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Adventurers or Clerks, Living or Dead – All your fates changed when Azalin the Lich activated his doomsday device and turned the city of Il-Atuk into the Necropolis. When the hand of the negative energy plane stretched across Darkon, it's tainted touch brought you back as one of the undead. Not everyone was equally affected by the shadow; while many of your neighbors lost their wits and became vulnerable to the supernatural control of Azalin and his secret police, you and your allies managed to keep your free will even in undeath. Fleeing Il-Atuk, you and other free-willed undead took your possessions and thralls and sought refuge from Azalin's minions in an empty dwarf hold in the Mountains of Misery. Everyone rebuilt their unlives. It wasn't easy, but some semblance of normality returned to your community. A normality that was ruined yesterday, when the hold's traders opened the stone doors and were blasted to ash by sunlight. Green grass that did not whisper the secrets of the dead grew in front of your door. Skeletons and zombies sent out to investigate did not return. The Democracy of the Dead is restless, and they demand answers. You have been chosen to discover what has befallen your settlement. You are to leave the hold and act as it's representative in this terrible land of fair weather and beautiful vistas. You are to find a new supply of blood and corpses to maintain the dead, and food to maintain the living. And most of all, you are to insure that Death has not followed you out of his domain. Cast of Characters PCs: Antoinette Charbonneau, Ex-Royal Chef (Hashtags Yoloswag) Ascendant Prince Rakszan (Dagon) Prise Weaver, Shepherd of Souls (ProfessorCirno) Armando Jones, Private Eyesocket (RPZip) Azana, Pupil of Azalin (Arivia) A MYSTERY?! NPCs: Tuesday, Banshee councilor and patron of the party. Rob, the simple and common man. A gate guard. Fitzandul, Mayor of the town of Highshade. Mormon Star Wars fucked around with this message at 04:48 on Jun 28, 2014 |
# ? Jun 13, 2014 00:19 |
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# ? Mar 29, 2024 11:10 |
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The Hold Three days after the traders had been turned to ash by the unexpected sun, the dreaded Council of Days began to gather those it thought capable of succeeding in the outside world. A vast number of the dead – and their living thralls – gathered in the hallway that used to house the grand smithy while the council's herald read a list of questions to narrow down the pool of adventurers. “Who among you has lost control of their hunger? Who among you has killed a thrall in anger? Who among you is necessary for the survival of the hold?” Anyone who affirmed the question is lead out. Slowly, the number of potential candidates is whittled down to five. You are lead into the council's chambers through a large stone door. As you pass the threshold, each of you is nicked on the neck by a blade – a symbolic murder, meant to mask the nature of the hold from Death. Tuesday is the councilor elected to brief you, and she is waiting on one of the seven stone chairs that were already in the abandoned hold when the dead started trickling in. She appears to you as an elven woman in the prime of her youth, translucent except for the wolf-skin shawl that covers most of her body. No one knows how she became a banshee – and no one wants to start that rumor mill going, either. “I'm going to be honest about our situation with you. We don't have the supplies to last for more than a month, maybe two. More than that, we'll have to start eating the thralls. You know we founded this place to escape that sort of life. We cannot allow ourselves to fall back into that existence. It will alert Death to our presence like a signal fire.” “We trust you to do what is right for the community. We've put together a wagon for you that should be sealed from the sun, and filled it with trading goods, spyglasses, and blood. You are to ascend to the tallest peak and see if you can find signs of civilization, set up a trade agreement, and return before we run out of supplies. Spirits speed you.” The Peak It takes you two days, but you finally ascend as high as you can go. The group makes camp on a plateau that gives you a fabulous view of the surrounding land. The trip puts your communities existence in perspective. The hold, which used to be at the foot of the snow-capped Mountain of Misery, is now set halfway up a series of brown and temperate mountains surrounded by diverse lands. In the east, you can make out a vast plain with a lonely mountain jutting out in the center. Smoke rises ominously from several locations. The land looks as if it were the product of an obscene blast in a past age. To the west, you can see a thick, mist-shrouded forest. Ivory towers extend above the canopy, bearing white and red decorations. Some of the plants look more blue than green, forming odd circles along the tree-tops. The south, at least, looks familiar. At the foot of the mountain you can make out what look to be good, old-fashioned Darkonian mining towns. You can make out small settlements all along the verdant grasslands below you. You can examine the areas in more detail with the spyglass. You are armed with a sunproof wagon, trinkets to mollify the living, and a healthy sense of adventure. What will you do?
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 00:19 |
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Armando Jones Armando sits in the driver's seat of the wagon, chewing idly on one of the tall plants they'd passed by - some kind of freely growing grass, but much larger and healthier than anything he'd seen in a long time. He shook his head in amazement, taking in the majesty of the view. "This place is amazing. Look, they've got mines down there! Might be a good place to start, miners usually aren't too picky about who comes around if they've got money." The demilich floats the spyglass up to his eyehole, peering through it carefully at the towns and buildings below. Perception: 1d20+9 13
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 05:20 |
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Antoinette "Yes, yes - and perhaps their market stocks spices, as well. I'm running low." Antoinette looks up from sharpening her knife - which she'd been doing compulsively over the last two days to busy herself, used to the long hours at the restaurant - and gasps. "You!" She drops her knife and claws her way up to the front seat. "I knew someone had gotten into my minty gum fronds!" She thrusts a hand out under his chin, eyes blazing with fury. "Cough it up. I need that for tonight's stew."
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 05:28 |
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Armando: You can see the town more clearly through the spyglass. What you see is absolutely bizarre. While the town looks like any you might find in Darkon, full of humans and elves and dwarves and other living types, you can clearly see that this settlement also has goblyns. And they are wearing clothes! And doing things that otherwise civilized people would do! They aren't even EATING anyone! Even though these crazy people have apparently invited bizarre green Goblyns to live with them and have dinner with them and probably associate with each other at the very same taverns, the town has a large amount of guards posted outside the walls. Who in the world would turn people into Goblyns and then dye them green?
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 05:34 |
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Armando Jones Armando lets his jaw open in amazement, the half-chewed stalk dropping into Antoinette's outstretched hand. "Huh. Don't see that every day. Goblyns who think that they're people, and people who think that Goblyns are too. This is a strange, strange place." He pivots westward, looking through the spyglass at the forest. Misty forest, dark trees - that should be much more familiar than this strange town. Perception: 1d20+9 21
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 05:51 |
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Antoinette Annie closes her hand around the dry bits of grass that flutter out of Armando's mouth; she expected a drippy wad. Huh, free spice grinder. "Goblyns?" She stares down at the town in disgust - goblyns are terrible customers. Very messy eaters. That blasted hellscape to the east is looking more comfortable by the second.
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 05:55 |
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Armando: You can't see much to the west thanks to the canopy, but what you do see is very familiar. The forest floor is covered in perpetual shadow and you can sometimes half-catch a person or animal wandering through it. The towers are much more interesting - the main cluster of them looks ruined. The white marble that makes up the tower walls is cracked, the banners are faded and torn, and shingles have fallen off the roof. In the topmost tower you can see a face. It looks like some sort of Elf. It looks like some sort of elf staring in your direction.
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 05:58 |
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Armando "Huh." Armando lowers the spyglass, looking at the distant forest. He raises the spyglass up. The elf is still staring directly back at him, glaring daggers in their direction. "Well, that's unsettling. I haven't seen an elf look that unhappy since the Vorminthia case," Armando said. The elf turned and vanished out of sight. "Time to wake up, people, we may have been spotted. Anyone taken a look at those mountains to the east? I'm guessing the people to the west are going to be... unhappy to see us, and I'm not sure I like the look of those Goblyns."
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 12:30 |
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Azana Azana turns away from looking at the east, her arms crossed. "The south is our beginning - supplies for the weaklings in the hold, and prey for us." The vampire smiles, revealing her fangs. "I haven't eaten in far too long." She struts away from the others, preparing to lead the cart down the mountain. Perception: 1d20+2 9
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 12:59 |
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Antoinette Annie gives Azana a deadly look. "Oi, maybe if you didn't skip breakfast, brunch, lunch and your afternoon snack you wouldn't be so hungry all the time!" She deposits the ground gum fronds into a pouch and then plucks the spyglass out of Armando's hands, looking through it to the east briefly before pulling it away and wiping the glass furiously on her apron. "Ugh, what's this smudge you've gotten on it?" Perception: 1d20+0 2
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 14:14 |
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Azana "And if you didn't go rummaging through garbage bins like a goblyn, you'd maybe get a man with no eyes some day."
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 14:17 |
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Antoinette "Hmph. My love is reserved for the culinary arts." She's clearly been disarmed by the comment, though - at least for now.
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 14:21 |
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Antoinette, Azana: Now that you are looking through the spyglass, you can make out what habitations lie to the east. They appear chaotic; no two are alike. Stone edifices like mausoleums gather in a group in one place, while straw... nests? have been build in another. Azana: Furthermore, you can see some of the people that dwell in these places. They are all calibans! You can see people with the heads of bulls, what appear to be jackalweres, women with wings instead of arms, and all sorts of monstrosities. A powerful darklord must dwell there, to have twisted so many people into mockeries!
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 19:03 |
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Rakszan "Elves one way, wastes another, but forge lands to the south?" Rakszan's jaw clanks, moving to attempt to give the illusion of talking, though his voice is an echo from somewhere deeper inside his metal bones. "I will find no friends among the wood. Surely the fire of industry should be our destination, even though they would mingle with those so far inferior."
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# ? Jun 13, 2014 22:02 |
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Antoinette "I'd prefer the forest - at least we'd be in the shade there. I doubt elves have any ingredients worth buying, though."
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# ? Jun 14, 2014 06:07 |
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Prise Weaver Prise clicked her claws together nervously. Since they had set out, she felt the overwhelming and oppressive shroud of death unfulfilled that seemed to blanket this strange new world. The souls were not restless; if anything, they were dying. "There are none inferior. Our existence is proof of a greater justice and equalizer. The spirits of the dead move irregardless of their birth. Or...they should. A horror possesses these lands, different from anything I have felt before. Regardless, I vote we head southward. Our purpose is both to explore and understand this world as well as create new trade routes; if the south holds villages, then they may be eager for trade." I have very awesome History; is it ok if I fluff this as the souls of the dead whispering into my ear since I have literally no way of otherwise knowing anything about this new world?
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# ? Jun 14, 2014 13:39 |
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With the decision made, your party heads southward - down the mountain. Luckily, it seems as though the holds daytime scouts have carved a path down the slope big enough to fit the wagon. The trip is mostly uneventful, except for the horrifying bird calls you can hear echoing through the crevasses. They never seem close enough to be danger, but sometimes you could swear that they were accompanied by the sound of clashing iron. You manage to reach the soft, grass-covered ground by nightfall. The trail ends quite a ways from the mining town - far enough that they shouldn't stumble on it by accident. Behind the lightly-colored stone walls surrounding the town, you can see torchlight, and make out the silhouettes of the guards. Two stand in front of the doors, armed with pikes. The tabard covering their armor bears a roaring, crowned black-bear flanked by golden dragons.
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# ? Jun 15, 2014 22:12 |
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Antoinette As the cart approaches the town, Antoinette takes her white chef's hat and ties it to a stick that she'd plucked from off the side of the road. She waves it in the air as the party approaches, hoping that their intentions not to eat the living are made clear. She clears her throat as the cart comes close enough to the guards for conversation. "Hail, friends! We come seeking supplies and parley with your mayor or mayoral equivalent!"
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# ? Jun 16, 2014 16:41 |
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The guards look absolutely befuddled. They set their pikes into the ground, preparing to be charged, but look absolutely confused by the apron on the stick. "Is this some DROAMMEEN trick? I don't reckon ye look like monsters. Who are ye?" The second guard pipes up. "Let us see yer back, make sure ye ain't a second face."
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# ? Jun 16, 2014 18:06 |
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Armando Jones Armando floats off the driver's seat and moves forward, prodding Antoinette with a manipulated glove. "Yes, Antoinette. Show the people that you've only got one face." The demilich waves a jaunty gloved hand, which wasn't actually precisely a hand but just a glove, at the two guards. "This won't take but a moment. We give you our sworn word that we do not intend to harm, abduct, consume, devour, turn, corrupt, steal or in any other way hurt a member of your town, unless provoked in some fashion after entering." This was, of course, a slightly modified version of the standard traveler and trader's oath from the communities around the Mountain of Misery, and it... usually held up. Usually. RPZip fucked around with this message at 18:22 on Jun 16, 2014 |
# ? Jun 16, 2014 18:16 |
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Azana Azana smiles widely, inadvertently flashing her fangs. "Go ahead Antoinette. Show them everything."
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# ? Jun 16, 2014 20:03 |
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The guard scowls at the displays of power. "Rob, ye idjut, they're karnathees. Look at that there skeleton drivin' their wagon and yammerin about not eating us." The other guard rolls his eyes. "If'n that were a Karnathee skeleton, it'd know the war was over and it wouldn't be having to promise us not to eat us." They discuss this in low whispers. "Now ye understand we ain't prejudice against no karnathees, even given ya'lls behavior in the last war, but we still ain't lettin ye in to trade until we make sure ye ain't got the touch of Them on you. No second faces, no six fingers, no eyes in yer armpits. That sort o' thing."
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# ? Jun 16, 2014 20:15 |
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Armando Jones Armando turns to the rest of the group, then shrugs expressively. "Sure, why not. In fact, I'm quite positive I don't have any of those things. Is there someone who checks out new travelers to make sure they don't have, ah, that sort of thing?"
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# ? Jun 16, 2014 21:32 |
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Prise Weaver Diplomacy: 1d20+8 13 Prise emerges from the wagon, clawed hands and slightly messed up face and all. "I am Prise Weaver, something of a religious leader. Something similar, at any rate. I will happily submit myself to your check. Once we succeed, could you tell us what "Them" are?"
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 00:49 |
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Azana Azana lets slip her cloak, revealing the almost-nothing Azalin had her wearing. "I have nothing to hide." She stares at the guardsmen, unblinking. But maybe you do.
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 00:54 |
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Antoinette "Control yourself, Azana." She submits to the check, making sure to keep a close eye (with her single face) on Azana.
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 01:23 |
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Armando Jones Armando sighs and gives Azana a light smack on the back of her head. "Don't play with your food, Azana, you know how ridiculous it looks after a while."
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 01:33 |
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Prise Weaver Prise steadfastly ignores the spectacle behind her.
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 01:38 |
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One guard stares slackjawed at the lady vampire. She must be... city folks, like them women from Sharn! The other elbows him. "Well she's, err, checked." They investigate the others for abnormalities, and then the senior guard starts to explain who "They" are. "Well, I reckon before any of us came over here - you know, from Sarlona, even - some of the natives fought a war against some nasty folk. Don't know much about it, you'd have to ask one o' them chroniclers, but it let somethin' in and they like to take normal folks like us - and I guess you all, over in Karrnath - and twist 'em up all awful like. Bodies n' minds, lookin' the same but different. Cause a lot of trouble for honest sort, we make our livin' minin' Byeshk and sellin' it to people what hunt 'em. You ain't Blood of Vol, are you?" (Prise Weaver: While the guards yammer on, you can hear the dead trying to outwhisper each other. They are madness They are beautiful The Daelkyr are not from this world I was two people, once Pull them apart! Pull them apart! Where did they mountain come from? Khyber's parasites) "Well, either way, you'll be needing to talk to the mayor. Rufus, open the gates!" The gates are thrown open, and "Rob" escorts you into town.
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 05:14 |
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Rakszan "We will submit. A resistant attitude is not conducive to our trade mission." Rakszan plainly states, approaching with his arms spread for a search. "You will find no manufacturing defects on this shell. No blood, either, of Vol or otherwise." Dagon fucked around with this message at 05:23 on Jun 17, 2014 |
# ? Jun 17, 2014 05:15 |
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Prise Weaver "I believe only Azana would have what fits the common definition of blood, though she likely has entirely too much. Maybe Antoinette? I'm not actually sure what manner of Returned you are, Antoinette, no offense intended. That said, I assume you use it not as physical descriptor but political or religious. In such a case, we have no such allegiance; we are...new, to this land, I think. I am the only one who would fit the description of 'religious,' as well, and have no connection to anything related to blood." Prise nods to herself for a moment. "The 'Them' you mentioned...would they be the, ah, 'Daelkyr,' by any chance?"
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 05:28 |
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Rob makes the sign of Onatar, which is a complicated looking finger-construction that is intended to look like an anvil. "Yes, the Princes of Madness."
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 05:59 |
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Antoinette "Yes, I do have blood. No, Azana, you may not have it." She pulls her apron off the branch and ties it back around her waist. "So, Rob is it? Tell me about your local cuisine. Fine restaurants, local delicacies, farmer's markets..."
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# ? Jun 17, 2014 06:48 |
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Azana "And what do these Princes of Madness visit upon you in the night, hmm?"
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# ? Jun 18, 2014 20:19 |
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Armando Jones Armando looks at the complicated gesture the guard made, in some kind of apparent warding symbol, and shrugs. He raises both of his gloves to perform the traditional warding symbol of the Mountains, thumb and pinky extended to show the strength of the mountain bulls of their homes and their reputed resistance to all types of evil. Talking to these yokels wasn't going to get them much, though. There had to be some one in this town who knew something, at least. "Hey, is there a tavern nearby? You know. The place where you can get drinks. And cigars. I really need a good cigar."
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# ? Jun 18, 2014 22:58 |
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Rob jerks his thumb towards Antoinette and Azana. "Your skeleton is real funny, that." He takes them to the middle of town, in front of a three story stone building adorned in peacock banners. You can see cozy flames through the window, and, while not crowded, the inn and tavern does have some late-night visitors. "This here is the Peacock Club. I'll go an rouse the mayor, ya'll just settle in. Does the skeleton really try to drink? Is that what you all might call a party trick?"
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# ? Jun 19, 2014 04:57 |
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Antoinette "He does. I have no idea where it goes, but as long as he appreciates it I can't rightfully complain." Antoinette bids farewell to Rob and barges inside, sitting herself at any available table. "Waiter! Your finest hors d'oeuvres and a sampling of your wines, if you please!"
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# ? Jun 19, 2014 06:55 |
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Prise Weaver Prise sits quietly with Antoinette but waves away any food. "I no longer require nor enjoy it, I am afraid. Consider it a vow of asceticism, if you will."
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# ? Jun 19, 2014 07:22 |
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# ? Mar 29, 2024 11:10 |
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The waiters bring all of the dead people their orders, none of which are particularly filling, but which probably taste good! For a place that looks like it is under siege, the settlement's food and drink seems to be top quality. The tavern has beautifully polished wood floors, magnificent white marble walls, and a host of purple-metal'd weapons lining the walls. Most of them look used. After about an hour of waiting, Rob opens the door and escorts in a slightly chubby half-elf whose cheeks are currently bright red. His eyebrows look normal, but you can tell he must have been furrowing them for the entire past hour because drat. He approaches the groups table and takes a seat. He offers a respectful (yet wary) nod to the Prince, addressing him as "our good warforged" before turning back towards the rest of the group. "I am mayor Fitzandul, leader of this here town. I ain't never hosted a Karnathee delegation before, so I hope you sincerely forgive any discretions. Couldn't holler at the Brelish government fast enough to send a real ambassador. Welcome to our town!"
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# ? Jun 21, 2014 01:02 |