kapuchu
Dnafeinno worries. I'm not going anywhere.
Astarael42 Member
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In
Rites Of Passage (a High Fantasy/Forgotten Realms Adventure)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
“Fah!” said Edgar gruffly as Leaza moved away towards the spiderling who had descended abruptly upon the gathering.
He'd only had time to give a gentle squeeze to her slender hands, and he was somewhat uncomfortable at the touch. His own hands, gnarled and rough, were as hard and dry as the rocks he loved. Its not that he was ashamed of his own body, far from it, he was far too old for that nonsense. He'd walk around naked if the sight wouldn't terrify everyone. He was just uncomfortable with people knowing how close to the stone he himself was. He hadn't much time left in this world, at least not as stone reckoned time, and he didn't mind that part. He was always tired these days anyway, he just wanted one big discovery before the time came. What burdened his mind was that he had no idea what would happen to him when that time came. He had noticed his body growing heavier, his bones instead of growing weak were growing heavy and ossified. His skin was vaguely gritty, dry and hard, oddly so as when most humans aged their skin grew pale and thin. Would he just turn to stone one day or maybe he would never wake up from his slumber and just dissolve into the wall? He didn't know and he didn't want to. And Lady Leaza was one of the few beings who might have that answer. He hoped she would never tell him.
“No need to be so nice about it dear Lady” said Edgar burying his discomfort as Leaza moved off. “You and I both know no one reveres me, at most they tolerate me. Usually they are just to afraid to contradict me. They smile and nod and say nothing hoping I'll go away soon. But I've fooled them; I'm not gone yet. And this” he gestured at the stone statuary around him “will make a damn good story to bore them with. If I'm really really lucky they will get so bored they will just do what I tell them to just to shut me up.”
He cackled to himself imagining his next lecture.
“You should come to the next lecture, Lady Leaza, it's sure to be a good one.”
With that he turned and moved heavily around the statues running a hand tenderly along the cold stone surfaces. The touch of his mind, and the touch of his hands, invoked no response in the stone. Between stone that was too chatty and stone that was nothing he was feeling a bit irritable. More so than normal. It was the mental equivalent of having gravel in your butt crack. He was close to the stone, but not -that- close to the stone.
“They aren't dead you know” he said without preamble. “I mean they aren't alive.” He shook his head trying to figure out how to explain his thoughts. “What I really mean to say is that they aren't stone. Not as I know stone. They are somehow both more and less. You really should have someone dust them regularly though; shows respect.” He polished a bit of the unicorn's mane absently asking the grit and dirt politely to remove itself; it complied sticking instead to Edgar's clothing and joining the army of dirt already gathered there. “Plus the grit finds the statues uncomfortable, apparently they are too bubbly.” He frowned briefly at that description. What the hell was bubbly rock?
“There are answers to be had here and there, if we make sure to ask the right questions. There is much to do and undo.”
Pulling his staff close to his body he turned his back on the cold stone statues and looked around, his eyes sharp intense. This was going to big, he could feel it in the earth below and the stone within.
“Well?” he asked slightly impatiently “where and when do we start? I don't have all of time you know, could drop dead at any moment. I'm old, I hear it happens to old people all the time.”
He'd only had time to give a gentle squeeze to her slender hands, and he was somewhat uncomfortable at the touch. His own hands, gnarled and rough, were as hard and dry as the rocks he loved. Its not that he was ashamed of his own body, far from it, he was far too old for that nonsense. He'd walk around naked if the sight wouldn't terrify everyone. He was just uncomfortable with people knowing how close to the stone he himself was. He hadn't much time left in this world, at least not as stone reckoned time, and he didn't mind that part. He was always tired these days anyway, he just wanted one big discovery before the time came. What burdened his mind was that he had no idea what would happen to him when that time came. He had noticed his body growing heavier, his bones instead of growing weak were growing heavy and ossified. His skin was vaguely gritty, dry and hard, oddly so as when most humans aged their skin grew pale and thin. Would he just turn to stone one day or maybe he would never wake up from his slumber and just dissolve into the wall? He didn't know and he didn't want to. And Lady Leaza was one of the few beings who might have that answer. He hoped she would never tell him.
“No need to be so nice about it dear Lady” said Edgar burying his discomfort as Leaza moved off. “You and I both know no one reveres me, at most they tolerate me. Usually they are just to afraid to contradict me. They smile and nod and say nothing hoping I'll go away soon. But I've fooled them; I'm not gone yet. And this” he gestured at the stone statuary around him “will make a damn good story to bore them with. If I'm really really lucky they will get so bored they will just do what I tell them to just to shut me up.”
He cackled to himself imagining his next lecture.
“You should come to the next lecture, Lady Leaza, it's sure to be a good one.”
With that he turned and moved heavily around the statues running a hand tenderly along the cold stone surfaces. The touch of his mind, and the touch of his hands, invoked no response in the stone. Between stone that was too chatty and stone that was nothing he was feeling a bit irritable. More so than normal. It was the mental equivalent of having gravel in your butt crack. He was close to the stone, but not -that- close to the stone.
“They aren't dead you know” he said without preamble. “I mean they aren't alive.” He shook his head trying to figure out how to explain his thoughts. “What I really mean to say is that they aren't stone. Not as I know stone. They are somehow both more and less. You really should have someone dust them regularly though; shows respect.” He polished a bit of the unicorn's mane absently asking the grit and dirt politely to remove itself; it complied sticking instead to Edgar's clothing and joining the army of dirt already gathered there. “Plus the grit finds the statues uncomfortable, apparently they are too bubbly.” He frowned briefly at that description. What the hell was bubbly rock?
“There are answers to be had here and there, if we make sure to ask the right questions. There is much to do and undo.”
Pulling his staff close to his body he turned his back on the cold stone statues and looked around, his eyes sharp intense. This was going to big, he could feel it in the earth below and the stone within.
“Well?” he asked slightly impatiently “where and when do we start? I don't have all of time you know, could drop dead at any moment. I'm old, I hear it happens to old people all the time.”
In
Rites Of Passage (a High Fantasy/Forgotten Realms Adventure)
→
7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
as an addition to anyone planning a post...
the feeling of being watched still remains as it has for some time now; basically it started when we left loudwater on an occasional basis and once we were on the trade road it was much more common. Now it happens fairly often whenever you are not in town (when working outside town). As yet have not been able to catch anyone paying undue attention or find the source of the feeling.
the feeling of being watched still remains as it has for some time now; basically it started when we left loudwater on an occasional basis and once we were on the trade road it was much more common. Now it happens fairly often whenever you are not in town (when working outside town). As yet have not been able to catch anyone paying undue attention or find the source of the feeling.
Deep in the walls of the tangle Edgar tossed and turned in the dark. His dreams, usually solid as the rock which cocooned him, had been flaky as of late. He absolutely hated that. With a groan and a grumble he finally woke shaking away the flighty dreams and drawing strength in the solidity of the rock around him.
At first he paid no attention to the whispers, the raspy words that filtered through his mind, the rocks were always talking to him since no one else ever listened. He stuffed a piece of moldy cheese in his mouth, swallowed without tasting, and pulled on his worn clothing in a sort of auto-pilot. It wasn't until he was half out of the wall that the words filtered to his consciouness.
He stood there, one leg sticking out of rock into the empty path of the Tangle beyond, listening as the gossip flowed to him. It didn't make a lot of sense. Shifting. Death. Slavery. Stone rises. What the hell did that mean. Stone didn't die or rise, it was stone, it's stability was its greatest virtue. And stone didn't have morals. What did it care for slavery? He puzzled over it for some time before giving up for now. There was one bit of information, however, that was plain as a granite slab, the heart of Gobblydegook was gone.
He had no idea how this was possible but it couldn't bode well for the Tangle. The heart of Gobblydegook was gone, the queen was fire and glass, at least according to the stone. And the living was joining the stone. None of that made any sense but it was important. He knew it was important, knowledge that must be gained, understanding that must be developed. He didn't have long, a few decades at most, before he would crumble into stone himself, and perhaps this knowledge was a worthy final quest. He would see what he could see.
“Well then George” he said to the tiny pebble on his shoulder “shall we go?” He spoke out loud to it, talking to it as one might a pet, or another human. The replies, if they weren't just all in his imagination, were silent.
“I know I know but its important.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Well then we still need to go. Standing about here does us no good.”
Edgar passed through the rock as if it were air, entering an open passage way with a groan.
“I'm too old for this shit” he grumbled as he shouldered his satchel and leaned heavily on his stone walking “stick”.
All around him the stone whispered and he whispered back. Change was not something stone liked or even understood. And yet it was coming, or it was already here. The Stone of the Tangle was eager to share with the one being who would listen. It was the most talkative stone he'd ever encountered. He had to find out what was going on, anything that turned stone into a gossipy fishwife should really be stopped. It was incredibly irritating.
Edgar shuffled his careful way towards the center of the Tangle, bones aching, body stiff. He took the direct route, passing through walls with a polite please and a thank you to the rock. Occasionally he picked up a particularly disgruntled rock or pebble and placed it someplace where it wouldn't get stepped on. People were so thoughtless. Had he encountered any he might have delivered a scathing scolding. Since he was alone in the pathways he just grumbled and he walked; grumbled about stupidity and thoughtlessness and how hideous the bright purple building he was passing looked.
No one noticed his approach, passing through the walls as he did without warning, and he stood, silent for a moment, his hand on a SeaLion, half fish half lion, that had been turned to stone. All was silent in his mind. Stone but not stone. Not dead but not living. It was downright creepy.
“What in the Mud god's holy swamp is going on here?” he demanded irritably, and very loudly, as he thumped and shuffled his way into the central clearing where others had gathered.
At first he paid no attention to the whispers, the raspy words that filtered through his mind, the rocks were always talking to him since no one else ever listened. He stuffed a piece of moldy cheese in his mouth, swallowed without tasting, and pulled on his worn clothing in a sort of auto-pilot. It wasn't until he was half out of the wall that the words filtered to his consciouness.
He stood there, one leg sticking out of rock into the empty path of the Tangle beyond, listening as the gossip flowed to him. It didn't make a lot of sense. Shifting. Death. Slavery. Stone rises. What the hell did that mean. Stone didn't die or rise, it was stone, it's stability was its greatest virtue. And stone didn't have morals. What did it care for slavery? He puzzled over it for some time before giving up for now. There was one bit of information, however, that was plain as a granite slab, the heart of Gobblydegook was gone.
He had no idea how this was possible but it couldn't bode well for the Tangle. The heart of Gobblydegook was gone, the queen was fire and glass, at least according to the stone. And the living was joining the stone. None of that made any sense but it was important. He knew it was important, knowledge that must be gained, understanding that must be developed. He didn't have long, a few decades at most, before he would crumble into stone himself, and perhaps this knowledge was a worthy final quest. He would see what he could see.
“Well then George” he said to the tiny pebble on his shoulder “shall we go?” He spoke out loud to it, talking to it as one might a pet, or another human. The replies, if they weren't just all in his imagination, were silent.
“I know I know but its important.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Well then we still need to go. Standing about here does us no good.”
Edgar passed through the rock as if it were air, entering an open passage way with a groan.
“I'm too old for this shit” he grumbled as he shouldered his satchel and leaned heavily on his stone walking “stick”.
All around him the stone whispered and he whispered back. Change was not something stone liked or even understood. And yet it was coming, or it was already here. The Stone of the Tangle was eager to share with the one being who would listen. It was the most talkative stone he'd ever encountered. He had to find out what was going on, anything that turned stone into a gossipy fishwife should really be stopped. It was incredibly irritating.
Edgar shuffled his careful way towards the center of the Tangle, bones aching, body stiff. He took the direct route, passing through walls with a polite please and a thank you to the rock. Occasionally he picked up a particularly disgruntled rock or pebble and placed it someplace where it wouldn't get stepped on. People were so thoughtless. Had he encountered any he might have delivered a scathing scolding. Since he was alone in the pathways he just grumbled and he walked; grumbled about stupidity and thoughtlessness and how hideous the bright purple building he was passing looked.
No one noticed his approach, passing through the walls as he did without warning, and he stood, silent for a moment, his hand on a SeaLion, half fish half lion, that had been turned to stone. All was silent in his mind. Stone but not stone. Not dead but not living. It was downright creepy.
“What in the Mud god's holy swamp is going on here?” he demanded irritably, and very loudly, as he thumped and shuffled his way into the central clearing where others had gathered.
I'm still here. Just running ragged. Will try and get post up shortishly.
In
Rites Of Passage (a High Fantasy/Forgotten Realms Adventure)
→
7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Sure. If one of the two boys is willing to pull it (or split time pulling it).
In
Rites Of Passage (a High Fantasy/Forgotten Realms Adventure)
→
7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
@orcpunx just be aware we can't actually carry much weight. Brisa is already at maximum capacity and the other two are close with what we already have. Will need to be really picky about what can be carried. Aside from bedroll, clothing, food, knives, and a tarp anything else needs to be thought over very well. Remember you are carrying all your personal stuff (weapons, personal items, etc) as well. Pick and choose what is absolutely needed for survival.
In
Rites Of Passage (a High Fantasy/Forgotten Realms Adventure)
→
7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Yeah that's absolutely no problem then. You could find "grunt" work at any one of those things.
In
Rites Of Passage (a High Fantasy/Forgotten Realms Adventure)
→
7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
all that should be good too @jollan. I assume you meant blacksmithing not armor or weapon smithing which are harder to break into.
Go ahead and send me a PM if interested. For whatever reason I forgot to subscribe to this thread so I totally missed the post. @Andrew Blade
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