heat?”
His accent was heavy, but he spoke common well. Finding what appeared to be a clothier, by the robe shaped sign outfront, The half elf entered. The inside was musty and hot, and smelled of camel (their sour stench very familiar to donkey) , or wool, and of tobacco smoke. Robes, pants, tunics, and many strips patches of cloth lay, stacked on a series of tables. A couple men rummaged through the clothing. They glanced up at Vilyamar when he entered, and their gaze lingered for a moment, before they returned to their shopping. A man with a pointed, black chinbeard, and hair pulled into a bun greeted him. He was dressed in bright, yellow and red robes.
“Ah customier!”
He greeted in a very heavy, broken accent.
“You speka Ralnarian?
Vilyamar shook his head.
“Ah ok ok. What dis ite you look for?”
Vilyamar explained it to him, and the man lead him to an array of choices. By the time the half-elf left, he was 5 copper poorer, but had, what he deemed would be far more comfortable clothing, for desert travel.
Though he was not wearing them, he had purchased brown cotton pants. They were very baggy, and thin to allow breathing. At the waist they were to be belted by a brown sash, and at the ankles, they tightened enough as not to be stepped on. (Think Aladdin…WOOT..It’s the desert style of pants). The shirt he had bought was a pale, almost tan one of thin cotton. It was collared, and long sleeved. The sleeves were very baggy, but tied close at the wrist, allowing a frill. The chest was laced together, and the lace could be very loosened. He also had a turban. A simple, pale brown cotton length of cloth. He would have Teros show him how to done it.
*********
The night passed and the party was awake and ready to depart by the time the sun had broken the horizon. The morning was cool, but they knew better than to hope the day would be the same. Once the broke the horizon, it would be as if fire spread across the land. Scourge concluded his deal with the old enchanter, who had met him half way…much to Scourges distress.
Teros led the group to the docks, where they were to board a small canoe. It would take them north; and the next evening they would be in a tavern in Quasal. Yet, when the party had reached the docks, there was a large, cargo ship docked. Men were busy carrying crates to and from her deck. Some were Ralnarian, but others, by their less style of dress and hair, were Lethanian (The Peninsula where you boarded Sea Chum). That was not an uncommon site at Ralnarian docks. But what had the party shocked, save Rinrin, who had never met her, was that, standing off to the side, looking very lost, was Marie Tanner…The pretty young ranger girl who had joined them in Thollin.
She had disappeared in the crash, and, infact, had been very wounded by the dreaded barbarian Thrundier. Her body had never been found, yet she was honored at the funeral with the rest.
Yet here she was, alive and well, or so she seemed. She was dressed in her tight, pale green breeches, and her loose worn, forest green tunic. It was tied around her waist, revealing her slim, pale belly, rather than tucked in. Slung over her shoulder was her pack. She did not see the party, but rather, was staring in awe at the city she had just landed in.
(Marie, you said you were ready to play again..I take your word for it. Once a week posts. I must talk to you to catch you up completely. The rest of you, have at it….All you need to do is greet her, ask any questions you have, and what not…you’ll still catch your ferry ride north..and Marie as well, if she joins you.)
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:26:52.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Rinrin
The city was exciting, albeit different from what Rinrin and her dog had ever experienced. Walking along together from shop to shop, although staying within hailing distance of the party, the two had a wonderful time. Conjori was rarely to be seen without his nose stuck up into the air, enjoying the massive variety of new smells. Rinrin herself felt slightly out of place, not for that she was the only gnome that she had seen for miles, but that there were so few females present, and when they were it was the richest, or so it seemed. Smiling and laughing, the small female held her head high. It may be the way of the Ralnarians to have their women indoors, but Rinrin was proud of her freedom.
As they perused through the town, the party eventually settled at an Inn to escape the heat. Patting Conjori on the head, Rinrin made sure the dog had enough water. Even with his hair shaved off, she was still worried for him. They were both used to the mountains around their homeland, so the gnome wanted to make sure they would be fine throughout their stay in the desert.
Shortly after the two had settled themselves down, ignoring the still persisting heat, Scourge came with a basketful of something. The bartender was pouring them drinks of water as Scourge began passing out the red fruit. Nearly the same time as the bartender was giving out their name, Rinrin let out a gleeful laugh.
"Pomegranates!!"
She quickly went about showing the others how to eat the delicious fruit by tearing it open and setting to on the bundles of refreshingly juicy red seeds. She was so excited that she nearly forgot to give one to Conjori, who reminded her not to gently of his presence, shoving his large muzzle underneath her arm. Laughing, the gnome tore open one and held it out to the dog.
While they were enjoying themselves, Scourge began talking to them about how to go about the next part of their trip. Rinrin, being new to the group, decided to go along with whatever the others decided upon. Besides, they were more accustomed to this adventuring business. Even still, she remained until the end, renting out a room for her and her dog only after the others had gone and settled to bed. The heat of the day lingered in the darkness that settled, and Rinrin found the experience to be quite pleasant.
((Rinrin's enjoying herself immensely, although being very careful of either her or Conjori overheating. As I said, she's basically just going to hang around in the Inn common area for a while until the others leave, then rent a room for herself. In the morning she'll wake up and follow through with her usual prayers to Inenhalla while brushing Conjori.))
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:26:39.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Elandor
The wonders of this new country were unending. What strange culture, what beautiful buildings, what exotic heat. The kender was not to be stopped. He dove under stands, stepped with great joy under the long legs of the lumped camel creatures and sweated like a pig. He didn't care... for a while.
Soon he found out that being so busy was extremely tiring in these conditions. He found a store too and bought himself 3 waterskins that he filled and drained again gladly. After that he was cooled off a bit and could bear in all the new impressions in a more relaxed way. Still, he couldn't help but grab one of the bypassing people by the robe to ask what he got in his pouches. Pouches should be filled with interesting stuff around here. There might just be a good deal to be found!
It was not long before they found a nice comfortable inn. Elandor lay deep in one of the chairs and picked at the weird fruit that Scourge brought along. While the rest was discussing their plans for the rest of the journey Elandor decided to entertain himself. He wasn't concerned about the plans, confident as he was that the rest of the party was very much able to find their way and therefore his way too.
He took his hoopak and aimed it at the innkeeper while the man was pouring their drinks. One by one he lifted the glasses/cups the man set down on his plate and let them float to their table.
(Elandor is just having a good time in Kuball. He'll try to sneak around a bit and find some interesting information about the area after dinner. If he can't find anyone to overhear he'll just start asking people about the lands of the desert. He's looking for information on creatures, roads and handy advice).
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:26:26.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Damien
Accompanied by the big fellow, Scourge, Damien toured the marketplace, looking for any supplies he might need for the trip, as well as somebody who could reinforce the swordfish horn so as not to break. It took some time, and sweat ran in columns down his fit body beneath his dark clothes, but he was finally successful. Approaching a small side-shop, more like a booth than anything, the pair approached an old man, taking them in with hard, piercing eyes.
The shopkeeper spoke in a fragmented form of common, but it was intelligible regardless.
“You are not from around here.”
How observant you are, Damien thought cynically, though he said nothing. The offer made, however, appealed to the bard greatly. The ability to harden the swordfish blade was something he had wished for since he had received the thing, and it was something he had never wished to break so as to always retain the memory of the experience and the crew.
“Right now, I just need it hardened, but I can live without the edge on it. It will be some time before I plan on using it as a weapon.” Thinking about what might happen if it was reinforced with metal, he spoke up once more before the man turned to Scourge. “I do not want it looking different, though. It must still retain its color when you are finished.”
Fishing a hand into his pocket, he retrieved a value of money to half of what the cost would be for the altering. “Half now, half when you’re done.”
Tossing the coins onto the counter, Damien retreated to the shadows to try to cool down. Though he didn’t want to, he desperately needed some new clothes for the arid climate of this strange land. However, the locating of a tavern provided something of interest to the bard. Without having to surrender his beloved clothing, Scourge stated that there should be way to shield from the heat during the day. He waited till the end to ask if that could be done to him, before the discussions continued. A plan formulated, and it seemed sound to Damien, who took a refreshing drink of water and a bite of the odd-tasting pomegranite. It tasted fine, but was not something that he thought he could eat on a regular basis. The rubbery flesh of the oblong fruit just didn’t suit his palatte.
“Leaving in the morning should be...ideal...but for the blasted sun and this infernal landscape. However, if we can make it through the day, then the night should be fine. Beg that we do not fight anything on our expidition, though, for think of the energy we shall expend in battle. Besides, we know nothing of this foreign land and what devils we may unearth beneath the burning sands.”
Leaning back, Damien pulled his cloak around himself and lowered his head, shutting his eyes. His lips had been cooled by the fresh fruit and water, which led him to realize the severity of the task they were about to undertake. He hadn’t stressed himself to any extent through the day, and the sun had almost made him vomit. The bard would have to ration his energy very carefully, or else he would pay the price and bear the aggression of the Ralnarian sun.
((OOC: All I want is the horn hardened, but not sharpened, further magicked, or turned into a sword. I will do that at a later point, and will simply take the horn with me, lashed to my pack.))
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:26:13.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Scourge
Here in the city of gold, Kuball provided the means to turn even exotic dream into a reality, coin provided. As Scourge walked the streets with his companions, the thought of what the monk Vilyamar had said to him crossed his mind, and with that notion, the possible; no probable second encounter with Thrundier, Scourge knew he would need new armaments. Stopping along with Damien at the item less booth, and speaking with its proprietor, Scourge’s request was made clear as a possibility, but in his mind the expenses were off.
Ruffling his feathers Orion flew to land on the empty table, it’s odd beady orange eyes staring at the saleman. “Good sir, from one craftsman to another, from one enchanter to another, 1500 gold seems a bit steep. (still using that +14 diplomacy) Provided I can purchase the mithril shirt for its average market price, the enchantment shouldn’t put the entire cost at more than 2,100. I can, in good conscience and appreciation for your overnight perseverance commit and extra 200 gold to the works, for a total of 1,200 gold, but anything more would leave my purse light of the coin needed to provision ourselves for our desert travel.” The raven and Scourge both looked at the man with diligence in their eye. “I pray we can come to a mutually acceptable term of sale.”
((Whether yes or no))
Scourge will go to the store pointed out and purchase the mithril shirt, the quality of the armor in and of itself would provide adequate protection; even with the slight risk of fumbling those spells arcane in nature. After making the purchase (again using +14 diplomacy for the best deal possible, if he has the funds to meet whatever terms he and the enchanter came to, he will indeed leave the suit with him overnight on the terms of payment in the morning. (no stranger in their right mind is going to hand over the suit and the money with the chance of the man skipping out with both)
With the Pomegranates acquired and shared amongst his companions, and a meager amount of money left to his person, (I’m estimating somewhere between the 75-180gold range) Scourge sat quietly, shifting his bandana, lowering it to eat and drink, for the first time showing inside a great ashen hued maw rows of vicious looking teeth with particularly large incisors. Orion sat as was the norm on the table’s edge, picking away at the juicy clusters within the exotic fruit, speaking between bites.
“The monk speaks wisely, for someone who is not attuned to the forces beyond tangibility. I know there are others of mystic origin amongst us, and between us all I believe we can be shielded enough to travel by day protected from the heat. Though I suggest we bring extra water in the instance that those spells somehow become unavailable. It would seem as it has been since my companion and I have met you, that time is of the essence, and thus I agree again with the half elf that we stay no longer than to rest this night. In the morning, before the sun crest’s the horizon and the heat falls upon us, we should already be gone, heading north along the river’s edge towards our destination. In the vast expanse of sand, it will do us well to have some landmark with which to find our bearings. What say you?”
((Scourge and Orion will try and push the plan they’ve said, taking into account other people’s ideas, and purchase lodging for the night where he can rest and commune/memorize spells.. Come morning he will pick up and don his armor, cast a Endure elements (cleric ) upon himself, (which Orion shares) and then start the day whatever the plans for such entail.))
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:25:55.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Vilyamar
The heat was beginning to bother the monk. Despite his training in self-control, he highly doubted that his body contained nearly as much water as that which now drenched his robes. Though he had pulled the hood of his cloak down, the thing was still wool and was still holding much of the heat in. He was not reluctant to remove it once they entered the inn.
Folding it neatly, he placed it within the small pack he had recieved from the Order. It was not large, but it served its purpose. He also undid the laces at the top of his tunic. He wished for much light clothing, otherwise he would not be able to travel during the day.
"My companions, we cannot travel in this heat," Vilyamar said, the hint of the elvish blood in his voice. He was still drenched with sweat and took a long draw on his waterskin before continuing. "My opinion is that we travel during the night. Though it will be cool, it will be bearable with the clothing we own. By the by, thanks go to you, Scourge, these fruits are most wonderful."
Vilyamar watched the Scourge, for he was the only other who knew what Vilyamar suspected of the man they had come to know as Thrundier. The others perhaps did not expect to see him again, but Vilyamar, he was not so sure. And he feared another encounter with the barbarian leader of the North.
Vilyamar listened to the others and waited until discussion as to how long to stay in Kubal and such began. At an appropriate time, he would interject his opinion, "It is of my wisdom that we should stay only so long as it takes to gather our supplies and leave. Other forces are at work here that I believe none of us have a complete comprehension of. Time is of the essence."
((Vilyamar will listen politely, and will attempt to secure new clothing options. Simple desert attire would work for him, in fashionable and hideable styles.))
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:25:44.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Shopping in El Jalnine
September 4th/Thursday
Kuball/ Capital of Ralnaria
Central Ralnaria, on the Siris River
Having agreed on their present goals, the party decided to stay together, and to pick up some apparent necessities before heading north, apparently along the Siris, to Quasal. This would also be a good opportunity to see a bit more of Ralnaria’s capitol, and to get a better taste of it’s desert culture.
They stood on what seemed to be a river walk. According to Damien’s map, and from what they could see, the river was lined with shops, tavern’s, and docks. This was apparently the merchant section of the city.
The road they stood on was paved with a white stone that glimmered brightly in the sunlight. It was evident that the builders of this city were master landscapers and architects, for the road was also the white cap of a flat, stone wall that sank into the river, like a damn, or a levee. The wooden docks were below, and wooden stairs wound to the top of the wall, (only about 7 feet) and the road. A small, 2 foot wall, capped with beds of flowers of every color ran along the river side of the wall, as far as they could see. The buildings were whitewashed and very, very cubicle. Even their roofs were flat, rather than the tilts that the members of the party were used to. Palm’s and pomegranate trees rose between them, and the alleys between buildings seemed more like thin roads, meant to be traveled, rather than follow a block.
The people that now surrounded them were very different than what they were used to. None in the party, save Teros could understand the bubbly, flamboyant language that washed over them from all angles, and the people dressed very differently from they. Predominantly, the people of Kuball wore whites, pale blues, pale greens, tans, and grays. Their clothing ranged from thin, cotton robes, to simple, knee long kilts (worn only by men).
The apparently more wealthy people wore robes exuberant in color, and designs. It also seemed the custom, that these such wealthy men bore both long hair and beards, trimmed and woven with golds and ivories.
It was obvious that not many women could be seen. Perhaps this culture had a caste system, in which women stayed home?
Strange, humped creatures, likely the vaguely heard of “camel” were led through the streets, or ridden upon, as well as slightly larger beasts that very closely resembled rams. Horses too could be seen, but only ridden on. No horses could be seen pulling wagons.
What women the party did see, seemed very wealthy, and were accompanied by men, always with shaved heads, that were obviously of lower caste. The women themselves were dressed in flowing gowns, usually the color’s of water-greens and blues.
Their hair too was worn long and woven in jewelry. It was obvious that there was some form of caste system, yet of which kind, the party could not be certain.
The guards that patrolled the streets were likely the most noble, and militaristic that any in the party had yet seen.
Despite the heat, they were armored in gleaming, bronze armor. The like of which seemed not only very protective, but also boasted artistic design. Over red, baggy leggings that were tied into leather and bronze boots, hung, to the knees chain and plate mail War Kilts. Stomach and sides were protected by black chain mail, which connected to bronze chest plates, and particularly broad and imposing shoulder pauldrons. Gleaming, bronze bracers protected forearms; and each guard was armed with a long halbred. A red sash was tied at the edge of the blade. The bronze of their armor was the color of freshly polished copper.
Apparently as to military custom; each guard was cleanly shaven of face and head, save a braided tail that hung from the center of the back of the head to mid back. Every guard walked with an identical, disciplined stride, and each had an aura of authority. It was clear Kuball put a good deal of money into it’s troops.
But who would a nation in the center of the desert wish to be protected against?
The party waded their way through the crowds, along the white paved road beside the river; careful to ignore the stares they received. Surely the people of this city must be used to seeing people from beyond the desert? After all, Ralnaria was a merchant nation.
At the moment, the party was more interested in acquiring necessities than touring Kuball, and so they were quick to find the magic shop that both Damien and Scourge wished to visit. Like most of the shops, it was more of a booth than an actual store. An apartment in a long, low building that housed several other shops, it was designed in that the front wall could be taken down and turned into a table. Unlike at it’s neighboring shops, this table was empty. An old, chocolate colored man with flowing white hair and a grizzly beard sat behind the table, peering at the party with sharp, blue eyes. Behind him, robes, staffs, wooden boxes and strange artifacts lay, in unorganized piles.
“You are not from here.”
He said in broken common, as they approached, and smiled an almost toothless smile.
The party replied they were not, and both Damien and Scourge explained their desires. The old man grinned wickedly, and nodded excitedly until they had finished.
“You”
He pointed at Damien.
“I can make the horn of the sea devil as hard as mithril. And I can sharpen It’s edges if you wish. I only ask 1000 gold pieces. A dainty fair for such enchantments.”
“And you”
He peered into the giant mans hood, not in the remote bit unnerved. He was a magician. He was used to the dark type.
“Go to that shop there.”
He pointed across and a bit down the street.
“Buy a mithril shirt there. Bring it to me and I will spend the night smoothing any flaws it has, and perfecting it for use by a mage. But it will cost ye. 1500 gold. Ye can come back for it tomorra”
**************
On that note the party would need to stay the night at least in Kuball, but perhaps a good nights rest, in a tavern was what they needed.
It was now after midday and the streets danced with heat. It was so powerful that the party felt they could almost be surrounded by portals, and out of the liquid, quivering, hords of people came and went, seemingly unaffected.
Yet the party, particularly Damien, and Vilyamar where hot. Damien infact, was drenched in sweat, and he and Vilyamar could both feel nausea creeping on them.
It was time to escape the heat. By voice of Orion, Scourge offered to by the party lunch. Following Damien’s map, they quickly found a small Inn that overlooked the river. Scourge hung back, and from a nearby cart, bought a basket full of strange fruit. Inside, they realized there would be not much relief from the heat. The place was stuffy and suffocating, and smelled of sweat and old ale. Safe an old, bald bartender, the place was empty.
Upon seeing the party, he knew to speak common, and greeted them gruffly.
“Welcome to Waterside Inn. I get you drinks, yes?”
He was already pouring a clear fluid from a barrel. He explained it was water. While he did this, the giant, robed man passed out the strange, red orbs.
“Ah. Pomegranites”
The bartender nodded and chuckled as the members of the party examined the fruit they had been given..not knowing exactly how to go about eating it. Between Teros and Rinrin, who had Pomegranites in her own country, that they were taught how to tear open the fruit, revealing countless bundles of ruby red, very juicy seeds. They were very sweet and, though small, were very refreshing.
(Im sorry for such a crappy post, but hey, we are moving. It’s beyond midday…if scourge agreed to do as the old man asked, you will need to stay till tomorrow..obviously scourge will not pay until then. Damien please specify what you want done. You have little over 1000 g worth, due to the gem you have as Tharanduil’s reward. I have noted the waterskins and rations you all want…and you will get them before leaving. Decide now how long you want to stay, and also…decide exactly HOW you plan on getting to Quasal. Remember it is north, 1 days journey along the Siris. Remember also, the way that Damien and Vilyamar are dressed, heat is bothering them if they are in it too long. MAYBE IF YOU WOULD TAKE OFF YOUR CLOAKS….)
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:25:24.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Rinrin
Rinrin smiled at Elandor finished his tale – it sounded so exciting to the sheltered gnome! She had opened her mouth to speak, but just then Damien had begun a battle for what turned out to be the finest catch of the voyage, a swordfish! Giggles of excitement bubbled out of Rinrin, the excitement waking the large dog next to her. Conjori blinked, and then jumped up in alarm as the large creature was drawn onboard. She turned her attention back to Elandor, but simply laughed, "I forgot what what I was about to say!" Damien's battle over, life on the Sea Chum returned to its normal routine.
Rinrin couldn't get enough of the sea; the beauty of it all astounded her, and seemingly it was drawn to her as well...Rinrin had turned out to be a better fisherman than any of the crew had expected. Her tiny hands seemed to have a knack for duplicating the delicate jerks and twitches that attracted so many fish to the bait, and he lithe frame was far sturdier than it looked, when she did get a bite. The pretty little gnome would pull in long, glimmering, or flat, brilliant fish again and again. Once, a school of strange little silver fish with long, wing-like fins had leapt from the water, and had sailed right onto the deck. Several of them lay, flopping in the sunlight, right at her feet. Thus, the fishermen had named her Little Siren, and had told her that her spirit must be tied with the sea, and that hers was so beautiful that it drew fish to her, and their deaths. She was a Siren to creatures of the sea.
When the time came for their sad departure, yet thankfully uneventful arrival, farewells were made and the party moved on, the crew watching them from the deck. They were stopped short, however by Hareef's shouts.
"Little Siren. The sea has a gift for you!"
The man cast his arm out, launching something through the air. It whirled and gleamed, before landing in the dust before the Gnome. Bending over it, for she was short enough to not kneel, she inspected it. It glittered brilliantly in the sun, and her hands covered her mouth in awe. It was a necklace. A small, white pearl, encased in spiraling silver, and linked to a thin, silver wrought necklace. When she looked back up, the man had climbed back down, and had blended with the rest of the crew.
Rinrin clutched at the small pearl, a tear escaping down the side of her face. She smiled sadly, then thrust her arm into the air, waving one last goodbye to the crew they had become friends with. Conjori nudged her side just as Damien lay a gentle hand upon her shoulder. Looking up, she opened her hand so that he could see the magnificent pearl before she reverently placed the gift around her neck, wiping the tear from her face as she did so.
Placing his sword on the ground, Damien unfurled the map. "Though I know nothing of the land we face, I do know that the sun has been cooking me alive so far, and we've only been here a few days. Waterbags is something we shall require if we are to survive in this blasted wasteland." Pointing at the docks, he tried to indicate their position as accurately as possible. "Here we are. We were told to go to Quasal, which is where I believe we should go first. Anything we have to do, we do now before leaving."
The Gnome shook her head, wondering at how far she had gone in such a short amount of time. The landscape so far had been breathtaking, unlike anything Rinrin had ever seen, and the culture was just as intriguing. Once they were told of the meaning of the horn at sunrise and sunset, the cleric took it upon herself to join Elandor in responding to the horn's call in addition to her morning meditations to her own goddess, out of respect for Lavuria and the interesting culture of the Ralnarians. Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Rinrin agreed that it would be a good idea to look around town before continuing their journey, giggling happily as she continued into the foreign town, Conjori close by her side. The only downside she could find with the place thus far was the heat, and she thanked Inenhalla every moment for the light cloth of her own garments. Still, she figured, with a smile anything could be enjoyable.
((Rinrin will join the others, perusing the shops out of pure interest at being in such a foreign place. Of things she'll actually buy, simply one more full waterskin and one week's worth of rations (she'll use her 'create water' or 'create food and water' spells to refill her skins, and possibly other party members, as needed, as well as provide any extra food if supplies run low, or simply to conserve them) With regards to armour, her chain shirt will simply remain in her backpack for the time being. Rinrin will avoid actually riding Conjori as much as possible, so as to prevent the dog from overheating or something of the like.
Sorry for taking ages to update!! Hope this is acceptable...))
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:25:08.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Scourge
After a week’s worth of pleasantries about the Sea Chum, The tall Scourge shrouded in mystery himself now set his orange eyes upon the distant land coming before him and would have let to a gasp of awe were he able. Orion however had no such qualms with squawking in delight at the sight of the city of Kubal, which he had thusly, renamed the Glimmering City. It had been a tough journey there, and though physically everyone was well rested, and enjoyed the fine company of a group of honest fishermen, everyone had heavy thoughts plaguing the back of their minds.
Damien in particular, typically the most somber of the fellowship, his lips curling into the largest smile Scourge had ever seen, had given perhaps the first break in the dour shadow cast over the group since their fateful encounter aboard the Nausicaa some weeks before. The fishing excursions along the trip had done a wondrous job at brightening everyone’s moods, and even the rather odd pair of Scourge and Raven had enjoyed the quiet journey along the Siris.
Pulling into Ralnaria’s lands and feeling for the first time the heat which assaulted his frame, Scourge pulled down the brim of his hat and wiped his face with his bandana. Though he wore no armor, his protective and sacred robes of such dark hues absorbed the heat and made it almost unbearably hot. Thankfully he possessed magic to counter the effects with an Endure elements spell. Comfortable once more, Orion took note as they departed the attitude’s of both their companions and the fishermen, particularly in the gift’s bestowed upon Damien and Rinrin. Pearls were not only fine trinkets to be used in adorning clothing, but could also hold potent spells when ensorcelled or consumed as a spell component.
Entering Kubal, it was the sighting of strange writing’s that inspired Scourge to utilize a Comprehend languages spell, calling upon divine assistance to better fulfill the needs of his lord and master Erenall. Utilizing the time given before heading off on the next leg oftheir adventure, Scourge will accompany the others and purchase the following from general good’s and outfitters.
3 waterskins (full )
1 more weeks trail rations
local exotic fruits (enough for a meal for everyone)
As basic goods and necessities were purchased, Scourge and Orion, with Elandor perhaps in hot persuit began to search out some of the finer shops in the area, perhaps those selling potions and will attempt to purchase the following.
5 potions of endure elements
Since this is such a rich store, he want's to find some Magecrafted armor if available to wear, finding his current defences lacking somewhat at time. (Magecraft is the removing of arcane spell failure from an armor typically 500gp per 5% removed. if possible, utilizing his gems and current money he'll try and get some magecrafted mithril shirt. (10percent spell failure) (totalling 2100gp)
Of course he’ll use +14 in Diplomacy to try for the best bargain available)
(that's presuming our character sheet's are correct in currency though i presume exp is a bit off. Scourge also has craft Armorsmithing and the feat Craft magical arms and armor so he can help 'teach' magecrafting if it's a technique unknown to the people of these lands as it's not a well known ability. (think of the future sales revenue! )
Other than that he’ll reconvene with the rest of the party.
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:24:49.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Elandor
Why was Elandor such a lucky kender? Unlike any other of his kind he was accepted into a group of adventurers. He found one of the greatest adventures of his time, maybe the greatest adventure. He had been aboard an airship, had made friends with seafolk and now he was cruising the admirable river Siris. Every bend in his life brought him new experience. Every bend in this river brought him delight.
He just couldn’t stop pointing at all the beauty around him. Any bird that flew up had Elandor standing on the railing, and the sight of the crocodile was simply breathtaking. The kender made sure to run and fetch Orion and Scourge. This was a sight they surely didn’t want to miss.
Elandor was first at his guard at the blasting of the horn. He secretly feared that it might be a monster like the one that almost ate his nephew. He held a close watch for orange powder falling from the skies.
When he learned the true meaning of this ritual he was very much reliefed. In fact, he took it upon him to accompany the horn’s dark calling by kneeling as the Ralnarians did. Twice a day he picked a spot at the front of the deck, where the water was cleaved in two by the ship’s bow. To others it may seem comical; a kender starting this habit. To Elandor it was just a way to pay the lands back, for he was truly taken by their exotic nature. The only thing he didn’t appreciate was the heat.
Wearing no armor, he had less trouble facing it. Still, it was terrible at times during the day and he remembered that right now they were on a ship, moving fast. Traveling at a slower pace should be unbearable. Knowing all this he still kept wearing the cloak Scourge had made for him.
The goodbye to the fisherman came at a very strange time. The city they had arrived at, Elandor still didn’t know its name, looked marvelous. A kender’sheart couldn’t help but beat at full speed. As goodbyes were said he didn’t want to be rude, and stayed as long as he could bare. When the rest was ready to leave the Seachum Elandor was long off board. He had definately enjoyed the ride on the ship, but now it was time for serious business. The exploration of the new lands.
(OOC: Elandor will investigate as much as possible. Though staying with the group, kinda, he'll take every opportunity to run in and out of shops etc)
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:24:35.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Vilyamar
The rest of the journey seemed uneventful after Damien’s large catch. Much of Vilyamar’s days were spent in solitude, though he talk once and a while with a crew member who approached him. He was never once asked about his heritage, for which he was thankful. In fact, the crew of the boat never seemed to notice the slight points to his ears nor the almond shape to his eyes. Vil did not often wear his cloak on the boat and would sit upon the prow or simply upon barrels on the ship, cross his legs and meditate. Few bothered him.
His eyes drew to the Scourge every time they were within sight of each other and after every passing day, the monk grew more and more uptight about the future. Strangely enough as he grew more and more introverted, the human bard who had been so melancholy before seemed to grow more and more cheerful. In fact, these moments were the happiest points that the monk had seen him since they had started their quest together. Being half-elven, Vilyamar had never forgiven the human for the way he had treated his mother’s cousins. Perhaps he was changing.
Left enough time to contemplate the matter, Vilyamar would surely have gained enough strength of will to approach the man, but as of yet, there was still something that the monk held against him. Perhaps it was still his pompous attitude and the fact that he thought he knew the most important things, yet it was the truth that he lacked. Vil suspected that it was mostly the truth about Damien that Damien did not know and that was what caused his darkness.
After 2 days of traveling along the Siris, the Sea Chum entered the city. By now, the whole party must have realized that the heat was going to be deadly. Vil remembered what his father had taught him long ago of surviving in the heat. His father had traveled here once before, and learned a little from the natives that could speak common. He had learned that light, loose clothing but being fully covered was the way to be in the desert of Ralnara. Anything more left you exhausted from heat and anything less left you burnt by the desert people’s goddess Lavuria.
They all noticed the horns that blew along the banks at sunrise and sunset, when all Ralnarians prayed upon their knees to Lavuria. Vilyamar did not care for religion; his way was of the body and soul, not necessarily of the divine. He held respect for the gods, but did not revere them in this way. Erenall, the Judge, held his favour and respect more than any other, though Inenhalla came a close second. He did not pray to a god, for it was within him that he would more often seek and take guidance.
Their departure was emotional for some and Hareef, the man who had been their guide to the ocean, took the time to take each one in an embrace. Vilyamar took the man’s hand and squeezed an equal strength into it, no more, no less and bowed slightly from the waist, saying nothing, but looking Hareef in the eye. There was nothing to be said.
Vilyamar looked at the map upside down as Damien unrolled it. The monk’s face remained expressionless and he said nothing. He turned when Hareef called to the gnome, and his eyes caught a glint of something metallic as the man flung the object from the crow’s nest, calling to Rinrin. The object landed in the dust in front of her, and as she bent over and inspected it, her eyes widened in surprise. As she brushed it off, Vilyamar could see that it was a fine pearl inlaid in a silver holding on a silver chain. He thought that it should be looked at by the Scourge, for it would be interesting indeed, should it be magically in some way, but the half-elf did not voice his thoughts. Few seemed to honour them any respect in any case.
The heat was beginning to get to the half-elf and he knew that they should have to gather more water should they wish to travel during the day at all.
“You are right about supplies, Damien. But we should find ways to sleep during the daylight. As you must have noticed, we are much better adapted to the cool air of the nights here. In my opinion, we would be much better off traveling when the sun takes refuge below the horizon,” said Vilyamar. “But nonetheless, we shall need more skins to carry water. My father told me once that coverage of the skin is a necessity here, lest you be burned as if you were exposed to fire but anything heavier than the thinnest wool with overheat you to the point of exhaustion. But we should be fine if we purchase light tents of some sort and sleep during the day.”
((OOC: Vil will accompany Damien and buy 4 waterskins for himself and a light tent, something that could be unfurled and staked in a few minutes but would cover his entire body length, and perhaps wide enough for another.
EDIT!
Also add 1 weeks worth of trail rations!
And a loose outfit of native cloth (light and sandy coloured)
needs more shuriken, but...that'll have to wait
Should be all..))
Almerin
Resident
*Contributor*
Posts: 475
Reply | Edit
al right
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:24:23.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Damien
Damien had heard stories of the Siris river before, though he had never picked up anything in great detail. He had been told that it was a river of immense size, but never could he have imagined it to be like this. The gateway into the arid realm of Ralnara, the ship sailed into the mouth of it, past smaller fishing boats out on the waters, and began their trek deeper into the heartland of the desert.
Taking him completely by surprise, the intense heat struck him like a hammer. The bard quickly found himself far too hot beneath his black clothing, but refused to remove it in favor of something lighter. He would endure it, however harsh it may be. It would take his mind off other things that might return to haunt him, though the trip had been fairly enjoyable for him. His time with Rinrin had lightened his spirits for the time being, as had his struggle with the mighty swordfish. The slender horn was kept rolled-up in a thick sheet, safe from harm. It was his trophy, and something that he intended to take with him as a reminder of the journey. It would be a good memory to take with him when they finally set foot into the Abyss, or wherever it would be that they would face off against the Dark Lord.
Provided we make it there,
Shaking his head to throw out those thoughts, Damien pulled his hair back away from his face. All it was doing was absorbing heat he would rather have leave him alone. He was terribly afraid of getting a vicious sunburn here, as well as heatstroke or dehydration. All of those things, he had been told in his travels, were potential enemies out in the desert. He had never expected that one day, he’d actually be here, though...
At least the landscape was pleasant to look upon.
The lush vegetation was something he hadn’t expected to encounter here. He had seen plants wither and die from being out in the sun for too long, and he had assumed that the same would happen here to all greenlife. The entertainer was proven wrong, though, as the riverbanks supported a great myriad of plantlife. It was quite unlike anything he had ever seen before. Trees and other plants that he had only been able to imagine in stories before adorned the waterside, creating a very tropical appearance as a fore-drop to the arid wastes beyond.
It wasn’t long before they entered a great settlement built along the water. Damien realized that it was likely the only way to truly support life, unless they had some other means of doing so. It was simple logic that told him that where there was water, there was life. Suddenly, he was very glad he hadn’t spoken his thoughts aloud. Some of the people he was with certainly did not need to capitalize upon a dumb thought on his part, not after the way he had treated them. Despite his enjoyment with the crew members, he did not regret his previous actions.
The script the Ralnarians used was unlike anything Damien could comprehend. There were a few words where he thought maybe it looked familiar to something he had read before, but soon came to see that he had no hope of understanding anything written here. It was far too exotic for the poet to make any sense out of. Teros kept to himself, and he was the only one who would be able to read this writing. It concerned him little, though. Reading would be helpful, but not an essential. If it came down to needing directions, then Teros was here to translate.
A strange ritual was conducted by the peoples of Ralnaria, taking time at the dusk and dawn of every day to halt all activities and pray to their god until the sun either crested or fell beyond the horizon. It was not something Damien found interest in, but made no remarks about it. He did notice, however, that Teros was never around at these times, though the bard never made effort to find the man.
The architecture of this civilization was amazing. The sheer style in which some of the buildings were developed seemed almost to defy logic, being ballooned at the top of a tall tower. He couldn’t see any reason to this style of construction, but admired it nonetheless. With the way that many of such structures were adorned with gold, he guesses that it must be a very rich city, although he didn’t ask any questions about it to any of the crew members. He simply stared on in pure admiration.
By the time the docked, Damien realized that it was likely he would never see Hareef or Zohar again. It stung him, for the fishermen had become good friends to him, and he had shared his catching of the swordfish with them. With that tie, they would never be forgotten, though he wished that he might one day meet again with the men. When Hareef handed him the horn, now cleaned of all flesh from its bath in the powerful alcohol, Damien felt himself at a loss for words. It was still blue as it had been the day he hauled the fish from the water, still in perfect shape to be an anchor to the memories onboard the ship. They would be the first good memories he had felt in many, many years.
“You have earned this, my friend. Keep it with you, and remember us. All of you. Remember the humble fisherman who became your friends.” Hareef spoke to him, and Damien saw that his eyes gleamed as though full of tears.
“I shall, my friend.” Damien nodded his head and extended his arm to clasp Hareef’s thick forearm in a gesture of friendship. After they released, he was handed a rolled-up piece of brown parchment.
“This is map of Kubal. On back is map of surrounding area. Use it. Good luck travelers. Perhaps we meet again.”
Smiling slightly, Damien passed the parchment to the crook of his arm that held the great horn. Laying his hand upon Hareef’s sturdy shoulder, he looked into the fisherman’s eyes for the last time. “Thank you, Hareef. For everything you have done for us. For the times we spent together.” He dropped his gaze to the bone sword in his left hand. “We will meet again, one day.”
Watching as Hareef turned and walked back to the ship, his attention was drawn back at the hearing of the fisherman shouting to Rinrin. As did the gnome, he watched as something was hurled to the young woman, landing in the sand at her feet. From what he could tell, it was a beautiful piece of jewlery, though he did not make move to inspect it. It was a treasure for Rinrin, not himself. If she chose to show it off, then of course, he would look at it.
With a great wave, Damien showed his last signs of well-wishing to the fishermen aboard the Sea Chum. He would not soon forget them, he swore to himself.
Gently, he lay a hand upon the gnome’s shoulder before unfurling the map and spreading it out, carefully placing the sword on the ground just prior.
“Though I know nothing of the land we face, I do know that the sun has been cooking me alive so far, and we’ve only been here a few days. Waterbags is something we shall require if we are to survive in this blasted wasteland.” He was thankful for the common words to match the Ralnarian ones on their map. Otherwise, it would have been completely useless to him. Pointing at the docks, he tried to indicate their position as accurately as possible. “Here we are. We were told to go to Quasal, which is where I believe we should go first. Anything we have to do, we do now before leaving.”
(OOC: Damien will buy about six waterskins full of cold water, and find someway to fasten them to his gear so as not to hamper him too greatly. He will also search for anyone whom he believes can use magic to strengthen the swordfish horn to prevent it from breaking or being damaged. You know my intentions for it, though those will come at a later time.
Glad to see this moving again!)
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:24:08.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Arrival
September 1st-4th/Monday-Thursday
Arnakian Sea-Siris RiverSoutheast-Central Ralnaria
Sea Chum
The week spent aboard Sea Chum was the most enjoyable time the party had spent together since their departure from the Brownleaf Tavern, one month ago. The crew were both friendly and entertaining. They invited the party members to join their dice and card games, and they shared stories with those who wished to do so. They taught Damien and Rinrin how to fish, and even laughed at Elandor’s tales and jokes. They were humble, hard working men; and it was clear that life, in it’s own accord, was something that each and every one of them cherished. These, it seemed, where the good days.
Damien’s highlight was clearly, the day he had challenged the great, sea beast, and had been victorious. Hareef had allowed the bard to keep the horn of the monster, but only after leading him into one of the rooms in the ships bowels. Lifting the lid from a wide, black barrel, he had explained that there was still flesh on the horn, and that it would stink, should he just leave it be. The barrel was filled with a clear liquid that burned the eyes and stung the nostrils. It was the distilled fluid squeezed from a particular plant, grown in the mountains of Levathon. Damien left the horn within the barrel for the rest of the journey, allowing the alcohol to cleanse the bone of all flesh.
Rinrin had turned out to be a better fisherman than any of the crew had expected. Her tiny hands seemed to have a knack for duplicating the delicate jerks and twitches that attracted so many fish to the bait, and he lithe frame was far sturdier than it looked, when she did get a bite. The pretty little gnome would pull in long, glimmering, or flat, brilliant fish again and again. Once, a school of strange little silver fish with long, wing-like fins had leapt from the water, and had sailed right onto the deck. Several of them lay, flopping in the sunlight, right at her feet. Thus, the fishermen had named her Little Siren, and had told her that her spirit must be tied with the sea, and that hers was so beautiful that it drew fish to her, and their deaths. She was a Siren to creatures of the sea.
The week passed pleasantly for the party, including Damien; and yet Teros had spent nearly his entire time onboard, locked in his room. Rarely did he come on deck, and when he did, he would lean against the rail, and write in his tan, leather journal. He didn’t speak much to the party, and infact, seemed to avoid them. Why the change, none could guess. Perhaps it had to do with the death of his friend, Derrak? The crew seemed to give him his space, not bothering to trouble themselves with those who didn’t want to be social. They had more entertaining things to do.
Even in the enjoyment of their trip, the party members were constantly shadowed in unease. They prayed nothing would happen on this trip. One destroyed crew was enough. These men were too good; too humble to experience what they had gone through. The week passed, and the unease slowly subsided.
On there fourth day at sea, land appeared in the distance. A vague, emerald haze that rose uneasily from the smooth, sapphire horizon. Slowly it grew, and smaller islands appeared on both sides of the ship. Other, small, fishing ships dotted the sea, casting out and dragging in large, white nets of wriggling silver. Buildings, docks, and anchored ships lined the shore. The Sea Chum sailed parallel the land for nearly half a day, before it turned to the gaping mouth of a massive river. By that night, the river joined with an even greater river. This, as the crew explained, was the mighty Siris. They were in Ralnara.
As everyone on deck knew, Ralnara was another name for the Ralnarian Desert. The biggest and most arid of deserts in Noldaria. To the west, years could pass between rainfalls; and the Endless Dunes was a sea of sand, mythically endless. Yet, the shores of Siris held no clue to the hostility of the surrounding land. The banks were green, plush. Massive, cypress and pomegranate trees stretched their arching bows over the shore. Gardens and flowerbeds decorated riverfront yards. Flamingos, strange, small birds of every color, and strange, white birds that sported a crown of yellow waded between canoes, or sat in trees. Ralnara was beautiful.
One, particularly unpleasant aspect of this new land, however, struck the party almost minutes after entering the mouth of the river. The heat. Levathon, perhaps due to its sheltering mountains, or sea currents, had been a warm and sunny land. It had been hot, but not like this. The open sea carried a cool, wet breeze at all times. This however, was heat. Heat that the party, all of whom hailed from northern kingdoms, found nearly unbearable. They had not been wearing armor, incase of storm or the chance of stumbling overboard, but heat had never effected their thought of doning it. Yet this heat, they could not measure, but were certain was far to unbearable for armor. Scourge and Damien especially, felt anguish in their black garments. The fabric felt fresh off a grill, and sweat poured down the faces of the entire party.
Teros no longer hid in his room. Infact, he spent his says on deck. He once again sported his turbin. It was wrapped in a strange style, veiling the brim of his nose down. He wore a baggy, white cotton shirt, and baggy white pants. He wore strange pointed shoes, rather than the boots he had previously constantly donned.
He paced the days away, or leaned against the railing, peering into the passing, crowded streets.
The written language, with its accented curves, and strange, unfamiliar symbols was far from understandable by the party, but over the next 3 days they passed through, what seemed like one big village. Buildings and docks never ceased to dot the shores, and they were certain they passed several taverns, though they could not read to be certain, save Teros, who was silent. The ship never stopped, but Hareef explained that they were only a few days from the capital of Ralnaria, Kubal.
Two full days passed, and the Siris remained a constant bustle. The Sea Chum had spent the first day sailing along the bank for the simple fact that it allowed the party to see the sites, but congestion of water traffic became too great, and the ship made it’s way to the center of the river. The Siris measured, perhaps a mile wide, and obviously, both banks were constantly in site. A few, treed islands floated by, and on one occasion, Elandor pointed out, in absolute excitement, a 15 foot, brownish green reptile. It lay, unmoving on the bank of a nearby island, and it’s long snout was agape, revealing rows of very sharp teeth (Obviously, crocodile). Every twilight, both evening and morning, a strange, sharp horn blast would echo over the river. When asked about the purpose of this horn, (and there were obviously many, lined all along the Siris, considering in 2 days, they heard the horn all four times), Hareef explained that the people of Ralnaria took the time that the sun broke the horizon, or was finally cloaked by it, to halt their activities, and kneel in reverence to Lavuria, their Goddess. Teros had never been on deck during these times.
Nights were very, very cool, and thus, very treasured by the party, who were more used to cold temperatures than the locals; and it was on the dawn of their third day into the Siris, that the party members came on deck, rubbing groggy eyes, and stared in amazement at the city they were about to pass into. Massive, towering ivory buildings reached into the pink brushed sky. Many seemed to balloon out near the top, forming an almost bulblike shape. Gold gleamed in the breaking dawn, and to the parties amazement, they realized that many, many buildings had windows framed in gold, or golden caps. This was a very rich city. The river narrowed here, but was still, several hundred yards wide. White, arching bridges bowed the entire length of the river, high enough for ships to pass under their delicate, vine pattered beams. Between these, 10 foot, ivory and silver statues stood on 20 foot wide, circular islands. Flowers of every color sprouted at their feet, like a bed of jewels. The statues depicted humans, from what the party could tell. Warriors stood, bearing silver halberds, and bald men in glimmering, stone robes gripped silver-lined books. They ship passed beneath four bridges, at least 100 yards apart, before pulling to a long, sturdy dock, and casting anchor. This was their stop.
The crew was somber as they helped the party bring their gear on deck. (State whether or not you want to done your armor. Remember, wearing armor increases the chance of exhaustion and heat stroke….The temperature is on average, 105, and 20% humidity. My father was in Egypt….that’s what it’s like. The low humidity makes it not SOOO bad.)
Once all their gear was donned, and the party was ready to go, Hareef brought Damien his horn. It was still blue as a deep lake, and it gleamed in the sunlight. His face was split in a brilliant smile, and his eyes shone wetly as he handed the bard the horn.
“You have earned this, my friend. Keep it with you, and remember us. All of you. Remember the humble fisherman who became your friends.”
The man was more emotional than some, and he went from party member to party member, embracing each, and smiling that brilliant smile. Several of the crewmen did the same, and even the captain, stepped forward and shook the hands of all the party members. In his hand he held a rolled, browned parchment. He handed it to Damien (who is standing nearest).
“This is map of Kubal. On back is map of surrounding area. Use it. Good luck travelers. Perhaps we meet again.”
Farewells were complete, and the crew watched as the party unboarded. They remained on deck, despite the fact that it had been a week since they had stepped on solid ground. After a moment, the party spun back around to the shouts of Hareef, who had climbed to the crows nest.
“Little Siren. The sea has a gift for you!”
Casting his arm out, he launched something through the air. It whirled and gleamed, before landing in the dust before the Gnome. Bending over it, for she was short enough to not kneel, she inspected it. It glittered brilliantly in the sun, and her hands covered her mouth in awe. It was a necklace. A small, white pearl, encased in spiraling silver, and linked to a thin, silver wrought necklace. When she looked back up, the man had climbed back down, and had blended with the rest of the crew.
Damien peered at the map…
(“lucky” for you, the map is has common and ralnarian titles, so you can identify places by matching their writing. Anything you need, you can likely find. Communicate, and discuss your next move. Also, remember your quest….
Tharanduil's Mission Briefing
“If you wish to save a doomed world, then you must head to the Ralnarian Desert, to the South. Remember what I have to tell you. The location of the four God Stones can only be found with an artifact located in the midst of Hajin Ra, known by some as the Land of Glass. Whether or not you have heard of it is of no consequence. Aside from those on the coast, every village in Ralnaria is found on the Siris river, which runs from North to South. Hajin Ra is located West of the Siris, in the barren and empty desert. Quasal is the village closest to Hajin Ra, so I suggest you find your way there, if you intend to find this artifact. First, however, you should follow the road that led you to this forest, until you come to its first branch left, to the east. There should be a sign that says Elderast, and an arrow pointing down that branch of the road. If you did not already know, Elderast is Thollin’s capital. From there, catch a windship that is heading to Ralnaria. It is likely that one would go to Kubal, the desert’s capital. Luckily enough, Quasal is not far north of there.”
On the back of the map, you see that Quasal is a village, several miles north, along the Siris river as Kubal. The siris runs from the north to the south, before curving east where it spills into the Arnakian sea.)
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:23:53.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Elandor
"What about you, Elandor? How'd you get to be here?"
The question came unexpected. So far, people had shown interest in Elandor mostly when they needed something or wanted something returned to their property. This question showed real interest and Elandor wasn’t sure at first he heard correctly. He looked around to see Rinrin staring at him and a rush of joy squeezed his heart.
“Well…” he hastily began, “ you see, my life was always one of sniffing around where, according to other people of course, I wasn’t supposed to be. I never really understood why I wasn’t supposed to be somewhere while if I wasn’t supposed to be there I don’t understand how I ever came there in the first place. I mean, don’t you agree that if people don’t want you somewhere, they should take better precautions to keep you out?”
“Take this one guy… He didn’t want me to enter his castle, and only put up 5 guards that patrolled the gates with a certain schedule. You can’t blame me if they didn’t check the low window on the right flank at 3:15 every day, and that being the spot where I decided it would be nice to enter? Who wants to walk under an iron gate that can crash on top of you any minute….”
It was obvious that he got sidetracked majorly and waved his hand in a dismissing gesture.
“I’m sorry, all that doesn’t matter to your question of course. When me and my mom, who I traveled with, settled in a little village because one of her legs got some stiffness disease and refused to walk anymore, I felt this urge to keep exploring the world. I had accompanied my mom ever since I could walk and I rather enjoyed it. So this one day a group of adventurers (there is a clear twinkle in his eyes on this word) arrived in the village. They were on some quest to save a magic dragon or something exiting I can’t remember, and I decided to join them, to aid them in their journey, to share with them in the wonders of adventuring.”
“It wasn’t long before they started to like me and play games with me. They would tie me up and I had to find my way back to the group, etcetera, you get the picture. So I had a really really good time. But then all of a sudden they just left me, after I saved them from this terrible witch who took on the shape of this beautiful woman in distress. I told her to *@#$ off, and to leave honest adventurers to their task. I fiercely put that we wouldn’t fall for her lies and that her masquerade was the most horrible we had ever seen.”
The face of the kender suddenly became more grim as he continued.
“After they told me that they didn’t want me in their group anymore, and explained that it really wasn’t a joke and that I really should stop following them, I cried for many days. I remembered the witch and thought she would make for quite an interesting adventure after all, even though I thought I was on to her. I tracked her for many days, but never did she take off her disguise. Bored I left her and found my way into many adventures on my own.”
It was then that Damien scored his catch and achieved the amazing sword. Elandor had never seen the Bard so happy and glorious. A wonderful feeling spread over him. He returned his attention to Rinrin.
“Then one day I was sitting in this inn, when an old man came in with many, many pouches! I wanted to trade with him, but he had a far more interesting proposal. Thanks to him I’m on this ship today. I’ve seen so much of the world and I have met so many people, friendly and not very friendly. I have even made friends! Do you see this cape? Scourge made it for me! He’s Orion’s familiar, you know.”
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:23:33.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Damien
Damien hurt as he cranked the pulley, trying with all his strength to reel in the monster of a fish. Had it not been for his years of acrobatic training to develop his muscles, there wouldn’t have been the slightest chance of bringing in the catch, and even with that endurance, he felt about to collapse. But to think about the embarassment he would suffer before the hardy seamen about the deck fueled his resolve, driving him ever onwards to try to bring in the fish.
The crewmembers hooted and cried out in support, Hareef running off and returning with a large number of spears and a saw. Damien assumed that the spears would be used to kill the fish when - if - he was able to get it on the deck. The saw, however, was a mystery to him. Surely fish were gutted with a knife?
When he was finally able to bring the fish above water level, the bard almost released the crank in sheer awe of the beast. It was a gigantic creature, sapphire blue in color with an immense dorsal fin atop its back. It was monstrous, larger than any human he had ever seen! And, perhaps the most intimidating feature of the fish was not its size, but the great blade-like protrusion from its face.
Four crewmen netted the fish and hauled it aboard as Hareef handed Damien the saw. Though he felt about to collapse from the exertion, he was certain that he heard clearly what the sailor told him.
“Disarm him!”
The crew immediately set to work thrusting their spears into the mammoth body of the fish. Beautiful as it was, it proved itself extremely violent in its thrashing. It was truly amazing that it failed to slash anybody with the sword-nose.
“Surely you can’t mean...?” Damien whispered, staring at the behemoth with awe in his eyes. His guess was confirmed as the fish began to slow down, its lifeblood seeping away from its many injuries. Hareef and two other crewmembers leapt upon it, trying to pin it down.
“Now!” Hareef bellowed, and Damien licked his lips.
“Claim his sword!”
Tensing his exhausted muscles, Damien stepped around to approach from the body, keeping careful not to get skewered by the sword. It took him a moment to steel his nerve before he dropped down beside it, placing the saw to the base of the sword and beginning to cut away at it with renewed vigor. Back and forth, he pushed and pulled the notched blade as he watched the wild eyes of the fish. To be trapped as it was must be terrible, he thought, but it was too late now. It would surely provide a meal enough for the rest of the voyage! This would certainly be a memory he would never forget. The feeling of triumph as he bested the might of the swordfish. The adrenaline pulsing through his veins in sheer excitement.
In a few moments, he felt the saw cutting nothing but air, and in his free hand, he held the slender blade of the fish. The stump upon its face was no longer threatening, no longer capable of spearing the crew upon it.
Stumbling back, the bard fell against the railing, his legs extended before him, despite the cold water seeping through his leggings. It had been an epic battle, perhaps one he would remember through song or story, depicting a battle between a single man and a behemoth of the deep. That time would come later, though. He needed to rest, or eat. Eating first would be the best idea, to replenish his energy. With a low chuckle, Damien dreaded the thought of how badly he would hurt on the following morning. He was still a young man!
Staring down at the horn in his hand, the bard gazed upon it with pride. It was a trophy more than any stuffed buck’s head or pair of antlers. This, he had wrestled with in a tremendous contest, and succeeded, rather than simply shoot the animal with a bow and arrows.
Shutting his eyes momentarily, Damien opened them to look at the crewmembers. He held the sword in his upraised hand, his slender fingers curled around it. He looked to Hareef and the other sailors, who had finished their kill of the fish.
“Is...this mine to keep?” He asked them, indicating the horn of the swordfish.
(OOC: I made the assumption that the removal of the sword would happen as it did, so that we might avoid making a number of short posts that solve little. I want the storyline to keep going as much as possible, for I love this game!
If the events should not turn out as I portrayed, feel free to change my post as needed.)
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:23:20.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: A Catch!
Rinrin turned her attention from Damien to Elandor, who had recently abandoned his fishingpole to listen to her conversation with the bard. Damien was left with his thoughts, briefly.
Suddenly, his pulley-like fishing reel began to spin fearcely; letting loose a mechanical whine that caught not only his attention, but that of the fishermen as well. Hooting with excitement, several of them gathered at the rail beside Damien's reel. For a moment, Damien stood, puzzled, watching the reel unwined. He realized now that he had never really been told what to do had he gotten a bite. The shouts of the fishermen, seeing as they were in Levathonian, gave no hints.
Suddenly the reel hit it's limit, and the rope tightened. The 5 foot pole it extended from bent like a bow. Damien grasp at the handle of the reel and began turning. The handle fought back as the rope tugged and yanked viciously. Damien realized now that this would be a battle. But the fishermen were watching! He couldn't look bad now. Gritting his teeth and leaning into the handle, Damien slowly began reeling in the mystery fish.
The other members of the party that were on deck were obviously alerted to the action by the shouts of the crew, and perhaps surprised at the number of them that had gathered around Damien. It was just a fish. Why the interest of so many people? One crewman; the one named Hareef bolted for the cabin, and returned with several, long, slender spears, and one small hand saw. Handing the spears out to eager hands, he turned to Rinrin and Elandor, who had been standing beside Damien, and motioned for them to back up.
Damien's arms ached, and his palms hurt from the pressure of the handle, but he would not give in. Not to a fish! As he turned and turned the handle, Hareef appeared by his side and peered over the rail.
"Not like trout fishing is it?"
His heavily accented voice was cheery and laced with excitment. In the outskirts of the crowd, Rinrin and Elandor were able to peer over the railing (You stand near the cabin). A dark form cruised just under the smooth, clear surface of the water. It was big. Bigger than a man. Suddenly, the water erupted in white splashes, and a beautiful fish, the color of saphire leapt from the water. He reminded the two of a sailboat with his frilled, dorsal fin and sleek body; but the feature that captured their attention most was the long, swordlike tip of his nose. To think of what could happen if anyone fell into the water?
The rope was pulled tighter now, and the fish was forced beside the ship. The water churned and boiled with his helpless flailing, before finally, a strange, hammock like net was lowered by four men, on opposite sides of Damien. Once netted, they began to back up, pulling the fish from the water. Hareef lay a hand on Damien's shoulder, and he stood erect, and peered over the rail, for his first glimpse of the beast. Pulling him back with him, Hareef handed the bard the saw.
"Disarm him"
A space was cleared, and the flopping fish was spilled onto the deck. Even out of water, he was violent, and with that swordlike nose, very dangerous. Men encircled teh fish and plunged their spears into it again and again. Sea water and blood slickened the deck. Who would have known fishing could be so violent?
At last the fish's violent flailing began to whither. Hareef and two others bolted forward and, diving atop the beast, tried to hold it down. It was bigger than two men combined, and still struggling. Its saphire sword slashed and cut the air.
"Now!"
Yelled Hareef
"Claim his sword!"
(Yup, still conversing....Sorry...Soon enough we will move on)
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:23:04.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Rinrin
Rinrin slightly regretted asking the bard about his past, but she smiled in spite of herself. Smiling was the best way to help sad people, she thought, as she pat Damien sympathetically on the arm.
"'Everyone lives, but no one really lives without doing something abnormal.' At least that's what my grandpa used to say before he went off to test his invention – some sort of fire-powered travel device. Pity it never worked properly..."
Lapsing into silence after a small laugh, Rinrin reeled in her fishing line and sat down next to Conjori. The large white dog was fast asleep again, and she began to absently stroke him. Her mind was drifting to the gentle roll of the waves before she looked up again, turning her smiling grey-blue eyes towards the Kender standing next to her.
"What about you, Elandor? How'd you get to be here?"
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:22:49.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Scourge
With the conversation at it's end, Scourge and Orion turn their gazes out across the churning waves. Scourge even lets himself fall into a reverie leaning against the rail and closing his eyes, his thoughts turning to times past, to times peaceful, to times before... the fall.
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:22:38.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Elandor
His story told, Elandor couldn’t help but notice the bard’s reaction. He did not see the masked doubt, for he himself believed too much in the nature of the orange powder. What he did notice was the change in tone. Earlier on their adventures the bard would’ve grunted a small “yeah, nice” or something similar. Now however, he replied, and seemed truly interested. So it was with an even bigger grin that Elandor answered:
“I’m 28 years old, dear Damien. My nephew was my elder sister’s oldest son and I’m just 7 years older than he is, you see, my father remarried a much younger woman later and I was born from them. So actually it’s not directly my nephew but he’s more like a step-nephew and we could get along quite well as kids until I was struck with what we call wanderlust and had to head out of the village and got involved in years of chasing adventure and being chased by it. It was only recently that I finally met my nephew again and he was so happy and we exchanged some of our pouches content. I gave him my ‘ever-turning jewel’, which is a magical gemstone that turns for pure magnificent display, and I got this powder plus a wonderful story in return.”
Elandor heaved for air after this long reply, which he had uttered in one single, stretched out breath. Getting the powder back the kender started wandering around along the deck, spending most of his time peering over the railing to see the waves bubble and fizzle where the Sea Chum parted the water. He too heard the invitation to learn how to fish, and joined the little gnome and Damien in this. He marveled at the bard’s song and wished he had a flute to present.
Fishing proved much more boring than Elandor could ever have imagined. After several minutes he dropped his fishing pole and just stood next to Rinrin, listening to her story and giggles, and Damien’s memories of a life in the circus.
Cloak wavering in the soft breeze, he stood with his magical hoopak ready to help either if they caught a fish. His mage hand could certainly prove useful.
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:22:10.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Damien
"I trust we will hold our counsel until the appropriate time. Unless there is anything else, I shall take my leave of you both. Daily routines call," Vilyamar said, smiling faintly. He inclined his head to both Orion and Scourge, and then he turned and walked back towards his cabin. As he passed the others, his ears picked up bits of their conversation. However, he didn't pay any attention to the details and kept on going past. He spared on look at the bard and gnome, in conversation about past and recent events.
Upon reaching his cabin, he entered and meditated upon his bunk. He will answer only when spoken to directly and will meditate and do his daily routines for most of the journey.
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:21:57.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Damien
The gnome’s past was of interest to Damien, though he knew very little of the region she was from. He had only ever heard tales of the territory that the small folk dwelled in, and had little desire to go there in his lifetime. However, Rinrin told the story in such a way that it piqued the dark bard’s interest.
Looking down at the small woman, he felt a few strands of his long hair fall against his face. With a quick toss of his head, he threw it back, away from his eyes. He had never known where the few crimson hairs originated from, having never known either of his parents a great deal before their demise from sickness. At a young age, he had set out on his own, his home no longer worth living in.
“My Mother and Father passed on to the next world when I was very young, Rinrin.” He began, licking his lips as he took a quick glance back towards his fishing mechanism. So far, nothing. “I set out into the world when I was six, far too young to be out on my own with no family to support me, but I found a way to make it. I had been gifted with a voice that people loved to hear, and was able to make a meager living by singing and telling stories I picked up from others. I was quick to learn instruments, as well.
“When I was sleeping in a rented room at an inn in the town called Brunderholm, I heard a great commotion in the street outside. It woke me from my sleep, and I looked out the window to see a troupe of performers in the street. They had people singing, tumbling, eating fire, and the like. Well, that seemed something that I could do, so I went to join them. They made me sing, first, to see if I was good enough. I was eleven at that point.
“They trained me to be an acrobat, and I learned quickly. With no family left, I had little worry for my own well-being. I was eager to attempt anything they set for me to try. I made it to the high-wire acts, and was given a partner to work with. We fell for each other, and took great pride in the acts we were to perform with each other upon the tightrope. We could do all manner of flips and saults and such tricks.
“But then...an accident occured. We were separated through my own fault. I left the circus and began to wander the world, making use of my vocal talents to earn a living for myself. However, my preferred style of oratory talents changed from hymns to dirges, and people began to feel my sorrow.
“It was when we were deceived by an elderly man to pluck leaves from a great tree among the elves that I realized I had been drawn into something more. He gave us a simple job, in which, I may add, I spent a week or so in the depths of hell, and when we completed it, we were destined to do battle against a dark god reborn.
“We took a windship to reach the Ralnarian desert, and en route we were assaulted by a barbarian skiff, pulled by four drakes. The savages boarded, and fighting erupted on the deck. A viscious fight broke out between our sides, and a few members of our group were killed in the process against a massive warrior. I know not his name, nor what his goal was, but our ship lost a wing, and that is how we encountered yourself.”
Damien turned his head, looking out over the water with a blank look in his eyes. Suppressing his emotions at the thought of his deceased lover, killed in the accident where he failed to catch her...
Swallowing, the bard shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts, though it tossed some of his hair to his eyes. Offering a faint smile to Rinrin, he tried his best to act as though he were fine. He would need some time on his own, to think, to allow the memories to resurface just once, out of respect. He had never forgiven himself for that tragedy, and likely never would. But, he would pay her one last respect...
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:21:43.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Nothing's Happening
As Vilyamar and Scourge watched Damien and Rinrin fish off the side of the ship, they became well aware of the crisp, serenity that has been washed over Sea Chum with the soft, salty breeze. Aside from those who were teaching the two party members to fish, the crew did not seem to wish to interact with them. They were busy doing nothing together.
(Really, there is nothing for me to post. Your conversations must come to a close in order for me to continue)
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:21:31.
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