The Guildhouse (Pre Game Eyc-C)

[RedDingo]

      

Yaronvael the Steel Wolf

---

It was at this exact moment that Yaronvael wished he had built some form of noise cancellation in his helm. From behind his visor, he grimaced as the tarrasqueborn had announced his presence. As self-aggrandizing as a beholder and twice as full of hot air, Bonaparte was a braggart through and through. The Steel Wolf had the misfortune of working with him on a hunt or two. There was no denying he was a tactical genius, but it only him more unbearable. Perhaps Yukito was right, Steelstaff must be desperate to summon this one.

 

The Ragnavolk kept still and hoped the poor Garrak would be the only object of Bonaparte's attention.

---

 

Edited July 5, 2022 by RedDingo (see edit history)

[Eviltedzies]

Bonaparte T. Rasque - "Le Commandant"

Bonaparte's smile widened at Garrak's acknowledgement of having heard of Bonaparte prior. A smug self satisfaction poured off the well dressed reptilian as the gnoll continued on about his own attempts at immortalizing himself in the world. "Aha but you have heard of me. Such are my exploits legendary!" With little fanfare and an obvious look of exasperated disdain on his face, Blackmoore slid a full mug of liquid towards Bonaparte but said nothing. Apparently Roger was not the only one who wished to engage with Bonaparte as infrequently as possible.

"A dracolich you say? Quite the tricky ones they are. Always believing themselves invincible. The trick you see is to let others distract the beast while you secure and destroy their phylacteries. Work smarter not harder my good sir. A philosophy I'm certain even a tribal leader such as yourself could appreciate." Taking a soft sip of his drink, Bonaparte had not even seemingly acknowledge the negative reviews he had heard of the Tarrasqueborn. "Divinity eh? A worthwhile pursuit to be sure, but one in which I've found lacking. Gods are more often than not forgotten and how sad an existence to remain detached from the mortal realms reliant on worship to sustain ones own power." Shaking his head, Bonaparte took another dignified sip of his drink before tapping his head with one claw. "Think good sir. Would you not prefer to attain such lofty power without the need for worshippers?"

As Bonaparte basked in his own arrogant wisdom, the man seemed to recognize a familiar armor sitting quietly afar. "Aha! Yaronvael is that you?!" Smacking the bar top with his free hand softly in excitement, Bonaparte rose and directed Garrack's gaze towards the imposingly armored warrior. "Yaronvael over there is a perfect example of a warrior who relies on his own ingenuity to rise to the occasion. Why... under my command I've seen Yaronvael fell elder drakes in a single well placed blow. Will you be joining me once more good friend?!" As if in toast, Bonaparte raised his cup to the armored warrior before taking another sip.

Edited July 4, 2022 by Eviltedzies (see edit history)

[RedDingo]

      

Yaronvael the Steel Wolf

---

The gods do hate us, Yaronvael thought to himself. The elder drake in question had actually taken ten blows and seven sievr bolts. To his colleague, he reluctantly replied, "That...may be the case."

---

 

Edited July 5, 2022 by RedDingo (see edit history)

[Steel Warrior]

Roh'Gau

Painted Barbarian

 

As Roh'Gau recieved his drink from Blackmoon Gau whispers, "By the Gods that guy can talk..." he says quietly.
"Shhh, quiet, we don't need to get his attention, otherwise he's going to talk both our ears off." says Roh.

"Maybe if we buy him a drink, it will cut his chatter." whispers Gau.
"Ya think?" says Roh, "Alright, lets do that."

Turning in the bar stool, he leans forward and places an elbow on his knee, "Hey! T. Rasque! What are ya havin!" he calls out, "Drink's on me!" says Roh'Gau.

As he leans back he repeats ot to Blackmoon, "Give em something stronger."

---

 

Edited July 4, 2022 by Steel Warrior (see edit history)

[Rudra]

 

One, two, three, four, then half a dozen and the number increase, the place is getting crowded and some of them are looking at her.

Sonja feel her heart beat faster and her breath getting short.

But...it's all in her head, she keep telling it herself , there is no breath, no heart, nothing.

First, the Numenerad, no...his tribe came later, a Volnadi! The banshee look back at him but  the warrior spoke the truth, he's not on Sonja naughty list.

Not that she would show up in this way, no, a book thief would be awaken in the middle of the night by spooky noises of chains and screams, only to find nothing and be startled again as soon as their eyes closed on the bed, repeating it over and over. NO REST FOR THE WICKED!

Visions of bleeding walls and other horrors, objects moved out of position....she doesnt confront people directly, no, she make their life miserable until they return the book.

Of course she could just ask, or take it back, but it's a banshee, malicious revenge is part of her; thanks to her methonds people tend to not make the same mistake twice.

Second  it's Nemeia, they have a lot in common, truly a lot, this is why Sonja like her, since both are basement trolls they each remain in their zones and hardly ever meet, but the banshee was there when Nemeia joined, she know the truth and cant avoid drawing comparisons.

Third  the brutest brute in the brute's history, she examine Thrack with interest but then Garrak goes about his quest for godhood and this truly irritate her.

 

The archivist begin to sink in the ground, slowly descending into the shadows on the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited July 5, 2022 by Rudra (see edit history)

[CRook]

So quiet at their table, off tot he side - somehow disappearing into the background despite that glow, that almost sublime expression of all things beautiful and fulgent in the cosmos, like the night sky come in for a break and a drink, that it may not be immediately apparent that no sound - or at least, no vocalization comes from the figure. Some might recall, or some might have been appraised on the matter, but the next time that the figure 'speaks', it it certainly sure - neither their first question, nor what follows is spoken aloud, but rather, transmitted through mental capacity to the room at large.

 

"Steelstaff must want options if we have all been called out so, to burn one of my -" they cut off abruptly, the mental thought as abruptly ended as any spoken word might be. 

 

"It is not a small thing to bring this many... esteemed... members together. Unless Steelstaff was expecting half of you to drop dead between the request and the meeting. I'm sure a few have decided to try to hunt down the rumors and run off ahead already." they continue, as they savor the drink in their hand, a needless, fruitless gesture serving wholly to try to put others at ease, form for form's sake.

Edited July 4, 2022 by CRook (see edit history)

[Lex Samreeth]

Garrak Tearandrend

"You misunderstand, Bonaparte. I do not seek divinity for my own sake. I seek it for the sake of my race."

 

He puts the book he was reading in his pack - a truly massive thing, equipped with all matter of mundane equipment for providing creature comforts to those on the road - and pulls out another one, opening it to a page with an elaborate diagram depicting several races and their patron gods or goddesses.

 

"You, my good sir, are a rare breed, born of the Tarrasque's presence, but not of its blood. In fact, I do not believe the beast to be capable of reproduction. If you were to die, you would be judged in the afterlife in the same way as a human, based on your ethos, who you worship, any pacts or deals made with powerful outsiders, and other such factors. The Tarrasque being a creation of the Un-God would have no influence on your fate."

 

He sighs as he turns to a page depicting a loathsome, many-eyed beast, a grotesque parody of a fertility goddess, licking fluid from a pile of fully-grown gnolls with umbilical cords still attached.

 

"With us gnolls, however...we have been damned from the start. We are direct descendents of the Whore-Goddess from her mating with animals of the mortal world. Unless we manage to demonstrate devotion to another god, and maintain that devotion to our dying breath, we're destined to return to her upon our death. Condemned to the Abyss in all of its cruelty, insanity, and hideousness by dint of having the misfortune to be born a gnoll. I've been blessed with an agency beyond that of most mortals of any sort, much less my fellow gnolls. For me to idly sit by and simply be some great leader or tyrant would condemn them all to being trapped in this cycle of torment - and also trap us in our status as beasts to be driven away and feared by civilization. By ascending, I can give my people more than just a role model, or a hero-king, or a legendary figure. I can give them a chance to have their own identity, in this world and the next, to no longer be the eternal slaves of the whore-goddess."

 

 

 

 

Edited July 4, 2022 by Lex Samreeth (see edit history)

[Eviltedzies]

Bonaparte T. Rasque - "Le Commandant"

A new pair of voices percolated into Bonaparte's senses as the two headed warrior offered Bonaparte a drink. "Ah, a fan! Please do feel free to shower me with praise and gifts of gratitude, but know that your undying devotion to my personage is all that I truly do need." Raising his glass to the two headed man Bonaparte drained the cup swiftly before setting it back atop the bar counter. "Blackmoon, would you kindly top me off good sir. I do so hate to disappoint a fan."

Blackmoon raised an eyebrow at the request but seemed to cast a knowing gaze back to Roh'Gau and his suggestion of a stronger drink. With a sigh, the barkeep complied filling up Bonaparte's cup though with contents from a slightly larger more elegant gourd than before. Raising his cup towards Roh'Gau, Bonaparte cheered. "Huzaah! To what die hard fan should I make this toast out to good sir.... sirs?" For Roh'Gau's efforts, all he had immediately managed to do was to draw Bonaparte's attention. The act of which seemed to be actively avoided by a large portion of those present.

Before his toast could be complete however, Bonaparte's attention was returned to Garrak as he illuminated Bonaparte's mind to the true details of his quest. In some merciful fashion, Bonaparte nearly seemed to forget Roh'Gau was even there as he turned to face Garrak fully. Sipping from his newly filled cup, Bonaparte nodded astutely at Garrak's ascertainment of Bonaparte's lineage though he raised an objecting finger at the man's switch in subject. "A well read savage you are indeed dear Garrak. I am pleased to see you know not only of my deeds but even of the legends of my blood." Rubbing his free claws together smugly Bonaparte seemed to pat himself on the back. "Though I must humbly state that I cannot confirm nor deny the rumors of my lineage I'd like to think my record of deeds and achievements speak for themselves."

At Garrak's change of topic in relation to his people's goddess, Bonaparte paused in his self congratulations and scratched his chin in curiosity. "Hmmm yes. Quite the predicament your people find themselves in. I do believe I've read several scholarly documentations on the subject of the gnoll goddess; although, the most learned sources I have found were the tales told by tribal chieftains and elders." As Garrak continued his explanation ending with his end goal of creating a better afterlife for his kind Bonaparte quaffed another mouthful of the stronger drink before his tail softly thwacked the side of the bar three times in succession. "Such a noble and lofty quest you set yourself upon Garrak. I salute your drive and motivation most certainly, but have you considered perhaps that journeying into the Abyss itself and slaying your goddess outright to claim her divinity as your own might slay two dragons with one arrow as it were?" 

At the casual mention of slaying a god, a few of the less experienced patrons nearly choked on their ale while several others rolled their eyes. Seemingly pleased with his own analysis, Bonaparte held his head back slightly and an ever so subtle sway could be seen in his body due to the alcohol. "A notion I have entertained myself in times past; but as I've already mentioned, divinity at the cost of required worship does not suite me."

Edited July 5, 2022 by Eviltedzies (see edit history)

[Steel Warrior]

Roh'Gau

Painted Barbarian

 

Upon hearing Bonaparte inquire his name, both heads speak up in unison, "Roh and Gau" they say. "Or just Roh'Gau, we know the difference."
"I have never heard anyone intentionally call your name, the people here seem to try to avoid speaking your name in fear that you will appear out of the shadows like a boogeyman." he laughs.

"As for why we are called, the Isle of Oculus have mighty warriors, if anything can cause them such trouble, that even a cyclopes couldn't handle, then I take interest, my people live on an island nearby and we have traded with them for decades, if not longer." says Roh'Gau.

Leaving silver on the bar for Blackmoon to cover the tab, "Keep em comin" says Roh.

[dalamb]

Monique Rousseau

In the southeast corner of the guildhall stands a small circular dais, about six inches high, inscribed with arcane symbols. On the wall beside it in fifteen languages is a sign, "Keep off - reserved for teleporting guild-members." In a cloud of rapidly-fading sparkles, a middle-aged redheaded woman in thigh-high boots, an embroidered blue dress, and matching coat appears. She quickly steps off to make room for any others who might arrive the same way. Her eyes wander around the room in a leisurely manner, widening with a smile as she notices the banshee. Quickly she walks over and says, "Sonja! I'm glad to see you. I've brought a signed copy of my latest manuscript for the archives. I'll leave it on the cataloguing desk when I've circulated a bit." Few were willing to interact with the ghost, but Monique was used to her own spirit-companions. "If you want to talk, come find me later." She turns away and strides to the bar, where Selko greets her. “Hey, Perfessor. Are ye cookin’ summat tonight?” “If you like, old friend, but with so many here it would be just hors d’oeuvres or dessert.” Seeing the hobgoblin’s eyes light up, she smiles again – faint crows feet forming at the corners of her eyes – and she says, “Let me guess: dessert?” “Some o’ that cheesecake? With the cherry sauce?” “Certainly! And a few others I know are popular. But I’ll add a new treat I’d like you to try. The Dean’s cook back at the University calls it ‘crème brulé.’ Now, I’ll need a few square feet of table room. And a few serving platters; it wouldn’t do to have everything sit on a bare table top. Plus two goblets.” Selko disappears for a few minutes and returns with five large platters, stacks of small plates, the goblets, and a collection of forks and spoons. He spreads out the platters on the unoccupied half of the table nearest the bar. Monique waves her hand, sparkles surround her, and the platters fill with a variety of delicacies. She hands Selko one of the goblets and a spoon and says, “It’s a little warm at the moment, but some people like it that way. Take a taste, and let it sit for a while if you want. I’ll circulate for a bit.” She picks up the other goblet and a spoon, and walks slowly away from the bar. A patron at the table where the dessert appeared stares at her and mutters to his companion. “What’s the guild coming to, lettin’ such a fancy-pants frippery in?” The other punches him on the shoulder. “You idiot. That’s Professor Monique Rousseau, from Vesant off east, one of the best scouts in the business. Not to mention someone you want nearby if some unfriendly types stab you in the heart.”

[CRook]

The display of culinary creation catches Nemeia's attention, if briefly. While there were few that that they would consider their contemporary, word had reached their ears about this one, most often in grumbled comparisons under breath. Of course, to address such suggestions would be to acknowledge them, and wanton acts of violence and destruction were off the table, so a simple hammer of disapproval flying by most often sufficed.

 

The patterns of swirling cosmos beneath their skin and across their hair pulsed in time with their thoughts a moment, before the figure leaned back into their chair, offering a telepathic beckoning.

 

"Greetings, professor. Join me, will you?" they inquired, reaching out mentally. They pair the inquiry with a raised hand holding up a glass, which they had understood to be an appropriate gesture for the sentiment.

Edited July 6, 2022 by CRook (see edit history)

[dalamb]

Monique Rousseau

At the touch of a voice in her mind, Monique looks around for a possible source, since mental communication left her with no sense of direction. Spotting the luminescent being raising a glass towards her, she walks to within a few feet, leaving the amount of personal space she would for a conventional humanoid. She replies telepathically herself. I don't believe we've met; you would certainly be memorable. Do you prefer this mode of communication? Or should I use my voice? Nemeia had heard the woman speak; her physical voice had been melodious, and her mental one seemed both friendly and curious.

[CRook]

The way the figure rolls their hand, indicating no particular preference, leaves Monique to decide for herself what she prefers. Nemeia seems to default to the method, though their lips are expressive, as are their facial expressions, especially as their eyes flit and glance over towards the bar.

 

"I tend to stay in and busy." they explain in the telepathic equivalent of low conversation, broadcasting in full, rather than narrowly for Monique alone. "You may call me Nemeia, or by any of the titles that the hunters seem to favor. I happen to be fond of Beloved by the Cosmos, but alas..." they continue, trailing off with another roll of the wrist to match the trailing 'speech'.

 

"I can say that I've heard a few mentions of your name, usually from the mouths of young fools who think that flattery takes the form of comparing one to another because of like abilities. Especially when the 'tie-breaker' is dessert." An expression of amusement, the kind that is edged with annoyance, touches the figures features, the glow of the cosmos under their skin twinkling, brightening briefly, before they turn their attention back to Monique.

 

"What do you think of the talk of the hour, of this potential mission?" they ask of Monique.

Edited July 6, 2022 by CRook (see edit history)

[dalamb]

Monique Rousseau

Monique chooses to respond aloud. "I'm mostly worried but somewhat hopeful about the mission," she says. "The bad news is that when word first came to me about it, I had my students search the Vesant archives for references to encounters with Eye Tyrants, and everything they have found so far is accounts by people who abandoned their colleagues and ran within moments of when the aberrations first appeared. They did find one that was intriguing - one survivor reported the eye stalks bending this way and that, as if they were selecting targets. That suggests that if one were to blind one, the creature might, just might, be easier to defeat. But I am far from confident that idea will be enough. In some of my toughest missions for the Guild I was able to teleport our team away when things went badly, but that may not be possible this time. It's ... concerning ... when half my abilities can be made to vanish in an instant."   She shakes her head, then smiles. "What of you? What are you thinking? What have the others been saying before I got here?"

[CRook]

The figure considers for a long moment. The relative silent treatment is just that, even the telepathic broadcast that they were engaged in held. After a few more moments of this, Nemeia responds in the telepathic manner, a little further reaching, as if to invite the rest of the hall into consideration.

 

"Blind might work, but obstructed would do better, I think. If you can put enough material between them and the rest, they may not be able to blast through it even with all of their formidable power. If you were asking me for a professional suggestion, I would say a permanent replicating restrictive casing creation manufacturing the best material that you can muster. The problem is any meaningful disintegrate effect may blow through it. Hence, replicating. That should at least buy enough time to get some answers prepared and get in position. You could risk a detailed construction with weapon slits, but then you risk turning the casing into protection." they finally answer, at length, broadcasting the initial suggestion in full to those who care to receive. "That assumes that you are able to get out of it's sight, which is no small thing. If you can find a way to use the undoing of magic in it's field of vision in your favor, then you might be on to something" they continue idly, speculatively.

 

"But that is just my first pass with a few moments to think on it - and tailored to my own abilities. Others' effectiveness and capacity, I cannot speak for."  They look quite pleased with their pun, and double down while sipping from the glass.

 

"You'll just have to wait and see, I suppose?" they ask of Monique.

Edited July 6, 2022 by CRook (see edit history)