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Tales of Faerun


AurianaValoria1

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Had stayed up all night and was cooking a large breakfast, "I know I looked like a complete idiot lost out of his mind, but a good friend told me that happiness and hope were the best cures for everything. He was right on the most part, I just thought if everyone was optimistic things would get better. Well at least I can help by making everyone breakfast right?" Dishes up plates for everyone with hard tack, eggs, and salted pork, "Here you go everybody, We'll need all of our strength for the journey ahead. Ah right, I need to go check my traps for any evil bastards who stepped into them. Mind helping me? I think it would be best not to do it alone this time." Codswell asked everyone, "Just Be careful not to step in them yourselves." Takes out a makeshift map of the camp riddled with x's, "These are where all the traps are. It was difficult getting back into camp after I set them all up, but it should be easier taking them down now. Oh and any wildlife caught, well, we can probably keep some and let the rest go. Shouldn't hoard all that the forest has to give right?"

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Rameses flinched slightly when Amendale approached and grabbed his injured forearm, but the genasi sighed quietly in relief after the elf healed his wounds. The aching lifted from his form, Rameses flexed his left arm slightly before nodding to Amendale in gratitude. "Many thanks," He said, glancing to the others of their camp. Seeing Codswell acting so foolishly convinced another sigh to escape Rameses' lungs. "Halflings..."

 

The fire genasi nodded to Amendale after a passing moment before saying lastly, "Aught to get some rest. Tending to the others and keeping one's guard up won't be easy."

 

Without another word, he scavenged a small meal of smoked beef—calling it beef merely eased Rameses' conscience, because he could hardly consider the herds of animals roaming the plains bovine in nature—and ate a meager sum of his rations before patting Jarl's neck and entering his tent for the night. After lying down on his sleeping mat in his loose linen attire, Rameses sighed peacefully as the cool desert air felt crisp against his heated genasi szuldur. Soon, the fighter was out like a candle, and he slept like the dead until the following morning.

 

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The sounds of others awakening past dawn finally awoke the genasi as he slowly arose from his tent, stretching slightly as the morning light warmed him from his eastern flank. Relaxed after a decent night's rest, Rameses smirked as Jarl snored peacefully and contently by his tent. After a moment of consideration, Rameses hoped his companion's loud snoring did not bother the others in close proximity. His gaze soon turned downward as the genasi noticed a small black scorpion scuttling its way across the sandy ground. Barefoot and fearless, Rameses couched down with his dagger and redirected the little creature away from their camp.

Edited by FreemasonGamer
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The singing caught her completely off guard. Usually a relatively cheerful girl, Llhunarra was never short on smiles or against having a good time, but this hardly seemed the place. A little shocked, she was thankfully saved from having to tell the little one how inappropriate that was. Glancing at the group one more time, she cuts around him and continues on her way into the trees. Once out of sight she quickens her pace, light frame easily breaking into a job and then into a run. The rogue was not of the forest, but that didn't mean she didn't know how to move in it. She just needed to be away from them, put space between herself and the others as they tended to their wounded friends.

 

With several hundred yards of trees soon behind her and her heart pounding she starts to slow. The only thing she could hear was the thumping in her chest, the rapid beating of her heart filling her ears. Trying to steady herself she presses back against a large oak, the solid wood helping to keep her up as she attempts to catch her breath. Looking at the trees around her, she had no idea which way she might head to find the nearest town or village. Not much of a true adventurer she had never traveled this far from her home and most certainly never found herself in these sort of situations. Lifting gems and trinkets was an adrenaline rush, there was no doubt, but all of this was just...terrifying.

 

The whole lot of them were far more skilled than she and yet they had suffered grievous injuries. What would she have done if in their place? Would she even still draw breath? This was no place for her, she was a thief when it came down to it, not a fighter. Pushing off from the tree she begins to walk, moving farther from the camp. After several steps though she stops. She wasn't even a thief...she was a coward. Even when not spoken the word tasted bitter, felt wrong, but if she were to walk away now...it was the truth. No one had forced her to come, she had volunteered to repay the kindness the group had shown even if she had no idea what she was getting into.

 

This foe they looked to find, this monster, she would be of little help against him, she knew that now. Yet, as thoughts of him arose so too did thoughts of the poor girl that they had captured. All of the freedom in her life had been taken by this man and then even as Rhaine had attempted to set things right, she was still forced to do as she was told. It was all his fault. Llhunarra had approached Rhaine on the matter, to voice her disagreement with the decision, but now she was the one walking away. If they truly planned to stop this creature how could she turn her back on them? Might more suffer cruel fates under his whim, they would.

 

Taking in a deep breath, the redhead takes another step, but this time in the direction of camp. She was a coward, that was true, but she was not about to allow herself to be a hypocrite as well. Heading back towards the rest she adopted a steady pace, hoping they would believe she simply been checking the perimeter. For the rest of the night she would stay to herself, eventually nodding off near the fire.

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Eventually excusing himself from the campfire, Leif retired to his tent for the night. Withdrawing his journal and self-inking quill, he reclined up against his pillow to jot down the days events when a familiar cracking sound took his attention. He leaned forward and lifted his pillow to see the cracked and splattered egg below. "Well if this is a war you wish to wage, dear Abigail, then I shall joyfully meet you on that field." He said with a smirk.

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The morning came and a slur of swears and profanity came with it from Azuris's tent. The damage was worse than what he had originally thought after Lucas healed the damaged skin. He had hoped that perhaps he would have been able to save some of his facial hair and perhaps style it in a goatee or something similar but no, much of his upper lip and chin had been peeled off from whatever had damaged him. And so with a growl and a re-ignited fury towards the events of last night, he drew his shaving razor.

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Hexol was happily eating his breakfast and was the first to spot Azuris as he stepped out from his tent. His fork clattered onto his plate as he gawked at the approaching and clean shaven Azuris.

"I knew there was a face under there!" Hexol yelled out happily.

 

"HAH HAH HAH!!!" Azuris screamed out a mock laugh. "Aren't you funny? Try another one and you'll be wearing that." He growled, pointing to Hexol's breakfast as he sat down nearby.

 

At that moment Lucas walked out of his tent but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Azuris's face. "Huh... So it was all to hide the dimpled chin then?"

 

The twitch in Azuris's face was rather telling. "It stopped the comments about it, that's for damn sure." He muttered, terribly missing his beard.

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"Hey now come on guys. Lets turn our attention to the more important things at hand. Getting to where we need to go. Or well........ finding the bloomin' bastard who attacked us. It's up to you guys. Although suffice it to say I am still quite pissed about what happened last night. Couldn't sleep a wink. Up all night just hoping that charlatan would walk right into one of the traps I had set up. I think it may be best we double our watches in case the blighter comes back. What do you guys think?" Codswell was readying up his mount and sharpening his blade. He then continued picking up his traps and setting a few creatures free while doing so. Letting the animals run back to their home while skinning any that had died in the traps and preparing the meat with salt so as to preserve it. Codswells previous attitude of being jolly had dimmed down a bit now that he knew that he had screwed up, but he was glad the party hadn't outright thrown him out to fend for himself. He muttered to himself, "I know there is a lot of injuries and nothing I can do about it. But yeah just can't let them get to ya.......... else you'll be worse off than when you just got injured. The more optimistic about it you are the less damage there seems to be....... Nine Hells. .... when I was stabbed right through I kept a smile on my face...... a pained smile but a smile nonetheless......... I shouldnt be complaining. These guys have probably been through a lot worse........ I'm sure this is probably the hardest blow they received......... I don't blame 'em. ........ if I had been traveling around and gaining as much experience as them......... I probably wouldn't be smiling either. Oh well. It's a thing of the past now. Right now I gotta focus on preparing for the next time. He invaded our minds. So I will just have to blank mine like I did when I was tortured. That way I can get close enough to gut the son of a......." Codswell caught himself before he said anything further before sighing, "Can I get anybody anything? Any food or anything? Ahhh wait a moment! I might have something here from one of my travels. I dont know exactly how well it may work but.........." He pulls out a jar filled with a green looking paste, "A healer gave me this poultice for emergencies. He said it would help with a lot of injuries. But it can't do anything about any scarring or such. Sorry I didn't remember sooner." Maybe this will help with your friend's eyes. Although I'm not quite sure it will work. But it is worth a try right?"
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Rhaine ate her breakfast in silence, merely watching the others, especially Codswell; there was something endearing about the little halfling's optimism, but it also spoke of a great deal of naivete. He had no idea what kind of foe Silithus was, nor their enemies in the ranks of the Shadovar, and the Doomguide feared he would receive a nasty surprise if he did not wake up to the reality that such foes could not be caught in nooses or stopped with a throwing dagger. When he offered up his poultice, she finally spoke, shaking her head, "Save it for yourself, Codswell. I'm certain it will do no good for Marie. Though I thank you for the sentiment, nonetheless. I'm afraid what has been done cannot be reversed by a mere salve. It speaks of a dark magic that ravages more than the flesh, and it will take much research to find a suitable counter for it."

 

She was about to say more when Azuris emerged from his tent...cleanly shaven. The Doomguide had to do a double-take to make sure it was really Azuris standing there. She set her fork down on her plate with a grin, "Well, well...I daresay you look much younger, sir Azuris."

 

Zorica smirked from her seat on a nearby log, "Aye...the ladies won't be able to keep their hands off of him, now."

 

Abby was too busy shoveling food in her mouth to comment, though she did seem to chuckle a bit at all the commotion surrounding Azuris's now baby-smooth countenance. Argyros watched her eat with no small amount of amusement; she certainly had the appetite of one of his kin.

 

Meanwhile, Conall awoke, groggy, in his tent. Over the course of the night, he had slowly morphed back into his human form, only a blanket draped over his naked body. For a few moments, he was too afraid to look down at his bare chest. When he finally did, he gasped aloud. The flesh was mottled with a mixture of milky white, knotted scarring and fresh pink skin. It seemed not even Rhaine's magic could spare him from all the grotesque effects of the searing flames. It was rough to his fingers and still quite touchy; he would likely not be able to wear armor for a tenday or longer. The werewolf cursed inwardly; he'd be as good as useless for that same time, then.

 

Slowly, carefully, he raised up. Grunting in pain, he pulled his trousers towards him and put them on, then stood to find his shirt and boots. Even the soft linen was rough and scratchy against his skin as he donned the former, and he growled in irritation. This was going to get old fast. Still, he tried to put on his best 'I'm all right' face as he emerged from his tent, his short hair a mess and his gait a tired shuffle.

 

As he observed the gathered party, he gave them a weak smile, "Good morning, everyone. Hope I didn't scare anybody."

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Markas and Fang followed the party in the rear. He whistled an endless tune and stayed quiet, observing the group dynamic. When they made camp he took Fang's saddle off, rubbed his back with a special oil into his fur to prevent sores. After he was finished he took his bow and a few arrows and went off to fetch their dinner, he came back sometime after the scuffle. He watched helplessly as Rhaine tended the wounded. He cooked the rabbit he had shot in silence and away from the group.

 

The other Halfling began his songwork much to the anger of Amendale, Markas remained silent. Only speaking to Fang in whispered tones. He preferred Fang's company when others were angry, he had no real talent for settling harsh situations. After his meal he laid down away from the group on his bedroll, using Fang as a pillow. The hound's heavy breathing sending him off to sleep.

 

He awoke the next morning to the smell of a delicious breakfast and his head in the dirt. He had noticed that Fang was waiting with all the patience he could muster by the campfire for his share of the spoils, his tail wagging fiercely and a big slobbery grin on his face. Markas dressed himself proper and came up beside the hound with a bowl in his hand. He leaned over the pot and inhaled.

 

"Smells great." He said to Codswell as he dipped his bowl into the pot and set it down for Fang, the hound practically lunged towards the bowl and ate hungrily. Markas patted him and smiled as he collected a second bowl from his belongings and filled his own, sitting down on a nearby rock to eat in peace.

 

"Master Ramses... how did you come about your camel?" He asked, engaging in proper conversation for the first time since he had joined the company. "He seems well tamed."

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After redirecting the little venomous creature away from their camp, the fire genasi was eager to follow the others to Codswell as he dished out serving upon serving of surprisingly good-smelling breakfast. With a laden bowl of his own, Rameses had then taken a seat upon a fairly large rock before he enjoyed the simple meal. "You must have learned the culinary arts on the Sword Coast, Codswell; this is notably better than the mess most folk offer in these lands." He complimented, savoring every bite of the tasteful, filling sustenance. Rameses was partially biased towards the eggs, which had a texture and taste that nostalgically reminded him of the breakfast foods of home; that halfling definitely had the ability to prepare a wholesome meal that outmatched trail rations and dried beef.

 

Watching the others of the group during breakfast amused Rameses, to say the least; the halfling Abby hungrily devoured the food prepared by her kin, and much attention was cast upon the freshly-shaven Azuris. As he continued his meal in peace, Rameses was soon approached by Markas, who also took a seat on the stone. When the dog-rider commented on Jarl—who had busied himself with a breakfast of grass—Rameses grinned widely. "I was given Jarl as a prize some time ago when I fought victoriously in a brawl against a herdsman in Calimshan. Thank Tempus that I won, otherwise I would have been without a mount and owed a camel's worth of coinage to the man. In our travels together, Jarl has seemed to become somewhat more docile, but gods know that he has his days. What of your fellow companion?"

 

Once Rameses had cleaned his bowl of its contents but before he had received an answer from Markas, the genasi noticed Conall appear out of his tent; the man's slouched shoulders and fatigued gait clearly personified his weakened condition, but him simply being up and about was a hopeful sign of recovery. His tired features also portrayed a seemingly determined and borderline frustrated expression, which was understandably so. Following Conall's pitiful grin and slightly humorous statement, Rameses stood with an honest smile. "Of all that occurred last night before dinner, witnessing a creature like..." Rameses paused for a moment, considering his words more carefully, "A lycan maul an arguably much greater threat was perhaps the highlight of my evening." An almost cheerful undertone rode Rameses' words before he gestured to Conall's chest.

 

"Good to see that your friends have treated you well. Fire can be such a hatefully abused thing."

Edited by FreemasonGamer
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Codswell answered the genasi, "Nah, this is pretty much the same stuff we served at the tavern to sailors. Although I made the hard tack much easier to swallow by b poo idling it slightly. Trust me hard tack at its finest is as hard as adamantly. Nearly broke off a tooth trying to eat it." Codswell chuckled at the memory, "I picked up cooking when I had to survive the streets with what I had. Id wear my pot as a helmet around so I wouldn't get hit in the head as hard if I hadn't. But anyways I would hardly consider this to be as great a meal as you guys have probably had in the past. I mean you must have had feasts and feasts for some of your accomplishments!" After dishing everyone who wanted some breakfast Codswell took a large platter out and gave himself double the portions he gave everyone else pacing himself as he ate, "Ahhh. Nothing like a good hearty sailor's meal to regain your strength. I tell you. Them sailor's are the best cooks. They have to cook with whatever they have. Fish, tack, fruit, whatever they have they just mash it together and make a good meal somehow." Codswell laughed after swallowing at a funny memory, "They come up with the funniest names for dishes too. Ever heard of 's#*! on a shingle'? Its where they take cream, mix it with beef that has been ground up, cooks it and serve it on a thin plate. I swear, if I had the chance and you all joined me. I would run my own ship." He scarfs down a few more bites, "But that is all up to you guys. I am sticking with you guys as long as I can, be it death or some other occurence that takes me away."

 

After Codswell had finished eating he spoke again, "Well lets see that meal should cover breakfast and second breakfast." The halfling then started readying his things and took a quick sweep of the camp's perimeter, making sure to stay in sight of the party before returning with a report, "Haven't seen anything, but the hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end. I feel like we are being watched by the trees and earth itself."

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Conall gave a wry smirk, "I can only hope I gave as good as I got in the area of scarring. Perhaps it will be an encounter he won't soon forget." He sighed heavily and added, "I know I won't."

 

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Once everyone was finished packing and eating, Rhaine began to lead the way to Rauthil. The town was close enough that they would make it before highsun; all the better for Conall, Weyland, Dri, and Marie, who were presumably still exhausted from their ordeal the night before. Rhaine was worried for all four of them, but she said nothing to them for the time being, instead hoping that the calm and easily-paced ride would be somewhat soothing to them. It seemed that being on the move felt safer than being in one place, anymore.

 

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"Samassa, what are you doing?" an elder Mulhorandi sister glanced sharply at her younger sibling as they hung clothes out to dry on a line on the roof of their two-story home. The younger one kept craning her neck to see past the low walls of the town, and the eldest had yet to glimpse what was catching her sister's attention, so.

 

"There's a huge group coming this way!" the one called Samassa answered excitedly, her teeth bright against her deeply tanned skin, "And there's lots of...men!"

 

Her sister's eyes went wide for a moment, until she, too, was craning her neck to see...

 

Sure enough, the party passed through the gates without issue; since Rauthil possessed the only crossing for the rapidly-flowing river that ran beside the town, adventurers were not an uncommon sight in these parts. But what was uncommon was the sheer size of such a party...and with such good-looking men to boot.

 

"Oh, look at that one," Samassa giggled, pointing at Azuris from afar, "He's...oh my..." she fanned her face.

 

"Oh, no, no, no," the eldest one laughed, "That one is much more appealing to me," she indicated Weyland.

 

Samassa suddenly removed the scarf from around her head to let her waist-length, glossy black hair hang over the balcony. Her elder sister admonished her, but it didn't stop her, and they continued chattering away in Mulhorandi. Thus, it was unlikely any of the party members would understand their arguing over who was the best-looking male of the bunch...

 

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As the group rode into the town, Argyros peered around at the buildings with a steady silver gaze, "Do you feel like we're being watched?"

 

Zorica smirked, "Oh, I'm sure we are. Massive adventuring party just happens to ride through the streets looking like we do? They're probably gossiping over Azuris's beardless chops as we speak." She threw an amber wink the warrior's way.

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