Yeah. Maybe Orchid would be interested? I need someone who's stealthy anyways.
How about it @Lucius Cypher? Want to run some more stealth missions?
How about it @Lucius Cypher? Want to run some more stealth missions?
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Hmm. I was actually thinking of getting some more rescue operations done. Now that we have a reliable way in and out of the keep, I figured Kyra would want to keep saving as many people as she can. She'll have to be stealthy of course, solid snake style. This might also help her gain her ranger experience.
Aimee looked at the centaur called Yuji as she tried to talk down to Aimee about what being an inquisitor was all about. Aimee even rested her hand on her gun, getting quite tired of the monster girl’s self righteous attitude. "Pft..." But instead of flying off at the handle, Aimee just laughed. Hearing everything this Centaur had to say, Aimee felt foolish trying to argue with someone who obviously had brain problems. Letting her hand off her gun Aimee walked over to pat Yuji. "Oh ho ho ho ho... Aren't you just special. You know, you should attend service with me sometimes. I think you'll like church." In Aimee's mind, Yuji was a special type of ignorant. Not one who denies the existence or importance of something, but someone who claims to know so much or even everything about something, despite the obvious. Such people were stricken by madness and can't be reasoned with. But it's those same people that Aimee was devoted to helping. It was unfortunate that Yuji hadn't quite understood her predicament, but Aimee would make sure she learns. Gently.
Eventually as the line grew and shrank, the trial of heroes began. Or rather, the application process did. Much paperwork was handed out to everyone attending and as Aimee took hers, she made sure to read over what needed to be filled out. It was pretty basic: name, occupation, motives, etc. Then came the last part. As an Inquisitor paperwork was as much a part of her business as hunting heretics and slaying demons. After all, the Inquisitors were allowed to do much of their work thanks to bureaucracy and law on their side, but that also meant playing by their rules. Records had to be kept and documents signed and approved. Sufficient to say, Aimee had signed millions of papers before. But never has she ever had to write a paper with a million words. Let alone two million.
Sure enough everyone noticed this and things were starting to get out of hand yet again. At first it was just questioning; fair enough. A short essay, perhaps a thousand words, Aimee could understand. No one wants a foolish hero after all. But two million? Aimee would need a team of scribes for at least a month to get all of that written down. Of course one foolish adventurer had to go and try to pick a fight with the old man handing out the papers, which is when Aimee wasn't going to simply back down with harsh words and threats. Folding the test paper into a fan, she ran up to the thug and smacked him in the back of the head. It wouldn't hurt, but hopefully it'd get his attention.
As she moved up to strike the goon, Aimee took her badge out. It held the holy symbol of her order, as well as served as the badge of her authority. Hers was made of silver and was meticulously polished. "Enough. This is the exact type of madness I was trying to prevent. Let this man go!" Aimee stood between the old man and the thug, even if she had to put her chest up against his. Their faces were very close, allowing Aimee to look directly into the man's eyes.
@FamishedPants@Spriggs27
Eventually as the line grew and shrank, the trial of heroes began. Or rather, the application process did. Much paperwork was handed out to everyone attending and as Aimee took hers, she made sure to read over what needed to be filled out. It was pretty basic: name, occupation, motives, etc. Then came the last part. As an Inquisitor paperwork was as much a part of her business as hunting heretics and slaying demons. After all, the Inquisitors were allowed to do much of their work thanks to bureaucracy and law on their side, but that also meant playing by their rules. Records had to be kept and documents signed and approved. Sufficient to say, Aimee had signed millions of papers before. But never has she ever had to write a paper with a million words. Let alone two million.
Sure enough everyone noticed this and things were starting to get out of hand yet again. At first it was just questioning; fair enough. A short essay, perhaps a thousand words, Aimee could understand. No one wants a foolish hero after all. But two million? Aimee would need a team of scribes for at least a month to get all of that written down. Of course one foolish adventurer had to go and try to pick a fight with the old man handing out the papers, which is when Aimee wasn't going to simply back down with harsh words and threats. Folding the test paper into a fan, she ran up to the thug and smacked him in the back of the head. It wouldn't hurt, but hopefully it'd get his attention.
As she moved up to strike the goon, Aimee took her badge out. It held the holy symbol of her order, as well as served as the badge of her authority. Hers was made of silver and was meticulously polished. "Enough. This is the exact type of madness I was trying to prevent. Let this man go!" Aimee stood between the old man and the thug, even if she had to put her chest up against his. Their faces were very close, allowing Aimee to look directly into the man's eyes.
@FamishedPants@Spriggs27
As Kyra kept watch, she heard Torag speak to her... She thinks. They haven't really had an actual conversation before, mostly because the old man speaks in riddles and makes Kyra have to translate what he says into common. Though strong-willed and generally a good judge of character, Kyra wasn't exactly educated. She preferred listening and interpreting stories and legends over book reading. It was just too boring for her. Thus she wasn't sure if Torag was trying to be wise, intellectual, or just senile. Fortunately for him, Kyra did take the moment to try to understand what he was getting at. He wanted to know how Kyra could act so brave in the face of this much catastrophe. Probably?
"You'll have to forgive me, grandfather. My mind isn't in the right place to interpret riddles at the moment. If you ask if I am scared, I am. I truly am. Please do not be offended, but you travelers may not understand... This is my home. I may be young, but I have already made the decision that I shall live and die in this village, and that I will do everything in my power to make sure it is prosperious while I breath. Seeing such chaos undo so many generations of work it... It frightens me. Like a violent storm that can even strip stone into sand, it feels like a force of nature that I cannot stop. That dark, evil side within the hearts of men that no amount of prayer or wishes can ever vanquish. And yet..."
Kyra bit her lip as she turned her head to look directly at Torag. "This dark and evil side is just as natural as goodness and light. To pretend that one can exist without the other is childish naivety. I won't deny my fear. I... I embrace it. I use it to fuel my anger. To see such horrifying things happen to all I love... I need that fear to make me strong. So that my hatred guides my arrows and powers my spells, and allow me to strike down these infidels." Kyra said quietly, so that only she and Torag could hear. In the back of her mind she knew this kind of thinking went against the ideals and thought of her teachings; she was suppose to show mercy and understanding, to be able to bring harmony between the forces of the wild and civilization. To create a bond between the nature and man. Yet at the same time, she has seen the strength and the feral wilderness; she remembers the viciousness and brutality found outside the cities and laws of civilization.
Nature was not peaceful. It was not kind. It cares very little for those in it, neither beast or mortal. Even those created by nature would suffer openly by her whims. It was that part of nature, and of Chauntae, that Kyra was tapping into. Most would not consider Chauntea a warlike god and Kyra would agree wholeheartedly. But just as the sun can create warmth and light, it can also burn it's enemies into cinder. Just as the ocean provides fish and bounty, it can also crush and rip apart any creature misfortune enough to underestimate it's current. The wind can be a gentle breeze or a roaring tornado. Even roses have their thorns. Kyra may be a mere priestess of Chauntea, but a helpless victim she is not.
"We should focus on the task at hand. Keep an eye out for trouble."
"You'll have to forgive me, grandfather. My mind isn't in the right place to interpret riddles at the moment. If you ask if I am scared, I am. I truly am. Please do not be offended, but you travelers may not understand... This is my home. I may be young, but I have already made the decision that I shall live and die in this village, and that I will do everything in my power to make sure it is prosperious while I breath. Seeing such chaos undo so many generations of work it... It frightens me. Like a violent storm that can even strip stone into sand, it feels like a force of nature that I cannot stop. That dark, evil side within the hearts of men that no amount of prayer or wishes can ever vanquish. And yet..."
Kyra bit her lip as she turned her head to look directly at Torag. "This dark and evil side is just as natural as goodness and light. To pretend that one can exist without the other is childish naivety. I won't deny my fear. I... I embrace it. I use it to fuel my anger. To see such horrifying things happen to all I love... I need that fear to make me strong. So that my hatred guides my arrows and powers my spells, and allow me to strike down these infidels." Kyra said quietly, so that only she and Torag could hear. In the back of her mind she knew this kind of thinking went against the ideals and thought of her teachings; she was suppose to show mercy and understanding, to be able to bring harmony between the forces of the wild and civilization. To create a bond between the nature and man. Yet at the same time, she has seen the strength and the feral wilderness; she remembers the viciousness and brutality found outside the cities and laws of civilization.
Nature was not peaceful. It was not kind. It cares very little for those in it, neither beast or mortal. Even those created by nature would suffer openly by her whims. It was that part of nature, and of Chauntae, that Kyra was tapping into. Most would not consider Chauntea a warlike god and Kyra would agree wholeheartedly. But just as the sun can create warmth and light, it can also burn it's enemies into cinder. Just as the ocean provides fish and bounty, it can also crush and rip apart any creature misfortune enough to underestimate it's current. The wind can be a gentle breeze or a roaring tornado. Even roses have their thorns. Kyra may be a mere priestess of Chauntea, but a helpless victim she is not.
"We should focus on the task at hand. Keep an eye out for trouble."
I did have a ranger character who was something of a wyrm hunter, however she actually worked for a dragon (She had a longbow made from one of the dragon's teeth) and slew other rival dragons. It was an evil campaign however, and she was more of an assassin who just had the right tools and skills to hunt dragons and kill regular people too.
Kyra wasted no time getting everyone out of the chapel. Understandably, some of the acolytes wanted to preserve the books and other treasures the church had, such as the large chrysanthemum ornament that served as the center piece of their main chapel. It was masterfully crafted with darkwood, by one of Greenest's eldest master wood carvers before he died. It was so good in fact that there were many offers by various lords and nobles to purchase it, paying so much that they could upgrade their humble chapel into a full blown cathedral. But for many reasons they refused those offers. That old master was Falconmoon's own teacher as a priest of Chauntea, and the one who had established the worship here in Greenest in the first place. Through his skills at wood working and the help of the people of Greenest, they made the chapel they were in now. And before his death he carved that chrysanthemum as a symbol of unity and hard work here in Greenest. Sufficent to say, it was more valuable sentimentally then it was materialistically, and it was still very expensive.
However if there was one thing that Kyra wouldn't put a price on, it was the lives of her acolytes. Though these young men and women may consider Kyra their sister of the church, they mustn't forget that she is technically their new leader. Falconmoon may have not formally retired but the responsibilities of the chapel, and those within it, lies in Kyra's hands. It wasn't as if she didn't want to save her precious chapel either; through tears and bitterness, she had to choose their lives over this holy place. This place, a sacred ground that was suppose to provide safety and protection to anyone who enters their doors, had to be abandoned if Kyra wished to actually save the lives within it. Fortunately all it took was a stern sentence and her own tears for Kyra to convince the younglings to come with her. Once everyone had grabbed their things, they quickly left before any of the raiders broke through. Though the thought of letting the others go ahead while she tried to fend off the raiders did cross her mind, Kyra continued to lead the others instead. She had to.
Fortunately the party managed to reach the back entrance with very little trouble. Falconmoon kept pace despite his old age, and the others were young enough to catch up. While Brannor led with his blade ready to cut down any foes, Kyra kept her eyes peeled for any kobolds spying upon them. She would shoot them down before they could spread information about their activities; Kyra would rather not let the raiders know that they were actively undermining their operations. That way they would lower their guard just like at the back of the church, and allow their small group to do massive amount of damage. Brannor went to knock on the door using the pattern they were taught. Kyra had the survivors and other villagers wait by the door while she and the rest of the party watched the parameter.
However if there was one thing that Kyra wouldn't put a price on, it was the lives of her acolytes. Though these young men and women may consider Kyra their sister of the church, they mustn't forget that she is technically their new leader. Falconmoon may have not formally retired but the responsibilities of the chapel, and those within it, lies in Kyra's hands. It wasn't as if she didn't want to save her precious chapel either; through tears and bitterness, she had to choose their lives over this holy place. This place, a sacred ground that was suppose to provide safety and protection to anyone who enters their doors, had to be abandoned if Kyra wished to actually save the lives within it. Fortunately all it took was a stern sentence and her own tears for Kyra to convince the younglings to come with her. Once everyone had grabbed their things, they quickly left before any of the raiders broke through. Though the thought of letting the others go ahead while she tried to fend off the raiders did cross her mind, Kyra continued to lead the others instead. She had to.
Fortunately the party managed to reach the back entrance with very little trouble. Falconmoon kept pace despite his old age, and the others were young enough to catch up. While Brannor led with his blade ready to cut down any foes, Kyra kept her eyes peeled for any kobolds spying upon them. She would shoot them down before they could spread information about their activities; Kyra would rather not let the raiders know that they were actively undermining their operations. That way they would lower their guard just like at the back of the church, and allow their small group to do massive amount of damage. Brannor went to knock on the door using the pattern they were taught. Kyra had the survivors and other villagers wait by the door while she and the rest of the party watched the parameter.
Crossing her arms Aimee glared at those trying to talk her down. All she wanted to do was make sure no one else ende dup doing something stupid due to misunderstandings or reacting without thinking. Sure she may have come across as gruff and rude, but she'd rather look mean then have everyone else do something stupid. Sighing, she just dismissed the entire ordeal. "Wait in line and try not to cause any trouble. That shouldn't be too hard, is it?" Soon the orc from before had come back, sober and wet. She groaned slightly to herself and closed her eye, trying her best not to just whip out her pistol and shoot him. She could at least understand what he was trying to do, and for the sake of maintaining the peace she would humor his small talk. "Aimee the Inquisitor, of House Reiterpallasch. And the rest of you?"
In
The Chronicles of Dosei: Sands of Blood, A Dungeons and Dragons Roleplay. (Reboot)(Full)
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8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Kessel
"Rise and shine Shayle, we've got a bid day ahead of us!" The gnome kicked her dwarven friend in the chest to awaken her. She didn't care that Shayle had gotten into a brawl last night; part of their contract was that any injuries sustained off the job was to be accounted for themselves. If Shayle was stupid enough to get into a fight even though they had a job to do the next day, it was up to her to get that patched up. "Go get ready while I'll attend to Rusty. If that group from before is heading the same place as we are, we might need to get there before they do. Otherwise who knows what they'll end up doing there!" Slapping Shayle a few times in the face, Kessel left the room with her stuff, heading outside to the stables. Among the various mounts there was Rusty, the largish gear golem. "Morning Rusty. Let's get you kitted out, eh?"
Kessel loaded her bags and belongings on the back of Rusty. Once she was finished and everything was set she climbed on Rusty's back and rode him out of the stables. She liked to think she looked rather impressive on the back of her mighty gear golem, even though right now it wasn't ready for any combat scenarios. It was pretty strong through. "Shayle! Hurry up, we're burning daylight!"
Shayle
"Urge..." A swift kick woke Shayle up. Kessel wasn't the toughest little thing in the world, but even her tiny feet could stir the dwarven berserker up. "Five more minutes..." Shayle was still sore from last night. She and that merc had punched each other's lights out, and it got so intense that Shayle even got a bit angry. Fortunately no one died and the damage was limited to each other and a table. But while Shayle wanted a few more minutes to rest her wounds, Kessel just wasn't having any of it. She kept kicking and shouting at Shayle until eventually she just had to wake up. "Fine, fine! Cripes, just lemme get something ta drink at least..."
Grabbing all their gear Shayle stumbled her way down into the tavern. She yawned loudly to announce her presence, ignoring everyone as she went up to the tavern keeper. "Aaaaaah... I'll have an ale, two loafs, and whatever ya got on the split." Tossing some silver on the counter Shayle looked around to see what everyone else was up to. She vaguely remembered the party here last night, but she wasn't sure if they were gone already or not.
As Aimee was trying to maintain some order in the hall, a large centaur warrior approached. Apparently she had some problems with Aimee taking charge, and if the inquisitor had to guess, it was cultural. People like the Centaurs were a barbaric race who only let strength lead them, or at least that's how Aimee categorized them. Like Minotaurs and werewolves people like her had a strong warrior culture, and likely don't take answers from any old stranger. Fine by Aimee though; she was never going to back down from a challenge. "Compared to this nonsense going on I am calm. If anyone has an issue with me maintaining some order here, they should come speak up. If you have a problem, then you'd best have more to say. Otherwise wait in line." Aimee's tone was as cold as ice. Even as a few others stepped in to say their piece Aimee didn't take her eyes off the centaur.
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