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@Teh Frixz @Skrakes She's short in the rejoining. Hastily clad in travel leathers, Sloane is slinging a clinking, glass-filled pack over her shoulder as you regroup. Jelial simply has a light pack of goods, tools, and a walking stick to carry him along. Both wield the curious long knives given...

@Teh Frixz "Fine. On your head does this rest." She'll clap her hands and some attendants and lesser functionaries scurry out from nearby pavilions. Orders, demands for gear. She goes to bathe herself in oils before departing. Jelial coughs. "I don't know that it's the creature you returned...

Luc "Gods above and below, how do you put on pants in the morning?" Luc shoulders Squirrel aside, interrupting any and all apologies with a commanding voice. "Sorry! Sorry. He's an idiot. Luc Sesthin." He bows politely. "Nice to see civilized man out here instead of shitkickers." He vaguely...

@ThaDruid "One would deduce something was wrong out here with that many." Jelial coughs. A hand works the pain from his reedy neck. His gaze lingers on your third eye. "What does it see?" His question aside, what of this tabernacle draws in such creatures? @Teh Frixz and @Skrakes Sloane...

@Teh Frixz He stares at you for a moment before remembering his tongue. "From this camp? Ten parties of ten, minus yours. S-so nine still out there...somewhere." Frothy spittle gathers in the corners of his mouth. And to what end? Strangely, the people nearby are slowly getting back to their...

Luc "Who doesn't? That's, like, eggs one-oh-one." He eyes their food and snaps his fingers. "Remind me, if good tomatoes even exist out here, to introduce you to a better morning holdover. Anyway. What're we doing?" He looks toward the citadel and sighs. "Yeah, actually, I'd love a room because...

@Skrakes A profound scent of truth emanates from Jelial, pinned there to the tree, thick with earthy yellows and maybe a bit of brown. "We-we-we weren't sure what inhabited the r-ruins... Hence...Forays..." Moon-sized eyes plead past sudden sweat and not a few tears. "The worst..." A...

Late Summer, 743 annos non grata, Gow borderlands Promise. Like a great lodestone dragging the chaff of civilizations off the beaten path toward the forgotten parts of the world, Oeno promises great things to those that wish to take hold of them. Forested lands stretch out to the horizon under...

Luc Luc eyes the other box with something approaching mild horror. "Seems Fate was on my side for breakfast. Also, where did you get the marinade? Top shelf shit."

Luc "Huh. Okay. Better than that poorman's gruel they serve in Cherak." Luc settles down next to the not-fire and chews the jerky. "This is venison, right?"

Luc "Sure, Horatio Assblower, as long as it's not Babou's shit mixed with tea, I'm good for anything. And you realize their stomachs will never be the same, mixing that swill?" Luc laughs suddenly, remembering the fire. Almost forgot that. "But seriously, if I don't eat I will literally die."

Luc Snorting, Luc pats the beast on its neck, carries on alongside it. There was a sort of luck in the world that most people would consider him a Westerner or maybe a very lost Easterner. Too many stepfathers to really recall where the hell his father actually came from. Could have been a...

Luc Especially if convenient avalanches swallow up another valley coming here. Eat it, northlands. Shivering, Luc stares up at the airships, a smile playing on his lips. He'd always wanted to pilot one and settle a dare from childhood--diving off the thing into some deep lake or body of water...

Achamian "Come, Sergeant! I am unarmed. I'm sure that is to your liking in a foe." Akka spits, then calmly leans down stretch a beat. In that moment, he launches forward in a dead-eyed lunge. A glint of metal slips from his sleeve--one of the guard's spearheads neatly shorn by Lorne's...

Achamian I need me weapons... Nothing for it, then. The dwarf took a deep breath and strode around the Dryad clutching her prize. He would follow Lorne like the tail of a comet, only to break away and shatter the ground of their formation. Few knew the hidden shot-put talents of dwarves--very...

Achamian The dwarf simply turns to look at Lord Garren. "There's a cold, cold plain beyond this world where you will live forever. And you will think upon this day until madness pulls you so far beyond reason you come back to it." He looks the General. "Do what you will."

Achamian "There is no great honor, Lorne! It is said a woman who shorns her beard is a figure of tragedy and romance, especially if done in the name of love." Akka chuckles and watches the Dryad tease the elf. "Come now, elf, don't be so envious. We've gone to war several times over shorn...

Achamian "A fine beard has never been a mark against in my experience!"

Achamian "A free meal isn't dipping into your pocket, Lorne. I'll find a training dummy to keep you sharp." The dwarf chuckles, his heart not in it as his eyes bore holes into the back of Garren. Who are you?

Achamian The dwarf fumbles around for his good smoking pipe. A bit of shag always helped clear the mind; a wary eye watched the nobleman from the periphery as a hummed a nonsense tune.