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Post by K Man on Nov 3, 2014 21:31:27 GMT -5
The Eclipse Inn. The default portal to the Old World in Midgate. The sights and sounds assault your senses immediately upon opening the door. A ripe mixture of overabundant alcohol, loud talking nearing a crescendo of shouting, sweat from so many bodies packed in and music tossed in to complete the effect. There is no other place like it in the New World, especially on this, the eve of The Calling. The place is packed wall to wall with those foolish enough to cross the boundary into the Old World - of which tonight you count yourself among their ranks. You scan the crowd, catching a parting glimpse of your target, Havarros, beyond. The grizzled old Dwarf sits alone in a booth, perhaps the only person in the Eclipse Inn slowly and quietly drinking in solitude. You push your way through the crowd, getting half a tankard of ale spilled on you by a stumbling Half-Orc with a painted face as you cross the room. He grunts what amounts to a sad apology then returns to his group cheering to their assured success. You wipe yourself clean and find Havarros' mood equaling his stoic action. "Decided to show....despite all I've warned you about?" He greets you without looking up from his stein. You nod, slipping into the muted booth with others that have arrived. You've come at Havarros' request, and truly he has tried to warn you of all that lies beyond in the Old World. He sought you out well over a year ago, hobbling along on fresh wounds and bitter with experiences in the Old World. He told you of how his group sought one of the precious Obsidian Spheres, and how they found such a sphere in the Old World. He went on to tell you how it was placed in a well laid trap which they discovered much too late. The strange spider-beast that used the sphere as a lure descended on them and Havarros alone made it out with nothing short of the blessing of the Gods...and with the Obsidian Sphere in hand. The very reason you've decided to show...Havarros has promised you the Obsidian Sphere he returned with. The Obsidian Sphere. A jet black, smooth and featureless ball of stone the is warm to the touch. Simple, yet so meaningful in the New World. They are only found in the Old World and they are impossible to duplicate. To be in possession of one grants nearly limitless favor from the public, attention from the noble families, and limitless possibilities as marriages with the rich and powerful are quickly arranged to those in possession of one. They are highly coveted awards that most would kill for....but as it turns out they are so rare that most are simply killed for them. Havarros has kept his a secret for the year he's lived beyond the attack. All he has asked if that you find the body of his brother - one of his party killed in the spider-beast attack - and return his family heirloom great axe. It means more to Havarros than any Obsidian Sphere one could find in the Old World. Without it, he has been ostracized by his Father and shunned by his people - for a Dwarf, to return without honor is to be walking dead among the living...regardless of the trophies procured in the Old World. You can see the strain on Havarros' face, the year of being shunned has made him gaunt, his beard withered and thin, his eyes dark orbs of pain. His wounds prevent him from being of any use beyond the boundary in the Old World, and so he's sought help from you to return to his family. As a matter of accord, Havarros looks around the room. Seeing none looking this way, he retrieves a lump of cloth from his sack. He peels back a small portion of the cloth, showing the faintest glimmer of dark Obsidian beneath. As quickly as he displayed it, he covers it once more and slides it into the satchel once more. He scans around once more, confident none cast their gaze upon the trophy. "We have a deal then? Find my brother's body and our family axe, and this damned thing is yours." He takes a swig from his stein, rivulets of ale running through his withered beard. Trinket Rolls:Bishop - A glass pipe that blows odd colored bubbles. Thorin - A glass orb filled with water, that in which swims a clockwork goldfish. Terric - A mosaic tile with a multi-colored glazed surface (George) - A crystal knob from a door. (Wizard) - A shard of obsidian that always feels warm to the touch. Richard - A cameo carved in the likeness of a hideous human woman.
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Post by (George) 3.5./ ZEM ( 4.0) on Nov 3, 2014 23:00:59 GMT -5
I look at my brother
" its your call bro im with you til the end, just dont get us in way over our heads."
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Post by harknail on Nov 4, 2014 1:45:25 GMT -5
When the ale was spilled on him Thorin declined to take insult. While a bar fight would be entertaining, it would keep him from accomplishing what he came here for. Instead he reached into his pouch for his piece of quartz, and calling upon the skills he had taught himself, simply cleaned away the stain as if it had never happened. Approaching the table and seeing the result of spills on the others, Thorin suspected that the half orc was perhaps looking for a fight without actually throwing the first blow. Not his concern at the moment Still it was a good sign that non of the others had given into the temptation either.
After Havarros had given his final spiel, and his younger brother had commented, Thorin considered carefully before answering. "I know full well how important a dwarf's honor is," said the middle aged dwarf. "I will do what I can to recover your family's axe, though I fear that there will not be much left of your brother after all these years. But I'm not willing to loose my brother in the process. Still, with what you've told us, we won't be walking in blindly. But I'd like to go over it again, to make sure I've not missed something." Pulling out his note book from his own pack, Thorin will confirm that he has the details correct for both where the trap is located and the details of the interior.
OOC: Not trying to get the details now, just making sure Thorin has them recorded for later. And the oddity he starts it is well suited to him, it is something he values even though it has not practical value.
OOC2: Thorin is a middle aged dwarf. He's wearing a breast plate, and has a warhammer on his right side, and a hand axe on his left. His backpack is covered with tools such as a pick and shovel and a smith's kit, along with the usual bedroll and rope. He's also carrying a sack filled with even more supplies.
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Post by Yakumo on Nov 4, 2014 5:00:18 GMT -5
Richard pushes through the crowd, when splashed with ale he simply smiled "Everyone makes mistakes, friend" and continued on his way. He made a quick stop at a barmaid to order a round of drinks for his table and went to sit himself.
Richard was dressed rather modestly in standard dark brown traveling clothes, the bulge under his shirt betrayed that he was wearing armor and he carried a thin rapier at his side. His red hair pushed out messily from underneath the hood he had pulled up to deal with the wind outside. He sat down next to the dwarves and others that he knew in varying degrees. "First round is on me" he said as he pulled down his hood to reveal a smile.
Richard eyeballed the Obsidian Orb again, he had gotten a better look at it the first time Havarros had shown it to him. Between the promise of similar riches and the need to know what happened to Sarah, the dwarf knew he was already committed to the expedition. After all, Havarros was another one of Richard's debt-holders - they agreed that if Richard went through with this, his slate would be cleared with him at least.
OOC: K man: How big is this cameo? Everyone else: I will let you decide how you know Richard. He worked at a second hand shop. It operated as a fence for stolen goods if that was your bag (if not you wouldn't know). He is a jeweler and a member of the Jewelers' Guild, so you may have had things appraised. He has a reputation for being able to acquire things, but unless you know his sidework you might just assume that he got everything through legal means. He also has a reputation for accruing debts all over town. Check my character thread background and if you just drop a hint when we first talk, I will run with whatever you'd like.
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Post by at on Nov 4, 2014 7:17:25 GMT -5
Moving to the table Bishop barely acknowledge the orc, the creatures clumsy behaviour of no consequence to him in light of the journey ahead. He was new to the group having chosen them for their goals - to aid another rather than to simple fortune and glory. A worthy goal.
He nods his affirmation at the dwarfs question, shifting his weight in his chair to accommodate his armour and laying his greatsword across the table before him. He did not care for the orb nor the favour it might bring, only for the quest and the journey.
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Post by Wizard on Nov 4, 2014 20:44:50 GMT -5
Hood up, obviously. It got old, but Wit had to admit he liked the drama. And when you take it off, people don't stop looking.
He didn't take it off now, though. Tail was tucked in his belt, too, idly feeling the shard. Was it, too, once part of a sphere?
He didn't speak. First rule of cool was knowing when you weren't cool. And the whole wanted thing. Can't be too careful.
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Post by Jasmine on Nov 4, 2014 21:14:17 GMT -5
Terric is a man of average height and stout build. He wears heavy splint armor, and a black leather eyepatch covers his left eye. You push your way through the crowd, getting half a tankard of ale spilled on you by a stumbling Half-Orc with a painted face as you cross the room. "Cool it, Jim," says Terric. "You can brawl with someone else tonight."He rolls his good eye at the half-orc's grunted apology as he brushes past to Havarros's table. As a matter of accord, Havarros looks around the room. Seeing none looking this way, he retrieves a lump of cloth from his sack. He peels back a small portion of the cloth, showing the faintest glimmer of dark Obsidian beneath. As quickly as he displayed it, he covers it once more and slides it into the satchel once more. He scans around once more, confident none cast their gaze upon the trophy. "We have a deal then? Find my brother's body and our family axe, and this damned thing is yours." He takes a swig from his stein, rivulets of ale running through his withered beard. Terric can't help but lean in closer to catch a glimpse of the fabled artifact. A soft whistle escapes his lips. "You know me, Harvey," he replies. "I'm always happy to help an old friend, and 'Danger' is my middle name. Of course we have a deal."
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