-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Haven's Siege
- Thread starter Velmont
- Start date
CaBaNa
First Post
He he he, indeed, "help-me-I'm-sick". However, I do have something up my sleeves, Socrates, my book. A book briefly materializes on the wizards lap, before obscuring back to nothing again.
I'm Pernicious, it's a boon to have met you. The book won't help us, he is obstinate, won't let me read most of his pages. I thought about keeping my crystal ball, but Socrates here is a real wealth of knowledge.
The cloaked figure barely moves as he speaks. After introducing himself a small spectral hand appears before Amira, open palmed. If she is bold enough to grasp it, the hand shakes normally before misting away.
They took everything they could see from me as well. Before we get out of this place, I have to ask, how did you get in?
[sblock=OOC]
Cantrips = RP gold... Nothing like making a small hand held item invisible.
Great idea for a starting point Alessandro! Two folks in the cells of Haven. [/sblock]
tiornys
Explorer
The sages have spoken, Erian'lia. I am to go to Thane's Hold.
Vi'kandrix suppressed the inevitable feeling of inadequacy as the maiden looked up, her violet eyes gazing through long lashes. "I had hoped your destiny would keep you...closer," she replied. Vi'kandrix still couldn't interpret the subtle intonations of those born to the elvish language, but he had no difficulty reading the mingled concern, hope, excitement, and sorrow in her features.
Vi'kandrix willed himself to calm, schooling his expression to minimize the feral taint of his race. They could not forsee my destiny. My nature clouds their vision. They could only forsee a need at the fortress. I may or may not be part of the answer to that need. But I can not, I will not, ignore the chance.
Erian'lia nodded as she rose, graceful arms embracing the shifter who had adopted the ways of her people. "Be safe. I will miss you."
And I shall miss you.
As they parted, Vi'kandrix looked deep into Erian'lia's eyes, fixing them in his memory. Then he turned, retrieved his pack and spear from the entrance, and set out with a steady loping gait. Erian'lia watched from the door as he disappeared into the southern woods.
t~
Vi'kandrix suppressed the inevitable feeling of inadequacy as the maiden looked up, her violet eyes gazing through long lashes. "I had hoped your destiny would keep you...closer," she replied. Vi'kandrix still couldn't interpret the subtle intonations of those born to the elvish language, but he had no difficulty reading the mingled concern, hope, excitement, and sorrow in her features.
Vi'kandrix willed himself to calm, schooling his expression to minimize the feral taint of his race. They could not forsee my destiny. My nature clouds their vision. They could only forsee a need at the fortress. I may or may not be part of the answer to that need. But I can not, I will not, ignore the chance.
Erian'lia nodded as she rose, graceful arms embracing the shifter who had adopted the ways of her people. "Be safe. I will miss you."
And I shall miss you.
As they parted, Vi'kandrix looked deep into Erian'lia's eyes, fixing them in his memory. Then he turned, retrieved his pack and spear from the entrance, and set out with a steady loping gait. Erian'lia watched from the door as he disappeared into the southern woods.
t~
Last edited:
"...which is how the Duke himself found himself in Her Majesty's debt." The laughter around the table confirmed the recognition of the situation's awkwardness. "So he needed a hired blade, of which of course there are many, and he needed a threatening face...", at this Lord Baltimore pulled back the lips on his wide jaw to reveal his tusks, "...and he needed discretion. At the time, I was a mere slave -- a condition I resented at the time, to be sure, but the dwarven economy depends on their work, I understand -- plus there was the opportunity for freedom. And the Duke was mine.
Lord Baltimore reaches for his drink, a glass of wine, and takes a modest sip. He pauses, savoring the bouquet, before resuming his tale.
"What he didn't know is that these humans had sold their village out. (Such betrayals are common in the Caradoc hills, I fear.) And so he didn't need a brute, but nor a blade, but a benefactor." His hands open wide, an expansive gesture to all in the tavern who would care to listen, "I was to be that benefactor."
The thin mustache the hobgoblin wears is carefully groomed, though the whiskers below his chin are thick and coarse, and bristle as a pelt, extending up his cheeks. The whiskers do not cover the scars on his face. His voice is calm and reassuring, the diction impeccable.
The story continues, a tale of comic misunderstandings and diplomatic intrigue, of court intrigue and a series of propmotions, and Lord Baltimore seems so convincing. He defers to his audience from time to time -- "...now, i speak no dwarven, but the words sounded like this...", "...do you own slaves yourself?...", "...in the face of Her Majesty's beauty, what would you have done?..." -- and by the end, a tale in which a hobgoblin slave brokers a peace treaty with an orcish hoard, Lord Baltimore adjusts his glass, the last ounce or two of wine swirling around the bottom.
"That is why his Majesty has sent me. I am his ambassador and I carry his letters of marque. Your confusion was natural, and of course I forgive the trespass. It was not His Majesty whom you intended to attack, I understand well. His Majesty feels that a negotiator is what is needed. Someone who speaks their language, knows their culture..., and here Lord Baltimore hesitates, and adds a wry grin, "...and that is something for which He feels I am uniquely qualified."
"Of course, when negotiating, one must do so from a position of strength, and so a blade can offer that confidence. I know where my confidence lies."
Lord Baltimore reaches for his drink, a glass of wine, and takes a modest sip. He pauses, savoring the bouquet, before resuming his tale.
"What he didn't know is that these humans had sold their village out. (Such betrayals are common in the Caradoc hills, I fear.) And so he didn't need a brute, but nor a blade, but a benefactor." His hands open wide, an expansive gesture to all in the tavern who would care to listen, "I was to be that benefactor."
The thin mustache the hobgoblin wears is carefully groomed, though the whiskers below his chin are thick and coarse, and bristle as a pelt, extending up his cheeks. The whiskers do not cover the scars on his face. His voice is calm and reassuring, the diction impeccable.
The story continues, a tale of comic misunderstandings and diplomatic intrigue, of court intrigue and a series of propmotions, and Lord Baltimore seems so convincing. He defers to his audience from time to time -- "...now, i speak no dwarven, but the words sounded like this...", "...do you own slaves yourself?...", "...in the face of Her Majesty's beauty, what would you have done?..." -- and by the end, a tale in which a hobgoblin slave brokers a peace treaty with an orcish hoard, Lord Baltimore adjusts his glass, the last ounce or two of wine swirling around the bottom.
"That is why his Majesty has sent me. I am his ambassador and I carry his letters of marque. Your confusion was natural, and of course I forgive the trespass. It was not His Majesty whom you intended to attack, I understand well. His Majesty feels that a negotiator is what is needed. Someone who speaks their language, knows their culture..., and here Lord Baltimore hesitates, and adds a wry grin, "...and that is something for which He feels I am uniquely qualified."
"Of course, when negotiating, one must do so from a position of strength, and so a blade can offer that confidence. I know where my confidence lies."
Last edited:
Alessandro
First Post
The young woman silently groans in desperation - her Elwin was a nutter. But the mage had relieved her of her hair-fiasco, so he at least warranted respect.
Cautiously taking the spectral hand in her own, she returned the offered greeting. "Amalia Banant of House Banant, originally from across the Northern Sea. Pleased to meet you. And as for me being here," the girl stops and smiles sweetly, "an unfortunate misunderstanding. I was at the home of Lady and Lord Penbrook, on comission to restore four of their beautiful canvas paintings which were damaged crossing the salty sea in years past on their way to Haven. It seems the Lord and Lady have forgotten that they hired me, and, as I was unable to provide a receipt to prove my employment - I'm sure it's at home, I don't just carry such things around - I was taken here to await investigation."
"And you, friend Pernicious, why do we find you here in the coziest cells of Haven? And, perhaps more importantly, what little secrets has Socrates shared with you that we might use to our advantage here?"
[sblock]If your character is well trained in discerning lies, he might discern that his nearby cellmate isn't completely honest about her name and reasons for being here. [/sblock]
CaBaNa
First Post
[sblock=Context]
Amalia Banant of House Banant! A victim of mistaken identity... Tsk, such a shame. These are "Maximum Security Times" as the Patrician might say. No small wonder they would be overly precautions.
The voice deepens at "Maximum Security Times" in sarcastic tones, dripping with distaste. Returning to his normal cadence the wizard sounds understanding.
Surely they wouldn't dare take the very last of your hairpins, alas it seems so, what does nobility mean to the lap dogs of government officials? Such awful times, if only someone could... Change things.
The wizard's voice rumbles and shakes at the sound of Change, making the room feel slightly less sure of itself. Pernicious stands, and walks toward "Amalia Banant".
Haven offers these cells to anyone who casts a sideways glance any longer, until I find a person who can get themselves out, this is were I will be. That isn't to say I didn't earn my bed. Walking in the forests nearby I came upon a pitched battle, orcs and men. I threw in with them, casting as accurately as possible in a brawl. Unfortunately the two groups wiped each other out, and I was left standing. That was when the watch arrived, they had heard the battle and came to join. I was the only one left standing, and the men of Haven had arcane blast wounds. So I was implicated. I explained that I had aimed my blasts as well as possible. I was obviously arrested, and that brings us to current. Sans the search and seizure, which I would rather not get into...
Reaching his hand through the bars, Pernicious extends a five inch sliver of metal towards "Amalia".
Ms. Banat, do you like solving puzzles? This sliver of bar almost stabbed me when I first leaned against my cell. My hands aren't delicate enough to solve the locks puzzle. You, with the hands of Noble Birth, are fully capable I'm sure. I'll instruct you, so that you get the hang of it.
Pernicious gives a few small pointers about picking the lock, explaining the pins, and how to hold the piece in order to turn the lock.
One last thing before we start... Were are we going once we get out?
[sblock=OOC]
Pernicious knows "Amalia" is lying, and actually likes her all the more because of it. He will play along with the lies until it is inconvenient to do so, or Amira tells him the truth.
If Amira has a decent Insight, she knows pernicious has left details out of his story, and may even be outright deceptive in places. Also she may pick up that Pernicious isn't human.
To keep up the rouse, Pernicious will instruct Amira how to pick the lock, even if it becomes obvious she is old hat at the process.
[/sblock]
[/sblock]
Amalia Banant of House Banant! A victim of mistaken identity... Tsk, such a shame. These are "Maximum Security Times" as the Patrician might say. No small wonder they would be overly precautions.
The voice deepens at "Maximum Security Times" in sarcastic tones, dripping with distaste. Returning to his normal cadence the wizard sounds understanding.
Surely they wouldn't dare take the very last of your hairpins, alas it seems so, what does nobility mean to the lap dogs of government officials? Such awful times, if only someone could... Change things.
The wizard's voice rumbles and shakes at the sound of Change, making the room feel slightly less sure of itself. Pernicious stands, and walks toward "Amalia Banant".
Haven offers these cells to anyone who casts a sideways glance any longer, until I find a person who can get themselves out, this is were I will be. That isn't to say I didn't earn my bed. Walking in the forests nearby I came upon a pitched battle, orcs and men. I threw in with them, casting as accurately as possible in a brawl. Unfortunately the two groups wiped each other out, and I was left standing. That was when the watch arrived, they had heard the battle and came to join. I was the only one left standing, and the men of Haven had arcane blast wounds. So I was implicated. I explained that I had aimed my blasts as well as possible. I was obviously arrested, and that brings us to current. Sans the search and seizure, which I would rather not get into...
Reaching his hand through the bars, Pernicious extends a five inch sliver of metal towards "Amalia".
Ms. Banat, do you like solving puzzles? This sliver of bar almost stabbed me when I first leaned against my cell. My hands aren't delicate enough to solve the locks puzzle. You, with the hands of Noble Birth, are fully capable I'm sure. I'll instruct you, so that you get the hang of it.
Pernicious gives a few small pointers about picking the lock, explaining the pins, and how to hold the piece in order to turn the lock.
One last thing before we start... Were are we going once we get out?
[sblock=OOC]
Pernicious knows "Amalia" is lying, and actually likes her all the more because of it. He will play along with the lies until it is inconvenient to do so, or Amira tells him the truth.
If Amira has a decent Insight, she knows pernicious has left details out of his story, and may even be outright deceptive in places. Also she may pick up that Pernicious isn't human.
To keep up the rouse, Pernicious will instruct Amira how to pick the lock, even if it becomes obvious she is old hat at the process.
[/sblock]
Alessandro
First Post
As she reaches out for the picks, Amira lets out a girlie giggle and whispers excitedly "I was ever so good at my needlework back home. Perhaps I will have a talent for this as well?" Walking towards the lock in the heavy metal door, the young woman stubs her toe in an exaggerated manner and drops the pick. She blushes as she bobs down to retrieve it from the floor and continues on towards the lock.
Smiling inwardly, Amira gathers the mysterious mage understands what game they play at, but as he himself admitted, these were dangerous times and she had no idea who he was. For all she knew, this was a rather brilliant new tactic of the city watch in convincing criminals to confess: do a small favor, a dramatic entrance, admit to a false crime, and then listen to a dramtic confession of one miscreant to a "cellmate." But Make-Believe was another childhood favorite and it was more fun than staying silent.
Placing both hands through the metal bars, she slips the metal slivers into the locking mechanism and fumbles around a bit, making noise and seemingly trying to follow Pernicious' instructions. As she works, she idly chats to break the silence and cover the noise of metal scraping on metal.
"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. Two innocent bystanders uncerimoniously flung into the city prisons in a single day. I will most definitly need to bring this up with the local magistrates when our names are eventually cleared. And to think! You - not only innocent, but bravely defending our homes - arrested."
Amira wonders, not for the first time, exactly who she might be working with here. The mysterious gentleman had clearly left something out of his story, but more important question was what? She hoped that this wouldn't end with a invoking serial killer back on the streets... but surely anyone committing a serious offense would be in a more secure location...?
She is distracted by a noise down the hall, the pick vanishes somewhere in her creme colored blouse, and she quietly curses as her nail breaks. She indicates to the mage that he should remain silent, and after a good number of seconds of silent, she resumes working the lock. With her complete concentration, the lock releases a metalic clink and the door swings open.
Peeking around to make sure the way is clear, Amira makes her way to the Mage's door and starts over agian.
"As for where we might go if we make it out of here, I was planning on taking a short vacation from Haven. I know of a small cabin on the edge of the Forest Sif. My father did love the rustic ways of the cabin," she whispers whimsically. "He used to say 'Amalia, the best places to hide are where the forest meets the fields. He was speaking of hide-and-seek, a game we children played, but it seems appropriate here as well. You are welcome to join me, but if you wish to remain within the city or have arrangements to do so...?"
Smiling inwardly, Amira gathers the mysterious mage understands what game they play at, but as he himself admitted, these were dangerous times and she had no idea who he was. For all she knew, this was a rather brilliant new tactic of the city watch in convincing criminals to confess: do a small favor, a dramatic entrance, admit to a false crime, and then listen to a dramtic confession of one miscreant to a "cellmate." But Make-Believe was another childhood favorite and it was more fun than staying silent.
Placing both hands through the metal bars, she slips the metal slivers into the locking mechanism and fumbles around a bit, making noise and seemingly trying to follow Pernicious' instructions. As she works, she idly chats to break the silence and cover the noise of metal scraping on metal.
"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. Two innocent bystanders uncerimoniously flung into the city prisons in a single day. I will most definitly need to bring this up with the local magistrates when our names are eventually cleared. And to think! You - not only innocent, but bravely defending our homes - arrested."
Amira wonders, not for the first time, exactly who she might be working with here. The mysterious gentleman had clearly left something out of his story, but more important question was what? She hoped that this wouldn't end with a invoking serial killer back on the streets... but surely anyone committing a serious offense would be in a more secure location...?
She is distracted by a noise down the hall, the pick vanishes somewhere in her creme colored blouse, and she quietly curses as her nail breaks. She indicates to the mage that he should remain silent, and after a good number of seconds of silent, she resumes working the lock. With her complete concentration, the lock releases a metalic clink and the door swings open.
Peeking around to make sure the way is clear, Amira makes her way to the Mage's door and starts over agian.
"As for where we might go if we make it out of here, I was planning on taking a short vacation from Haven. I know of a small cabin on the edge of the Forest Sif. My father did love the rustic ways of the cabin," she whispers whimsically. "He used to say 'Amalia, the best places to hide are where the forest meets the fields. He was speaking of hide-and-seek, a game we children played, but it seems appropriate here as well. You are welcome to join me, but if you wish to remain within the city or have arrangements to do so...?"
tiornys
Explorer
Vi'kandrix hummed quietly to himself as he prepared the rabbits for roasting over his small, sheltered fire. He was no bard, but he knew how to weave a melody over the harmony of forest sounds. A shift in that harmony caught his attention, and his trained eyes quickly found the source of the disturbance. A deer! Recognition led to action, and Vi'kandrix had taken two swift, quiet steps, spear clenched in hand, before his head caught up. And what would you be doing with a deer, Vi? he muttered, shaking his head at himself as he turned back to the fire. Wasting the meat, with only me to eat, and no time to smoke it. Still, venison does sound better than these bits of meat. Chuckling to himself, Vi'kandrix set the rabbits to cooking over the fire.
t~
t~
Swiftly picking his path down the slope of Mount Kiln, Kolvram kept his focus on Thane Hold, knowing that years of routine had built almost as much of a defense of the keep as the walls itself. The siege had lasted so long that it seemed impossible for the attackers to break through. Yet he also understood the needs of stone construction. It had been years since the walls could be repaired and reinforced. More importantly, he had Moradin's guidance to let him know that something significant was only a short time away.
As he finally reached the road that only came half way up the mountain he turned and looked at the monastery he had just left. Years of training and learning were locked within that structure, and he knew they would be enough foundation on which to build his service to his god. With a quick motion he lifted his axe to his forehead and mouthed a silent prayer to Moradin, A swift and righteous death to Your enemies.
As he finally reached the road that only came half way up the mountain he turned and looked at the monastery he had just left. Years of training and learning were locked within that structure, and he knew they would be enough foundation on which to build his service to his god. With a quick motion he lifted his axe to his forehead and mouthed a silent prayer to Moradin, A swift and righteous death to Your enemies.
Vi'kandrix hears a voice from above, A wise choice, friend. A hooded figure, previously unseen, jumps down from a nearby tree. I do not mind those that hunt in my woods, but they must not waste the life they take. He wears a forest green cloak concealing his face and origins. He holds a bow in his hand with blades at his waist. You look as though you are preparing for a journey. He motions to a clear spot near the fire opposite Vi'kandrix. Mind if I join you while you while you rest?
Sidenote: I don't know how to do the clicky hidden text thingy. (OOC, spoilers, etc.)
Similar Threads
