A Stitch In Souragne
- Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6225
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
A Stitch In Souragne
Way of the Loah, the Mists.
The rigging creaked. The unseen ocean lapped at the hull. At regular intervals, the sailor leaning out over the prow called out his soundings of the Mist-shrouded waters' depths. The first mate called out to the other sailors moving about the deck and in the rigging above.
All the normal sounds of an ocean voyage were there, but they were muted, distant. Sight was limited as well. The Mists were everywhere, stealing colour, tainting the air with a subtle hint of decay and attar. Nothing felt entirely real.
Right now, this ship felt like the most lonely place in the world. You might believe yourselves to be tortured souls caught in a bleak Hell. The splendor of Nevuchar Springs, the point from which this vessel had set out, seemed impossibly far away. It even seemed, in the coldest hours of the night, like a delusion conjured by minds held captive in the Mists.
Whatever your reasons, whatever your source of information, you had all made your way to Nevuchar Springs in response to the call sent out by the Church of Ezra, Our Guardian in the Mists. In Nevuchar Springs, the ship had been waiting, fully stocked and outfitted with an experienced crew. The captain had made best speed for the Way of the Loah, a Mistway that was supposed to lead to the island of Souragne, where your mission would begin.
Supposedly, the captain had made this voyage many times.
Supposedly, the Way of the Loah was a dependable route through the vapours that surrounded the world as you knew it, the Mists of Death.
Supposedly, you had not been in this infernal, grey tunnel for more than two days.
And yet it felt as if you had been here forever.
And yet it felt as if you were on a ghost ship, continuing a circuit through the waves of damnation, doomed never to make port.
Things looked bleak, despite the captain's frequently-repeated assurances. Perhaps they looked a little more bleak because those assurances were repeated so often, at every meal on deck.
Everyone ate on deck, crew, passengers and officers, as if to huddle together around a fire in a winter night, when wolves are howling in the distance. Rather than give a reassuring feeling, this habit of huddling together filled the atmosphere with even more dread than the Mists had already done by themselves.
And then this morning (a time determined through clocks and watches, for the Mists certainly did not lighten or darken), the strange sound had started to follow the ship. A sound not unlike running footsteps...
(OOC: This would be a good time to introduce yourselves, hmm? ~_o Everyone except for Tarlyn, that is.)
The rigging creaked. The unseen ocean lapped at the hull. At regular intervals, the sailor leaning out over the prow called out his soundings of the Mist-shrouded waters' depths. The first mate called out to the other sailors moving about the deck and in the rigging above.
All the normal sounds of an ocean voyage were there, but they were muted, distant. Sight was limited as well. The Mists were everywhere, stealing colour, tainting the air with a subtle hint of decay and attar. Nothing felt entirely real.
Right now, this ship felt like the most lonely place in the world. You might believe yourselves to be tortured souls caught in a bleak Hell. The splendor of Nevuchar Springs, the point from which this vessel had set out, seemed impossibly far away. It even seemed, in the coldest hours of the night, like a delusion conjured by minds held captive in the Mists.
Whatever your reasons, whatever your source of information, you had all made your way to Nevuchar Springs in response to the call sent out by the Church of Ezra, Our Guardian in the Mists. In Nevuchar Springs, the ship had been waiting, fully stocked and outfitted with an experienced crew. The captain had made best speed for the Way of the Loah, a Mistway that was supposed to lead to the island of Souragne, where your mission would begin.
Supposedly, the captain had made this voyage many times.
Supposedly, the Way of the Loah was a dependable route through the vapours that surrounded the world as you knew it, the Mists of Death.
Supposedly, you had not been in this infernal, grey tunnel for more than two days.
And yet it felt as if you had been here forever.
And yet it felt as if you were on a ghost ship, continuing a circuit through the waves of damnation, doomed never to make port.
Things looked bleak, despite the captain's frequently-repeated assurances. Perhaps they looked a little more bleak because those assurances were repeated so often, at every meal on deck.
Everyone ate on deck, crew, passengers and officers, as if to huddle together around a fire in a winter night, when wolves are howling in the distance. Rather than give a reassuring feeling, this habit of huddling together filled the atmosphere with even more dread than the Mists had already done by themselves.
And then this morning (a time determined through clocks and watches, for the Mists certainly did not lighten or darken), the strange sound had started to follow the ship. A sound not unlike running footsteps...
(OOC: This would be a good time to introduce yourselves, hmm? ~_o Everyone except for Tarlyn, that is.)
Zumba looked apprehensively over the rim, trying to pierce the relentless fog. He had been suffering greatly in the last days from the cold. He was used to the searing hot weather of Souragne, his home land, and clammy cold that wavered in the sea first and then within the mists made him feel very uncomfortable. He was wearing his cotton jacket, something he seldom did at home, and on top of it he wore the blanket he had dragged fromt he bed.
He couldn't get used to these voyages, and although he tried his best to stay calm, he was not particularly good at that. It was only his second sea trip, but it felt like the first. The first time... the first time brought his thoughts to Souragne.
He again looked at the darkness, in a vain query to the mists about the land they hopefully hid. Immersed in silence, he evoked his remembrances of Souragne. Not at all pleasant, most of them. He had left in hurry, catching a desperate chance of stowing away inside a ship that departed for the continent. Somehow endeared to the ship's captain, he had his collaboration to stay hidden among the cargo for the whole trip without anyone else being the wiser.
He was now returning to Souragne. Hopefully he had been forgotten by now. That might work to his advantage. Once more he searched the waves beneath the dark curtain. This new sound trailing the boat only made him feel more unnerved and he despaired for land.
He turned back to the deck, in search of the people he had been travelling with. They remained strangers to him. He had barely addressed a few words to them, nodding good day or good night, but he cherished their company in this dread voyage. It was the only thing that still grounded him to some measure of reality.
He couldn't get used to these voyages, and although he tried his best to stay calm, he was not particularly good at that. It was only his second sea trip, but it felt like the first. The first time... the first time brought his thoughts to Souragne.
He again looked at the darkness, in a vain query to the mists about the land they hopefully hid. Immersed in silence, he evoked his remembrances of Souragne. Not at all pleasant, most of them. He had left in hurry, catching a desperate chance of stowing away inside a ship that departed for the continent. Somehow endeared to the ship's captain, he had his collaboration to stay hidden among the cargo for the whole trip without anyone else being the wiser.
He was now returning to Souragne. Hopefully he had been forgotten by now. That might work to his advantage. Once more he searched the waves beneath the dark curtain. This new sound trailing the boat only made him feel more unnerved and he despaired for land.
He turned back to the deck, in search of the people he had been travelling with. They remained strangers to him. He had barely addressed a few words to them, nodding good day or good night, but he cherished their company in this dread voyage. It was the only thing that still grounded him to some measure of reality.
Zumba d'Oxossi (A Stitch in Souragne)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Huddled against the cabin is a young man. With an old thick cloak wrapped around himself to keep him warm. Underneath the cloak a lavish garment covers his slender body. A silver chain hangs around his neck disappearing in his red shirt, apparently gold inlaid. The quality of his garments are a contrast to the cloak. Sometimes he shivers and tugs the cloak closer around him. His green eyes are scanning the people moving around the ship, taking everything in.
He's been sitting there, uncomfortably, for about an hour when he slowly, but easily stands up. From under the cloak an apple appears. He looks at it as if examining it to see if its safe to eat. He scratches his right ear, which is missing the earlobe. He looks around looking at the mists surrounding the ship and sighs deeply as if bored or shaking off an uncomfortable feeling. He takes a full bite of the apple and walks towards the bow. His footing always good as if feeling the movement of the ship. He nods with a smile at the sailors he walks by. He walks up to a sailor standing at the bow and takes of the cloak and hands it over casually to the sailor. A lavish outfit reveals itself. The type that only the most rich would wear. However, for those who know about clothes it is clear it has lost his panache. "Thank you monsieur" he says in a haughty voice.
Vincent, as he his called, then turns around and looks for something to do.
He sees Zumba standing by the rail. His hands folded around himself as if his body suddenly doubts his decision to take off the warm cloak.
He walks up to Zumba rubbing his arms to warm himself.
"I think you will find the water less to your liking monsieur, if you would want to join it" he says mockingly while looking at the water. "Of course, there are better and less suffering ways". He smiles and takes another bite from his apple as if daring him.
He's been sitting there, uncomfortably, for about an hour when he slowly, but easily stands up. From under the cloak an apple appears. He looks at it as if examining it to see if its safe to eat. He scratches his right ear, which is missing the earlobe. He looks around looking at the mists surrounding the ship and sighs deeply as if bored or shaking off an uncomfortable feeling. He takes a full bite of the apple and walks towards the bow. His footing always good as if feeling the movement of the ship. He nods with a smile at the sailors he walks by. He walks up to a sailor standing at the bow and takes of the cloak and hands it over casually to the sailor. A lavish outfit reveals itself. The type that only the most rich would wear. However, for those who know about clothes it is clear it has lost his panache. "Thank you monsieur" he says in a haughty voice.
Vincent, as he his called, then turns around and looks for something to do.
He sees Zumba standing by the rail. His hands folded around himself as if his body suddenly doubts his decision to take off the warm cloak.
He walks up to Zumba rubbing his arms to warm himself.
"I think you will find the water less to your liking monsieur, if you would want to join it" he says mockingly while looking at the water. "Of course, there are better and less suffering ways". He smiles and takes another bite from his apple as if daring him.
Tresspassers will be shot......
Survivors will be shot again.
Survivors will be shot again.
- Baron Zamedi
- Criminal Mastermind
- Posts: 100
- Joined: Tue Apr 28, 2009 1:37 pm
A hooded silhouette is seen approaching the rim, right to the spot where Zumba is leaning over.
It's pace is slow and silent, the figure looks all white in the mist like it's wrapped in a long tunic or maybe even a death shroud, all that is visible from under the hood are white locks falling on the apparition's shoulders.
This stranger really doesn't look much different than the reaper itself, it's sight in this forsaken place is enough to send chills down the spine... until it comes within a closer range, And a boy that cannot be much more than 20 years old comes into view huddling under a grey cloak and wearing a loose cotton shirt with leather pants and boots, his grey eyes look misty amongst the fog and his long white hair falls loose from his head, a silver ezran holy symbol dangles from a chain around his neck.
-"Hello brothers, I believe we haven't been properly introduced"- Says the handsome boy, not quite smiling, but with cordiality in his voice -"I'm Maximilian LaFleur, from Dementliu, and I don't think that leaving the ship would be a good idea, not because of the freezing water mind you, but because no one knows where you would en up if you are not guided carefully through a mistway..."- While he says this Maximilian offers his hand to be shaken by the two men he is addressing.
It's pace is slow and silent, the figure looks all white in the mist like it's wrapped in a long tunic or maybe even a death shroud, all that is visible from under the hood are white locks falling on the apparition's shoulders.
This stranger really doesn't look much different than the reaper itself, it's sight in this forsaken place is enough to send chills down the spine... until it comes within a closer range, And a boy that cannot be much more than 20 years old comes into view huddling under a grey cloak and wearing a loose cotton shirt with leather pants and boots, his grey eyes look misty amongst the fog and his long white hair falls loose from his head, a silver ezran holy symbol dangles from a chain around his neck.
-"Hello brothers, I believe we haven't been properly introduced"- Says the handsome boy, not quite smiling, but with cordiality in his voice -"I'm Maximilian LaFleur, from Dementliu, and I don't think that leaving the ship would be a good idea, not because of the freezing water mind you, but because no one knows where you would en up if you are not guided carefully through a mistway..."- While he says this Maximilian offers his hand to be shaken by the two men he is addressing.
"Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains."
As Zumba is starting to walk away from the rail, a man dressed in garish clothes addresses him with an odd commnent. Zumba opens his black eyes wide as he hears the words. At the same time, once he sees the rich attire of the man, he fails to repress an involuntarily trembling.
He replies with a deep voice, quite according to his tall muscular frame.
"No Sir, I think you misunderstood me. I adore life, I would never abandon it that easily. You can call me Zumba". He stretches his hand. As he does so, the others can see the jacket he wears is sleeveless and his skin is of a dark chestnut brown tone. His face shows a resolute man that seems about 4 or 5 years older than in reality. It betrays a history of suffering. Despite the looks, he is in his very early twenties.
He notices Maximillian approach, and despite his ghostly look, it does not cause as much of an impression in him as the first one did. He greets him too:
"Well met, Maximillian. I'm Zumba d'Oxossi. Just call me Zumba."
He replies with a deep voice, quite according to his tall muscular frame.
"No Sir, I think you misunderstood me. I adore life, I would never abandon it that easily. You can call me Zumba". He stretches his hand. As he does so, the others can see the jacket he wears is sleeveless and his skin is of a dark chestnut brown tone. His face shows a resolute man that seems about 4 or 5 years older than in reality. It betrays a history of suffering. Despite the looks, he is in his very early twenties.
He notices Maximillian approach, and despite his ghostly look, it does not cause as much of an impression in him as the first one did. He greets him too:
"Well met, Maximillian. I'm Zumba d'Oxossi. Just call me Zumba."
Zumba d'Oxossi (A Stitch in Souragne)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Vincent takes another bite of his apple, enjoying the taste.
He awaits an answer, staring at the dark man. Noticing Zumba trembling he smiles arrogantly.
"Misunderstood?" he asks. "I never misunderstand" he winks as if knowing something.
He looks Zumba in the eyes as if searching for something, when the young man Maximilian arrives.
Vincent stares at the young man for a while and after the introduction he throws his hands in exagerated defense and lets out a girlish scream as if scared by the young boy who just arrived. "Well, messieurs, aren't you all disconnected from life". He points his finger at Maximilian "a young boy who's never experienced the warmth of the sun and a another who has felt too much of it". He smiles as if proud by his comment and takes another bit from his apple.
He bows deeply to the two men, exagerating his moves. "Vincent Faussé, from Port-a-Lucine". He straightens and looks at Maximilian, then looks at the holy symbol around his neck, raising an eyebrow. "Monsieur does have a point" Vincent says to Zumba. He then lightly shakes Maximilian's hand.
He awaits an answer, staring at the dark man. Noticing Zumba trembling he smiles arrogantly.
"Misunderstood?" he asks. "I never misunderstand" he winks as if knowing something.
He looks Zumba in the eyes as if searching for something, when the young man Maximilian arrives.
Vincent stares at the young man for a while and after the introduction he throws his hands in exagerated defense and lets out a girlish scream as if scared by the young boy who just arrived. "Well, messieurs, aren't you all disconnected from life". He points his finger at Maximilian "a young boy who's never experienced the warmth of the sun and a another who has felt too much of it". He smiles as if proud by his comment and takes another bit from his apple.
He bows deeply to the two men, exagerating his moves. "Vincent Faussé, from Port-a-Lucine". He straightens and looks at Maximilian, then looks at the holy symbol around his neck, raising an eyebrow. "Monsieur does have a point" Vincent says to Zumba. He then lightly shakes Maximilian's hand.
Tresspassers will be shot......
Survivors will be shot again.
Survivors will be shot again.
- Baron Zamedi
- Criminal Mastermind
- Posts: 100
- Joined: Tue Apr 28, 2009 1:37 pm
Maximilian looks amused at Vincent's display, as if he has never seen a well dress noble acting like that before.
-"I assure you sir"- Says Maximilian smiling slightly at Vincent -"I’ am very much connected to life, or at least I like to think so..."-
After the proper introductions Maximilian keeps speaking -"It is a very well known fact that countless people have been lost to the mists when not led by en expert explorer, experienced anchorite, or genuine vistana. Even one step in the wrong direction, it is said, can render you irremediably lost, there's even stories about people who have ended up in completely different places than those they intended to go to, and worse yet those who appeared months and even years after getting lost wandering with a blank stare in their eyes, with no purpose or direction..."- Maximilian seems to be lost in his monologue while speaking but after reaching this point he looks up and around to the two other men. -"Which brings up the question, why is it brothers, if you don't mind me asking, that you are in this voyage of faith?"-
Maximilian waits for an answer all the while staring deep into Zumba's and Vincent's faces maybe trying to guess something from his travel partner's past.
-"I assure you sir"- Says Maximilian smiling slightly at Vincent -"I’ am very much connected to life, or at least I like to think so..."-
After the proper introductions Maximilian keeps speaking -"It is a very well known fact that countless people have been lost to the mists when not led by en expert explorer, experienced anchorite, or genuine vistana. Even one step in the wrong direction, it is said, can render you irremediably lost, there's even stories about people who have ended up in completely different places than those they intended to go to, and worse yet those who appeared months and even years after getting lost wandering with a blank stare in their eyes, with no purpose or direction..."- Maximilian seems to be lost in his monologue while speaking but after reaching this point he looks up and around to the two other men. -"Which brings up the question, why is it brothers, if you don't mind me asking, that you are in this voyage of faith?"-
Maximilian waits for an answer all the while staring deep into Zumba's and Vincent's faces maybe trying to guess something from his travel partner's past.
"Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains."
- Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6225
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
A breeze blows across the deck. It comes from the prow, and it is... warm.
It is the first breath of life you have all felt in too long. True, the breeze smells of rot buried in shallow water, of dark woods and mud, but it is a real breeze. You all feel your hearts and spirits lifted by it, if only a little.
"Souragne!" the sailor in the crow's nest calls, relief clear in his voice. "It's the offland wind out of Souragne, we're close to--"
A predatory screech cuts off the man's voice, and a new wind blows over the deck. This one comes from behind the ship, and it blows a veil of fog over everything, snuffs out the warmth that came to greet you out of Souragne.
It comes out of the Mists.
The stink of Souragne's wind was one of water, mud and decay. It was unpleasant, but it was the product of life's processes going on. This new wind stinks of wretched decay in deep cellars. It is the breath of stone tombs, rot mixed with attar in a vain attempt to shield the noses of 'sensitive' people.
The sound of running footsteps, which has been trailing the ship for a while now, first grows louder, then softer. It grows closer. Mists blow across the deck, and out of their midst a shape appears.
(OOC: Roll Spot checks and Initiative checks, everyone who's on deck! Please use the invisible castle dice roller and link to your roll in your posts.)
It is the first breath of life you have all felt in too long. True, the breeze smells of rot buried in shallow water, of dark woods and mud, but it is a real breeze. You all feel your hearts and spirits lifted by it, if only a little.
"Souragne!" the sailor in the crow's nest calls, relief clear in his voice. "It's the offland wind out of Souragne, we're close to--"
A predatory screech cuts off the man's voice, and a new wind blows over the deck. This one comes from behind the ship, and it blows a veil of fog over everything, snuffs out the warmth that came to greet you out of Souragne.
It comes out of the Mists.
The stink of Souragne's wind was one of water, mud and decay. It was unpleasant, but it was the product of life's processes going on. This new wind stinks of wretched decay in deep cellars. It is the breath of stone tombs, rot mixed with attar in a vain attempt to shield the noses of 'sensitive' people.
The sound of running footsteps, which has been trailing the ship for a while now, first grows louder, then softer. It grows closer. Mists blow across the deck, and out of their midst a shape appears.
(OOC: Roll Spot checks and Initiative checks, everyone who's on deck! Please use the invisible castle dice roller and link to your roll in your posts.)
While eating his apple his mind wonders off while Maximilian explains the dangers of the mist. His eyes again scanning the deck of the ship.
At the question of what brings him to this voyage his eyes focus again on the young man. A broad smiles appears on his face. "Isn't it obvious young man. You as a man of the faith, as your symbol seems to imply, should know the answer to that question for each and every one of us." It's not clear whether he's making an "intellectual" reply, dodging the question or something else.
His nose twitches and his head slowly turns "What is that awful smell". He suddenly relaxes as his body feels the warmth of the new air. "Aahhh" he sighs, "how I've missed that comfort." Meanwhile taking his embroidered handkerchief out of his chest pocket to cover his nose.
Vincent freezes for a split second when he hears the predatory screach. He shivers as the cold sucks away the warmth he shortly enjoyed. Instinctively his hand moves down to his hip, only to find the cloth of his tunic. "Merde" he whispers. He turns to the direction of the sound of running footsteps and the shape appearing out of the mist. Vincent takes a few steps to the side gouging the distance to the cabin door and ready to sprint.
OCC: Will there be an OCC thread? Spot 14 Ini 9
At the question of what brings him to this voyage his eyes focus again on the young man. A broad smiles appears on his face. "Isn't it obvious young man. You as a man of the faith, as your symbol seems to imply, should know the answer to that question for each and every one of us." It's not clear whether he's making an "intellectual" reply, dodging the question or something else.
His nose twitches and his head slowly turns "What is that awful smell". He suddenly relaxes as his body feels the warmth of the new air. "Aahhh" he sighs, "how I've missed that comfort." Meanwhile taking his embroidered handkerchief out of his chest pocket to cover his nose.
Vincent freezes for a split second when he hears the predatory screach. He shivers as the cold sucks away the warmth he shortly enjoyed. Instinctively his hand moves down to his hip, only to find the cloth of his tunic. "Merde" he whispers. He turns to the direction of the sound of running footsteps and the shape appearing out of the mist. Vincent takes a few steps to the side gouging the distance to the cabin door and ready to sprint.
OCC: Will there be an OCC thread? Spot 14 Ini 9
Tresspassers will be shot......
Survivors will be shot again.
Survivors will be shot again.
A young man with red hair and a thick red beard emerges from the mists. Sparkling green eyes. Of average height and build, he is clothed in a red robe and his only possession is the light mace at his hip. A holy symbol hangs from his neck.
Peering into the gloom, he now looks surprised. His hand clutches his symbol nervously English: "What,what in the name of Lathander?....... I..... uh...."
He looks at whomever is on deck and asks the obvious question, well to him at any rate English: "Am I anywhere near Berdusk? That walk through that cursed fog seemed to never end and how in the name of the Morninglord did I get on .. on.. a ship?" This last word slips out of his mouth, as the realization to the fact that he is now aboard a ship, yet there is no body o f water big enough near Berdusk to even hold a ship of this size. He swallows a few times and awaits a response.
Peering into the gloom, he now looks surprised. His hand clutches his symbol nervously English: "What,what in the name of Lathander?....... I..... uh...."
He looks at whomever is on deck and asks the obvious question, well to him at any rate English: "Am I anywhere near Berdusk? That walk through that cursed fog seemed to never end and how in the name of the Morninglord did I get on .. on.. a ship?" This last word slips out of his mouth, as the realization to the fact that he is now aboard a ship, yet there is no body o f water big enough near Berdusk to even hold a ship of this size. He swallows a few times and awaits a response.
Zumba steels his face at the noble's reply. He's seen enough of them in this life, but this one surely seems different. More refined, if possible. He asks guardedly
"Have you ever been to Souragne, sir?"
When the familiar smell of his land reaches his nose, though, his eyes open wide in pleasure, but he keeps his mouth shut fast and grim. He barely has time to say anything, anyway, as suddenly a figure emerges from a cloud. The language he speaks is totally strange to him, and Zumba assumes his battle stance, ready for the worst.
OOC: 17 for Init, 19 for Spot.
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2574209/
(I made a previous roll before to test the tool. I got twice the rolls I wanted, so I went back before I saw the results. You can see them here:
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/search/651231/)
"Have you ever been to Souragne, sir?"
When the familiar smell of his land reaches his nose, though, his eyes open wide in pleasure, but he keeps his mouth shut fast and grim. He barely has time to say anything, anyway, as suddenly a figure emerges from a cloud. The language he speaks is totally strange to him, and Zumba assumes his battle stance, ready for the worst.
OOC: 17 for Init, 19 for Spot.
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2574209/
(I made a previous roll before to test the tool. I got twice the rolls I wanted, so I went back before I saw the results. You can see them here:
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/search/651231/)
Zumba d'Oxossi (A Stitch in Souragne)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
- Baron Zamedi
- Criminal Mastermind
- Posts: 100
- Joined: Tue Apr 28, 2009 1:37 pm
Maximilian moves so fast that it's hard to tell what happened first, his jumping into a defensive position or the appearance of this bearded stranger, in any case he regains composure immediately and is now looking straight into the man's face analyzing him.
-"For Ezra, I can't understand a word you are saying brother, please calm down."- Maximilian says this trying to convey as much as he can of the message with his body as well as with his words.
OOC: 21 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2575020/ in a Diplomacy roll to try to convey max's message non verbaly, if I need a different roll just let me know.
-"For Ezra, I can't understand a word you are saying brother, please calm down."- Maximilian says this trying to convey as much as he can of the message with his body as well as with his words.
OOC: 21 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2575020/ in a Diplomacy roll to try to convey max's message non verbaly, if I need a different roll just let me know.
"Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains."
Where everybody is quick to react, Vincent seems a step behind. He is surprised at the speed the others move. "Mental note" he whispers to himself.
As the red haired man exits the mist, Vincent takes a step back cautiously, still holding the handkerchief to his nose and an almost completely eaten apple in his other hand.
The red haired man speaks in a language unknown to him.
Seeing the man clutching his holy symbol, talking nervously and apparently feeling lost, Vincent visibly relaxes.
Vincent finds the situation extremely bizar. He has encountered magic, but this phenomenon is new to him. This man wasn't aboard this ship when they left port, of that he is sure. He swallows back an uncomfortable feeling and changes his approach to the situation. Then suddenly he realizes something and he starts laughing, almost choking on it while trying to keep a straight face. Controlling his laughter he takes a last bite from his apple and throws it overboard.
"Monsieur Zumba, either you are truly prophetic in your questions" emphasizing the word 'truly' with his finger "or", he nods at Maximilian "Monsieur, maybe your Ezra has predicted this event through that small explanation you gave just a minute ago. Either way," he looks back at the newcomer "it's quite ironic really. He lifts up his hands to show the red haired man that he is unarmed, his nose clearly not happy with the decision to give free entrance for the foul air to his nostrils.
He waits and watches how the others approach and resolve the situation.
As the red haired man exits the mist, Vincent takes a step back cautiously, still holding the handkerchief to his nose and an almost completely eaten apple in his other hand.
The red haired man speaks in a language unknown to him.
Seeing the man clutching his holy symbol, talking nervously and apparently feeling lost, Vincent visibly relaxes.
Vincent finds the situation extremely bizar. He has encountered magic, but this phenomenon is new to him. This man wasn't aboard this ship when they left port, of that he is sure. He swallows back an uncomfortable feeling and changes his approach to the situation. Then suddenly he realizes something and he starts laughing, almost choking on it while trying to keep a straight face. Controlling his laughter he takes a last bite from his apple and throws it overboard.
"Monsieur Zumba, either you are truly prophetic in your questions" emphasizing the word 'truly' with his finger "or", he nods at Maximilian "Monsieur, maybe your Ezra has predicted this event through that small explanation you gave just a minute ago. Either way," he looks back at the newcomer "it's quite ironic really. He lifts up his hands to show the red haired man that he is unarmed, his nose clearly not happy with the decision to give free entrance for the foul air to his nostrils.
He waits and watches how the others approach and resolve the situation.
Last edited by Guzrath on Wed Jun 23, 2010 10:22 am, edited 1 time in total.
Tresspassers will be shot......
Survivors will be shot again.
Survivors will be shot again.
Seeing Vincent relax, Zumba becomes confused. He thinks of relaxing himself, but all the hard training he received for years, all the constant need for protection, prevent him from relaxinsg. Instead, he shifts his eyes from the newcomer to Vincent, unsure of what the noble meant by his comment and the strange emphasis he had given to his words.
Decidedly, this was a man he could not trust. Not yet, at least.
Maximillian appeared to be much nicer, if as much strange as the new arrival, but his affiliation to Ezra, at least, gave him favourable marks. Not that Zumba actually believed in Ezra, but if he already believed in so many loas, he was quite open to believeing that Ezra could be one more of them. In any case, there were a few ezrites in Souragne, that he knew, and they didn't have an all too bad reputation.
While his thoughts raced thusly, he waited to see what the others would do. Maximillian was trying contact, it would be better to be ready to support him, should anything go wrong.
Decidedly, this was a man he could not trust. Not yet, at least.
Maximillian appeared to be much nicer, if as much strange as the new arrival, but his affiliation to Ezra, at least, gave him favourable marks. Not that Zumba actually believed in Ezra, but if he already believed in so many loas, he was quite open to believeing that Ezra could be one more of them. In any case, there were a few ezrites in Souragne, that he knew, and they didn't have an all too bad reputation.
While his thoughts raced thusly, he waited to see what the others would do. Maximillian was trying contact, it would be better to be ready to support him, should anything go wrong.
Zumba d'Oxossi (A Stitch in Souragne)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
- Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6225
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
Out of those on deck, only two spotted the sinister movements in the Mist before it happened.
One was Zumba, who knew to be careful of movements in what looked like still water. The other was the strange apparition who had himself burst out of the Mists but moments before. Sinuous, snakelike movements in the billowing fog accompanied the poisonous, hungry shieking that beat on the air.
Four tentacles, leprous grey on top, a sickening, suction cup-studded pink on the bottom, surged out of the Mists, clamped onto the ship and held it fast. The vessel lurched and halted, a shock ripping through its hull. (Balance check DC10 to stay standing, or fall prone.)
Four more tentacles appeared, one of them reaching for the sailor in the crow's nest. The man shrieked with terror, but was plucked from his seat like a tasty piece of pastry picked off a tray by a socialite lass. A second tentacle reached for the captain and the bo'sun near the wheel; those worthies bolted for safety, though the tendril reached after them. The third snaked over to the trapdoor that led to the ship's hold. And the last headed for Goren as if guided by unseen eyes...
(OOC: It's Combat Time! Eight tentacles are coming out of the Mists, but only four of them are going after the people on deck.
Of course the tentacles holding the ship still are a concern... But I'm sure it's nothing you guys can't handle! ^^
Goren, Zumba and Wilbur (a PC yet to be introduced) can perform one additional action during their first turn, all others perform as is normal. Pale, I'm going to go ahead and say that your additional action is spent getting out of your cabin, if you don't mind.
Annnnd... game on!)
One was Zumba, who knew to be careful of movements in what looked like still water. The other was the strange apparition who had himself burst out of the Mists but moments before. Sinuous, snakelike movements in the billowing fog accompanied the poisonous, hungry shieking that beat on the air.
Four tentacles, leprous grey on top, a sickening, suction cup-studded pink on the bottom, surged out of the Mists, clamped onto the ship and held it fast. The vessel lurched and halted, a shock ripping through its hull. (Balance check DC10 to stay standing, or fall prone.)
Four more tentacles appeared, one of them reaching for the sailor in the crow's nest. The man shrieked with terror, but was plucked from his seat like a tasty piece of pastry picked off a tray by a socialite lass. A second tentacle reached for the captain and the bo'sun near the wheel; those worthies bolted for safety, though the tendril reached after them. The third snaked over to the trapdoor that led to the ship's hold. And the last headed for Goren as if guided by unseen eyes...
(OOC: It's Combat Time! Eight tentacles are coming out of the Mists, but only four of them are going after the people on deck.
Of course the tentacles holding the ship still are a concern... But I'm sure it's nothing you guys can't handle! ^^
Goren, Zumba and Wilbur (a PC yet to be introduced) can perform one additional action during their first turn, all others perform as is normal. Pale, I'm going to go ahead and say that your additional action is spent getting out of your cabin, if you don't mind.
Annnnd... game on!)