Fantasy To The Gods!

[Neon Valkyrie]

Heroes, they say, aren't born ... Well, I mean, they ARE born, everyone is born ... let me start over.

People aren't born Great, or Heroic. They become so by merit of their deeds, and the scope of their actions. Some do so on purpose, some by accident. Some do so by fate, some against it. Whatever the case, they do it, rather than being it. It is, then, fair to say, that legends, and heroes, and even villains, cannot be made without the opportunity to perform great deeds. This is probably why there are very few legends about office workers, janitors, and bakers. There is little glory to be amassed at the sharp end of a baguette or a ball-point quill.


Our story begins in the township of Rookskellar, where our would-be Heroes are about to hear the enticing rattle and moan of fate's machinery. Rookskellar is a large, walled community located on the crossing of two major trade routes. It's cobbled streets are lined with shops and businesses of all sorts, and it is often said one can find anything there. Residents live in large apartments and side-by-side houses full of finery. Farms blooming almost year round with one crop or another stretch out from there to the horizon. It's just brimming with nice, happy people, who are nice, and happy living their nice, happy little lives ...

But those people are boring.

THIS story is about other people. Exciting people. YOU people. People who were awake, and likely still drinking, when the criers arrived in YOUR town/settlement/well-fortified cave/dank bower late last night. Ringing those damned bells, they began loudly relaying a direct message from the king, delivered on parchment via Fifedex.​

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>Ahem< To whom it may concern,
Your King, for whom the earth and skies and sun move, has need of you. With the industrial age looming upon us, pushed ever onward by the ingenuity of the gnomes, and the magic of the elves, and the will of the gods, it is becoming apparent that progress is not without consequence. You may have noticed the increasingly warm weather in our fair region (yet more proof that the gods smile upon your glorious ruler). The Kingdom's greatest scientists and advisers have determined that this due to the smoke and steam spilled out by our awesome and magnificent factories, and indeed those less impressive edifices of our neighbours, and that this increase in temperature is, in fact, occurring everywhere. It is, of course, also the will of the gods. While this may cause a slight rise in sea level, it has also begun to thaw the mysterious northern continent, revealing a previously undiscovered kingdom. Our scholars can find no evidence of any culture existing in the frozen wastes in writings dating back to the age of King Pious Zealous the Firstest. Your mission, to any whom accept, is to travel into the north, reach the borders of this kingdom, determine whether it's inhabitants, it's wealth, or it's structures are intact, and report back to his great majesty. Those who do, riches, fame, lavish feasts, women/men/both, blah blah, you know the deal. Those with the mettle to meddle should report to The Starting Point Inn in Rookskellar tomorrow morning, and await the King's Guide. Elsewise, enjoy the weather and fishing. Alright, that's all, toodles ... stop writing.

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Sincerely,​

The God-King of Moranmolandran, Geoff​

(Transcribed by Martin, Royal Scribe/Actor)​

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On the reverse side of the sheet is printed a map of the continent, with a large arrow pointing northward. (Ignore the symbols and place names, the general shape is what we're using)​

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It is now the following morning, and the party is gathering, preparing to depart.​

 

[Neon Valkyrie]

Profile

Full Title: (name)
Time Level: (age)
Orientalization: (gender)
Parentage: (race)
Life's Purpose: (class)
Motivation: (reason for adventuring)
The Tedious Bit: (Biographical information)
The Goods: (description of your character)

THE CAST!
And the people attached to them!

Neon Valkyrie ~ Juniper Alexandraelia Phitt
Randomfella ~ Arlos Doran Grubottom
Birdsie ~ Percival Athgoth Mortarius Riverwind III
SP3CT3R ~​

Uh ... reserved for when I think of what should go here?​

 

[Neon Valkyrie]

NPCs of Note

(Notify me if you add someone of note. Not that I'm going to say no, but keeping a running list will be handy!)

The Necromancer - You know, aside from being evil to his very core, he's not an unpleasant chap. He'd make a fine guest for afternoon tea if he weren't likely to bring some of those unsightly, shambling minions of his. Probably best not to approach his selby, unless you've got a terminal case of life, or he happens to like you.


Locations of Note

Rookskellar - The bustling hamlet where our tale begins.

The Necromancer's Lair - A tall, stone tower, surrounded by tall, equally stoney walls, with an ancient cemetery just outside the bower walls. Aside from the generaly maleficence permeating the area, it's a great location.


Beastiary

(This section wil be filled as we add farcicle monsters to the RP.)
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[Neon Valkyrie]

Location: Rookskellar - The Starting Point
Condition: Just fine.
Party:No one yet

"Juniper, is that ye?"

The little blonde cocked her head to the side, peering over at the innkeeper, who was, in turn, peering back at her from the door to the kitchen.

"I barely recognized ye without an inch of dirt on ye"

The old man toddled over, wiping his hands with a bar towel before flipping it over one shoulder. The morning sun beaming through the thick, warped glass windows glinted off his unclad scalp, and the white, wiry remains of his coif sprang from the sides of his head like lightning. He wasn't a large man, made lean by his hobby; heading the local adventure jogging club. Offering a wide smile, he gave the blonde farm girl, who had indeed recently bathed, a once over.

"Well, I must say, ye make a fine young lady when yer all washed. What brings ye out here this early?"

Juniper hadn't been able to sleep after the makeshift group drunkenly resolved to travel north. She'd spend the night packing and preparing, sneaking about the house gathering equipment and provisions. Her brother had roused almost immediately, asking her numerous times about her intentions.

"Hush!" She'd hissed at him, "I'm off to become a wizard, now close yer eyes or I'll glue 'em shut!"

She'd even taken the time to write a goodbye note ... or, with her illiteracy, drawn a series of confusing pictographs, an activity which occupied so many of the wee hours that her parents actually woke up before she'd finished. They proved oddly supportive of her journey, with her mother urging her to better herself, her father adding "Aye, yee've a'ways 'ad a koynda ... faerie coorse ... prolly beest learn-a uuze eet." He'd never been the same after the horse kicked him ... Anyway, now she found herself sitting at the bar of the local inn, The Starting Point, owned by the bald man before her, Archibald Starting. This is where the half-cut almost-friends had resolved tonshed their tedious lives and start anew, and so it seemed the best place to start from, name not withstanding.

Juniper squinted up at the old man, screwing up her face in a sneer at his compliment.

"Don't ye get any funny ideas, old man, I'm off to become a powerful wizard, and I'm not above comin' back here to curse yer ass."

The old man burst out laughing, a rainbow momentarily cast in the spray of spittle from his fluttering lips. It took a few moments for him to regain his composure, his hands clapped to his knees as though he might fall without the added support.

"That's a good one, and I bet yer brother's off to become a scientist then?" The man's smile was still wide.

June's scowl deepened, and she attempted with her glare to set the man ablaze ... it was good practice for future sorcering.

Archibald's smile fell, and he straightened up. Immediately his brow furrowed, and when he spoke again, he sounded almost offended.

"But ... ye can't even read, girl!"

"What does that have to do with anything?!"

"Ye READ Magic."

"No, Ye CAST spells!"

"Spells yev learned from books and scrolls!"

"I'll just make up my own, once I'm a wizard!"

"How can someone so daft have such high aspirations?! Next thing ye know the deer'll want into the library."

Juniper leapt to her feet, "Watch yer tone ye ... ye ... wispy haired old wind-bag!"

"YOU watch yer tone, young lady! I'll have yer parents down here ..."

Juniper balled up her fists and struck the wall of the Inn, the wall offering a clatter in response, something falling loose inside. Both parties settled into a quiet scowl, avoiding any kind of eye contact lest the argument resume.


"Tea ... and a muffin"


"Two ... three silver"


June pressed two coins onto the table, which Archibald quickly snatched up. The old man then turned on his heels and sped off in a huff. Juniper, meanwhile, just sat and stewed, her face now settled into a decided frown. A clatter of china next to her suggested that Archibald had deposited her breakfast, she glanced over to see a cup of tea, and half a muffin.

 

[Birdsie]

"Word is a traveling wizard can make some money around here," an aloof voice spoke. Light flooded the taproom from the doorframe, and in it, stood a hooded shadow with a quarterstaff. As the wizard stepped into the inn, his features became clearer.

He wore simple if reliable cloth robes, with numerous latches, straps, and belts, carrying various pouches and satchels for components, ingredients, and tools that a mage requires. On his belt, a large, leather-clad spell tome was visible - perhaps the most exciting feature of the entire outfit. Making out the face of the magus was difficult until he took off his hood, to reveal a pale, stern face that scanned the room for activity and scared away onlookers with a glance. He had black hair and his eyes were blue, yet a second of looking into them was full of dread.

They say eyes are a window to the soul and if that's true, then this man's soul looked like a dark, oppressive regime. And each look of them was like being consumed by a maw of oppression.

Not even looking at the people of the inn, he sat down at the counter and let his quarterstaff rest in between his knees. He laid three pieces of silver on the counter. "Something to quench my thirst, serf. Be prompt about it," he said with absolute disrespect and a dialect unlike that of the common man. A nobleman? The tome at his belt seemed to be a spellbook.

Neon Valkyrie

 

[Randomfella]

"What do I do..." The thoughts continued to rattle through Arlos's mind as he knelt with one leg before the altar, right gauntlet resting sturdily on his plated knee, face pointing downward, eyes shut tight. He had been chosen as one of the knights to protect the church, to further its interests, and yet he had done nothing of value in his years.

"Something on your mind, brother Arlos?" A voice approached from outside as it approached the door, it was familiar to the young man, yet his head did not turn to acknowledge it.

"Indeed." He replied in as deep a tone he could muster, his voice serious. With a short sigh, his head lowering down in motion with it, Arlos rose, his entire body, bar his head, covered in golden plate mail, a sword longer than his torso rested sheathed upon his back. "I must leave this place... I do not know when I will return." He continued, looking toward the ground before staring back up toward the priest.

"And where will you go?" Brother Mathew asked, seemingly intrigued by the notion.

"I... Do not know. Yet I will not return without something worthy of our lord." Arlos responded, his stalwart words filled with a clear lack in confidence. Just where would he begin on such a journey? "If only I had a sign..." He thought to himself, looking around the room, before his gaze met the priest's once more, whom now had a smile plastered on his face.

"Perhaps some Blood of Christ...? For inspiration toward your pilgrimage." He recommended, causing Arlos to smile in return.

"You know me too well, brother." He responded with glee, still attempting to keep a serious demeanour all the while.


The next morning...
"What is that infernal racket?" Arlos asked himself, rising from his slumber, placing a naked hand to his forehead in discomfort. While he did not remember all from the night he had spent, he did remember one thing, a promise of adventure, adventure leading to riches he could bring to the church... And perhaps some he could keep for himself.

Donning his armor, placing his helmet under his arm, a plate cover upon which the middle was cut as to resemble a cross to see through, the young man begin to walk toward the stairs. Each step could be heard, heavy clomps of the feet, *Doof, doof*, some might even say the foundations rattled upon the pure weight of his strides, a libram hanging from his side swaying by his motion. Until finally, he reached the bottom, seeing quite the scene unfold. Arlos's face turned to one of disgust as the plate reached the table, the small vibrations as the china balanced only echoed this disgrace. HALF A MUFFIN.

"Innkeeper! How may one be so foul as to disgrace a lady!? Even if her desires may be toward heresy!" His voice was MIGHTY, stance STRONG, PROUDLY pointing straight up toward the man in nothing less than a furious outburst of HONOR.
Wait... Up?
Not just up, directly up, did his gauntlet even reach the innkeepers face?
What did his height matter!? He was stro... Well, perhaps slim and athletic would be a more appropriate description... Maybe those steps were more akin to an angry child's than heavy clomps.
But his voice, it bellowed! It was a rather high pitched bellow, yet it was a bellow nonetheless!
And perhaps his armor was more of a yellow than actual gold... And maybe more of a plated chain-mail than actual full-plate. His sword was still larger than his torso! Perhaps that meant it was technically more of a short-sword than a claymore, yet it was still a blessed weapon, the libram hanging from his side was evidence of that. Though the book was humorously large compared to the hafling's waist, seeming to almost weight him down toward the side.

Yet he stood gallant, ready to defend her honor, unwavering, righteous! Not even the cowardly innkeeper's laughter could sway his serious expression. It was clear the man got the message, he was likely going to return the other half of the muffin at post haste!

Neon Valkyrie

 

[Ranix Aurus]

Four people sat at the corner in the Starting Point. One of them in particular was different from the rest. Three humans, and one Dwarf. That was a rare race to see this far from the mountain! One of the human, clad in crude leather armor commonplace for beginning Rogue, glanced nervously at the other two humans. His eyes burning with one question.

Who the heck was this Dwarf? Why was he drunk like a feline on catnip?

"So uh, mister-"

"Drogon," the Dwarf replied with a thunderous roar. "Call me Drogon. Drogon Quarterhack, at your service."

"Okay. I have no idea how did you end up in this table, but-"

"Well lad, what else?" The Dwarf interrupted, grinning madly. "I see you dressed as adventurers. I am also an adventurer. We make good match! Bring me along with your group!"

The Rogue looked at his two companions, a woman dressed in white robe, most like a Priest, and a heavy-armored man fitting either Knight or Fighter class. They both smiled nervously at him. You're the leader. Your problem.

Ooookay. Not a big deal. Dwarves are known as a strong race. They're also good blacksmiths. He should be useful. Looking at that thick, black beard, this person must not be an amateur either. Only bad thing he could catch on was how much this guy drink. God, that's the seventh mug. Enough already!

"Okay, mister Drogon. Uh, put down that mug please, thank you. Okay. So what is your Class? We're always welcoming another Fighter...you fight with an axe, right? Although your armor is too light to be a Fighter, can't fight in the frontline with just robe and pants. Or maybe you're a blacksmith-"

"Nope!" The Dwarf replied rather haughtily. "I is very bad with things. I think is a curse. I use sword, hilt broken. I use axe, axe got thrown. Too much inertia. One time I tried blacksmithing, the hammer broke into pieces."

The Rogue gave him a blank stare.

"So what can you do?"

"I punch things!" He suddenly swung his fist toward the Rogue's face, making the latter fell off his chair. "I miiight not look like it, hic, but I'm a bonafide Monk. Very good with punches. Anything I punch make my fist hurt, hic."

"Sir, put down that mug. That's the ninth you've had." the Priest interjected.

"Wait, hold on, my head hurts," the Rogue clambered back up the table, looking at the Dwarf as if he grew another head. "You're a Dwarf, and you're a Monk? How the heck could that work? I mean, which monastery did you come from anyway?"

"Monastery? Wuzzat? hic"

"Sir, stop, you already drank twelve mugs, I don't think it's okay-"

"I ain't coming from any monastery. I got mah skills from this," Drogon pulled out a scroll, and unfolded it to show lines of text seeming from ancient era. But the quality of the parchment didn't seem to fit.

"...That looks fake as hell," the Rogue squinted.

"So? I'm a perfect match, amirite? hic. Come on, lessago in adventure!"

"I...I give up. My brain can't take this anymore. Let's go, we're outta here. Fast!"

The Rogue pulled his two friends' arms and ran away, leaving the inn at the speed of sound.

Drogon stared drunkenly at their disappearing figures. Still got time to partake his thirteen mug though. That was another failure. The fourth adventurer party he had tried to infiltr- err, join, and they ran away again. It seemed to be worse each time. But he shouldn't give up. Perseverance is the key to success! Also he was too drunk to consider giving up anyway. This was too much fun.

Now, where would his next victi- potential companions be? Hmm...there was the innkeeper, but there were also a blonde girl and a saintly-looking man, they were arguing about something. Never saw them before, must've came when he was drinking with other people.

He sauntered over to the counter, taking the seat beside the girl without even asking beforehand. His elbow crashing loudly on the table.

"Sup, lass, lad. You guys adventurers? hic"

Neon Valkyrie Randomfella

 

[Birdsie]

Neon Valkyrie Randomfella Ranix Aurus

BANG!

The hooded magus' book was shut, as he held its covers in his hands. He didn't look around as he released a deep, fretful sigh. "By cherished Mystra, and, oh, venerable Ao," he called to the gods.

The wizard laid the book on his knees, took off his hood, took support of the counter with one hand as his mug of beer was delivered to him, and he took a big, curious look at the people in the inn. He took the mug as he looked and moved it close to his lips. He shook his head, then took a deep, five-second shot before laying the mug back down on the counter.

"So," he interjected. "An illiterate girl who wishes to be a spellcaster, a short-stack paladin who believes magic is heresy to be extinguished, and a... drunk dwarf."

He sipped his beer again, quietly.

"Well, damn." He nodded slowly, clutching his spellbook even tighter. The mage couldn't even bring himself to smirk as he sarcastically quipped, "You seem like a reasonable bunch."

 

[Neon Valkyrie]

The Starting Point was alive with noise; starry-eyed adventurers in loosely-knit groups avidly discussing the journey ahead, somewhat more confused adventurers discussing responsible drinking, the aloof entrances of malevolent-looking characters in blinding shafts of sunlight. It was no surprise, especially with the sound of a silver-ware drawer tromping down the stairs, that the little half-elf's tantrum went unnoticed. At least, mostly unnoticed. The scene didn't take the spotlight until the shining halfling drew his sword and levelled it ... or, inclined it at the barkeep, that the room fell silent. Well ... silent but for the thud of a rogue hitting the floor.

Archibald, who was currently scooping up Athgoth's coins, froze, a look of shock on his face. He glanced over at Juniper, who had a smug smile smeared across her lips, a few crumbs of half-muffin clinging to her lower lip. So now she was a lady; apparently bathing had its merits ... though she would have to ask her hero later what heresy was. Turning to meet her saviour, Juniper's face fell as quickly as her gaze, landing somewhere between confusion and disappointment as she finally located Arlos. Well ... it was still nice being defended.

From over one shoulder she heard Archibald chuckling. "Oh sir, don't worry, Juniper disgraces hers-" He fell into a silent glare as most-of-a-half-of-a-muffin struck him in the forehead. "Shut it, Baldy." Juniper hissed, her glare carrying all manner of unspoken curses. Perhaps upset by the growing argument, perhaps by the lack of service, perhaps by the dwarf among them, three adventurers bolted for the door. Crowd mentality drew everyone else with them, and after the short-lived stampede of colourfully dressed figures, the small group of misfits was left alone with the Innkeeper, each looking as stunned as the next.

"Anyway ... as I was about to-" Juniper was on the verge of telling Arlos that she usually went for taller guys when another half-sized hero clambered up onto the stool beside her. His introduction was short, punctuated by a hiccup that bounced his gently swaying form. Juniper didn't look impressed, or amused. Worse, his breath was as alcoholic as her entire previous night, the smell causing her already sensitive-stomach to lurch.

The unfolding drama was quickly silenced as the sound of a book clapping closed caused them all to flinch. Athgoth's prayer echoed through the empty room, only deepening Juniper's apprehension. Was this how adventures usually got started? WERE they adventurers? Archibald was still staring at June with rage in his eyes as he set a tankard of beer in front of the pale mage. In the silence between proclamations, Juniper gave the young man a once over, his robes and spellbook catching her eye particularly. Despite his tone, and general demeanor, he might be the most useful one so far. With beer-foam still clinging to his upper lip, Athgoth sized them up, clutching tightly to his book as he gave them his half-hearted approval.

Juniper stood, partly to get away from Drogoth's flammable aura, partly for more effective use for body language to convey irritation. She might have taken her tea with her, had she not found it to be little more than luke-warm wheatgrass juice, another spite from the frustratingly health-positive innkeeper. Now standing, Juniper peered around at the leftovers still standing in the bar, her arms crossed, her hips cocked to one side. Her tongue burned with poison, but her mouth was sealed tight by Athgoth's irritating correctness. Her lips receded further and further between her teeth as her brow furrowed, her glare apparently attempting to convey the words that her mouth refused to.

Without a sound to anyone, the small, but lithe half-elf marched over to the door, her shoulders clenched around her ears, her posture rigid and angry. Stomping up to the door, she shoved it open, glaring up at the sun as the light met her, then wisely diverted her gaze off toward the horizon. Once her sight had returned, she turned an irritated glare back at the halfling, the dwarf, and the butthead. After long moments, her lips spread, still drawn into thin lines, and through gritted teeth she spoke.

"Are we doing this ... or what?"

Archibald would only later realize that Juniper had stuffed muffins down her front before Arlos cleared the place out. That night, he would silently hope that Juniper burst into flames in some kind of horrible, magical accident, and then, with equal silence, scold himself for such wicked thoughts about the handicapped.

Randomfella Birdsie SP3CT3R Reis Ranix Aurus

 

[Randomfella]

Arlos lowered his arm as the dwarf approached, still clearly hammered from whenever he had started drinking, though it seemed quite normal for their kind. "Hmph." The halfling simply grunted with displeasure in response to the inn-keep, there was little use in wasting words on such common indecency. Finally, he turned his body, as well as his attention, toward the dwarf that approached them.
"In a way, noble dwarf." He slightly nodded toward the drunkard, needing only to look up slightly, finding comfort in his neck facing him

He would have continued, yet a snapping shut of a tome caught Arlos off-guard, listening intently to the dredge of a voice that followed. Arlos's eyes gazed up toward him, a shrouded wizard. "Why ware a hood if you have nothing to hide?" Arlos thought to himself. Regardless, the appearance of the figure, the way he spoke, and that unsightly tome he carried caused the would be knight great discomfort. Nevertheless, the halfling kept a stern face, looking up toward the wizard, slowly folding his arms as he allowed the man to finish. "Says the skulking pagan." He retorted bluntly, glancing toward the figure with a dour look, one finger lifting slightly to point toward the man, before resting back on his elbow.

Finally, Arlos nodded toward the eager girl. This lot were hardly pious, that was for certain, yet Arlos had no doubt he could change that over the course of whatever journey was to come. Well, he was certain for all but one, at least. "Indeed." He noted, moving toward her, before turning back slightly, lifting his arms expressively as he spoke. "Though I hope you do not plan to bring him... By Zenith, something is wrong with that man." The halfling noted toward her, and though he intended to speak to her only with a somewhat hush to his voice, it was not exactly a whisper.

Neon Valkyrie Birdsie Ranix Aurus

 

[Reis]

Sam was plucking at his lute, sitting on a stool in the corner of the Starting Point. He was going for a fun, adventurous-y sounding tune, because why else would anyone wander into an inn these days except for an adventure, right?

He let out one of many sighs since he came in to work. Sam was a bard, a fact that he wanted to change since the beginning of his career. The only reason he followed the path of the instrument was to appease his family, an elven mother and a human father. His parents were willingly abandoned by their family, preferring instead to live their lives together in pursuit of a beautiful, forbidden, romantic love life between two very different species.

...Of course, that wasn't the only burden of Sam's unfortunately burdensome life. It turns out that when two young adults are isolated from society in the middle of a poverty-stricken town, they suddenly find it a great idea to have a child. And that child, now a fully grown man, had to work his youth away just to help fill their copper-less pouches and empty bellies.

Why was it, then, that a young man such as Sam was a mere bard? Wouldn't he have more luck exploring treasure-filled ruins in search of ancient treasures, sword in hand? Or rather, shouldn't the Half-Elf become a travelling merchant, finding the best wears and selling them for as high a price they could go?

Unfortunately, neither of these options would work. The man was barely competent with a sword, much less a mace, bows, and most other forms of weaponry. Not surprisingly, he had neither the money nor the grit to chase the path of a mage. He wasn't cut out for adventuring and wasn't even very curious or talented. In fact, one might say that Sam was either average or even worse with regards to practically every job on the continent.

However, there was one thing that Sam was good at. He discovered his skill with the lute when investigating his old instrument, gathering dust in the corner of their small house. His mom was definitely exaggerating when she praised his randomly crafted tune, claiming that it was beautiful. In an act of desperation, the father-mother pair gathered all of their money to send him to the closest Bard College, where he continued to build his skills.

Sam was rather quick to learn how to sing and play all sorts of instruments. His charisma grew as he learned more things about how crafts can shape the world around him. He even learned how to read, and soon learned the art of poetry. But not amongst his talents was the ability to use his voice for magical purposes. He was rather average at that, and could barely heal a cut or inspire a few men.

His lack of magical skill stemmed from his lack of passion for being a bard. He was good at it, sure, but he was frustrated that he couldn't be given a...cooler talent. His lack of passion for his job dampens his magical effects, and his songs are almost exclusively good for entertainment.

Yet Sam came here looking for adventure, regardless of his lazy attitude. He heard of the newly thawed continent, teeming with mysteries and treasures. The Half-Elf decided to risk his life, using his mediocre skills as a bard to earn money from the King and finally have enough money to put aside the lute for some better job. And he was quite ready to die for it, too. Life wouldn't be worth it if he had to spend his life on a job he hated, right?

Sam let out another sigh, more depressed than the last. If he wanted to survive out here, Sam would definitely need friends to leech off of--Ahem--support. And to convince a group of hardened adventurers to take in a wimpy bard like him, he would need to put the charisma that he spent the last 6 years grinding to great use.

With that, Sam strapped his lute to his back, took a deep breath, and approached the angry looking woman that addressed the room. He assumed that she was a half-elf from her unusually pointed ears, and would have the most luck avoiding racism if he spoke to one of his same kind.

"Hello there. Do you have room for one more in your party?" Sam showed his smile, one he liked to think was charming. "I may not look like it, but I'm as much an adventurer as all of you folks." Sam had been intentionally blending in before this moment, trying not to attract the wrong kind of attention. But now that the room was cleared, it was rather simple to try and hop in to this quest for fools like him.

 

[Ranix Aurus]

Drogon was impressed by this young human female. Spunky. Just the way he liked it. It mattered not that she was a bit too thin for his taste, nor did she have no beard to be proud of. The fact was that she roused his interest. And that was the most important thing.

"You got it, lass! Let's do this! hic"

The Dwarf shot the shorty Paladin a wink. "I concur yar coming along, good mate. Oh, dontcha worry too much about the sketchy fellow over there. His look might be grimdark, but I'm sure his heart is of flower and gold! hic. Is that how the saying goes? Eh, whatever."

He was too ecstatic to be in a proper adventuring party to care who or what would be his new companions. There were only them in the inn right now, so it wasn't like he had another choice anyway. His eyes also fell over a new addition, someone who had been very quiet since a while ago. Only right now that the room had cleared that he finally decided to say his mind. Drogon couldn't tell what he was supposed to be though. He was carrying a lute, so he could be a...

...

Whatever. That sounds interesting anyway. Maybe he can play a lullaby to make the monsters fall sleep or something.

"I'd say the lass would accept one more. Welcome to the team, lad!" He walked over toward the lute-carrying fellow and patted his shoulder. A bit too hard, even. Then he turned to look at his party member one by one.

"Let me introduce mahself to you fools. I'm Drogon Quarterhack, hailing from the Hall of Stonebreaker some...where in the north, maybe? I forgot."

Neon Valkyrie Randomfella Birdsie Reis

 

[Birdsie]

Neon Valkyrie Randomfella Ranix Aurus Reis

He gave Arlos a wretched, some might say; fierce frown at the insult. A skulking pagan? After a moment, Athgoth's mimic calmed, however, he looked embittered as he replied with a malicious counter-insult, "At least I don't require a stool to stand on to see myself in the mirror when shaving." His bitterness was replaced by a spiteful cackle, after which he calmed down and sipped additional ale.

The drunk dwarf proceeded to draw out a theory of Athgoth's personality. Athgoth chuckled quietly.

Then a half-elf bard who seemed blissfully unaware of what he was getting himself into came to join their little group. Athgoth decided to ignore the rabble and avoid unnecessarily speaking over other people, as he had nothing to add other than snarky comments, which wasn't really anything relevant or useful to the stream of introductions. He sipped his beer and watched the talks proceeding quietly.

Drogon Quarterhack proceeded to introduce himself. The desire to speak overcame Athgoth, but his comment was a pleasant one, "I do so admit; I am fond of the drunk dwarf. He appears to be a barrel of laughter on two legs. It is imperative that he remain this way."

Once he was done commenting, Athgoth stood up from his stool near the counter.

"Athgoth Mortarius," he gave his fake name without further ado, "Spellcaster, wizard, mage; area of focus on biology and necromancy, including medicine and surgery. All other information is irrelevant. Should any other questions arise, whether from curiosity or strategy," his eyes peeked to the corner of his vision, at Arlos, glaring daggers at the paladin oppressively, "go ahead and ask away. I've nothing to hide."

His way of handling words could be likened to an automaton; analytical, composed, and completely lacking in personality or passion. It seemed as though he wanted to keep strictly formal and exclude emotion from his work with the group. With that, Athgoth sat down on his stool and took a sip of his beer.

 

[Neon Valkyrie]

All traces of the smirk she'd issued at Arlos' repartee was gone as Juniper stood there, holding the door open for any who intended to follow. She noticed quickly that Drogon had followed on her heels, and was now standing adjacent to her. The paladin approached next, stopping just short of her. Her frown deepened as he asked if she truly intended to allow the maleficent magus to join the group, as if she had some say over its membership. Her head shook lightly, her mouth hanging agape for just a moment before Drogon provided the answer she didn't care to give. Her mouth clapping shut, she offered a nod of agreement, first to the dwarf, then to the halfling ... Athgoth seemed happy to continue drinking.

Juniper was more concerned with the man approaching the door-side trio. Cocking an eyebrow, the first smile of the day fought its way to one corner of her mouth. He was about her height, a little taller even, and had golden blond locks of his own. There was a lute in his hands, and a hopeful look in his eye. Absently pushing a few locks of her own golden hair behind one gently-pointed ear, she tried not to look too enthusiastic when he started speaking. A light giggle escaped from her as he spoke to his capability. Being at least as skilled as this group was no kind of boast.

Drogon spoke up again, this time the act earning an immediate scowl, and a quiet hiss. The bard certainly was welcome, but she could happily answer to that. The smile returning to her face as she looked back to Sam, she began twirling her finger around one of her locks.

"So ... you're like ... in a band?"

Juniper's pause-filled attempt at conversation was immediately cut off by Drogon's loud commencement of the introductions. There was death in her eyes as she glared down at him, though his attention was elsewhere at the time. Next came the dark wizard, who stood from his beverage long enough to expound his expertise. The girl's hopes that he would be useful in her side-quest to learn magic was deflated almost immediately. Necromancy? She didn't want to heal people's backs, she wanted to ... to throw fireballs, and fly, and ... and summon ... flying pigs that ... that farted lightning! Yeah! Somewhere in her brain it also registered that he said he had nothing to hide, something always uttered in sincerity ... honestly. No, seriously, I mean it, why would I lie?

The long silence hanging in the air finally started to dawn on Juniper. She looked to Athgoth, who had returned to his seat, and his drink. Drogon, Arlos, and Sam were all staring at her. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, and she finally let the door fall closed, as no one seemed interested in using it. Waving like she'd just entered a Flagons Anonymous meeting, the young woman tried to pull on a nice smile. "Juniper Alexandraelia Phitt ... of the uh ... Rookskellar Phitts. I'm going to be a great and powerful Wizard ... but my current area of expertise is farm work." She fought the blush that rose to her cheeks back down and stared around at the others, daring anyone to say a thing about it. Even without knowing any actual spells, the stick she'd chosen as a 'wand' could still take an eye out.

Randomfella Birdsie SP3CT3R Reis Ranix Aurus

 

[Reis]

Sam swayed a bit when Drogon hit his shoulder. The dwarf was surprisingly strong for someone who was as short as a child. He cringed when he smelled the alcohol in his breath, and thought poorly about the way he spoke. This dwarf...is he really an adventurer? He doesn't even remember where he lives....

Sam contemplated the dwarf's legitimacy. It actually seemed reasonable for adventurers to have a limited education and poor health. This job wasn't often done out of love, after all. Most people became an adventurer for money, just like himself. So he decided to accept Drogon as part of their group.

His thoughts were interrupted by Athgoth's rather plain introduction. He didn't know what to think of such a shady necromancer. The way he spoke made him seem not just unfriendly, but also as if he indeed had something to hide. Why would he trust such a robotic sounding person who wore a hood to conceal himself? Sam would keep an eye on him, but decided not to judge others so quickly. Adventurers had a right to act the way they wanted to, and Athgoth wasn't the worst type of guy he's seen in an inn.

Lastly, Sam turned his attention to Juniper. He suddenly felt a wave of...something, go through his body. The way she twirled her flowing hair, the adorable way she spoke...even the speed at which she changed moods was somehow absolutely endearing to him. Sam was stunned into silence, staring at her until he realized they were doing introductions now. When she looked around at all of them, their eyes met and Sam had to push down a blush.

He grinned at Juniper and decided to speak to her despite his nervousness. "Haha, no, I'm not in a band. But...you're way cooler than a bard like me, being a wizard and all that..." He trailed off, wishing that his experience as a poetic Bard would save him from his boyish awkwardness. He then turned to the rest of the room to avoid staring into her blue eyes. "I'm Samlannan Rocan, but you guys can call me Sam. I'm a bard, fresh out of the College dorms." He then braved his anxiety and glanced at Juniper, a light smile forming on his lips. "I look forward to working with you."

Neon Valkyrie Randomfella Ranix Aurus Birdsie

 

[Birdsie]

Neon Valkyrie Randomfella Ranix Aurus Reis

Athgoth, despite wanting to remain devoid of passion for the group, couldn't help but release a withheld, but sympathetic chuckle as Juniper stated her area of expertise.

He thought the aspiration was interesting. A farm girl, aspiring to reach the knowledge in the stars. It was inspiring - brilliant, even, to see such a commoner rise above the ignorance of the masses in the search for greater power and a greater meaning. Athgoth's list of people he liked in the group expanded to two. A cheerful dwarf and an inspiring farmgirl. An environment like this was a positive change for a man who will die so soon.

He smiled under his hood. It wasn't as unsettling as one would expect from someone with his glare, but no one noticed the smile anyway, probably.

Being silent allowed you for a chance. Instead of being an active participant, you could become a passive observer. And observed Athgoth have. He observed the bard, whom he now expected to introduce himself. And by observation, he concluded there was a high likelihood that the room contained one half-elf who liked another half-elf as said bard held back a blush and acted weirdly around the inspiring farmgirl. Athgoth sipped his beer, thinking; this is getting spicier by the minute.

He heard the bard introduce himself with humility. It was at that moment that it became completely obvious to the necromancer, who smiled and chuckled as quietly as he could. The hypothesis became a grounded theory: there was raw love in the air. Despite that, it was better not to interfere with the doves unless requested for being a wingman by one of them. Love was a natural process and a biological imperative that held great authority in all realms, even in magic; love was fuel for the soul and could inspire men to great deeds or invigorate one with the strength to defeat armies. It best not be tampered with and left to its own devices.

Athgoth stoically jested to no one in particular, quietly; just above a whisper, "I can feel the aphrodisiac from here." He sipped his beer, finishing the tankard and laying it down on the counter with a tip of several copper coins.

Athgoth stood up, making sure the spellbook is fastened to his belt, which it was. A quick check of his belt revealed that his possessions were still there and he forgot nothing. Good; he had important spell components in his pouches. A common pickpocket could be the difference between a life-saving ritual and the nothing after death.

"Now it is the paladin's turn to introduce himself," he pointed out, walking closer to the group. "After that, we should decide on the next activity to partake as a group."

 

[Randomfella]

Arlos paused for an extended time, his fists clenched before him, his face staring down toward them. Most else passed through his ears after he had heard those words, the admittance of such atrocities, such foul notions, it disgusted him to his core. His right hand slowly moved up behind his neck, clenching the hilt of his robust blade, yet not moving it from the sheath. "If this were the holy city..." He pronounced in a rising whisper, fouled in tone, as he continued to stare down at his free fist. Shortly after, however, his head slowly turned toward this... Abomination. This... Necromancer. "Thou would be strapped atop the righteous pyre at even the mention of such abominable magic." His eyes closed onto this 'Athgoth' as the thing had spoken toward him, the look in his eyes like an unkindled flame. Those around seemed to simply ignore the notion, did it mean nothing to these peasants!? That this being would have no trouble with raising their fallen bodies as it's minion? He did not like it one bit, but there was little choice, without assistance he knew he would not last long in a strange land, and few wanted to take his kind unless they were cowardly archers, or honorless pickpockets.

Yet his focus remained on the filth, the unkindled gaze soon igniting to a wild fire as Arlos's left arm extended almost instantly, gauntlet pointing toward the necromancer, teeth clenched. "I do not answer to the likes of ye! Be warned, foray your unholy practices before me and the burdenous weight of the 'wart' atop your neck will no longer trouble that frail body." He concluded in fury, a clear distaste in the halfling's mouth, before he loosened the grip on the hilt of his blade, lowered his other arm, and moved his gaze back over toward the others.

"Yet in the interests of reasonable folk. Arlos Doran. Knight of the holy church of Zenith. Bringer of his mercy, and his justice. Peruser of holy scripture, enforcer of peace, crusa..." He began to announce himself before pausing, seeming rather proud of his unearned titles with a mighty fist raised in the air, and to anyone with knowledge of his people, clearly missing his last name. Yet his expression and hand dropped as it was clear he was beginning to ramble. "Ahem... Just call me Arlos." He finally finished, placing his hand to his chest in respect toward them, looking between each of the adventurers bar the necromancer as he spoke, slightly nodding toward them.

Neon Valkyrie Birdsie Ranix Aurus Reis

 

[Ranix Aurus]

Drogon's lips curved into a wide grin after his new "companions" introduced themselves. Each was unique in a way...although unique would be a polite way to put it. More like disastrous. A paladin and a necromancer, the worst combination possible under the red sky. A wizard-wannabe who clearly overshoot her goal. And a young musician stumbling upon his attraction toward the fairer sex. Ah, this must be what chaos really meant to be.

He liked it. This was the kind of companions he would cherish the most.

"A'ite, that settled it. We are, hic, from now on in the same team. Let's get along well. Especially you, hic," the Dwarf scooted over toward the diminutive Paladin, patting on his armored shoulder. Not a hard task since he was even shorter than him. "Me feel a strong comradeship with you. We should be brothers. hic."

"So what next? hic. By the way," he pointed at Juniper, "I say let the girl lead us. She seems to know what she's doing. hic."

That was one reason, the other reason was that it would be interesting. Athgoth didn't seem interested in doing so, and while Arlos might be a good choice, it would be boring if someone stiff like him took charge. The Bard...uh...

Let's just forget about the Bard.

Neon Valkyrie Randomfella Birdsie Reis

 

[KingofAesir]

There was no way of telling how long it had been since Valkri had seen any semblance of civilization. The people in the last town had been less than helpful when she questioned them about any guild members passing through the place. Perhaps it had been the way she stared them down that deterred them? No. That couldn't be it. It was probably the ears. Those people acted like they'd never seen a damnws elf before in their lives, and perhaps they hadn't. Valkri reached up a subconsciously pulled her hood up over her ears.

Valkri's stomach rumbled.

"Damnit. There's gotta be a damn town somewhere. I can't exactly chase down bastards if I starve to death." Valkri reached forward and patted Valor on the head reassuringly, "We'll stop soon, buddy." The white stallion whinnied as if he understood her. She continued stroking the coarse black hairs of his mane, attempting to ignore the ache in her stomach. It worked for a while, until the damned thing growled again, louder.

Valkri groaned rather loudly, startling Valor. She mumbled an apology to him and looked back up toward the road only to see the walls of a city in the distance. If she wasn't who she was she would've whooped for joy. Instead, she settled for grinning and smacking Valor lightly with the reigns. The white horse seemed to know what was going on and sped up considerably, naturally excited for food.

A few minutes later, Valkri would pull up outside The Starting Point Inn. Valkri tied Valor up and roses an apple his way, promising to return with more. Once inside, she looked around curiously, not bothering to remove her hood. She spotted an odd group gathered in front of the door and caught the tail end of a conversation that had her heading their way. Naturally, she was there to follow the decree from the king, she had no love for the man but money was a useful thing.

"You folks here for the king's quest?" She asked, eyeing them all steadily, most of them seemed to be male aside for a Half-elf looking girl. Valkri managed a grin as she pulled her hood off her head, black tresses tumbling down on her shoulders, "Perhaps I could be of assistance." Valkri had always been relatively good at talking, charming even, but she had weaknesses and right now they lied in the awkward way her eyes refused to meet the half-elf girls. The reason for which was.....ahem....not know.

Yeah right.

Shut up.

Ranix Aurus , Birdsie , Neon Valkyrie , Reis , Randomfella​

 

[Neon Valkyrie]

Juniper was almost shocked.

Cool? A wizard? No one had ever called her either of those things before. Usually people called her things she either didn't like, or didn't understand ... thought she assumed she wouldn't like the latter if she understood them. She was almost starry eyes as Sam turned to the rest of the group to make his introductions. Spurned on by the dark wizard, Arlos gave his name as part of another sound scolding, eventually realizing it was falling on deaf ears. Things were starting to come together ... she may even have seen a flash of a smile on Athgoth's face, though no trace remained as he joined them by the door. She glanced at the old wooden portal with hope in her eyes, dreams of the journey ahead dancing unseen in her head. The dwarf's rumbling voice drew her attention back to the circle. A smile fought its way onto her lips as Drogon bonded with the other half-pint, but quickly fell away as he elected her leader of the motley crew.

Her mouth fell open for a moment as she peered around at the eyes of the party.

She may well have been the least experienced out of all of them ... for Dryadnia's sake, she hadn't even brought a jacket ... and now she would be responsible for their communal fate. Her eyes found Sam, his own eyes so full of hope and admiration. Her lips pulled into a sharp line as she offered a silent, but emphatic nod. She would wear this heavy mantle, and possibly abuse it's privileges just a little.

Drogon's question was still hanging in the air, and thinking about the answer brought a sudden dryness to her mouth. She swallowed hard and pried her lips open.

"Well, my dad gave me his old adventuring map, and told me how to read it. Apparently we have a real walk ahead of us. We're going to head through the Rookskellar National Dark Forest ... it's actually won Bold&Brave magazine's 'Darkest Forest' award three years running. After that there's Jagged-peak, and the mile-high temple. Apparently it's famous for uh ..." Juniper's glance flashed to Sam. "Souvenirs. Anyway, we should be well into the forest by nightfall, and then we'll just ... y'know ... make camp ... do ... adventurer things."

The creaking of the old oak door drew her glance as another hooded figure walked into the otherwise empty Inn. Glancing their way, she came right over ... right over with those big, deep green eyes. A look of silent concern fell across her face as she traced the scars carved into the girl's features, Though the thought that someone might willingly mar such beautiful features was frustrating, what proved more frustrating was the young woman's refusal to look her in the eye, not that Juniper was entirely sure why she cared so much about it.

After a definite shrug of approval, the group proceeded out onto the cobbled streets, taking the lead of the group with her thumbs tucked securely into her pack-straps. The fresh air was nice, definitely nicer than confusing feelings she'd never considered before. Marching onward, she could hear the group filing out of the Inn behind her, hear the various sorts of feet striking the time-polished stones, coming closer and closer. The warm sun made it easy to ignore the chill setting into the air, and before long they had put Rookskellar behind them, the dark forest looming ahead.

Later, after explaining to Drogon why one should never follow a lady into the bushes while on a journey ...
With the sunlight barely able to penetrate the thick canopy of trees, it was hard to tell the time of day, but easy to see that it was getting too dark to proceed. Stumbling over a rather large root, Juniper came to an abrupt stop, hopping in place while she clutched at the pain in her foot.

"Ow, ow, ow ... ugh, I guess we should stop around here, find a campsite or ..."

The sudden pop and sizzle of a semi-distant fire caught her attention, her pointed ear tilting visibly before her head followed. Another camp, maybe? A cough, guttural, throaty. Maybe it was best to just keep moving ... Taking a few more steps along the trail, the unmistakable sound of goblin voices suddenly cut through the tense silence.

"Hey! One sorcery per turn!"
"Shut up! This one's an instant!"
"Let me see that!"
"Hey! Be careful with that, it's a rare!"

 

[KingofAesir]

Valkri was satisfied that this rag tag group of adventurers had agreed to let her tag along as well. Even if this might take her a long ways away from the Guild, she was willing to do that to acquire coin to use for tracking and perhaps some new armor. As the group exited the inn, Valkri threw herself back onto Valor's back and followed along at a slow pace. She pulled at the leather fitted around her torso and sighed even with chain mail under it, leather would do precious little to protect her.

With a huff she looked out in front of her at Juniper trotting out ahead of the group. Valkri laughed and shook her head a bit, it was then she decided she'd be ever more alert to the land around them in case something decided to jump out at them. Every good group of adventurers needed a look out. Though she found herself watching Juniper more than she did the wilderness around them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometime later, after Juniper stumbled rather hilariously over a tree root, she suggested they stop. Valkri climbed off Valor and looked around to try and spot somewhere fit for camping. Juniper wandered off in pursuit of some sound and Valkri found herself trailing after. What they discovered had her groaning internally.

"Wonderful. Bastard goblins, just what we needed." Valkri ran a gloved hand through her hair carefully as not to cut herself on the claws, "Perhaps we could find a way around them?" She suggested, head turning off the path in search for any way around the ghastly creatures.

"I had a friend once who was kidnapped by goblins." Valkri shivered at the memory, "He came back....." She coughed, "Different."

​

 

[Reis]

Sam suppressed a laugh at Juniper's stumble. This near-laughter in no ways represented his mood, however. Adventuring was something that Sam held in contempt. In fact, he was probably one of the only bards in existence who could say they despised exploration, the wilderness, and everything else that came with fighting for survival. But he had to admit, things weren't so bad with Juniper as a distraction. Without her, this trip would be insufferable.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by the guttural voices of goblins. He tensed, walking slowly between Juniper and the newest member of their group. Valkri and her horse were trustworthy enough, and he hoped that they would make a helpful pair on their journey.

He cringed at Valkri's comment. Goblins were devilish creatures with not an ounce of good in them. They were extremely selfish and willing to do anything to satisfy their boundless greed. While they were one of the weaker creatures they would encounter out here, they could still pose a threat to this particular collection of foolish adventurers. Knowing this, Sam decided to help organize their reaction.

"Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a goblin softly creeping
Might come kill me while I am sleeping
...And the vision I just planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence."

Sam mumbled the tune for a moment, trying out his bard magic stuff for the first time in a while. This particular buff let them all see slightly better in the darkening woods. They would also be able to make slightly less noise when they moved, if they were careful.

"Okay, we could do a couple of things about this." Sam spoke quietly, addressing the entire group. "On the one hand, sneaking past them would ensure all of our safety and comfort. However, there is a chance that the goblins will notice us and attack." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure if you guys are up for it, but I guess we could try a surprise attack. This is an adventure, after all, and what else would adventurers do? It even sounds like they have some kind of rare sorcery trick with them. So I can't completely ignore that option."

Of course, going in fighting was what Sam wanted to avoid the most. But he had to admit that not getting any loot until endgame might get them all killed, so a couple of fights might save them down the line.

"There's one more thing to do--we could perhaps try and trick them. Goblins aren't the smartest monsters in the woods. Who knows? Maybe we could avoid violence, get some loot, and live to see tomorrow all in one plan. So, what do you think?"

 

[Lappi]

Mill Hammerhead​

Mill was trying to sneak across the woods. He broke through anything in his way. Walking through brush, thorn bushes, and small limbs. Breaking them and leaving a pretty visible trail of destruction to any experienced hunter/ranger. After walking for a long time and coming near a clearing, Mill stares through the gap in the brush, seeing 2 goblins on a table.... or maybe they are green gnomes. After much staring, Mill got irritated and proceeded to move around the tree-line. Looking for any kind of angle possible. Stomping and snapping on anything in his way. He would properly identify those 2... half-lings? no matter what the situation.
The enraged half-orc started to finally get up a small hill in the clearing and stared at the goblins from there. Of course looking to the tree-line. The limbs would be snapped and brush disrupted. Mill took out a small note & a piece of charcoal, going to jot down what they look like & compare it to his own knowledge.
"
......
..........
......... I can't read
."
Mill whispered to himself quietly. Though he finally pieced together what they were. Goblins..... or, nah they have to be green gnomes. Piping up, Mill yelled across the clearing. Just wanting to be blunt as possible, his brain clouded by irritation.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU!!!!"

 

[Neon Valkyrie]

Juniper took a few more cautious steps forward before Valkri's sudden outburst right over her shoulder made her jump. Clapping her hand over her mouth in the wake of a quiet yelp, she whirled around with chiding eyes and peered across the short distance to the little elf. Sam strode up between them, moving even closer to the gathering of goblins as Valkri relayed her experience, or her friend's experience, with the impish little creatures. Juniper had never even seen a goblin ... well, not a proper goblin, just the ones in story books and fantasy game manuals. She wondered, silently, what kind of 'different' the goblins had cause the girl's friend to become ... sassy? Paranoid? Was he now into those little wooden miniature war-games? She was shaken from her ponderings by the quiet sound of Sam mumbling a song into the night air.

While the tune was slightly familiar, the notes and words themselves had a profound effect on the little half-elf woman. Her pupils became the size of saucers, and the sounds of the night seemed to be amplified suddenly. The night air tingled at her skin, and Juniper struggled to keep a spontaneous giggle in her throat. Why did she feel so weird? why did she feel like she could hear and see everything? Could everyone else hear and see everything? Was she breathing too loudly? Why did she want nothing more than to dance, or hug someone? Sam spoke up again, supporting the idea that a plan was needed. He laid out the options with a level-head, Juniper fighting the impulse to begin dancing in place as she nodded emphatically at the words, all of them, and chewed absently at the corner of her lips.

It was then that a sudden roar cut through the night; a deep, rumbling voice demanding to know what they were? The Goblins had fallen silent. The whole forest had fallen silent, the crickets waiting with muted fiddles to see what happened now. Juniper, who had dropped into a squat, hugging her knees to her chest, at the sudden outcry, slowly rose to her feet again, her 'wand' gripped tightly amid her fingers. She peered around at the others quizzically, everyone else seemed to mirror the question ... what the hell was that?


A few feet away ...
The goblins froze, peering out into the woods as the sounds of breaking undergrowth and shifting tree limbs drew their attention for the fifth or sixth time. Their card game had come to a standstill as the goblins drew nearer to their crude weapons, snatching them up in fright as the booming voice cut through their camp. Cards scattered across the camp as the little green men condensed, back-to-back, into a circle, with the fire pit on one side, and their hap-hazard leather tents on the other.

Ew, Gross, Nasty, Icky, and Boil were shaking like the leaves at their feet as they scanned the treeline for the speaker, none able to summon up a response for long moments. None seemed prepared to announce themselves, or explain themselves, hoping that their silence might, in some way, drive off the loud intruder.

 

[Reis]

Sam looked at Juniper, clearly noticing her excessive nodding and lip-chewing. He wondered what the heck his song did to her. The half-elf knew that his bard skills weren't the best. What kind of master bard thought that singing in combat was lame? But this type of behavior was something he recognized. A certain alchemist in his Bard College was rather well-known for his profound herbs. Once inhaled, it would make some kind of addictive reaction that made people waste all of their money just for another go. Of course Sam himself never participated, but it seemed evident that both his colleagues and Juniper were high.

....

Did his song just make Juniper high?! Sam cringed at himself. This was not what his song was supposed to do. Was everyone else feeling the same way? How would this help them kill goblins?!

Suddenly, a monstrous voice roared, silencing the various noises in the woods. He leaned down, glancing at Juniper again as she dropped to the floor and ridiculously hugged her knees. Was my song that bad? Am I that bad of a bard? Sam sighed when she stood up, drawing her 'weapon' as she prepared to fight. He could immediatly tell that if the approaching monster was as terrible as it sounded, their foolish group wouldn't survive the next 5 minutes. But...he didn't want turn away from this opportunity for battle, an innate sense of adventure driving him towards danger.

...Or at least, that's what Sam told himself. In reality he never felt more ready to gtfo. But he had a feeling that Juniper wasn't in the state of mind to stealthily escape. If they didn't handle this properly, they could draw the monsters towards them, inevitably leading to an undeserved death. And Sam wasn't ready to die. Not until he found the One Piece and bought his way to the happiness that he deserved.

Taking Juniper's hand, he suppressed a blush ('High Wizard' Juniper was rather cute) as he signaled the group to follow his lead. He went towards the voices of the goblins, looping around to avoid direct confrontation with whatever monster was at front. They made it behind the gathered goblins and their rather crude camp. Sam tried not to get excited when he saw that there were only 5 goblins present. There was no telling how many were still in their hap-hazard tents, or if more goblins were close by. Besides, it wasn't like everyone was in a battle-ready state of mind.

Sam looked around with his enhanced vision, seeing cards scattered in the darkness. So it was a card game, huh? He felt rather disappointed. The dumb goblins didn't have any ancient wizard spells that they had no idea how to use--it was just a stupid card game! Sam pouted, studying the 5 goblins as they trembled in terror. It was good to see that they were no more competent than his team, else they might get killed by one of the weakest types of monsters in the world.

He glanced back at his party. Now was the time to fight. Maybe Juniper wouldn't be able to battle. But if all of the others worked perfectly in sync, they might be able to defeat the goblins...and perhaps even the monster that was approaching them.

...

Who was he kidding. They were all about to die, weren't they?