Ruminster's Hero School: IC - Myth-Weavers


Ruminster's Hero School: IC

   
Ruminster's Hero School: IC

The ride in to the school has been peaceful, if not a bit boring. The thirty mile long oceanside trail from Devendil was well worn, and extra guard patrols were scheduled to march the trails during the school season to keep the fledgling adventurers safe. Well, safe until they entered the gate anyway.

Your group has been bouncing along the placid dirt road in a wagon caravan since a full hour before dawn, where you made camp near a fork in the road at a shrine and temple (more a rest stop really) to Fharlanghn, which provided you shelter, a magically purified well, and a saltwater pond to swim in the previous night. On the previous day, your taxi plodded along for a previous eight hours on the same road, and the charms of the majestic beach-front scenery, briny breeze, and a clear blue sky over sun-washed shamrock plains were starting to wear thin to the majority of the travelling party. On the first day, the new students were chatty, and full of hopes and dreams. Eight hours into day two, however, most are just sore, bored, and complaining of cramped legs and cricks in necks. Still, there are a lot of students this year, so there is always at least a little conversation to be had along the trail.

You are in the middle wagon of a caravan of five wagons, each carrying up to eight passengers, and already the second caravan for the season. Rumors of a third caravan being established for those traveling from beyond the Sundered Empire were spreading and gaining credibility. According to the gossip, this is the largest turnout in the school's brief history, which raises suspicions amongst the initiates that not all the students will make the cut and be aloud to stay for the next season. Some strive to form alliances, while others strive to assert their dominance early. The jockeying for position is already beginning, and more than a few shouting matches have to be quelled by the coachmen and the overseers traveling with them. But no fights have actually broken out, thankfully.

The people in the wagons ahead of you begin to make excited chatter, and you are able to discern that they can see the Fellmarg's Keep, the home of Ruminster's Hero School, up ahead. Most of the people in the caravan look visibly relieved, and some people even start to cheer at the very idea of finally being able to get out of these wagons and stretch their legs. The excitement rises to a booming crescendo when you crest a lulling hill to see the lavenderblush colored walls of the recently restored riverside stroghold... the only civilized structure you've seen for thirty miles.

The dirt road graduates to cobbled stone, which bends towards the keep, to run alongside its eastern wall, where the caravan pulls to a stop. Upperclassmen and laborers of the school greet you briskly and instruct you to come to the gate, register your weapons if you have any, and then follow the line to customs. Those who wish to enroll in the school this season are invited to continue onward to registration. The assistants look testy, and for obvious reason. The keep was designed to handle so many newcomers at once, and they simply weren't staffed to handle such an enormous crowd. Dawdlers are snapped from their reverie with sharp tongues and strict admonishments.

Alissa



Alissa was peaceful on the ride, speaking to her coach mates softly but eagerly, showing off her odd knowledge and her morbid sense of humor. Her slim build bounces along with the road bump often, keeping her from reading at all. She does not carry any weapons at all, and will tell any that ask that she intends to become a wizard and specialize in the used of formerly living bodies. "Paid volunteers only!"

Lacie

Lacie Winterblush
Female CG Halfling Expert, Level 1, Init 5, HP X/10, Speed 20
AC 19, Touch 16, Flat-footed 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 3, Base Attack Bonus 0
Thrown daggers +8, 10 foot range, 1d3+4 slashing or piercing, 19-20/x2
Studded Leather armor (+3 AC)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition None

Oh, gosh, finally.

Lacie had the advantage of size, along with the numerous gnomes and her racekin, that a smaller space was able to fit them better. Though a bit bigger than the others, she was flexible and easily found comfort to doze when she wasn't gazing at the passing countryside. Though the sights seemed to bore some, Lacie couldn't tear her eyes away from the color, not just the blue sky and green fields of home but the sea, the trees, the earth itself. It was beautiful, so shame on those whiners who don't know how to relax. If you've got one thing to do, don't bother complaining about it like that'll make it easier. Her ma always told her that when she had chores, and now she was feeling surrounded by kids herself.

When she wasn't napping or soaking in the scenery, Lacie soon found herself snooping on the nearby conversations. As if it were some kind of court intrigue, they were plotting to ally and be cutthroat. How boorish; Lacie was here because she had shown prodigious potential or somesuch. The strong would succeed here, just as in the wilderness. An adventurer who stomps over his allies to glory won't last long, she was sure.

Keeping to herself otherwise, Lacie was awoken by cheers. As the massive rose in the distance, Lacie sat up and compulsively organized her belongings. She hadn't known what to expect, and her gear was perhaps excessive, but she was happier to be more prepared. If anything, seeing her forethought and caution would give her a good start. She had her lucky 7 blades--she always carried at least 7, three for each hand plus one emergency--her armor was snugly fitted around her, and her small provisions were all in place.

Oh, and her doll. Her ma was so sentimental, insisting she bring along the poor, long-suffering little ragdoll of a puppy from home. Lacie agreed mostly because it wasn't worth the argument, and it didn't take much space or weigh too much. Now, as she looked at it for the first time, she realized the plush had been resewn tightly to firmness, the button eyes replaced, and a cute red ribbon was tied around it's neck.

She stifled the tears. Homesickness would make her life harder; she'd take this as an omen, a blessing that she would prevail. That was much more useful than sentimental feelings, and her ma surely didn't want to make Lacie more sad.

Carefully stowing away all her goods, Lacie finished strapping three of her knives to the sides of her trousers, then moved into the castle. It was picturesque, beautiful and elegant, regal, everything a castle ought to be. A school, yes, but a noble-looking one. As they dispersed from the caravans en masse, Lacie was once again glad that she was a smaller sort. Trampling was a risk, but there was nobody who could block her in, and she was quick on her feet and dodged careless steps easily.

Slipping through the crowd, Lacie arrived at the gate and looked up at the fortress. It was even more magnificent up close. Now, where to. Registry, then registration? That didn't make sense. Wait, weapon check, then signing into the roster. Lacie looked about, watching for the person or people who might be responsible for that.

OOC: color of choice is Dark Slate Gray

After weapon registration, you make it through customs... a few of the travelling merchants and laborers giving Alissa a wide berth and squeamish glances when she advertises for paid volunteers for her undead army.

The line for school registration isn't nearly as bad. You find yourselves next to each other in the queue. You can see the trader's center up ahead of you, which leads to a gorgeous gemstone fountain of blue and gold, which marks the threshold of the marketplace.


Alissa would pause her recruitments. This place isn't like home. People are more alive here. They aren't at the end of life or training to face death on the field or people training them do so. Death isn't on their mind as much. Following the crowd she passed the weapon registration, pausing watch the various blades and axes and knives and other things she had over ever seen the effects of. She lingered there before making a sudden turn an almost bumped into a person below her line of sight, falling over and she struggles to keep her feet.

When the caravan was assembling, Molly was not wearing what would become her trademark heavy green cloak.

Her face is partially covered by a brass and steel exoskeleton: where it goes above her forehead she wears a jet-black wig, which contrasts with the strands of red hair that are presumably her natural colour. Her right eye is no longer there, replaced by an orb that reflects green in the sunlight (her left eye is a light blue - almost white). Her arms are visibly blocky under the light blouse she wears, ending in a heavy clockwork claw in her left hand, and what looks like an attempt at a more normal hand for her right. Her long pleated skirts hide any details of what has become of her below the hips, and the feet that are occasionally visible as she walks are wearing heavy leather boots.

I barely eat anything anymore, why do I torment myself with these firesides every evening? All they do is remind me of everything I'm trying to get away from. As the caravan continues on its ponderous way, Molly withdraws farther and farther into the feeling of anonymity provided by a long, deep winter cloak, in the least well-lit part of the covered caravan.

Hearing the cheers from ahead, she stirs from her thoughts in time to not be seen as slow disembarking. So many tallfolk. Settling her pack over her shoulder, Molly joins the crowd of people approaching the fort.

She is taken aback be the weapons registration area, she had not seen such a number and variety of weapons since the militia had had to deal with an infestation in the deeps 5 years ago.

She passes by to join the queue for registration.

"Well, it said school for adventurers, so I shouldn't be surprised that the students are well-armed."


Alissa



In her stumbling pattern, the wispy thing woman bumps into a taller older merchant that is busy discussing the price of his goods and when he brushes her off she manages to find a wall to lean into to catch herself. This is why I don't like crowds. Taking some time she looks over and sees a body changed heavily by... metal? Must take all kinds to be adventurers. Wonder if its accident or improvement or birth defect? Should I ask, would that be too rude? While Alissa is mentally thinking about it, her stare has easily crossed the line of interest into a rude study.

Feeling smaller than usual, Molly is paying a lot of attention to the people around her, mostly to avoid getting stepped on. Catching the stares of a human girl, she simply stares straight back with a blank expression. Allowing Alyssa to see deep into her hood, giving her a good view of the plates and bars covering her face. A lock of the black wig is visible over the plates on her forehead.

Then she pulls a trick that she knows people find disconcerting: She
I can't find a good way to explain this that flows, so here's the longer description:

Draw an axis through the iris to the optic nerve. That is the axis she's rotating it around.
rotates her false eye while keeping it looking straight at Alyssa, and pulls the left side of her mouth up into a smirk while putting her hands on her hips. "We both know you want to ask something, so why don't you just ask and get it over with?"

Lacie

Lacie Winterblush
Female CG Halfling Expert, Level 1, Init 5, HP X/10, Speed 20
AC 19, Touch 16, Flat-footed 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 3, Base Attack Bonus 0
Thrown daggers +8, 10 foot range, 1d3+4 slashing or piercing, 19-20/x2
Studded Leather armor (+3 AC)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition None


Arriving at weapons registration queue was a pain for Lacie. Waiting in line was...not her best skill, and she had to try very hard not to wander off and lose her spot. Eventually, she got to the desk and, somewhat reluctantly, handed over her backpack and the knives at her hip, fidgeting relentlessly until everything was in order and she took her things back.

Moving into the school registry, Lacie was doing a bit better about waiting this time. Suddenly, indignant noise issued from underfoot as Lacie was unceremoniously knocked to the ground by a tallfolk, who proceeded to walk off without a word of apology. The nerve of her! Picking herself up quickly, Lacie made to follow after them, but hesitated. To be fair, she'd already been all too aware that this would happen, she wasn't hurt or anything, and getting into it with someone was just going to look bad for her.

Brushing herself off, Lacie finally got herself to the registry, filled in all the info she could, and moved into the market, which stopped her in her tracks. The fountain was beautiful, stunning like nothing she'd seen before. She folded her arms and just stared for a moment.

Extended observation reveals that the fountain is enchanted to sparkle and shimmer, even at night. Although large portions of the artwork is done in gemstone gold and blue bezyl (the school colors), the bulk of it is still supported with solid masonry work. Religious symbols adorn the fountain in key locations, and although most of the locals have gotten used to the impressive design, it still catches a lot of wonder and admiration from those who travel here infrequently, or for the first time.







 

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