Post by Ravna Reiersgaard on Nov 16, 2014 10:40:05 GMT -8
Glad I fall into the standard deviation.
So, considering our group make-up at the mo', I would certainly take this character another direction. Or even scrap it and revive Ereni Blueyarrow (In the name of Erastil!) for some cleric-y, healy goodness. I'm flexible either way.
Post by Rothgar MacRothgar on Nov 16, 2014 12:15:34 GMT -8
I'm always a fan of everyone making what they want and if we don't have enough healing, then we as a party need to figure out how to cope. In the Sunday game, we went 2-3 sessions with the only healing coming from a Wizard with Use Magic Device on Wands. Did it work out as well as a cleric? No. Did it make us feel that much more badass after surviving by the skin of our teeth? Yes.
You walk the halls of a great Manor House. A good breeze has picked up and blows through the wide halls. You are grateful, early autumn can be unbearably humid and the occasional sea breeze is by far the best remedy. You continue walking through the old house. It is strange, many of the old imperfections that were apparent just a week ago now see gone. Some peeling paint, faded and frayed tapestries, a few cracked columns, these all seem to build character of the place. You realize the change, from last week today. Last week you knew you were leaving, today is actually your last day. Today, you leave your home, hoping to find a new one. Oh sure, everyone says that this place will always be your home, at your more emotional part of you believes them, but you know the truth. Today you are leaving Bayou d'Argent, heading to the Academy at Caer Uthis. Yesterday, you were the firstborn and heir to a ancient and noble family, today you are merely the half-sister of the heir. Losing land and title mean little to you, a bit of a relief actually. Little Illias can deal with all that miserable hypocritical foolishness. You never really realized before now that you are not only renouncing your claim to land and title, but to this house as well. You grew up here. Learned to read in the study. Learned to ride a horse in the field behind the house. Had your first kiss in the stable. Learned how to mix chemicals in the east wing, as well as how to put out chemical fires and how to repair fire and smoke damage.
You stroll through the house, into the audience chamber. Generations of Reiersgaard lords have held court here. Its empty now, this time of year no one travels or holds meetings during the day if they can help it, too hot and humid. Gods forbid you sweat into your fine and beautiful clothing. Above the doors sits carving with your family sigil, next to it is your stepfather's. The arrogant prick wouldn't even take your mother's name when they married, let alone give up his sigil, which would be tradition. At the head of the chamber sits a throne. It is carved ebony with inlaid silver and lapis lazuli. It is carved with scenes from the life of your ancestors Reier and his son Robert. You once spent hours studying the chair, part of a lesson when you were young. When your teacher, Alan Babblebrook, asked you what you learned you told him that rich people have too much money, if they can throw it away on big fancy chairs, when a simple manuscript would be a better way to remember your ancestors. Alan Babblebrook has been here even longer than you. Your grandfather hired him fresh from the Academy. He was a cleric for the church of hope, and your grandfather was an active patron for the church. Babblebrook stayed on after your grandfather passed, as the house mage. The kind halfling was your tutor growing up, since then he has been a buffer and peacekeeper between you and your stepfather. He also helped as an advisor when you started to consider the Academy.
You walk into the front hall. It is dominated by decorative columns and a massive double staircase leading upstairs. Between the staircases, is a large and ancient portrait. It depicts a woman sitting on a throne. She is wearing a silver breastplate, holding a sword in one hand and scepter in the other. The woman is meant to be the Silver Princess, or Queen if you are from elsewhere. In Alitaan she was a princess, and that is how you remember her. This manor is named in her honor, as she is the one who raised the family to nobility. The portrait is extremely stylized and romantic in its depiction. The woman in the portrait is probably the most beautiful you have ever seen. You have always been skeptical of the accuracy of the likeness. No one knows when it was painted, supposedly by Atis Reiersgaard, younger son of Reier. Who knows if that is true. Babblebrook reminds you that the accuracy of the image is not important. The greatness of the woman and your family's service to her are what is important. He catches you looking at the portrait when he comes up behind you.
When she left her home, she helped to save the world. I expect no less from you, young lady. The old halfling looks up at you with a kind, jovial smile. Babblebrook has agreed to make the journey to Caer Uthis with you. If you are ready, we should head out. You said all your goodbyes last night and this morning. You bags are packed, and you are as ready to leave as you can be. With a small tear, you nod. Dyna woke early this morning, left a note saying she had some issue to deal with, but she promised that she would catch up to us before nightfall. Dyna is a half-elf, an illegitimate relation of your father's, a cousin you think. After your parents were married, she was made captain of the guard here in Bayou d'Argent. After your mother remarried she was dismissed, but now she works as a game warden. Patrolling your family's lands hunting poachers and criminals. Even though it was a step down, Dyna has been happier in her new position. She can still be with those of you in the manor, but has ample excuse to slip away to the swamps and marshes of the countryside when she gets sick of "how the other half live". You and Dyna have always been close, sharing mutual interests as well as contempts. Despite loving your father, she is one of the few people at the manor who wouldn't hesitate to call him an fool to his face.
The road to Caer Uthis is long, but relatively safe. Under his tender smiles and jokes, Alan is a powerful mage and more that enough protection on the road. Dyna, too, is a skilled warrior. You suspect that she elected to accompany you for sentimental reasons, rather than security. You and Alan load a small wagon with the few possession you will need, and depart.
After night falls on your first day on the road, you help your old tutor make camp. After camp is made and a campfire blazes, Alan speaks words of thanks to the gods. He praises their generosity, their gracious and giving nature, and asks them to bless the journey. The prayer is long, nearly 10 minutes, and at the end he speaks a few words of a language that is strange and mystical. At the conclusion of the prayer a spread of food appears before Alan. The food is simple, some bread, fresh fruit and some kind of gray meat. Alan, looking disappointed but not surprised says The gods give a man all he needs to survive. Halflings, however, have been known to drop dead in the face of such blandness. He smiles, and turns to the dark sky Expressing no ingratitude., and reaches into a pouch on his belt he pulls several jars. Inside are various exotic spices, pastes, and spreads. He applies them to the food in varying degrees. While not the best meal you have ever had, it is still quite delicious and far better than one should expect while camped on the side of the road.
After your meal, you sit around the campfire listening to Alan's stories about his time at the Academy. It is a lot of work, and rightly so. Magical aptitude is a tremendous gift. One that should not be squandered on those unworthy of it. This world is full of people with great power, who have done nothing to deserve it and do little with it. Worse still, those who use their power for maleficent ends. The Academy seeks to weed those out. You have never had trouble with hard work. So long as you can keep a pure heart, you will do great things. Alan continues for some time, telling tales about the Academy, its history, and about the city as a whole. There are towers there, unlike anything you can imagine. Only the ancient Paladran ruins in Sofiholm can compare, even they seem so mundane by comparison. They build towers there of virtually any conceivable material. Marble, Darkwood, steel, even a tower made entirely out of glass. The walls of the city are made of strange type of wood. It is harvested from living trees, there is a grove of them deep in the elven forest, it is as strong as steel, but so long as you water it regularly, it will grow. In times of war, the walls will repair themselves, just add a little water.
Living walls won't save a city, it is the warriors on those walls that matter. The voice comes from beside you, utterly surprising you. Sorry I am late. It belongs to a half-elf woman, Dyna. You are not sure if you were just too engrossed in Alan's description of the city, or if she was just so stealthy that she could sneak up next to you without your noticing.....and get herself a plate of food.
Dyna is your kin, you have never been totally clear on how. Some distant, unmet, relative of your father had a secret, and scandalous, relationship with a elf woman. When that liaison resulted in a bastard girl, your paternal grandfather took the girl into his house, hoping to protect the girl from the inevitable recriminations and slanders that come from being the product of such a scandal. Dyna grew up with your father, and the two were closer than most siblings. Despite the inaccuracy of the term, you have always called her Aunt. As a young woman, she showed considerable aptitude for arms and warfare. After your parents were married, she was brought to Bayou d'Argent and made captain of the guard. There was never cause for her to lead house troops into battle, she has always been ready for it. She can be harsh, and blunt when she thinks she is right, which helped her when she trained new guards and soldier for the family, but won her few friends. She even tried to teach you how to fight once you were old enough. Her teachings never really took, but the two of you have always been close. When your father died, Dyna took it hard. She blamed herself, him as well, but she always thought that she could have prevented him from dueling a superior swordsman, or she could have helped him be a better swordsman over the years. After your mother remarried, Dyna was removed as captain, a product of her abrasive nature and your stepfather's jealousy. She still serves the house, but you know that her heart is not in it anymore. She takes little joy in serving a noble family, that is not her family anymore. Apart from you, she has no family.