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Post by Lady Frost on Jun 28, 2012 4:59:15 GMT -5
During the bright of day, an adult-sized red dragon, coming from the south, heads over Greatgaunt at a few hundred feet and continues north following the western foothills of the Stormhorns. It passes northward over Skull Crag at the same height then eventually cuts east through a pass, passes by Espar near tree top height, and finally lands in the northwestern King's Forest.
Anyone investigating would find the obvious landing spot of the dragon in the middle of a camp of gruesomely slaughtered and dismembered orcs. Only a pair of humanoid boot prints would lead away from the scene, leaving a path of bloodied and beaten, but usually still alive, humanoids of various races in a northwestern path to Tyrluk.
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Post by Pedantry INC on Jun 28, 2012 5:28:23 GMT -5
A green and brown garbed woman kneels by the tracks that depart from the landing site, eyes narrowing for a time, before she rises to follow.
A scimitar is raised to spill the blood of the beaten that haven't cleared the path with a savage lack of mercy.
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Post by Hellwalker on Jun 28, 2012 5:41:43 GMT -5
A cowled figure stands in the gentle breeze on the outskirts of Tyrluk on a hillock, a flicker of recognition in amber eyes peeking out from the low-drawn hood as he spots the shape in the sky to the south.
A sign, perhaps? Just as the flames whispered to me in Skull Crag, this is proof that my betters wish me to continue my work.
Immediately, he moves to converge upon the dragon's position, paying close attention to the skies in case it takes flight again from where it had landed, following the trail with almost fanatical devotion, pressed on further by a ward of endurance and continually maintained haste wards as he stops for nothing in his search.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jun 28, 2012 10:24:50 GMT -5
Having originally landed about 20 miles southeast (roughly) of Tyrluk.
Nearly halfway to Tyrluk (and still in a relatively straight line), the being leaving the trail of beaten bodies arrives at the edge of the southern flowing Sharragh river. It takes a few minutes to observe the surroundings before starting north. After a few miles it comes to a small bend in the river and a recently downed tree. It offloads it's packs onto the ground and makes itself comfortable where it spends the next few hours sitting patiently, watching the surroundings.
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Post by Hellwalker on Jun 28, 2012 12:25:30 GMT -5
Not long after the cowled wanderer's departure his haste brings him upon the heels of the woman as she takes a pause to study the trail. An initially hostile meeting evolves, and soon a pillar of smoke rises from within the king's forest, not far from the dragon's landing site.
Mere minutes after, the smoke gives way to a massive pillar of flame visible many miles away, the raging inferno seeming to maintain its shape without spreading far. Feral, almost inhuman screams sound from the direction of the inferno when it erupts.
If the site is searched more closely, the smoldering and slashed corpses of dead orcs are strewn about all around the inferno.
***
Shortly after, the cowled wanderer and the scimitar-wielding woman depart together from the site, the woman following the trail as the wanderer ever urges her to go faster, occasionally bestowing haste wards upon them both when the trail is clear and easily followed, both of them moving as quickly as possible in order to catch up with the being, stopping only when the woman spots a survivor of their target's wrath, promptly finishing the job.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jun 29, 2012 2:44:48 GMT -5
The being stands taking interest in the distant noises coming from the direction from which it had been walking from. It then turns and surveys the clearing it's in before nodding in satisfaction. With swift movements it unpacks some camping supplies and builds itself a small fire -one that would likely burn out within an hour or so-. After making sure to make the camp appear used recently, it heads north along the soft dirt of the river bed where clear boot tracks are left before it crosses the river after a hundred yards or so. It moves into the underbrush and backtracks its way downriver to a place it can view the campsite across the river from a well hidden location.
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Post by Pedantry INC on Jun 29, 2012 7:55:54 GMT -5
At the edge of the clearing the green garbed woman pauses, surveying the campsite from afar for a time, before stepping out of the trees. Though she keeps her blade in hand and shield on arm she lowers both, and approaches at a casual pace. She pushes her hood back to reveal sharp features and flaming red hair that contrasts her intent green eyes. Her gaze is cast about, waiting a short few minutes, then when she sees no one she begins a meticulous look over of the camp, assessing the state of the fire, and looking over the gear left about - though she takes care not to go so far as to touch or disturb anything.
Finally she beckons towards the woods, drawing the wanderer. She speaks to him in low tones, the language used deep, with growling tones, gesturing about before she leads him to the trail away, pointing and uttering several comments. Her long nails point severely here and there, a scowl furrowing her brow until she finally gestures back to the camp, where they return.
While she removes her shield, bracers, and unbuckles her armor, the wanderer removes his robes, revealing a man dressed in elegant attire of dark earth hues and bright red trim, tanned face framed by long black hair, vibrant amber eyes darting about expectantly. They both seem to take time to make themselves more presentable, the woman taking a moment to add wood to the fire. The pair then take to waiting, the woman adopting a casual sit by the fire, her companion taking a seat next to her, shifting about impatiently from time to time.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jun 30, 2012 5:24:47 GMT -5
With the approach of dusk, the sunlight is long removed from touching the ground.
Nearly directly across the river from the duo, the brush rustles and eventually gives way to a woman dressed in ornate crimson and obsidian platemail with a black hooded cloak sitting low over her face; only red glossy lips being barely visible. A wicked spear with a leather covered head is strapped to her back and a massive shield sits over that; a mace hangs at her right hip, a tome at her left; her right wrist carries a finely crafted red dragon bracelet while each bracer carries a large, dark red rune. The woman makes her way away from the tree line and approaches the river. She raises her voice to speak over the rush of the water. Her voice is calm and polite and carries a Chondathan accent with a noble-like tone, "The path you travel is not your own. Who are you and what brings you upon my heels this evening?"
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Post by Hellwalker on Jun 30, 2012 11:03:58 GMT -5
The woman rises easily with perhaps a bit of haste, approaching the river. Before responding she offers a bow, though she never takes her eyes off the figure across the water. As she straightens she responds in a rich, firm voice that carries the deep utterances of the complicated language she chooses to respond in well; the inhuman phrases of draconic flowing with the ease of a master linguist.
"Wyhukunfii yonhu unradrhuonmyunyra onbayra anyonhu nionradr, Linunmydrhuimymy. Zii stylii poehuunrak kunwdrmy, myiigounrak dry baean niylieki dry drnii Linmydr Liekraunwunstiradr Erastuniradr Yrai ziniyli zii ziundrraimymyity cheraty edr drnii niiety yw drnii drhueunch."
// Translation for draconic reading eyes only!: "Forgive our intrusion upon your hunt, Mistress. We come baring gifts, seeking to pay homage to the Most Magnificent Ancient One whom we witnessed land at the head of the trail." //End translation!
She spreads her hands in a placating gesture, tipping her head, though once again her eyes remain fixed upon the woman across the water, her regard intent and eager.
***
Upon noting the haste in which his female companion approaches the newcomer, a small smirk of amusement comes upon the man's face, he stands slowly, making his way towards the riverside with no particular haste in contrast. He comes to a stop some distance behind the woman, offering an incline of his head and a friendly smile towards the newcomer after his companion has spoken.
Calculating amber eyes settle upon the form across the river, awaiting a reply to his companion's greeting before speaking himself...
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Post by Lady Frost on Jun 30, 2012 19:44:07 GMT -5
The woman replies calmly, "If you wish to converse, I ask you speak common."
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Post by Hellwalker on Jul 1, 2012 11:39:36 GMT -5
With a faint quirk of a smirk touching her lips the woman shifts slightly, both hands moving to gesture towards her companion with a slight dip of her posture.
The man's amber eyes flicker briefly to his female companion before addressing the armored figure across the water, his posture casual, a friendly smile upon his face.
"Forgive my... companion's... lack of courtesy. We have come here searching for a sign, of sorts; a dragon seen not so far from here. I assume it is no coincidence we've found you here at the end of the trail, stranger, so tell me... would you be so kind as to tell me what you know, hm?"
His gaze flickers briefly to the bracelet around the stranger's wrist before settling upon her face again, maintaining a pleasant smile.
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Post by highknight on Jul 1, 2012 11:48:06 GMT -5
Several ravens and vultures land in trees scattered throughout the area, while other forest life scatters from the meeting.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jul 2, 2012 0:51:06 GMT -5
The woman's head rises some and then bounces slowly in a thoughtful nod.
"Dragons..."
Her left gauntlet rises up and touches at her lips for a moment.
"There /was/ a dragon, yes. I do not expect this dragon is the sign you are looking for, however."
Her voice, while not changing tonally, begins to hint towards rising annoyance. "Perhaps if you are capable of being more specific than alluding to general questions you will find more success. If you cannot, let us each depart our ways now and save the expensive time that is already being wasted."
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Post by Pedantry INC on Jul 2, 2012 6:38:56 GMT -5
The woman utters a soft 'hmh', then with a casual air speaks;
"It was our intention to seek the dragon itself, that we might treat with it. Unfortunate that it seems to have vanished where it landed no? I suppose there are a number of explanations, dragons are masters of the arcane, after all."
She pauses a moment, a casual flick of her gaze taking in the stranger.
"Forgive that we've taken your time of course, it was not my intention to interrupt .. one such as yourself."
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Post by Hellwalker on Jul 2, 2012 8:09:57 GMT -5
The man seems to consider his companion's words for a moment, before adding himself:
"My name is Mahrek Vargas, and this is Mirrir." He gestures to the woman at his side.
"Know that we come here with solely benevolent intentions, however, and know that I bring a friendly message, as well as gifts, for the Magnificent Red we witnessed, and perhaps an offer that may be of interest to your... master?"
A calculating gaze lingers on the armored stranger across the river before he continues.
"Allow me to be blunt, as it seems neither of us have the desire for games of the mind on this particular eve. I wish to know where the dragon came from, its identity and its current whereabouts, so that we may pay our respects properly, and to gain an audience with the Great Red. Furthermore, I must admit I am curious as to your purpose here, and your own identity."
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Post by Pedantry INC on Jul 2, 2012 13:38:29 GMT -5
His words instantly seem to cause the woman consternation, a faint wince causing a slight narrowing of her left eye as her lips purse, nails clicking together as she flexes her fingers.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jul 2, 2012 18:07:39 GMT -5
The woman's lips quirk faintly to the right in a very brief smirk at his mention of "Master". Once he is finished, she replies, "Mahrek Vargas and Mirrir, I am Zoe". She then makes a skyward motion with her right hand.
"The evening presses on and we have been idle in one place too long, especially being at the end of a trail of /dead/ bodies." She emphasizes the word with mild distaste.
"Let us make our way north along the river to Tyrluk. Perhaps there we can converse in a more appropriate setting."
"Should you find this acceptable, when you have gathered your things and are ready we can go. Assuming you do not need me to incapacitate everything ahead of time for you to be able to kill it, we will follow you both."
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Post by Hellwalker on Jul 2, 2012 23:49:01 GMT -5
"As you wish, " the man offers following a slight nod and a polite smile. He then returns to the campsite to collect his robes, once again assuming an utterly mundane appearance, clad in the nondescript robes, hood pulled low.
Casting a look into the trees, her gaze lingering on one of the gathered ravens for a moment, Mirrir nods in unison.
“I’ve no objection to seeking a more comfortable arrangement. I would be more than glad to lead on.”
She moves to the campfire, shouldering her pack and hefting her shield once more, waits for the other two a moment, then sets the course, moving into the woods at a comfortable pace.
Once they are well on their way beneath the canopy of the King's Forest, Mahrek makes casual mention of an inn in Tyrluk that, although quaint, may suit their needs for the time being - one he's already renting a room in.
Mirrir meets any hostile combatants within the forest along the way with a defensive foot first, her strikes often savage, taking full advantage of the wicked curve to her blade while her robed companion takes a far less active role, merely setting Mirrir's weapon aflame with arcane fire before watching the battles take place in detached amusement. She leaves no living victims in her wake as they set their course towards Tyrluk and the room that awaits them there.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jul 3, 2012 5:55:50 GMT -5
Zoe follows them at a distance of about 7 yards. Her mace and shield hang unprepared in their respective spots as she leaves Mirrir to the combat. So long as Mirrir has everything under control, she simply walks behind making no apparent move to use any magics.
One unusual note would be that any screams or cries from the monsters that are being slain would sound eerily faded and distant. Perhaps like their voices are hoarse. The effect is constant, without fail.
//Should either of the two have had a chance to inspect her shield at some point, they'd notice it appears like uncooled lava; slowly, but constantly shifting over it's surface. One may also note that nearly every item from her packs to her armor and weapons 'appear' (either through visible runes, spellcraft, or common knowledge) heavily enchanted. To those able to detect such, she may also give off a strong aura of magic seeing as she is heavily warded.
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Post by Hellwalker on Jul 3, 2012 8:26:55 GMT -5
As they reach Tyrluk, the robed man leads them to the local inn and one of the rooms within. They find themselves in a small room, its only features of note a neatly made bed, a footlocker and a vase.
"Do forgive the poor accommodations, hm? I had not expected visitors in this little cage, and it is certainly not my intention to insult you with such an underwhelming welcome. I expect it will suffice for the moment, however." The man offers as he takes up a post by the wall of the room. He then turns those vibrant amber eyes upon Zoe, a curious spark in their depths.
"Now, I believe you had some answers to offer. If you will humor me, of course."
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Post by Pedantry INC on Jul 3, 2012 18:36:48 GMT -5
Several times along the journey Mirrir lofted her voice in battle, calling out condemning phrases in Draconic, seeming to cause her foes to cringe. Other times her calls viciously triumphant, spurring herself on it seems, to a more savage style of fighting.
-
Mirrir takes in the sparse room with a dissatisfied look, irritation plain as she spares Mahrek a flat glance before settling down her pack and takes to unbuckling her bracers and breastplate. She watches Zoe as she does, seeming to have a cautious air despite her casual actions.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jul 3, 2012 22:29:52 GMT -5
As they approach the inn door, Zoe is suddenly accompanied by an elf-like, male appearing being. His dark brown and black attire heavily conceals him and he enters immediately after Zoe. He moves to the side of the entryway making no noise.
Zoe motions to him casually before moving on her way, "This is Razzemal."
The male simply stands quietly outside the room door as they all enter; staying there even after the door closes.
After looking into the room she turns around and asks the innkeeper if he would allow them to borrow a few chairs. Assuming he agrees (//as I see little reason he wouldn't), she brings in a few chairs to sit on.
"This should suit us just fine."
She proceeds to set her things in the far corner, including her gloves, before moving to a chair. With slender fingers tipped with half-inch adamantine fingernails, she reaches up to lower her hood revealing raven black hair and alluring brown eyes surrounded in dark makeup. Her skin is flawless, almost unnaturally.
Once it appears the others have settled she speaks, "Let me see if I can recall your questions... The dragon you saw land in the forest is Rheyenthiel. His past and present locations are private, though should your gifts be significant enough, I can likely arrange a meeting."
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Post by Hellwalker on Jul 3, 2012 23:06:22 GMT -5
A vaguely amused look touches Mahrek's features.
"Come now, Zoe; surely you do not think I went through all this trouble in order to bring the dragon a lamb to feast on for the evening, hm? No, I came not only to pay my respects to my betters, but to offer Magnificent Rheyenthiel a place in a new world; a world far more to our liking. As much as I would wish to offer this gift freely, I'm afraid I must ask the Great Red for a small service in return, however, and therein lies the offer."
He pauses a moment to regard Zoe through an assessing gaze.
"I would share the details with the Great Red itself, as neither you or I have the luxury of time to repeat ourselves, I suspect, but before I formally request an audience with this... Rheyenthiel... I would like to know what your relationship to the dragon is. I expect you already know far more about me than I know about you, after all."
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Post by Pedantry INC on Jul 3, 2012 23:46:29 GMT -5
Mirrir seems to exert a fair bit of effort to control herself, jaw clenching as her fingers flex, inch long nails clicking together. For a long moment she regards Mahrek in the manner that suggests she might lash out violently as her lips curl into a scowl. As her lips part to speak however, she pauses, and instead looks to Zoe, making an apologetic gesture by spreading her hands and tipping her head, interjecting simply;
"You will have to forgive Mahrek, he forgets his manners, and his -place-. If you would be so kind as to indulge him, however, I would be grateful."
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Post by Lady Frost on Jul 4, 2012 1:30:41 GMT -5
"In fact, I know nothing of you Mister Vargas as I have been outside of Cormyr for a time. That is why I have little desire to reveal any information to you. Perhaps each of you will tell me a bit about yourselves first. What would I learn should I go looking for information about you both?"
//As we get to private information we'll have to move this conversation elsewhere.
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Post by Simulacrum on Jul 4, 2012 3:59:09 GMT -5
A rough looking traveler enters the Inn and orders a small meal and begins chatting with anyone that is around to listen.
You hear the rumor about the Shrine of Ilmater? I heard their was a huge fire there....and wont no accident either! *continues to chew his food and talk* Murder too! Everyone of the priest was sleeping there. Dead and had their head Stolen! *shakes his head in disbelief* Someone said there were markings in Blood all over the place. Even the Altar had a symbol of Loviatar on it! *his own news seems to ruin his appetite as he stops eating* Well...I am hitting the road and getting as far as possible from here.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jul 4, 2012 5:45:55 GMT -5
Zoe suddenly raises a silencing hand to the others as she quickly stands and moves to the door. She turns the handle and cracks the door letting the man's conversation easily into the room.
After the man finishes and makes his way out, she opens the door a bit more and mumbles something to Razzemal who immediately leaves the inn. She slowly closes the door, a deep furrow across her brow as she thinks.
"Do either of you know anything about what this man just spoke of?" She raises a finger briefly halting any immediate response. "Now would be an extremely poor time to lie to me." She lowers her finger in an indication that she is prepared to listen.
//feel free to send me a private response if needed.
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Post by Grozer on Jul 4, 2012 20:40:33 GMT -5
"Bah!" He growled realizing his effort to brush free the dust from days of riding was fruitless. Resigned to his travel-worn appearance, he stepped through the Inn door only to be run into by the rough looking traveler who was leaving.
"Careful, lad!" Ranan leveled his gaze at the man, clearly agitated, before pushing past and toward the bar. His heavy boots pounded a path along the wooden planks of the floor ending with the thud of saddlebags being dropped.
The look of annoyance quickly faded as he reached the Innkeeper, and was replaced by a charming and confident smile along with his usual boisterous voice, "My good man, something hot to eat and a mug of ale. Be certain to keep it full aye?" Ranan slide into a chair placing a short stack of lions on the counter in plain sight, while waiting for food.
"I'll need a room... and a hot bath as well. Perhaps you know of a young lass who can use some gold? I've been riding for days and need my clothes tended to...... among -other- things." Ranan added the emphasis and then chuckled, stopping only to take a long drink of ale from the mug.
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Post by Lady Frost on Jul 5, 2012 3:35:43 GMT -5
Razzemal pauses as the traveler bumps into Ranan and Ranan then moves into the inn. He watches Ranan pass then quickly makes his way out the door.
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Post by Hellwalker on Jul 5, 2012 8:10:38 GMT -5
The three carry out a conversation behind the closed door for some time, after which the man clad in simple robes, hood pulled low to cover his face is the first to leave the room, immediately making his way out of the inn and to the south, out of Tyrluk and onto the open road...
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