Chapter 7b - Righting the Ship - Myth-Weavers

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Chapter 7b - Righting the Ship

   
Chapter 7b - Righting the Ship

Chapter 7b - Righting the Ship


For as long as you have been working for the Order, the one thing you'd experienced most often is confusion, as if those directing you were unsure of even their own motives, and the world around you constantly changed in unexpected ways. But now there seemed to be a glimpse of clarity, one brought on, ironically, by yet another influx of strange and bizarre arrivals from the Order's bountiful recruitment. With your numbers now bolstered, a sense of hope returns to the group, something they are sorely in need of.

Shortly after teleporting them into the city of Saerb, Ara takes the group to a nearby Inn, the Purple Mead Inn, and hands the barkeep a small pouch of coins in payment. Then, in a bit of a surprise, she sits down at a table and calls for drinks, joining Zeek and anyone else that would have a mug. She speaks of her frustrations with the Order's recent activities, shaking her head at their poor timing and unfortunate choices. Her original task had been to aid and advise the chosen group as they were sent to help the merchants in Saerloon from attack by a sect of Bane worshippers in the area. But if they had been so worried, why not teleport the group directly there?

And in all that had happened, the merchants had gone unaided, and had been unable to resist their rivals' heavy push. They still hung on to a small strip of territory, a fragment of power, a sliver of hope - but now the odds were stacked against them.
Fortunately, Ara has also received reports of some good news among all the disaster, though its nature is unknown as of yet, the messages being necessarily cryptic lest they were intercepted. And with the size and composition of the current group, she and the Order are finally in agreement on the prospects for success, and ready to make a considerable push towards their objective.

In the morning, Ara brings the group back to their friend Gillaume, who works a powerful spell, opening what seems to be a portal right in the center of his shop. Looking into the disc-shaped magical hole, you see a large sparsely-decorated room on the other side, and Ara nods in recognition, stepping forward into the Portal...



Meredith is interested to hear of the Order's internal politics, but for now she is more interested to begin working with them at last. Quietly, she is beginning to wonder how effectual they are at advancing their own proclaimed aims - but as the new day dawns and the portal is prepared, things seem to be happening at last.

"Thank you for your assistance, Master Gillaume," she says. "Perhaps we shall see you again."

Nodding at the shopkeeper, she turns towards the portal. After a brief pause to peer through at the room beyond, she follows Ara, stepping through to the other side.

Willow Ardent
Willow looks thoughtful and wonders if the confusion of action is partly meant to keep the team's actions unpredictable to the gods... or if the person in charge is simply crazy. The wizard doesn't say much at the table. Preparing to go through the portal, she smiles at Gillaume, "If you do come across one of those robes, please hold it until we have a chance to negotiate." The young woman smiles and waves.


Appearance

6'2" Half Orc with yellow eyes and coarse brown hair.

A hulking brute you would expect bred for war with a large muscled frame and scars that hint of a violent past. Zeek's armor is a dull adamantine banded armor with a large dark baneite cloak over his shoulders. Encased in admantium up to his battle gauntlets and down to the hardy leather boots he wears. His Greatsword is old from the well worn hilt and dark petina within it's engravings, the metal too is undoubtedly adamantium as it's dull sheen matches his armor and a single blood red crystal resides in the center of the base of the blade.

Zeek bears no insignia or markings of allegiance upon his armor, it is plain and not overly polished leaving the appearance of many battle scratches across it's surface. For those who are familiar, Zeek's battledress could easily pass for one belonging to the Black Army.... minus any markings of the Zhentarim.

ZEEK

Zeek listened with interest to Ara's revelations about what was happening in the world. It sounded like they were going to do something important for the Order. Zeek was pleased that it involved taking the battle to the Baneites. That was worth raising a toast to drink towards... however Zeek decided to keep that until there was reason to celebrate. The half orc grins confidently in response to Ara as he considers going to war against them and skulls the remainder of his new mug of ale before trudging off with heavy footfalls to the next portal.

There was a sense of Deja Vu as Zeek entered the Magic Shoppe, he had been drinking the last time he *jumped* from one place to another... Zeek locked his sword to his gauntlet... and walked through the portal...


Lady Cordelia Brightheart


Cordi lowers a hand to grab the edge of her dress, lifting it slightly as she steps through the portal daintily. This being her first major experience with the order, she marvels at how easily teleportation magic seems to be available to these people. Perhaps if she works with them long enough, she may find herself in possession of the power she is after.

As she exits the other side, she lets her dress drop back down to the floor, peering about the room. "Alright, and where are we now?"


Character Block
Rage used
Rage: 1/2
Essentia Invested
Essentia: 5/5
Totems
Totems (Bound): Girallon Arms (Totem Bound), Totem Avatar, Urskan Greaves (Feet Bound), Wormtail Belt


Stepping through the portal brings with it an unpleasant, now-familiar feeling, a sort of halfway point between sleep and nausea, but arriving in the room you find it rather comfortable, owing mostly to the fire being tended to on the far end of the room.
A pair of large couches surround a plain cloth-covered table atop the wooden floor, which stretches across some 40 feet from wall to wall. One of the walls features a large painting of a serene forest setting, thick bulbous white mushrooms growing from mossy ground against a backdrop of thick forest, while the other three walls are comparatively bare.

In front of the fire, you see the back of a man, who turns to greet you after setting down his poker.
His face seems warm and inviting, as the fire behind him, and yet also oddly familiar...

I think we know who this is
OOC

Magnir Hrotthson
'It has been a fairly mundane these last few days...'

A thought that passed through Magnirs head as he tended the fire infront of him. One which had been repeated multiple times over the last few days while tending to this place. It was quiet, and it unsettled him in some way. The bareness of the place was not unsettling, but the quiet was. His shield, sword hanging near the hearth in easy reach of his arms as he took to moving the logs with the iron poker, making sure to keep the fire properly fed was important. Also the warmth was a comforting feeling in this place, reminded him of the Inn he had just been to the other eve while in guise.

It always bothered him in some way, being in someone elses form or skin...or maybe it didn't, and the magic just played with his mind like it did his body. He was never truly sure what to think on the matter, just that it felt unsettling at times.

Nothing new had cropped up from the foray into town, but that was to be expected. Information is a precious resource, and when it was in regards to a group whom would more than likely lop your head off for sharing anything 'important' about them-its easy to understand it was hard to get someone talking.

So he was a bit surprised when a rift in the very world opened up, a portal to a different part of Faerun. Right in the middle of the house. Turning to the newly wrent portal, Magnir sets down the poker upon the stand near the hearth.
Language: Northlander
Velkommen og hei, reisende!
He said brightly, accent clearly from somewhere over and past the Dales, probably near or beyond the Spine. He certainly looked it too. Tall, strong built, blond-brown hair, strong jaw, piercing eyes. "Welcome and hello, travelers!" he repeated, but in Chondathan.

Definitely not a Dhavian.

Especially with the clothes he wore; which consisted of a light braided tunic, a vest, fur lined bracers with a plethora of markings along it, drakes, vines, weavings of odd patterns that resembled cords. Down low he was wearing fur-lined boots and trousers that looked like they had been woven at the same place his tunic was. In his hair you could see also several silver beads and bars that were highly stylized (much like the bracers), that had been woven into the hair.





Appearance

6'2" Half Orc with yellow eyes and coarse brown hair.

A hulking brute you would expect bred for war with a large muscled frame and scars that hint of a violent past. Zeek's armor is a dull adamantine banded armor with a large dark baneite cloak over his shoulders. Encased in admantium up to his battle gauntlets and down to the hardy leather boots he wears. His Greatsword is old from the well worn hilt and dark petina within it's engravings, the metal too is undoubtedly adamantium as it's dull sheen matches his armor and a single blood red crystal resides in the center of the base of the blade.

Zeek bears no insignia or markings of allegiance upon his armor, it is plain and not overly polished leaving the appearance of many battle scratches across it's surface. For those who are familiar, Zeek's battledress could easily pass for one belonging to the Black Army.... minus any markings of the Zhentarim.

ZEEK

A hulking half orc brute dressed for war towering 6ft of dull battle scarred adamantium banded armor appears backing up the mages who appeared first. Cloaked in black the more observant notice the heavy dull greatsword chained to his gauntlet in his left hand in a low guard. Perhaps the only other noticeable items of note include two well used hand axes and a small metal vial which are attached into a black leather weapons belt studded with a few moonstones.

Zeek materialised reeking of fermented ale as he belched quietly to alleviate the nausea in his stomach. Drinking an ale before *jumping* was relaxing somewhat for the unsettling bodily experience of magical transportation. His yellow eyes instinctively peer around the room searching out anything weird and magical that may be present to complicate matters after noting the warrior present in the room.

The man spoke a language Zeek did not understand, but had heard before. His manner of battle dress and personal grooming accessories brought a grin to his face... at least he wasn't a wizard.


Willow Ardent
Willow looks at the stranger as though he is somehow familiar... trying to place his face. His clothing actually seems to disturb her and when she looks at the hanging sword and shield her eyes grow wide, "Those arms and shield belong to my good friend Magnus... what are you doing with them?" There is a dangerous look in her eye as if she is evaluating whether she might potentially kill the man, depending on his answer.


Magnir Hrotthson
Magnir nods his head to Zeek as he steps in, taking note of his large body and his arms, and having a slight chuckle as he BOA'd....thats Belched On Arrival.

"Evenin'!" He said brightly.

When the next soul came through, he gave a light wave of his hand in greeting as he saw it was a female by body shape and type. "Evenin'!" he said brightly once more in greeting. A brow slowly raising up his forehead as he looked back at his shield and sword up on the mantle, putting up his hands in a passive gesture, palms out as a sign of peace. Shifting a little in place to see whom was claiming to know him. "I know not what you speak ma'am, I am Magnus Magnir Hrrothson-..." Something occurred to Magnir as he said that.

My Guise is still on.

With a wave of his hand infront of his face, the spell he had been using to hide his identity in town fell away. Little changed actually, clothing, hair, all of the rest was the same. But his face went from being more broad and tough looking, to more sharp and hawklike. My real face.

And it is not until that moment that he put the voice of the woman to a name. "Willow?" He says, sounding a bit confused.










 

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