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The Guildhouse (Pre Game Eyc-C)


Arklytte

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Devlin spacer.png


The common room had anything but common occupants, and Devlin took his time scanning faces and facades the moment he stepped in. His time was often a bit different than everyone else's, and a tap of the big watch chained to his hip and a twist of the chronogears adorning his fingers allowed his analysis to happen in an instant as time briefly dilated. A few occupants of the room mattered little, like the gaggle of low ranks at the corner table. Others mattered quite a bit more, and he recognized them through personal acquaintance or tell-tale personal details. 

 

The two-headed giant could only be Roh'Gau, and the one with the blindfold and holding a rather pleasant looking bowl of soup he presumed must be Astrophel the Blind. Volkov and Yaronvael he'd worked and trained with before, and they shared more than a few techniques for taking down unwary monsters. The Gnoll, Garrack, he'd met under less than desirable circumstances, nearly taking out one of his cultists before realizing what he was dealing with. Thrack was always a good (and massive) hand, and Yukito behind a plume of smoke at the bar was a hell of a swordsman. Then there was... Devlin's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he spotted that uniform, those epaulettes, and what he had to begrudgingly admit was a very fine cravat. 

 

He marched straight up to the hunter, stabbing an accusatory finger at his thorny face, "Commandant Rasque! I thought you were gone and forgotten about on the Isle of the... Forgotten. You have some nerve showing your face around here! The campaign against the Arachnizombie... complete fiasco! Pincer maneuvers are supposed to have TWO sides, you know." Devlin pantomimed a crab claw with one hand, and very slowly and explicitly pointed to each side of the pincering appendage. Then to the others assembled nearby, "Supposed to be a tactical genius, this one is."

 

Devlin exhaled a calming breath, swiping at his well-coiffed hair, fixing his own slightly-more-simple cravat. Then he turned his head and gave a curt nod to Monique, seemingly only just noticing the scholar for the first time. "Rousseau. Always a pleasure. I read your paper on the Effects of Phlogiston on Aberration Anatomy at breakfast a fortnight ago. Insightful, and only a few faulty correlations... bravo."

Reputation

Devlin has a high opinion of himself, which is at least mostly earned. A highly regarded alchemist and a time manipulator and illusionist of some renown, he is a well-known and accomplished member of the guild with several noteworthy take-downs to his name. He's certainly not a legend yet, but he is clearly self aware about his legacy when he's done. Devlin makes plenty of public appearances on behalf of the Guild (in part where his moniker The Icon comes from), though even with his keen observatory abilities and intellect, he tends to overestimate his personal charm. Still, his skills in the field are unimpeachable, and he is a staunch ally when there's trouble.

 

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Zaldunak

spacer.png Zak sat at a little table in a dark corner, watching curiously and quietly, unnoticed, as the rowdy group of adventurers gossiped, boasted, and chatted. He sometimes felt very out of place in the Guild, due to his lack of pride. His long term plans were just to live forever, doing what he did now - protect reality from the forces that would consume it out of alien malice, and the magicians and cultists that thought it was their right to consume the lives of ordinary people out of madness, or in pursuit of power. He found it interesting that so many of his fellow heroes had such wild ambitions, and he wondered if they would ever come to fruition.

 

When the discussion turned to strategy, he leaned forward out of the shadows, rising and walking to join the discussion group that was forming. His voice was deep and grating, but quiet, and he sounded calm and placid as always. "Hello, everyone.  I'm Zaldunak, you can call me Zak.  I hope you don't mind if I join you?  You were discussing the news about Oculus, weren't you?  I think beholders are well-known to most of us... but don't they come in different varieties?  Eye tyrants are a different matter, I can't say I've ever seen one. Is there any information about the types of beholder that were seen on the island? Do we know how long they've been there to fortify their nest?"

 

He takes a bowl of the hot soup, drinking a long draught from the side of it.  His eyes warm in appreciation, before he swallows it, and resumes talking.

 

"Scouting is always the best first option, but on the other hand, it might not matter - no plan survives contact with the enemy, and we know roughly what to expect - there will be anti-magic, and there will be rays firing all manner of spells, and enthralled cyclops and giant sheep...  I think bringing our own anti-magic might be a good way to go... if we're prepared to operate in such an environment, and we can create it, the beholders just become floating meatballs, a much simpler proposition to wipe them out.  Stout bows with explosive arrows should work well."

 

 

Edited by PlotDevice (see edit history)
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spacer.pngNemeia nods to the new arrivals joining the conversation, continuing by means of their mental broadcast.

 

"I have no doubt that Steelstaff will take all of these things into consideration, but you are right...they nod towards Zaldunak in particular. "...and we are of one mind on the point of how much this will ultimately hold up under fire. That said, this is less about setting an actual plan, and more to get a sense of how we each see the world and how we approach a problem." they conclude, turning attention to the rest of the growing company filling the hall. An expression of some delight and amusement crosses their features as they take note of a few individuals, though the passing of their gaze is such that it's hard to tell just who drew the reaction from them.

 

"How delightful! A few of mine have survived their work to be present today, whether by rising to the occasion or catching wind of the rumors" the excitement is telepathically palpable, expressive in the practiced communication, hands coming together to clap once in delight. "As their... Smith? Mother? No..." they pause for a moment, drumming fingers in thought "...progenitor. Yes, as their progenitor, I couldn't be more proud!"  

 

A look of confused concern is shared among some of the adventurers, especially those who thought that they might have been looked at for a moment too long, as they begin to disclaim being 'one of theirs' and 'hers' - it seems no one in the room is claiming such an origin, and that leads to some of the more insightful among them to stare on with renewed horror at the implications suggested.

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Zaldunak

spacer.png Zak turns his head, and looks excitedly at Nemeia.  He doesn't know this woman, but she's just said - well, thought - the most interesting thing he's heard in months.  Unused to mental communication, he speaks aloud in reply.

 

"Yours?!  Did you make them like my father did me?  I've never heard of anyone else doing that!  That's fascinating!  I'm not as good as he was, but I know my way around an alembic.  I'd love to compare notes, if you would.  How have they turned out?  Are they older than me?"

 

 

 

 

 

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spacer.pngNemeia lights up, metaphorically, and literally, the cosmos that is their hair and skin flaring in intensity briefly, radiant as their interest is piqued. The smile that touches those lips is slow in coming, as if they were fighting from breaking into a grin all at once, attention falling fully to Zaldunak.

 

"Now you are a treat.they respond mentally, before continuing. "I don't know how he made you specifically, but I would certainly enjoy learning more about it. As to mine..." they fight the urge to pick or single out anyone, lifting their glass instead. Despite not needing to stop to think while taking the drink, some old habits die hard, and sometimes, it's easier to make things easier on people and not surprise them too much. Which, if either, was at play, they didn't reveal.

 

"If I had in fact done such a thing, and if in fact such a person or people were in this room at the moment, they would not be aware of it, and it would be rude at this point to reveal it in such a way. Of course, it was easier to proclaim it a jest, to write it off, for people to dismiss it as a groundless boast, before you independently verified that it is in fact possible to create someone as such. Now I imagine half the room is in a panicked state of agitation as they root around in their earliest memories, trying to decide whether they can remember more, as though it feels like they should be able to. I would imagine that if that were in fact the case, that would be about the time things started going badly for a created person. Perhaps, hypothetically, your father had the right of it to let you know early." they venture, in an almost hypothetical, plausibly deniable manner, as if this had turned into a purely academic matter of interest, with all the feigned disinterest they could muster.

 

"That said, I really am curious how he got around the inadvertent downward spiral of existential dread, that feeling of the sublime insignificance when such a being decides that somehow the manner of their entry into the world has made them lesser, smaller - or how he would get around it if such a thing were in fact to occur during such a theoretical creation process." A cold, playful smile accompanies the telepathic thought, as if to both confirm and deny in the same expression.

Edited by CRook (see edit history)
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Zaldunak

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Zak watches the other calmly, raising his soup bowl to his lips to finish it off, as Nemeia elaborates. He is beginning to adjust to having language appear as spontaneous foreign thoughts, although they echo strangely in the redundant pathways of his mind.

 

He pauses before he responds, thinking about the underlying moralities, but resisting the impulse to judge before he learns all the facts.  He rises to pour himself another bowl of soup as he thinks, commenting in an aside to the one who brought it in, “This is delicious!

 

He sits back down opposite the cosmic-haired figure, and says, “I think a completely open understanding of the situation, and the closest approximation available to a lengthy and normal childhood, are essential to create a well-adjusted being. I have no idea what a lack of such things would be like… If I were to consult with someone who made life and then left it alone, I would wonder why that creator chose to abandon their children. As for the results of my upbringing, I feel quite happy, someone chose to make me, my life has always had a purpose, but I was never treated like anything less than a person.

 

He looks around the room, and says in a quieter tone, “I’ve met many mortals who have much more existential dread than I do, they don’t know why they exist, their birth was a biological accident, and they seek a purpose and a legacy.” He shrugs. “But maybe those things have little to do with origin. I will probably slide slowly into ennui, as I spend centuries fighting the same fight, but I try to find ways to keep things interesting. It helps that the guild hosts such a variety of people.

 

 

 

 

Edited by PlotDevice (see edit history)
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spacer.pngThe figure looks to Zaldunak for another long moment, their face a mask, before they break into audible, out loud laughter, a delightful, lilting sound, full of unrestrained amusement. It takes a moment for them to regain their composure, during which they abstain from continuing the telepathic communication.

 

"Oh darling... if I was involved in such a practice..." they pause, with an expression of smug amusement, all but winking before they continue "...or artistry, if you feel fancy, I wouldn't bother making children. Why go through the intermediary steps when I could... purely hypothetically for the sake of this conversation, make a perfectly servicable farmboy ready for drill and instruction? Oh yes, we will most certainly have this conversation, you and I, but now is neither the place nor the occasion." is their response mentally. A murmur runs through some of the adventurers - no few strapping lads and lasses from the rural fields and villages exchanging looks, before Nemeia continues"For now, Roh'Gau raises an important point, and I think it is the thing that we need to address. Steelstaff was... even I have not heard them as such in my time knowing her. If this was just another monster incursion, however odd such an alliance might be, I don't think she would have come across the way she did." Nemeia explains, somehow sounding as if they've stepped down from a height, the telepathic tone taking on the least hint of... it's certainly not concern, but it might be a little less haughty, due to contemplation?

 

"What think you all? I personally think Roh'Gau has the right of it. The other shoe, as the expression goes, has to be something more than a tribe being conquered on an island, and geographic domination seems as good a theory as any." they offer as additional speculation, making clear their meaning and putting it on the table for consideration. "Then again, perhaps there are other factors that don't weigh in on the threat - personal involvement, especially if with some kind of loss, or some other such. I for one am surprisingly impatient to learn more, as it is the closest to a mystery I've been given in quite a while. Steelstaff's tenure has been especially competent, which means it has been an especially dull one for me." 

Edited by CRook (see edit history)
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Zaldunak

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Zak shakes his head. 

 

Not an actual child.  But any newly created being, no matter how physically complete and perfect the body is, has a fresh and new mind, that must be nurtured while it learns and grows.

 

He shrugs, realizing that his companion is done with that subject for now. “In regards to your other point, I think the big worry is - or should be - of their spreading beyond Oculus Island.  How often do Beholder Hive Mothers lay eggs?  How many of their eggs are other Hive Mothers, who will go out to start new colonies?  Does anyone even know?  And if nobody knows, that means we should just assume the worst, and send an overwhelming force as soon as possible.  Which is what appears to be happening.

 

 

 

 

 

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Roh'Gau

Painted Barbarian

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Roh'Gau responds to Zak's comment, "That is indeed one of my greatest fears, I have kin not ten days travel by boat near that island, therefore I have an invested interest in making sure the Hive Mother is indeed dealth with before she can send her spawn to other islands." "You had yet arrived when I spoke those very words, my friend."

He takes a moment to ponder another question he had a moment ago, but had given others time to speak. Taking a drink of the Spirit Ale that was brought in, he comments again. "I also wish to reiterate my other earlier statement, if the Cyclopians are controlled by the use of magic, I wish to help free their minds with few casualties as possible." He frowns towards himself, "I have a great distaste for magic, therefore I lack the ability to achieve such a thing."

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"People" she repeat Zak's last word

"Not many people here, we're monsters of someone else story" she look at the Gnoll who wish to become a god, then at the shrinked giant, then at Nemeia who is a monster just as much as Sonja, last but not least the two headed ogre savage.

"You too" she say at Zak

"We're not that much different from the things all of you regularly hunt, maybe fifthy years from now i'll be chatting with a beholder in this hall, about a mission to stop a mad gnoll demigod from conquering the kingdom" she then chuckle in a way that cause shivers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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