View Full Version : Cambist of Corat: Chapter the First: Paradigm Shift

08-19-2008, 09:55 PM
Everything is bright. The slight headache doesn't help. You try to close your eyes, but realize that they are already shut. A sudden dimness prompts you to open your eyes. Everything is a blurry blue, grey and white, edged in green. After a few moments, you are surrounded in brightness again, but your eyes seem to be adjusting.

Abruptly, you come to the realization that you are lying on your back, looking up at the clouds scudding across a brilliant blue sky. Around you are tall grasses, mixed green and sere. Looking up, you see a plinth of rock thrusting down into the sky. This causes a bit of vertigo, which passes quickly. There appears to be a faint scorch mark on the rock.

A butterfly wanders by your field of vision. There is no sound other than that of the wind.

You are completely alone.

08-20-2008, 06:20 AM
Corat pulls himself to his feet, briefly checking himself for injuries. Provided he finds none, he then checks his equipment to see what, if anything, is missing. If any is, he will search the immediate area to see if he can find it.

Once he's finished checking himself over, he examines the immediate surroundings, in particular making note of any places that could potentially contain an ambush, or areas that could be defensible should he be attacked. Provided nothing else catches his attention, he moves towards the stone plinth.

Any applicable Spot or Listen checks. - Use the rolls in order as needed, addind appropriate bonuses from character sheet.

Once at the plinth, Corat once again surveys his surroundings, making note of any roads, buildings, or towns visible, also making note of any other signs of civilization, such as plumes of smoke on the horizon.

If nearby features block the view, and the plinth seems climbable, he climbs it to get a better view. Climb check.

*EDIT* Apparently, I'm still mildly dazed... Those Spot/Listen rolls are abominable.

08-20-2008, 01:10 PM
{100 bonus xp, simply for happening to be the first of everyone to reply. ^^}

The headache makes climbing to your feet a slight challenge. By the time you finish checking yourself over, it has begun to fade. Everything appears intact, and nothing appears to be missing. You are slightly sore.

Gazing around you, you see low rolling hills, the occasional clump of trees, and lots and lots of grass. You rather get the impression of an ocean of green and sere frozen in place, at least until the wind visibly ripples past. This land would make excellent farmland. The deep grass could hide anything. The noise of insects is deafening.

You wade through the grass, mid-chest high at the top of the hill upon which you were laying. A short walk brings you to the base of the plinth. It exceeds your height by half again. It surface is rough, wind-scored. There may have been carvings upon it's surface, but it is too eroded to tell. There is an oddly-shaped scorch mark on the side facing you.

You decide to climb the thick stone plinth to get a better view, all you could see is grass, and hills, and some trees. Its rough and creviced surface affords easy purchase. Assuming the sun rises in the east, then to the east and a little south, you see a darker green haze on the horizon. To the northwest, the same. To the south... when you gaze settles upon the south, a warmth awakens in your heart, glowing, pulsing. You are strongly drawn to the south.

The sensation surprises you, and your grip slips slightly. One of your hands goes a bit deeper in the crack you are using for a grip, and you touch something cold and hard.

08-20-2008, 07:58 PM
{3,100XP, since I don't have anywhere else to total it}

Corat curses under his breath.

Damnable humans. The only thing he'd been unable to recover the one time he'd been captured was his spyglass. It wasn't cheap, either.

While peering off to the south, trying to figure out what it was that drew his attention, he absently taps his fingers on the object in the crack. A look of confusion crosses his face, and he looks down into the crack, trying to make out what the object is.

08-20-2008, 08:30 PM
The object wiggles a bit, loose, at your tappings. When attempting to peer into the crack your head mostly blocks the light, such is the unfortunate angle of the sun. You do manage to see a corner of something; it's definitely not insect, animal, or rock. It has the look of something crafted.

08-20-2008, 10:27 PM
Corat attempts to remove the object with his fingers. Failing that, he gently, so as not to damage either item, uses the tip of an arrow to try to pull it out.

08-20-2008, 11:02 PM
With the gentle grip of your fingertips, the only part of your hand able to touch the object, you manage to slide it. Bit by bit it comes out, until it catches upon some internal projection. Some careful manipulation frees it, and with some more work, it finally is brought out into the light.

You're not sure what it is. A series of tubes, of passing similarity to a pan pipe, but joined to a loop and several interlocking flat strips of some hard substance. Some parts of it glitter like crystal, other parts are matte like metal. There seem to be many tiny and cunningly wrought joints linking the pieces together somehow-perhaps it is a puzzle of some type. It is in the shape of a rough disk in three layers, just a touch too big to fit comfortably in your hand.

08-21-2008, 02:28 AM
Suspecting the object might be important - or at least valuable - Corat removes a bundle of rations from his backpack and unwraps the oilcloth. He carefully removes the dried meat and now-crumbled flatbread, and wraps the strange device as carefully as he can in the cloth.

He then turns and heads south, thoughtfully munching on his rations, and keeping to the trees or low in the grass as much as possible.

Hide check
Search check, watching for any creatures - humanoid, predator, or game - in the area

08-22-2008, 12:51 AM
Keeping to cover as much as you can, you travel in a southerly direction. Hills, vales, some rocks, trees, and the occasional stream seem to be all this land has to offer. For several hours you make your way. The sun rises high overhead. Between the rising heat melting the morning cool away, and the incessant sound of insects, your attention to your surroundings is in danger of being lulled.

Mounting yet another hill, something in the near distance catches your eyes. Rising out of the sea of grass is what appears to be some sort of banner, or standard. It is planted on the top of a hill, several hills away. It has some long parts, ribbons perhaps, which trail from the top. The wind-blown movement caught your eye. It is colorful, and bears a design which is not distinguishable from this distance.

08-22-2008, 03:49 AM
** Bah. This is a strange format for me. I keep wanting to switch between first and third person. **

I'll move forward towards the banner, taking extreme care to remain unseen, while searching for any sign of the owners of the banner.

I'll also try to identify the banner once I get close enough to make out its heraldry.

*EDIT* Stupid RNG. Can I use my good dice? I promise I'll report the real rolls. :D (I kid... unless you agree.)

Also, I'll not be embedding rolls into sentences any more. That broke my paragraph but good, didn't it? I thought the rolls would stay in-line.

08-22-2008, 06:19 PM
{btw, editing your posts should not reroll the rolls, so feel free to move it around. }

You cautiously weave your way through the grasses and approach to where you can make out the standard. It is formed of a tall pole planted in the ground, with a crosspiece tied at the top holding banner visible. The banner itself is looped around the pole both top and sides, and flaps occasionally in the breeze. The symbol is a rich green upon the tan of the leather. The symbol is cresent moon crossed with three slash marks.

08-22-2008, 08:55 PM
** That's true, but there's nothing I can do to force the roll text in-line with the regular text. It's OK **

Are there any signs of anything else - people, tents, a township?

08-22-2008, 09:17 PM
{no, of course not. i meant for you to put all of your text up top, and then the rolls at the bottom. but no biggie to me. just trying to help. ^^)

There is nothing visible at your current low angle, well-hidden near the base of the hill. You do not recall spotting anything nearby as you crept up, keeping to whatever cover you could find. A cautious crawl up the neighboring hill, however, reveals that there is a second standard in the distance, roughly ten degrees off your previous course of march. It seems to be a different color and shape. You return to the better hidden position.

Your neck starts prickling... but you do not see anything that might account for it.

08-25-2008, 02:36 AM
In all this oddity, that is something a soldier recognizes, and there's only two types of soldier: the ones that pay attention to their gut feelings, and the dead ones.

My left hand drops to my scabbard, pulling loose the leather thong that holds the sword in place, while I pull my bow from its sheath on my back. Once the sword is loose, I string the bow and notch an arrow.

I quickly get my back to whatever tree, rock or other protrusion I most recently used for cover, and scan the area, circling the object with my back to it. Search

I am no longer concerned about remaining hidden, instead staying low enough to gain some concealment from the surroundings, but high enough to see clearly over them.

08-26-2008, 02:01 AM
There is a sudden yowl. You jump and spin. After a few moments, you realize that the yowling sound is laughter. A voice booms from the grasses, "Hah! You lose. I get your dinner tonight!" The voice slurrs the hard sounds and seems to mouth the soft ones. Another voice complains, "There is no way that we could have been seen. I should have won that bet! I had that bet in the claws!" There is some general laughter from many voices all around you.

Out of the grasses rise about 7 felinoid creatures. They are lightly striped, in sere shades, blending perfectly in with the tall grasses all about. They each have a leather harness, treated to match the light, short fur cloaking the entire body of each one. On the harnesses is picked out a small symbol, matching that of the standard up above. From the harnesses depend various small tools and a few weapons. The most prominent of these are large metal claws fitted with straps, attached at the waist.

One of them slaps another on the shoulder with rough joviality; the slapped one sports the most downcast look. At first they all look alike, but then you start to notice slight differences in striping, as well as ear shape and size, and especially eye colors. You also notice that they all have several scars which have somehow been treated to be in the shapes of simple runes along the line of the scar.

They seem somewhat of a cheerful demeanor, overall.

08-26-2008, 02:18 AM
I lower my bow, and release the tension on the string, but keep the arrow notched, while pondering just how to respond to these creatures.

**OOC: How large are these creatures? Human? Halfling? Normal housecat? Also, are they "normal" or humanoid (the description suggests the latter)? Finally, what language are they speaking?**

08-26-2008, 02:23 AM
{they are about 4-5 feet tall when they stand up, however, they seem to slouch a lot. they are felinoid, that is, anthropomorphic felines. You are not sure what language they are speaking... you thought common, but now that you pay attention, what you are understanding does not quite match the mouth movements they are making. }

08-26-2008, 02:27 AM
** If you're implying what I think you are, shouldn't I be "hearing" goblin, not common?**

08-26-2008, 02:30 AM
{nope, oddly enough, common. it is the sort of thing that would strike an intellectual as rather strange.}

08-26-2008, 02:45 AM
**Well, if I were an intellectual, I probably wouldn't be in the army. But with a 17 Int, I'm not dumb either. I'll file that away for now.**

With the thick accent of someone who knows the language, but rarely speaks it, I ask "Hoor choo?"

08-27-2008, 05:50 PM
They all jump pretty much simultaneously, and stare at you. This is rather disconcerting as they have rather large eyes, narrowly slitted against the sun, though this was not fully apparent at first. Then they all turn and look at one of their band, neither the one who lost, nor the one who won the bet. He flattens his ears and grimaces. "Look, this is not my fault! Just because my idiot brother... it's not my fault!" He trys to pose offended dignity.

His comrades burst out into laughter, and the nearer ones slap him on the shoulders in rough humor, knocking him about a bit. Finally, they push the protesting one forward towards you. It seems he has been designated spokesperson. With a final glare over his shoulder at his still-chuckling comrades, he turns to face you. He looks you up and down and his ears return to half-mast. He holds his hands out from his sides a bit, palms up, showing thickly calloused fingers and palms; a gesture of peace?

His voice is a throaty growly voice, warm and liquid with vowels. "So, you speak the tounge of the Star-Water-People?"

08-28-2008, 04:30 AM
I put the arrow back in my quiver, and slide the bow back into its sheath, but leave my sword as it is - untied and tilted forward for easy drawing.

I not know dees ... Sta-Watcha people ... choo call 'em. I speak bit a choomin. Choo not ancher me: Hoor choo?

08-30-2008, 07:42 PM
He arcs an eyetuft and studies you for a moment. "For one who does not know of the Star Water People, you certainly speak the language perfectly. Much better than my brother, and he has been there for seasons now." He wrinkles his nose and then distractedly runs one hand through the thicker mane of his headfur. You catch glimpses of claws which were decidedly not visible before.

"Well met, stranger. In courtesy, I can at least answer your question. Know that we are Ka'atym of the Moonraker Clan. We give you greeting." He folds one hand into a tight paw and places it against his other-the left-which is held loosly cupped around it. He inclines his head slightly and bows a bit from the waist, but his eyes do not leave you. The long claw shapes at his waist jingle metallicaly as they shift with his movement.

"I am called Keenly-Scents, what are you ca..." he starts, only to be interrupted by a call from behind. "You mean Keenly-Scents-the-Flowers!" Which pronouncement is followed by gales of laughter. He twitches... ears flattening, and he whirls around shouting, "I don't have to use the full formal except for ceremony, which you full well know, you earthworms!" You note that his tail is fluffed up to about three times its previous size. Upon seeing the expression on his face, some of his comrades fall over with laughter, one of them even weakly pounding on the earth gasping for breath.

He turns back around, ignoring his fellows. Making a visable effort to relax, he says, "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted... what are you called?"

09-02-2008, 08:03 AM
Placing one hand on my sword, ostensibly to hold it steady, but in reality pushing it forward so it can be easily drawn, I bow slightly, keeping an eye on the creature's hands. Apparently these creatures are always armed, no matter how slightly.

In a practised voice, virtually free of accent, I introduce myself. I am Lokar Corat, of clan Lokar. Once past the formal introduction, I lapse back into my accent. Choomins call my home Gobtown. Choo know tha way there? I been *a brief pause for thought* Chifted here by chum kinda machik, and don't know where I am.

09-05-2008, 07:35 PM
"Greetings to you, Lokar Corat, of Clan Lokar." He let's out a drawn out breath, kind of a hissing sound, where it would have been a hum, had you done it. "I'm afraid that I've never heard of such a town." It seems that he completely missed the change in your inflections. He pauses... clicking his tongue absently. In the background, his friends recover themselves. "Let me ask the others." He gestures for you to accompany him, standing next to you. His friends gather in a loose circle, including you as one of the circle. Everyone has plenty of space to gesture and converse, which they promptly proceed to do. You can follow the majority of it, but there is the occasional word that is missing from what you hear. Or rather, you hear what they are actually saying, but there is no accompanying meaning for you.

They are speaking of the various places they have been too, each accompanied by a short story of some act of prowess performed or witnessed by the speaking individual. It seems that the question of where you are from, and whether anyone has heard of it or not, doubles as a prime opportunity to swap brags and boasts. They seem to be reaching a consensus that none of them have ever heard of your town, when there is an hair-raising yowling uluation. The loose circle transforms instantly into a tighter spearhead formation with you towards the back between Keenly-Smells and another, and the rest of the Ka'atym between you and the direction from which the sound came. You note that they are all now wearing the long metal claws on one hand.

09-05-2008, 09:56 PM
I once again draw and notch my bow and arrow, and take a ready stance facing the direction of the noise, checking to see if I can find what caused it.

Search check

09-05-2008, 10:48 PM
You spot some movement in the grasses, but are not able to see whom is making the noise, exactly. Soon another group of Ka'atym pop up into sight, only these are wearing a different device. You quickly recall the other standard in the near distance. You note that your group does not raise their claw-weapons, but neither do they relax in any way.

Keenly-Scents mutters from the side of his mouth, "Streamslasher Clan... arrogant bullies. watch your step, and follow our lead!"

09-13-2008, 09:55 PM
The second group forms a loose line, part-way down the hill. Keenly-Scents' group moves to form a matching line, keeping you to the rear, and with Keenly-Scents standing just slightly before you, and to one side. You notice that he has moved so that he is standing on your foreward-hand-side, giving you a clear shot with your bow. The standard of your group is now behind where everyone is standing with relation to this new group.

One of the opposite group, a hulking brute, steps forward and begins belting out something which remains only sounds for you. It sounds formal and ritualized, punctuated with slow deliberate gestures. After a few moments of this, he pauses, and when he resumes speaking, the brute's speech is understandable... again, in Common. He makes a long winded speech about some neutral area, but then gestures towards you as he says that you were on their side of the neutral area, and as such you must be surrendered to them!

09-14-2008, 05:03 PM
In goblin, and under my breath: Curse these brutes for not speaking an intelligible language.

Louder, and towards the new group: I mean no violachun of chour land. I am not here by my will. But if I was in noochral land, why does it matter what side I was on?

09-14-2008, 05:37 PM
The leader, or at least the one standing center point of the your line, glances over his shoulder at you briefly, one eye tuft raised. He turns back and shouts, "The outlander speaks well! The neutral ground is just that... neutral. It is neither of our territories, and as such your claim is not valid!" He emphasizes his remark with a slashing gesture with his free hand held rigidly open.

The brute snorts and laughs, an unpleasant sound. "I think not. The neutral ground is both our territories, as we can both go there. As such, it was on our territory, and furthermore, it was on our side of the centerline, so you will give it to us." He cracks his knuckles, loudly enough to be heard even from this distance.

09-15-2008, 05:02 AM
I step forward, just a pace or two before Scents-Keenly, crouch down, and gently set my bow on the ground.

I turn to face the leader of the new group. I hach no quarrel witch choo. I am a locht chraveller, and thesh *a wave of my hand towards the friendly group* are helping me to find my way. But if choo inchicht on "taking" me...

I draw my sword and hold it ready, but point down.

Go. Ahead. And. Try.

*Held action: If the leader draws a weapon, moves towards me, or makes any other hostile move, I will take a charge action at him*

09-20-2008, 09:50 PM
The big brute looks over directly at you for the first time, and stares slightly. The rest of his group look back and forth at each other. The big one unexpectedly bursts out laughing, a huge roaring laugh. After a few moments, he calms down, and looks you over. "So, you think you can be (people)? A little thing like yourself? What are you going to do, poke me in the leg with that little toothpick?"
You note that while the other group is also wearing the long metal claws, neither group is brandishing them at each other.

10-13-2008, 03:29 AM
**I had interpreted "hulking brute" as 6.5-7' tall, and heavily built. His reference to my sword as a "toothpick" makes me think he's much larger. Unless you're thinking of me as goblin/halfling sized? Hobgoblins are roughly the same size as humans and orcs. If he IS signifigantly larger (ogre-sized or bigger), I'd like a chance to rescind this post.**

Keeping the point of my sword down, I step forward to sparring distance (5-10'), pull myself up into as formal a stance as I can, meet his gaze, and declare, in Goblin:

I am tired of this nonsense! I am Lokar Corat! I am a solier in his Eminence's Imperial Army, not some toy to be argued over by beasts like yourselves. I demand that you either escort me to the nearest goblin encampment, or leave this place so that my more hospitable hosts may aid me.

With that I set my jaw and stare into his eyes until he responds, still ready to react if he does attack.

Intimidate check (untrained, no Cha bonus)

10-14-2008, 04:32 AM
{it's not so much his height, as his breadth and thickness... all of the felinoids seem to be about on a par with you for height, even the brute is only maybe an inch or so taller, but his sheer buik translates psychologically into height. }

10-21-2008, 08:41 PM
He regards you silently. You catch a brief bend and flick of his ear, and suddenly you become aware of one of his group standing almost completely obscured behind him. After a moment, the one steps back, disappearing behind the broad back of the leader. The leader's ear returns to it's normal position. After some more wind-rippled silence, he speaks, "You want an escort? We will provide you with an escort. I will even overlook your insult to us, though I must tell you that we are not beasts."

11-03-2008, 04:52 AM
I choke back any reply, though make no effort to mask my anger at the reply. *Insult? I speak to them in their language, I tolerate their ridiculos claims, and they claim I insult them?*

I turn on my heel and march back to the group that had originally greeted me.

I extend my hand to the Keenly-Scents, and, assuming he takes it clasp his hand with both of mine before speaking. If he does not, I wait a moment, then lower my hand and speak, loudly enough to be heard by both groups. My friend, I thank choo for your kindness. I fear I mucht ashk more of you. I have chravelled many days before being brought to this place. If choo will give me food and chelter, I will make chure the Empire pays choo back and reward choo for your help.

Without waiting for a response - after all, who would refuse an Imperial order? - I turn back to the hostile group and call out, in goblin I will be spending the night in the company of these people. I expect your runner at their gates to provide escort at first light. This is an Imperial Order given by one of His Excellency's soldiers. Punishment for failure to comply is death.

I turn back to Keenly-Scents, and nod slightly to him. Let us take our leave of these chavages.

**I'm asking for trouble left and right here, aren't I? What else can I do though? I think I'm being very tolerant, considering how little respect they've shown my position. ;P **

12-17-2008, 02:32 PM
Keenly-Scents stares at your hand for the briefest of moments, but recovers almost seamlessly and quickly grasps your hand firmly. Once you have finished your speech, there is a somewhat stunned silence. "Your" group, however, turns and ushers you away from the other group, who simply watch you go. As soon as they round the hill, they break out into a fast lope, hurrying. Keenly-Scents urges you along with them, shaking his head at any attempt to speak.

Their silence only lasts a few hills, though. In a deep hollow, everyone stops. They seem to be alternating between staring at you and glancing at each other. Suddenly, they all burst into howls of laughter. You are clapped on the back in a most friendly fashion, and there are many calls for translations of what you said. Keenly-Scents provides an animated account, with exaggerated gestures, and dramatic pauses. The single jarring note is when you notice that he deliberately avoids mention of the repayment you offered in his translation.

After another round of congratulatory-feeling backslaps, the felinoid who seems to be the leader comes up to you, and offers his hand. "This is your custom, yes? Well done. That pompous windbag has long awaited such a standing up to. I wonder what set him after you? Ahhh, no matter. You are a warrior with (gonads? chutzpah?)!"

Each of the felinoids clasps your hand in turn, and then you set off again. Keenly-Scents is besides you. He speaks in a low voice, so as not to be overheard, "You know not the ways of our people, but I have seen how other peoples exchange pieces of the ground as if it has some worth beyond its natural use. So, I know of 'money'. You mean us honor by your people's custom, but such is a grave insult to our people. Among our people, deeds are like 'money'. The deed you have performed this day will be told around our fire-circles for moons to come. I pray you speak not of payment to any others of our people, lest you give unintended offense."

12-20-2008, 03:23 AM
I sheek forgiveness if I gave offench. But my offer shtands. Not all payment is in coin.

I check all my gear, before setting off with the group. On the trail, I approach Keenly-Scents again.

Thich land ich far from the Empire. I have many quechtions for you. But this language catchech on my tuchks. Do you chpeak the mother tongue?

01-07-2009, 04:55 PM
Keenly-Scents replies thoughtfully, "I take your meaning. Pray speak with me first about that matter. Actually, ask me anything, I will answer you if I know it." A puzzled expression steals onto his face. "I don't know what language you speak of... perhaps if you speak some of it, I will know if I have heard it or not."

01-17-2009, 12:08 PM
How could choo not know the languache of the Empire? I mean the Goblin tongue.

01-20-2009, 03:53 PM
{{{until this confusion between corat and keenly-scents is resolved, please specify what languages you are using when you speak. especially if you use more than one in a single post. =D thanks!}}}

01-20-2009, 06:24 PM
**Sorry, I had thought the continued use of the accent sufficiently implied the use of common. I will be sure to label as need be in the future**

01-20-2009, 07:36 PM
{{{no issues, i thought that was what you meant, but then the last sentence seemed that it could have been either way. ^^}}}

01-27-2009, 02:30 AM
Keenly-Scents seems startled.... After a few moments thought, he continues. "Please, speak some of this language."

02-08-2009, 01:04 PM
In the goblin tongue: In the name of his Imperial Eminence, Emperor Gorrak the Seventy-third, I thank you and your kin for the services you have provided to myself, and through me, to his Eminence's Armed Forces.

02-12-2009, 12:50 PM
His head cants slightly to the side and he stares intently at your mouth. One of his ears twitches noticeably. A sudden mis-step momentarily breaks his concentration, but he rights himself instantly. Once you are through he stares intently at the ground ahead of him, one hand scratching under his chin, deep in thought.

Looking around, you notice that you seem to have arrived. For a village it blends surprisingly well into the landscape. Low rounded huts alternate with peaked and branching conical structures. The entire village is surrounded by a wall that appears to be grass at first, but proves to be hide stretched between poles. The hides somehow have been imprinted with a grass-like color and pattern. Both the huts, and conical structures, though differing in shape, are built from similar methods. The huts are thatched with actual grass, increasing the resemblance to the surrounding rolling hills; the conical structures have a multitude of branches with cloth tied to them fluttering in the breeze, reminiscent of the occasional copse of trees you have become accustomed to seeing.

Directly in front of you is a break in the hide wall. Stretched between the two gate-poles is a rope from which hangs a large number of skulls. They appear to be of some carnivorous animal with which you are not familiar. The skulls depend low enough that they brush the shoulders of the leading members of your group, who simply bow their heads and push through the line of skulls. Loud greetings of women and children are heard, and you swiftly see a crowd of felinoids appear from the huts and structures to greet the returning party.

Hearing the noise, Keenly-Scents snaps out of his preoccupation, and lays a guiding hand upon your arm, drawing you off to one side. He calls to the others, something about seeing the shamen first, and not making him cranky. The leader turns and acknowledges with a brief wave, before returning to the mob of little ones plucking at his arms and legs, wanting to be swung. Cries of delight from the little ones being swung, and the women folk shouting, drown out any further words.

As you approach, you feel a curious resistance building against your movements. The eye sockets of the skulls seem to bore into you, and you notice that there are lightly engraved symbols on the foreheads of the skulls. As Keenly-Scents draws you off to the side, the resistance tapers off, and as you walk along the hide wall around the village, it fades and disappears.

04-12-2009, 11:45 PM
I follow behind Keenly-Scents, and, since he did not answer my question, ask quietly in common. Ich thich perchon your leader? Priecht? Chomeching elche? How chould I addrech him?

04-17-2009, 12:50 AM
Keenly-Scents rouses from his trance of thought. "Hmmm? Oh. I am taking you to our Hcrrrouwgh-Chht'mmna; yes, he is similar to a priest. It is best that he see you first, especially considering what just happened when you spoke."

A small thatched hut of similar make as the rest of the village comes into view. It is built outside of the wall, and a short distance away from it. There are two free-standing poles on either side of the door. Topping each pole is a skull, each from a different animal. There are markings in the forehead area of each skull. Above the apex of the door sits a fantastical carving of a small dragon-like creature, wrapped up in its wings.

06-26-2009, 04:34 AM
You approach the hut, and Keenly-Scents reaches out to rattle a wind-chime looking thing, but before he can touch it, a quavery voice issues from inside the hut, "Come in, come in, let's see what you brought home this time." After a moment's hesitation, Keenly-Scents brushes aside the door, a flap of skin, steps inside, and holds it open for you. The inside of the hut seems dim, and well hung with many bundles of things, mostly herbs, to judge from the smell. The sunlight filters dustily between the slats in the walls. A small firepit with three settings for people to sit on dominate the center of the hut. Some small bundles are rolled up out of the way against the walls. A few embers glow, and some kind of smoke threads it way through the fire remnants to add its own peculiar smell to the crowded rafters.

An old felinoid with patchy balding fur sits on one of the places before the firepit, poking at the embers with a twig. He gestures the two of you to sit on the remaining two places. Keenly-Scents begins to speak, but an upraised hand stops him mid-word. Bright and lively eyes study you intently. "Tell me your tale, without help from your friend."

04-17-2013, 05:56 PM
A woman sits upon a throne. She possesses, or is possessed by, a classical beauty; one to summon ships, or topple a city. Her face is serene. She is dressed in splendid and elegant simplicity, which is unable to cloak her womanly beauty. A slight discomfort in her stance, a hint of a suggestion of a sagging in her shoulders mars her otherwise perfect presentation. <br><br>A man stands beside her, one hand familiarly upon a graceful shoulder. He is nondescript, forgettable, and bland in appearance. She reaches up and covers his hand with one of hers. They are both looking into an image showing the interior of a shaman's dwelling and the individuals within.&nbsp;<br><br>She speaks, a musical sound. "I do not think he is of those we seek. So promising a potential..." The man shifts slightly, a silent comment.&nbsp;<br><br>****<br><br>A tale is told, a night is spent. The next morning a fight seems inevitable. How will our hero Cambist overcome these seemingly overwhelming odds?!?! Alas, as the gaze of our mysterious duo turns away from the fate of Cambist, so must ours likewise turn elsewhere for the nonce.&nbsp;