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Thread: [ICRP] Chapter 0 - Greetings

  1. #11
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    After arranging his possessions at the base of his bed, Riggett perches on the footboard and unfurls his bedroll over the sheets. His ear twitches, and he looks at Lazarz. "Riggett," he introduces himself, again. His dark eyes stare at the masked hobgoblin's box suspiciously. "Bees?" he asks, hairless tail curling nervously around a bedpost.




  2. #12
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    "It's good to meet before we have to work together. Well met, Smokebeak and Tycho." Aldona greets the two before snapping her attention to the door as the small furred figure boots it open. Seeing that it was only a new member she relaxes a bit while narrowing her eyes at the ratfolk. She moves slightly out of his way as he scurries through the group while keeping an eye on him the entire time.

    She introduces herself once again to the two later members while gazing curiously at the strange bag the goblinoid brought.
    "What kind of instrument do you have? I have only heard of skalds using their voices before."


    “Defend the weak, protect both young and old, never desert your friends. Give justice to all, be fearless in battle and always ready to defend the right."

    —The law of Badger Lords”
    Brian Jacques, Lord Brocktree

  3. #13

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    "Ooh, Bees?" Smokebeak looks at the basket, fascinated. "If your bee friends do not survive, let me know. there are a thousand different uses for bees in alchemy. the wings, teh stings, the fuzz, the brain, you name it. Actually If any of you do not survive and I do, can I have your body? I'm fascinated to knwo what concocotions I could make with your remains." The Tengu guestures to his sad little alchemy lab, a dozen dusty chipped vials bearing "Smokebeak Alchemical Supplies" on them with a cartoonish caricature of smokebeak winking and giving the thumbs up and a tiny pile of ingredients next to a battered mortar and pestle. "I am short on supplies, sadly. I could use whatever your bod...you could provide."





  4. #14
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    Sitting on his bed, Lazarz nods senenscently, acknowledging the introductions and committing their names to memory."The sound and the fury" Tycho's comment invites him to add. He takes a deep breath as he reaches for the buzzing basket "Für the curious, I've säng in the Southern Bädlands, laying vaste to the tusked orcs under the blood moon. But the fvoice, you see, is close and personal. Almost varm. Nah, I häve an instrument, but not to woe pretty ladies and boys."

    Just when it seems that he is going to open the basket, he retrieves something the size of a fist from a pocket in his fur coat instead. It is a pottery whistle with the the face of a horrified fiend. He attaches it to his mask and blows gently. It produces a sound of between that of a cougar and someone being flayed alive. "But enough. There's no place for it outside the bättlefield." He removes it and puts it away.

    He listens to the alchemist with especial attention "Oh, there could be a place for your science at Novraev: nothing goes to waste there. You should see our mechanised abattoirs: our butchers use everything but the squeal. Once we are dead, our bodies have many uses, as you will see in a moment. Mine is yours to harvest, as long as your notes go to me after your demise. We are a young nation, but our culture is old: knowledge needs to be passed on, correct?"

    He directs his attention to the cleric "Smoke and fire are the enemy of bees. I should know, as an äpicultor myself. The bees we tend to at Novraev have been bred for generations to be vicious but pay no heed to hobgoblins. Their honey, we treasure." He puts a hand inside the basket and retrieves a piece of honeycomb "It is good for my voice, y'see?" He sucks on it.

    "This one here understood little of männers and nothing of diplomacy. He ruined the nice box vhere I originally held my bees. Fine cräftsmanship, as a dwarf would say. He then understood alright. Said he'd do anything to help me recover my queen." Opening the basket for all to see, he reveals the severed head of a man used as a home to the honeybees. It smells great. He'd share some pieces of the honeycomb with his new companions, if any has the stomach. "Industrious, disciplined creatures..." he mumbles, his eyes distant and tired. He is probably reminiscing.
    Last edited by Alcazar QZR; 06-04-2019 at 11:47 AM.


  5. #15
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    A tall swarthy skinned human youth sauntered unceremoniously through the room's door with little more announcement than the soft clatter of beads and charms. Dressed in traveler's clothes styled after the Arax region, accented in swaths of red and festooned with wooden beads and various kinds of charms. Moving to a bunk furthest from the group the broad-shouldered but under developed youth carried a curious looking staff with a bend at its top from which hung a lantern, a staff he carefully leaned against the wall next to his chosen bunk before dropping a small pack of supplies onto the cheap bed. He paid little attention to the room until he had arranged his things, at which point he produced a deck of old cards from his pack and turned his attention to the people in his room.

    His attention was undividedly given to each in turn, starting with the closest before moving back. Each figure in turn was greeting with the sound of a shuffle of the cards and then a single card drawn and placed face down on the bunk in a line. A card for each.

    "Weal or Woe my new friends, What'll it be? Your fortune told by a single card. Names Red, and the first one's free."

    He offered with an enticing flare of his bead bangled arm over the mysterious cards.
    Last edited by Doc-Holiday; 06-04-2019 at 02:22 AM.

  6. #16

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    "Absolutely, friend. if you can read my notes, you can have them and learn from them." Smokebeak tosses him the journal to examine. The journal is written with a mixture of claw-like runes and alchemical symbols. Smokebeak willingly tries some honey, and then makes some notes about the use of honey in Alchemy. he looks at Red. "Sorry. I don't belive in fortunes."
    Last edited by LakethePondling; 06-04-2019 at 03:08 AM.





  7. #17
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    Red flashed a toothy grin, mirthless grin to Smokebeak. "Then a misfortune you wish." The youth turned a card with a practiced hand revealing the gorgeous hand painted artwork of a giant man, powerful in figure and enormous. They symbol of a shield appears on one corner. "The Mountain Man, not a card you wish against you my feathered friend. You have an enemy in your future, a foe who will threaten your well-being and you will be powerless to stop it." The youth gave the acrid smelling alchemist a strange look before snatching up the card and adding it back to his deck.

  8. #18

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    "Looks like Tycho. and He likes me. I think." Smokebeak stands fast in his denial of superstitions.





  9. #19

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    Quote Originally Posted by Alcazar QZR View Post
    It produces a sound of between that of a cougar and someone being flayed alive.
    As the horrific sound begins, a small blue mote appears in the room in front of Lazarz. When the sound stops a moment later, the blue mote vanishes.
    Last edited by Boethius; 06-04-2019 at 04:14 AM.

  10. #20
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    Default [ICRP] Chapter 0 - Greetings

    As Lazarz goes on about his home, Riggett falls quiet. He climbs down from the footboard and sidles up to his bed, smoothing the wrinkles in his bedroll. "I know Novraev well enough," the ratfolk mumbles. "I know all about the bees," he sneers quietly. Absorbed in his work of making a bed he'll have to unmake in the morning, the cleric barely acknowledges Red's entrance.

    "I'll play," he finally says to the soothsayer after a sigh kept to himself, beaming as he turns to face the room. "The Maelstrom gives me all that I have to fear," he says, chest puffed up again, "so I should hardly be afraid of a deck of cards."

    He talks but one step before Lazarz begins his tune, and he's stopped in his tracks by the mote's appearance.

    (Knowledge: Local 13)
    Last edited by theScrappy; 06-04-2019 at 04:41 PM.




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