Tales of Faerun

[FreemasonGamer]

The genasi loosed an amused chuckle in response to Abigail's query, and he craned his head back to gaze up at the dancing stars whilst scratching his chin. "Hmm, good question," Rameses mused, considering his response quite seriously as he vividly began to imagine what form of attire he would prefer to wear; his considerations drew upon his fondest childhood memories of assisting his mother and sister in the Galeran family trades of silk weaving and tailoring. "A set of hooded silk robes brilliantly dyed with fiery shades of orange and gold to match the powerful radiance of the sun, and the fabric woven into a stunning satin sheen which would then be embroidered with regal crimson thread all along its fringe and across the entire expanse of the back, possibly even forming a wing-like design upon the shoulders."

Clearly enthralled by the designs swiftly unfolding within his mind, Rameses grinned madly as he continued, "The front of the robes would part below the waist—its length tapering down several inches past the knee—for the convenience of sheaths and scabbards strapped to an ornate belt of oiled earthy-brown leather adorned with a polished golden buckle and bejeweled with the finest-cut rubies. There would also be a pair of comfortably loose, well-made pair of beige trousers to compliment but not draw away from the robes or belt. Of course, a sturdy pair of durable, comfortable boots crafted from the same richly colored leather as the belt for the sake of reminiscence would be included, as well. To finish it all off, a silky velvet sash worn over the left shoulder and a light velveteen cape, both of which colored darker shades of rosy red and embellished with designs sewn using violaceous thread, perhaps..."

Once the genasi realized how severely his wistful pondering had intensified into a steeping sense of doting, his szuldar flared with embarrassment before he said finally, "Er... Something like that, anyway. Something light and cool to help with the sun and heat... Oh, and probably lengthy bell sleeves for the robes."

Shaking his head and retrieving another pint of alcohol to hopefully clear his thoughts, Rameses tilted his mug to We'tak in hopes of shifting the focus from his own vivid answer to Abby's inquiry. "We'tak, young one. Tell us, do your people practice much in the ways of dancing or music?"

Edited September 10, 2015 by FreemasonGamer

[GrueMaster]

*Tck'tck'tck...* We'tak gave a dissatisfied chitter at Conall's and Zorica's responses. Why do softskins make such simple things so complex? His disgruntled musings vanished, however, when Rameses asked about thri-kreen traditions.

"Thri-kreen practice many great songs and dances!" The hatchling began exclaiming as he became very animated, clearly excited by the opportunity to share more about his race.

"Thri-kreen have much reason to perform; in celebration, in mourning, in honoring the spirits, and many other reasons. It can strengthen thri-kreen spirit. It can share storiess of great ancestors, give praise unto the Great Spirit, Mother Moon, and the spirits of the land, and bring joy and exaltation of life itself. Thiss one," We'tak said humbly, gesturing towards himself, " also comes from a lineage of good string-players."

The thri-kreen fell silent after speaking of this last fact, contemplating whether he should pull out his strings; he had vaunted the skills of his race and his very ancestors, yet he himself had never really played his own strings. Do I risk angering my ancestors? Yet, feeling obligated to uphold his very race, We'tak pulled out his strings and a set of beads. "Give me one moment..."

Tightening the strings onto his gythka and hanging the beads loosely on one end of it, We'tak gave a calm strum to test the sound, and then, hiding his nervousness, allowed his instinct to take over as he stood to play...

Staff in hand, he began with a deep, rhythmic thud, made by striking the wood he had used as a seat, beads shaking in time with it. This was followed with soft yet strong twangs on the strings, and then another set of percussion as We'tak drummed on his chitin with a free hand, rapidly at times, yet slow at others. Finally, he began warbling, softly at first but soon picking up in strength, seemingly wordless in nature, yet depicting beautific lyrics as well. Altogether, this made for a chaotic song that surprisingly also had a musical order to it, a calm peace within a wild storm.

We'tak played thus for several minutes before falling silent with one last, trailing chee and strum of the strings. He looked up at his clutchmates, his posture showing quiet embarrassment. "I hope clutchmates liked it. It was first played by this one's great-grand sire... I pray I played it to their liking..." he said, not quite realizing that he had played it exactly as his father had...

Edited September 11, 2015 by GrueMaster

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine smiled after We'tak finished playing, "That was beautiful. I am sure your ancestors would be pleased." Glancing around, she added, "A pity I cannot remain to enjoy more," she looked up at the sky, where the streaks of silver had gradually become less frequent, "There are important things I must attend to. Good night to you all." With that, the Doomguide rose and returned to the barn, he robes swishing as she went.

 

Once within, she began work on a series of potions for Nawen - simple ones, but ones that could turn a situation in the drow's favor, if she encountered any trouble. She also gathered together some extra supplies into one of the pouches she normally wore on her belt. Into it, she put a few alchemist's fire flasks, holy water flasks, and (when she at last finished them after midnight) a handful of healing and Bless potions. In case the ranger decided to leave before Rhaine awoke, the Doomguide left the supplies by Kiira's stall along with a note explaining the contents of the pouch.

 

Her task at last complete, Rhaine returned to the hay loft and promptly fell asleep, too tired to think or dream.

Edited September 11, 2015 by AurianaValoria1

[tokyobiohazard]

Aera took a large whiff of the catnip, but didn't feel anything more than a bit of tingling in her toes. She hated to disappoint her companions, but she handed the pouch back to Zorica with a shrug. "I guess it doesn't affect my kind."

Hazel smiled and politely excused herself to the barn, where she then climbed up to the loft and found a corner to settle in for the night, watching Rhaine fall asleep quickly several feet away.

Aera, however, took Hazel and Rhaine's signals and unceremoniously got up from her spot by the fire. She headed over to the inn, opting to take one of the likely slightly more comfortable beds inside.

[Deleted6317247User]

Nawen had separated herself from the rest of the group and spent some time walking around the inn aimlessly. When she returned to where her friends were she noticed that they've started retiring for the night. The drow decided to do the same, but before going and try to get some rest again, she went to check up on the horses. As she approached Kiira's stall she noticed a pouch of supplies. "That was fast." She thought as she picked up the pouch and examined its contents. After reading the note, Nawen smiled a little and went to attach the pouch to her horse's saddle.

 

While walking around the inn, she considered whether to stay for a little longer to say goodbyes but decided against it. If she did she might not want to leave at all, and she had to. She wouldn't forgive herself if the danger turned out to be real and she did nothing instead of investigating. No. She had to leave while it wasn't too difficult.

[FreemasonGamer]

With the others dispersing from the bonfire to settle in for the evening, Rameses stood and did the same after draining his fifth or sixth mug of ale. Soon finding himself in a pile of hay somewhere within the barn, he was relieved to see his camel asleep once more within his stall. Without any hesitation, the drunken fire genasi fell into a deep, thoughtless slumber for the rest of the evening, the lights of the cosmos fallen still in the night sky.

[josh900]

As the members of the group trickled off to bed one by one, Azuris and Lucas were among the last to do so, Azuris moving to the barn, while Lucas opted to look for an empty bed back in the inn, finding one that Hexol had earlier claimed, but had fallen off of at some point in the night.

 

Leif meanwhile stayed out by the campfire, preferring the clean outside air over that of a barn, he eventually setting out his bedroll and casting a simple bug repellent spell to avoid waking up with countless unknown insects crawling on and around him.

[GrueMaster]

We'tak bowed his head head in gratittude towards Rhaine. "Thank you, Rhaine," he said, before noticing she was going to bed. "Oh, well, good night, then, Winged Pointy-ear." *Tck'tck* Then the rest of his clutch began to follow suit.

"Oh... good night, clutch... I suppose I will... watch over the camp..." The thri-kreen said to no one in particular, the realization that he will likely be the only one awake until dawn making him sober. It will be a long night... We'tak thought silently, before looking at Conall in askance. "Will you be going to rest as well?"

Conall rose slowly, finishing off his mug of ale and stretching, wincing slightly as he did so, the flesh of his chest a slight bit sensitive stilll, "Aye, friend. That I will. If I'm right in my feelings about Rhaine's plans, it will be a long ride tomorrow. Best to rest well and soon, at least for us softskins," he winked, blue eyes shining in the firelight. "Good night, young one." With that, he turned and walked back to the barn, deciding to make his bed in the hayloft, too, to save room in the inn for someone else.

"Okay," We'tak nodded, before looking to adjust the strings on his gythka. "I will keep watch, then. Rest well, clutchmate." As Conall left, the thri-kreen played softly on the make-shift intrument for a while, thinking of his ancestors and the spirits in quiet prayer...

 

-----------------------------------

 

In a quiet grove lit only by moonlight, a motherly-figure clad in silver and white looked upon a peaceful pond, upon which the full moon was perfected reflected. "If only the world was as peaceful..." She lamented, before turning around to speak to the figure lying behind her. "Would you not agree, Conall Whitefang?"

 

Conall felt as though he were awakened by a musical voice, sweet and almost parental in its tone. Yet, when he opened his eyes, the broken roof of the barn did not greet him. Instead, he found himself transported to a nighttime grove with the moon shining like a bright silver disc above. He rose, concern rising in his breast as he glanced around, "Where...?" He trailed as his eyes fell upon the woman, and a slow realization dawned inside of him as his soul recognized something in her. He instantly went back down onto his hands, head bowed to the earth, "My lady....you have blessed me with your presence, of which I feel most unworthy, Moonmaiden."

"Please, Conall... arise." She quietly commanded, a hint of reproach in her tone not unlike a mother softly scolding a child. "This is a place of solace. Please feel welcome here, and stand in peace." Selune said this as she approached Conall, and, with a gentle strength, pulled up the man to face her, his hands in hers. She studied him silently for a moment. "Would you not like to know why I have brought you here?" She asked, silver eyes peering into Conall's soul.

The werewolf, mesmerized by his Lady's touch and gaze, was a bit slow to respond, his reply finally coming out in stumbling words, "I...cannot lie to you, my lady. I am curious, yes."

"Then walk with me for a while, if you would," Selune said, before turning and starting to walk alongside the pond. "I have a task I would like for you to do. You have done much in my service, for a long time now, but I am afraid I must add yet another burden onto your shoulders." The goddess paused for a moment before continuing. "Tell me, what think you of the son of he whose footprints you now stand upon?" she inquired, gesturing to a large set of prints on the moon-lit ground.

 

Conall, unable and unwilling to do anything but follow his goddess's command, trailed steadily behind her at a respectful distance. When she gestured to the ground, he looked down to see what was undoubtedly thri-kreen footprints in the rich earth. He paused, "We'tak?" Glancing back up to her, he added, "If I may speak my mind, my lady...he is young and full of spirit, yet I fear that his insatiable curiosity will be to his disadvantage. His courage is oustanding, but his eagerness could be his undoing. I do not wish him to meet his father's ill fate."

"Indeed, Conall, and neither do I." Selune continued walking, gazing up at the moon. "The thri-kreen are a curious race... well-adapted to survive and even thrive in the harsh desert, and very wise to the ways of nature. In their clutches, you would be sorely-pressed to find a community more united in purpose."

"Yet, despite this, thri-kreen remain as the barbarian insectoids of the sands. They possess no arcane potential to speak of, and even abhor it, to some extent. They have little in the way of technology as well, only that which they need for basic survival. And though they have strong ties with nature, and their druids highly attuned to their calling, for all their faith, they lack true faith in the gods, save for a select few, such as We'tak's and Tak'we's pack. However, such exemplars are the exception, and that, I fear, is not enough... Which brings me to why you are here."

Selune stopped and turned towards Conall. "Son... I would like for you to take We'tak under your care. I would like for him to become one of my Stars, that he may become stronger, and be a light unto his people, to help raise them from their lowly status, and be able to grow as a race."

Conall took a step backwards, more than a bit surprised at the goddess's request. "I..." he was hesitant in his reply, "My lady, if this is your desire so shall it be done, I swear to you. I only hope that I may be able to fulfill it as you ask--if you believe that I can do this for him-- to raise him so high in your sight."

"You underestimate yourself, Conall, and misunderstand me as well," the Moonmaiden rebuked the werewolf gently. "Of those present, only you know and practice my teachings. Only you have the clutch bond needed to bridge the rift between the thri-kreen and the other races. Only you can serve me in this. This," she exclaimed, "is my thanks for the devotion and the sacrifice of Tak'we, who showed, many times over, the good the thri-kreen could bring to the world were they to awaken to their potential. So please, do everything you can to protect We'tak and help him grow, and teach him my ways of which you, of the civilized races, follow. Teach him everything you can."

He swallowed hard and averted his eyes, "It shall be as you wish, my lady. I am, as always, at your command."

Selune nodded and moved to the pond's rim, before continuing. "I will aid you as I can, Conall. You need not fear doing this alone, for I will help light your path in the night." She pulled out an intricate medallion, on it, a likeness of the half-moon shone in the moonlight. "Before you leave this place, I have two gifts to give you. The first," the goddess said as she handed the medallion to him, "Is my blessing and token of my favor, that you may be my Champion, for all of your devotion and service to me. As for the other..." she pulled out a delicate silver glass and dipped it in the water in front of her, the glass filling yet the pond remaining undisturbed, and handed it to Conall. "Drink deep, my child, and know peace and rest..."

Conall took the medallion and chalice in hand, holding both gingerly, "My lady...I thank you. From the bottom of my heart. You have shown me much mercy and showered my life with so many blessings. I am forever grateful to you." With that, he dipped his head to her and brought the glass to his lips, drinking the contents of it quickly. The water was cool and, perhaps, he smoothest he had ever drunk. Almost immediately, a profound sense of languor fell over him, and he could not help but sink slowly to his knees before her...

Selune gave a soft smile, one filled with both sadness and joy. "Rest now, for as long as you need... though there will be trials ahead, remember that the Moon will shine on you always..."

[AurianaValoria1]

When Conall finally woke that morning, his electric blue eyes popped wide open; in his left palm, he still held the half-moon medallion that the goddess had gifted him in his dream. He slowly sat up, staring at it for a few moments and turning it over and over in his hands, a thoughtful expression on his countenance, before at last pulling the delicate silver chain over his head to rest beside his other holy amulet. However, when he looked down to see where both pendants rested on his chest, his brow furrowed together, and then his jaw dropped...

 

His scarring was gone. Every ounce of the damage left by the foul servant of Talona was wiped away by the goddess's magic. Blinking twice, he realized that it must have been part of the "potion" she had given him; part of her gift of restoration. Tentatively, he rubbed the muscles of his chest. Any residual soreness in the tissues was gone; his skin did not protest being stretched with tingling or stinging or itching.

 

Looking up, the werewolf saw sunlight streaming through the hole in the roof. It must have been late in the morning already, and it seemed most of his company was still asleep, with the exception of Rhaine. The Doomguide was saddling her horse below, whilst he and Zorica still slept in loft above. Glancing to the side, he saw where Zorica had returned to sleep, Sir Meowsalot curled up in a ball on top of her face. Unbeknownst to him, she had imbibed a bit too much after the others had gone to bed, feeling guilty about wasting money after Azuris had bought an entire keg of ale for them. Abby had felt similarly and had staggered off to bed in the inn's common sleeping quarters...unusually gracefully for being drunk. The half-dragon ultimately woke herself up snoring that morning and found herself curled up on top of a passed-out Hexol.

[FreemasonGamer]

The rhythmic two-beat trot of her cocoa-brown steed offering the only disturbance from the placid music of wind flowing over the grassy dew-glistened hills which characterized the expanse around her, Eirene reclined in her saddle's timeworn seat and released a quiet, content sigh. She appreciated the peaceful serenity of the natural, untouched landscape encompassing her vision, and the scenery was quite refreshing after the previous evening spent in the cluttered, cramped port city of Laothkund. Although, the Mulhorandi's whimsical tranquility came to an abrupt pause once a particular bend in the road seamlessly woven amid the hilly terrain revealed a distant establishment nestled between two hills far ahead of her. Sitting upright and gripping the reins of her horse, Eirene quickly went over what meager information she could recollect of the individual she was pursuing before spurring her steed into a swift gallop.

 

Several minutes of brisk riding later, the young ranger brought her horse to a stop outside the nearly run-down inn, The Silver Hart according to its well-maintained sign suspended over the entrance, which was the building's only aspect which wasn't in noticeable disrepair. Hopping out off her saddle and stretching momentarily, Eirene then held her steed's reins firmly in her right hand whilst resting her left upon her hip as she contemplated for a moment. Though she was considering how exactly to approach those present at the inn, the Mulhorandi had caught whiff of a certain scent which persuaded her nose to wrinkle distastefully, reminding her of a dog's stench. With uncertainty idling her movements, Eirene soon shook her head before moving towards the barn to deposit her horse for a brief rest. Inside, she discovered the stalls were already occupied to maximum capacity with horses, but her fixation instead quickly fell upon an imposing warrior maiden tending to her steed; clad in plated armor as black as night with a pair of raven wings sprouting from her shoulders to match, the bizarre and honestly foreboding half-elvish redhead warranted both Eirene's caution and curiosity.

 

Biting her lip for a tense moment, the Mulhorandi quickly mustered her courage and approached the well-armed adventurer, greeting her with a promptly sincere inquiry, "Greetings. I am searching for someone—a man with red eyes, golden hair, and skin branded with fiery markings—who is supposedly traveling with a large band of sellswords rumored to have traveled this road quite recently. Might you know of such a group or individual, even?" Eirene's chestnut gaze betrayed her modest sense of optimism as she anticipated whatever the woman might have known.

 

~

Meanwhile, the genasi in question slumbered in the barn's loft upstairs, half buried in the mound of hay he had collapsed into the night before following the conclusion of the party's bonfire gathering. Unwillingly enthralled by the throbbing headache of a hangover which had resulted from far too many drinks and a practically nonexistent tolerance, Rameses was barely even half-sleep; although, he was entirely reluctant to move from where he laid within his rat nest of a bed. Of all that might ever tempt a hungover individual to get out of bed, the only thought that tempted Rameses to move an inch was the prospect of breakfast.