The Daily Dragon: Journals

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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sat Aug 23, 2014 6:56 pm

Her cheek still felt hot as it throbbed in time with her heartbeat-

-She wasn't quite sure how that part of it worked. Apparently the same as normal, despite the weight and composition?-

-and while she hadn't taken the time to look in a mirror, it was all but certain with her complexion that it was a rich red to go with the pain. It was no less than she deserved after what she'd almost done. That and more. And he'd swept her clear, after all that!

Swiping at her face to clear the tears from her eyes, she focused on the hot pain of her cheek, and used its angry presence to exclude everything else from her thoughts. It calmed enough for her to concentrate on the spell she would need to set right what she had damaged.

And then she would ... something. This could have happened anywhere else and others could have been hurt...
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sat Aug 23, 2014 6:57 pm

"Okay, okay.. I can get used to this."

He was looking at the play house. Where else was he going to go, really? It was the only thing around that resembled home, and hiding had never occurred to him.

"I mean it's not all bad. The view is nice."

Busy night, evening- whatever. There must be a show on. Probably with his elf on stage. Meant crowds. Meant that he was staring arms-crossed into a sea of asses. Some of which doubtless saw a bit of attention as he made his way through them, careful not to get kicked if he could avoid it.

"And I get to surprise him all over again.."
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sun Aug 24, 2014 3:07 pm

After all the research he did in the Watchful Order of Magist and Protectors library, he felt confident on what type of runestave he wanted to acquire. Now was the job of finding a proper crafter and funds to purchase the item. He frowned as he inspected his notes of the amount of wealth he had available," not enough!" ,he thought to himself.


He glanced at King sitting on the floor besides him, seeing the belt wrapped around the chest area of the dog and the necklace around the dog's neck. Sarafina was sitting on King's back, with a necklace around the weasel's neck. Aulric pondered with what else he had magically that could help his animal friends.


Staring at King, Aulric wondered how he could get King to be like an animal companion or familiar to him like Sarafina. As far as he found out was there only could be one familiar and that was it. Frowning , he wondered if there was a way for him to communicate with King better. Aulric was pleased with lord Jax Hawkwinter's training with King. He would definitely recommend Jax to anyone needing some animal training done.


Life was to precious to be reckless and overconfident with. He had been very lucky so far, but now he had to be smarter to deal with any difficulties he stumbled upon. He had found a new purpose and direction to do with his life now.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sun Aug 31, 2014 3:42 pm

Loth'Gar Journal Entry 25: The Wrath of Tabbitha

He could hear gentle sobbing. It was obvious where it was coming from to, but he made a point of letting his footfalls sound and stopping outside the door for a moment. Once he deemed he had allowed the woman sufficient time to recover her composure, he tapped softly on the door. "Tabbitha? are you in there?" he already knew the answer but wanted to allow the proud woman to think he was oblivious to her cries. "Hearing a just slightly puffy affirmative, he eased open the door and delivered the fresh linens and tray of simple but hot food to the woman. Upon seeing her still battered face, he felt a might swell of indignant rage, but managed to suppress it, lest he upset the woman. They had found her beaten and robbed in an alley way not far from the Helping Hand Orphanage, usually a fairly quiet and uneventful area of the Docks. Even worse, it was so close to the half-orcs own home of Starn Street that he felt angry and ashamed he didn't hear the attack and intercede. Luckily it seemed that hurt and money were all they inflicted, but the proud woman had been badly beaten and shaken, for she had tried to fend off the would be robber, who had repaid her for her efforts.

Oh, but he planned to reap some bloody justice! He would not kill whoever it was when he found them, but he knew a thing about brawls and intended to have a darn good one before handing the perpetrator over to the Watch. A beating yes, but murder was cold and soulless, two things he didn't consider of himself. The vigilante justice he dealt was swift but not without mercy. Having delivered the goods, he left the room, his step slightly stiffer than usual, his face serene but a mask to hide the turmoil he felt. So close to his home! He regularly patrolled the areas of the Dock where the petty criminals liked to hangout, clearing them off home with a boot or two, reminding them that it wasn't just the Watch they had to look out for. Usually there wasn't a lot of danger to it, and he very rarely had any serious trouble in his own neighbourhood. But he sighed heavily. Not this time, now some rabid, flea bitten mongrel had moved in and was hurting people, seriously hurting them. This he could not allow to continue.

A few more hours remained on the shift he was helping with, but by the end of it the sun would be setting and he would be free of commitments until the proceeding day. He planned to make good use of this time. Taking a deep breath, he hurried along to the kitchens to assist in preparing the soup for supper. He always found solace in simple, repetitive and honest work. There would be a mound of vegetables to peel and chop, meat to cut and a fire to stoke. The food from the cauldron could feed perhaps tow hundred bellies, which would be less than might turn up, but that was always the thing of it. Though he sponsored the temple and volunteered there, the work was always beyond the resources they had. Still, it was something. Hailing the kitchen stall, he washed his hands in the warm rose water, tucked back his hair and donned an apron. There were mouths to feed now, and mouths to break later!
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sun Aug 31, 2014 7:37 pm

The pudgy Hin was becoming more aware day by day that her latest burden was just about due. More movement and discomfort inside her, finding herself out of breath and resting all the time. Putting that familiar of hers to work keeping life as tolerable as it could get. Tonight though she had just given up. She lounged in her room frequently turning over and changing position in a futile effort to stay comfortable in any fashion. Constantly sending the imp to and fro for whatever might just placate her in the short term. Gods know at this point the only one likely to be able to visit her unscathed was Ziandra, but that was becoming a rarer thing of late. Hard to track the elf down anymore.

"Why do I keep doing this? It gets miserable and then some, then.. what. I have the little thing and a month later for some reason another one seems like a good idea. That's insanity, isn't it?"

The imp did not comment. Not openly. Internally it probably had something cross it's mind regarding just how much of her activity in life qualified, but it was smart enough to shut up and rub her feet.
Sera on the other hand busied herself rolling onto her side once more, then quickly grunting and denying the option. Slowly sitting up in a state far more haggard, frustrated, and altogether unladylike than usual. Up to and including some unladylike behavior from her stomach in the form of complaining about what she'd eaten earlier.

"Blasted cravings.. demanding on both ends. Ahl'zarde, I need.."

She narrowed her eyes. Head tilting.. trying to feel out the urge.

"I need heavy cream, and limes, and some of those fluffy eggs from the breakfast the coxswain serves."

No, he thought as he bowed and made off to acquire her things. You need to keep one of these things so it can do this job for you in a few years and take the load off me.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Thu Sep 04, 2014 10:56 pm

She was running; again. Her body had long transformed from the sloppy shape she’d been getting into when living in the city. Now she was harder in all the right ways. It’s funny how things could change you in a flash and then change you again. So she was running, faster and faster, while she might not be able to fully outrun a horse, she could certainly go places that same horse couldn’t. She twisted sharply to her left to leave the deer track Then spying a branch that would take her weight she shifted her balance with nary but a pause in the long strides she could take, moving faster again and then launched herself into the air. The air moved past her face even covered as it was now with that thin veil of green forest cloth, her body moving as it needed to, her arms didn’t windmill like she’d seen others do to try and gain further movement, not until she needed them to. Her legs tucked to minimize the weight adjustment as her hands grasped the branch. She needed to get some claws, that was a thought she did have. Perhaps some of those thief claws that would provide her the ability to grip without worry. But then the momentum of her weight adjusted as she swung and elongated her form to bring the pendulum into effect. Who needed a “training ground” like that contraption in the fields that so many tried not to kill themselves on. No, she had the forest and it had her. She was in the tree without really considering it and up her feet and then legs hooking around the second branch. Then her hands found their ideal positions and she was up. The branch itself would probably make more than one person freak out, it was long and narrow, it didn’t look like it was designed to take any weight but she’d already figured out that it would, so up she went onto her feet. Momentum meant she would keep that pace she’d had on the ground. Her feet soundlessly pounding along the wood just barely long enough to perhaps depress the springy moss that could betray her passage then she was gone again. Launching herself further than before, extending her limbs and this time she did windmill her arms, her legs folding at the knee to help her brace and find rapid purchase on the tree trunk she’d aimed for on instinct. The route was new, the changes of pace it gave her would help her hone her instincts and sharpen her mind so she no longer would be complacent. Expect the unexpected, don’t show weakness. Hit and then gone. That was the lesson she’d teach them, and they would come. The word had already been put out through small elven networks, the Waterdeep 1st Rangers would be born and it would give her the chance she needed, something to bring her that link to the city.


Later that day when she was washing in the river as she did after the long full length of the morning run she’d put herself through she considered the bruises on her arms and slight marks on her fingers. Only one torn nail, not bad for a day’s work, then she’d harvest some wild garlic she’d seen and grind it to a paste with some honey then paint it on the wound to keep it safe. Self-sufficient she’d discovered herself to be; self-assured now as well and they’d be the same before long, when they arrived. As for the threat she’d been given, the warning, someone wanted to burn her alive. Her eyes hardened as she stared out across the river knee deep with the water swirling round her, her teeth clenched and her eyes were like two frosty diamonds. She’d faced worse. The threat was considered a warning, one she’d taken to heart and would deal with if the time was needed. Her nostrils flared slightly as she inhaled then turned to wade her way out of the water and begin to dress once more, a few moments later, the only evidence of her passage were wet footprints on the rock and slightly swinging branch, but the sun would soon dry that and the branch was already going back to its normal sway in the breeze.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Thu Sep 04, 2014 10:56 pm

She had always rejected schedules, routines and orders. Now ... she was finding them helpful.

Her day was more or less set, now. Rise and eat early, then join in training in the Fields and receive some fresh bruises, returning for a hot shower and some personal time. Then a lazy lunch nursing the newly-acquired bruises, followed by an afternoon working on her artwork (usually in the Market, but often in the Gardens).

Mostly. There was still the odd morning where sleep had been elusive or worse, and the morning wake-up call was met with a blanket pulled over the head. And sometimes she took the afternoon off to shop instead of draw, paint, or sculpt.

But the schedule helped. Being busy helped. And there was always room to improve.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Fri Sep 05, 2014 1:51 pm

He flew around in the fields of triumph with more ease and grace since he first learned the spell. King watched from the ground,with a dog like curious expression of his face. Sarafina was wrapped around his neck complaining about having to fly all the time. {You had to learn to fly! Why not learn to climb, so I can benefit from it too!}


Aulric chuckled and thought back to Sarfina,[This is funner than climbing trees or walls.]


There was no reply from his familiar, but he could feel the anger and frustration from the weasel. He landed on the ground some 100 feet from King. With a few words in elvish, King and Aulric switched places from the benign transposition spell casted. Calling out King's name in Elvish ,still, he watched the giant Cormyrean Molosser come running to him. He knew that King wasn't going to be useful much longer with protecting the half-elf in the near future. The dog wasn't able to fight the more dangerous creatures that he would encounter out in the wilds. He debated that when he left for locating the missing shards, that maybe King could stay with a friend. He had a gut feeling that King might not make through the journey in one piece, which made him frown. He did like having the giant mutt with him!
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Tue Sep 09, 2014 11:43 am

"What a way to start an adventure, fighting trolls in the middle of the night!", he commented to his familiar, Sarafina.


{You were very lucky the last troll didn't maul us to death!},was the only reply from the weasel to Aulric.


Chuckling to his self," Sarafina, you saw how we handled the ugly brutes of trolls! I mean my orbs of acid and Burgons invisible fire spell..........",he paused there for a second. "You know that Aerin was very good with the crossbow, and something about the bolts affecting the trolls were very handy to have too." The only response from his familiar was a groan that sounded to motherly like, saying "What am I going to do with him!"


Aulric checked his body over, but knew that Burgon had healed him with his healing powers from his patron, Waukeen. Still it was instinctual to check yourself over after getting mauled by a troll. He had replaced his clothing he was wearing in the fight, I mean they were basically shredded! He figured from now on, during this search, he was going to better prepared to deal with danger in the night. For one he was probably going to cast some spells on his self before sleeping, there were plenty of spells that would last for hours, that would be useful if suddenly awaken to danger like the trolls attacking. He started making a mental list of what spells to use next time and also maybe sleeping with his clothing on too. I mean the night clothes just didn't work well with fights!
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Shamsy » Tue Oct 28, 2014 12:46 am

Here ye Here ye!

The Guild Masters of the Daily Dragon recently sent down an announcement to all columnists. After a brief pause in production, the broad sheets will once again rustle in ever carriage and table across the City of Splendors!There will be some slight changes to everyones favorite publication and all contributors are expected to abide by these rules, lest their piece fall foul of the Guild Masters...

-Publications will now become a fortnightly affair.

-Some readers were confused by a lack of identification, so each column should start with a title identifying the subject (PC). Eg 'Sjach Kills Several in Fireball Madness'

-It is still one column (submission) for one subject per columnist (Player).

-The very minimum length of each piece is one standard page without font and excessive spacing.

-The pay is worked out based on the subjects average wage (average gold for their level x1). The paymaster is a grumpy, lazy old gnome, so including subject name and career fame (level) is encouraged, lest pay be docked!

-Submit all completed columns to Shamsy

The Guild Masters warn that this is a tough time for broadsheets, so the future of the paper is no certain thing.

Yours in writing, Ed
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Shamsy » Fri Oct 31, 2014 1:28 am

The Day Lokian Grod Lost His Eye

Some time before he came to Waterdeep Lokian wandered the forests of The North with a band of roving scouts. There was strength in numbers unfortunately that idea was not exclusive of the great people of The North. Orcs roamed in bands as well and it was only a matter of time for the two bands to meet. The two bands were evenly matched, yeah there’s strength in numbers but too many and you draw attention as well.

The battle was pretty well straight forward as most battles went. Really it wasn’t even a battle it was more of a small skirmish than anything. But it was still something notable as it was the day that Lokian Grod lost his eye. The two bands had crossed one another in a glacial valley walled on either side with ice and snow. As was the custom the Orcs had taken the high ground as Lokian's band had traveled the valley foraging for food and supplies for their village.

The fight began with a war cry from the Orc bands leader and down the valley walls they came. The archer of Lokian's group began to fire arrows at the closing band but it was not long before firing arrows became a bad idea. Lokian being the mightiest of the group strode out to the front; his giant shield placed firmly in front of him and a spear resting on top of it. It was not one moment later until the orcs band crashed into Lokian and his own band. The first orc had met Lokian shoulder tackling into his shield. Lokian over head thrust his spear into the orcs face.

The orc let out a howl and then a roar taking its great club in hand it began swinging wildly. Lokian's shield rang with every clash. Every wild swing forced Lokian back against the ice a little more. Orcs and men both fell one by one on either side of Lokian. Finally after what seemed like hours but was only actually a few seconds later the orc bands leader flew into a rage and charged at Lokian. The Orc leader’s first attack shattered Lokian's shield. Lokian closed in gripping his spear close to its head drove it into the Orc leaders shoulder. The Orc Leader roared in pain and head butted Lokian before wrapping its arms around him and body slamming him into the ice splintering the ice. Lokian scrambled to his feet as the Orc leader was about to drive his war axe into him. Using both hands, Lokian thrust the spear at the raging orc leader’s belly. The orc leader back hand swung its axe and the blade of it cutting deep into his face and raking across his eyeball. Lokian could feel blood trickle down his face and was having a hard time seeing but he had to continue to fight or he would lose his life things; were that simple. Either fight or die and Lokian kept fighting.

Soon though the Orc leader began to stager and seemed to be winded. Lokian took this opportunity to press what little advantage he had and smashed the haft of the spear and knocked him back. The Orc leader staggered back and made a heavy handed swing, missing Lokian completely. Stepping to the Orc leaders side Lokian thrust his spear into the orc leader’s throat.

The orc leader gargled on its own blackened blood and fell to his butt and flopped from there to his back, the pool of blood freezing in layers under him. The skirmish was hard won but was still won. Lokian began gathering those who had survived and began to stabilize them and get them on their feet. What little in the way of equipment the orcs had Lokian's group had was gathered and brought back to the village.

((This is a perfect length for any who are not certain about the admittedly vague requirements listed. Thank you Sprall for providing a perfect example!))
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Shamsy » Fri Oct 31, 2014 1:34 am

Burgon Journal Entry 7: Goldwirth Funeral and Last Rites


Burgon was in a good mood. He was whistling, his step lighter (though still weighed down by the reality of gravity and his superior paunch). It was late at night, but he felt invigorated and energised as he worked. He was now considerably more wealthy than he had been mere days before, and he was back I the safety and comfort of Waterdeep. His last venture had worked out, albeit with a few… hitches and surprises along the way. Burgon had thought his ally Red gone with the gods, but lo and behold, mere days later the man was back, in the body of a halfling no less! A powerful ally for sure, and one Burgon would have missed. Funny how things work out, he thought with a smile as he worked.

Now, as a merchant and favoured of his deity, Burgon had certain duties he must perform, and ventures small and large all over the city and even a few outside of it. Any opportunity he saw was worth perusing, and being a cleric and a businessman, there were certain industries perfect for his unique combination. Clerics of Waukeen were almost without exception shrewd business people, and Burgon had the eye and heart for wealth and power needed for the merchant life. So it was really little surprise to him that he had somehow come into the possession of a small funeral home. Not a large affair by any means, and one that he only practiced part time, the small shop still managed to turn a tidy little sum and also gave him a place to practice his priestly duties and rituals.

This night he was hard at work on the bodies of two adventurers who had succumbed to a rather vicious and terrible death at the hands… well, mandibles… of a swarm of centipedes. Burgon shivered at the thought of those thousands of legs, the pain of the fangs as they pierced the flesh to inject their lethal poison into the victims blood… Not a good way to go at all, but certainly not the worst death imaginable, as adventurers had hundreds of terrible and creative means of departing this mortal coil. He didn't want to think to much about some of the other ways… Indeed, the two bodies he was working on both wore masks of horror and screams, a sure sign that they had died in terrible agony. Their glassy eyes saw no more, but the expressions on their faces told the story their tongues never would again. Burgon had stripped the bodies of their filthy clothes and there they lay on two large stone slabs, naked as the day they were born. Fortunately the bodies were fresh, no more than a day or so before they were discovered. A body left much longer was a whole other mess. Fortunate then his priestly magic held decomposition at bay. Just another perfect reason that so many clerics were involved in the death industry… But to work! He had washed the pair thoroughly of grime and swamp filth. He had then used a complicated and expensive series of alchemical oils, herbs and unguents to preserve the body. That required a lot of work, and embalming was a delicate, timely process. A good thing Burgon's old master had shown him through the process several times, as well as leaving several tomes for the young priest to read. It had taken a few days, but the bodies were now at the stage where they would no longer require magic to sustain them, barring some great incident. The chemical embalming complete, Burgon had then tidied the pair up and added a few herbs and perfumes to enhance the smell. The pair now smelt like a lovely florist shop, a sharp contrast to the reality of their predicament.

The wounds still remained, though they were only tiny pin pricks really. The faces… they still bore the terrible death masks the pair had worn when they were found. Ah, but these ones were fortunate. Often a dirt hole and a cheap wooden casket were the best an adventurer could hope for. Perhaps it was a growing sympathy and (though he would never admit it) sense of brotherhood Burgon felt, but these two were special. The work completed at long last, Burgon wiped his hands on a small white cloth, nodding in satisfaction at his work. He just hoped that someone would treat his mortal remains as well as he had done so. who knows, Red may have been on that slab instead of you two, he though with a grimace.

Blowing out the candles the surrounded the slabs in the tiny room, he departed, determining that on the morrow he would have the bodies delivered and his fine craft and hard work could be properly appreciated. "Gods rest you." he said with a chuckle, closing the door gently behind him.
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Shamsy » Thu Nov 06, 2014 1:35 am

The Journal of Xerxsephira Rustgore

The Gnome lass had been a bit on the busy side. Gnomes were industrious folk after all, so this should surprise nobody. The reasons for it might, but how often did one know that? And all this assumed anyone even knew where she worked.. which they might. The second or third minor explosion in an inn's cheapest bedroom tended to attract attention. No explosions today though! Today she was just comparing notes. Looking at papers with sketches of plants and notes about their uses written on them, strewn all over the bed around her. Muttering as ideas streamed across her busy little mind.

"So the powdered adamant is incorruptible, figuratively and literally.. the flakes from a gorgon lair have the right matrices for the adaptation as long as the dosage is very small and slowly done. Maybe set it up in a colloidal solution of holy water blessed by Gond. That sounds just about right as long as the dosage isn't off."

She'd reach for one more paper from the bed before her. Squinting over some of the notes on it's sides.

"I have -got- to do this slowly though.. That's annoying, but if I don't give myself time I'm liable to end up in someone's garden."

She ended up with a small pile. Just five sheets of parchment, one of which was notes on the other four. Set at her bedside while she brushed the rest unceremoniously to the floor. Ending the grand gesture with an unexpected yawn and a slow topple to her back. Staring at the night sky through an unbarred window.

"Gonna show all of em I'm no thin wire.. Not for long anyway."


The Journal of Seraphina Tosscobble

The Hin had reservations about this research after last time. Left in her room with no company apart from the fiend sworn to her service, unless one could count the crystal she sat over the case of as a third presence. Something she was no longer sure of the answer to. The box was closed, Ethran had cautioned about being exposed to it for any length of time really. There was such a war being fought in her. Power and knowledge versus caution, sanity, maybe a scrap of morality that had survived in her. Nurtured even by the right people asking her the right questions.

"Woke up trying to claw my own throat out he says."

The Hin eyeballed her familiar briefly, gods know why. Then the box. A brief rub at her neck followed. Did she need to know what was inside this thing?

..What if some day knowing it saved something she valued? The voice she heard next came from the corner of the room her familiar occupied. The scarlet skinned fiend hadn't looked up from the racy novel he was working on, he just spoke. Intuiting what she worried about.

"It's not about reasons, it's about character. You've never backed away from power before, have you? Particularly a rare species of it."

The Halfing wasn't sure if she was reassured or worried that her familiar was right.
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Shamsy » Thu Nov 06, 2014 1:40 am

Susanna's Slip

The rumor-mills had abounded with speculation at her return and redoubled when she re-registered at the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors as if nothing had happened. So in hindsight, it was probably inevitable.

In her own personal life, pressure had been steadily building for months. She'd been oh so careful, with and without external help, to hold herself in check, and her daily morning workouts with Dev were usually enough for her. Usually. But she had power, and that was enough to straighten her spine and put timber into her voice when required. So while it was often easy for onlookers to note that she was still in a fragile state and was often 'not completely here,' few of her acquaintances knew what was really going on in her head or how bad off she might still be.

Once she had re-registered with the Watchful Order, she visited infrequently in the afternoon hours to use the Order's comprehensive library. For those who paid attention, her study choices varied from the obvious to the obscure with no apparent pattern, chosen seemly on a whim whenever she visited. But she was quiet and pleasant enough, and the squirrel on her shoulder would often join her in perusing the book in question, which never failed to look cute.

(The squirrel alone, some said, was proof that this was not the Susanna who had been killed six years ago. She had hated squirrels with a passion for some completely irrational reason, even nicknaming a brutal toothed spell as, "Squirrel-Eater.")

Eventually, people plucked up courage to approach her and begin asking questions. Some she would answer, some she would ignore, and some she would just stare at until the questioner became uncomfortable and left. Questions of a magical nature were always answered, discussed or debated, and questions about her death and return were always ignored (and anyone asking the Godslayer the same question got a hostile glare). But as the list of people who would come watch moved from the curious to those with more idle time than they should have, some clever wight picked up on something else. It was a logical enough school of thought, given her boyfriend's known habits and the rumors flying, so she probably should have expected it.

But she didn't. So when the clever wight asked her a few theoretical questions and, once she was on a roll, followed it with, "Oh, how was it in the afterlife?" Susanna absently replied, "Very boring," before her mind properly caught up to the question. Clever Wight (henceforth to be referred to suchly) was clever enough to already be headed for the door at that time, but she glared figurative holes in his back anyway.

Clever Wight then made mention of her response to one of the only Theurgic casters of Mystra currently in town, one Jake Simmons who was known for his devout dedication to the Lady of Mysteries and had recently shown proficiency with third-order spells. While this was probably an intentional act on Clever Wight's part, it's entirely possible he did so mistakenly or with some good intentions ... but his choice precipitated a confrontation.

The next time he heard Susanna was on campus, Jake made a beeline for the library where she had ensconced herself and broke several unwritten rules with his loud verbal challenge. "Boring? Mystra's afterlife shall be anything but BORING! Working with the Weave itself and aiding the goddess directly-" and he went on for several minutes to that end, drawing the eye of every scholar in that section of the library (and the ire of every librarian on the premises). Susanna sat there as he worked himself up into a righteous fervor, apparently ignoring him ... but those who looked at her closely could see white begin to form under her fingernails as her grip shifted, could see arcane energies begin to stir the air around her as her own ire roused, and when he had finally exhausted breath and was simply glaring at her for a response, she looked up with eyes too clear and a smile too bright for the occasion.

"Yes, good servant. Boring. My time in the afterlife with Mystra was apparently so boring I was willing to be dragged back to life unwillingly by a godless man who ... who ..." she faltered for a moment, gathering herself, and it was then that the Guard marched in and overheard her as she continued. "Who made me understand that surely I'll never serve her again. Not her, not another god or goddess."

There was shocked silence, during which only the guardsmen moved. Terse hand-motions by the squad sergeant had them spread out, and he himself moved towards the sorceress.

"BLASPHEMY!" howled Jake after he regained his senses. Apparently, few had challenged his goddess in such an overt manner, and his hands fluttered ineffectually until he suddenly noticed the Watch's men right next to him. "GUARDS! Arrest this woman for crimes against the gods!"

The lieutenant leading the patrol had to consider that one, eyes going from Susanna to the theurge, and it was then that Susanna realized what she might potentially have brought on herself - and on Dev. Drawing herself up straight, she began to intone words of power only to be brought up short as the sergeant hit her with his gauntleted fist. It was a judicious blow, but still one capped with steel, and it turned her head and nigh knocked her down.

With a crack of displaced air, there was suddenly an eight-foot gray dragon on the chair where her tote had been resting, and it reared its head up and flared the head-spines that were so often mistaken for hair. In rudimentary Common, it hissed, "No strike master!" but then it, too, ceased when Susanna held up a hand between it and the sergeant.

The sorceress straightened, one hand going to the red mark on her jaw that would probably be something else shortly. There was an audible pop as she worked her jawbone around. "He is right, Stark," she finally says into the silence, her words calm and chosen with the deliberate care of one speaking through pain. Then, looking across the room at Jake, "As is he. I did blaspheme against the Lady Mystra, and would do so again."

The sergeant cleared his throat, then gestured to the door. The lieutenant picked up the cue. "Then, ma'am, you're going to have to come with us." With a nod, Susanna gathered her things and left with their escort, her head held high and without another glance back at her antagonist. And behind her, the murmur of rumormongers picked up again.
Of course it's evil! Kill it!
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Shamsy
 
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Shamsy » Sat Nov 15, 2014 4:20 pm

Seraphina Tosscobble

The Hin could not be more different in demeanor really, the two of them passing each other on the market streets like ships in the night. One of them lean and scarlet, sporting an endless grin and naught but questionable intent. The other a paragon of honesty and indulgence, but a stern looking one with nary a lean bone left in her body.

Seraphina paid the vagabond little enough attention. He didn't seem to be starving, and something in the eyes said he wasn't worth the trouble of trying to manipulate or form a contact out of. Besides, she had far too much on her mind. Her eyes wandered back to the cobblestones and their bland meandering patterns. Suitable to the meandering of her mind and a hopeful counter to the rampant caustic nature of what was on it. She had gone to lengths to make sure, tested benign commands on people who knew no better. No doubt was left to the Hin's mind that her voice was compelling obedience whenever she stressed a meaning with enough force. Simple things came more quickly, and uncostly ones more readily. This made sense to her, but it still failed to change the way she interpreted the gift.

She could steal wills, the choice to say yes or no. Unbidden an image returned to her mind from years past, an old man with cold hands and wrinkled skin and onerous appetites. His voice though was always silk, even when it was shattering a life. "The Master chooses, the Slave obeys."

She'd chosen in the end there, made her transition. The fact that it was a mere query away from blurring that line with anyone on this street that she saw just left some part of her feeling cold still. Something she doubtless would be wrestling with for a little while to come. No amount of distraction from strange crystals or a nagging sensation of emptiness in her belly (not just hunger this time either) was going to stop it just yet.

------

Red

The scarlet haired one spared at least a few seconds to leer at that curved lumbering prize making her way down the streets, but gods did she ever look like too much trouble to try and claim quickly. No, that was a months long project and he just did not have the time did he? Not close enough to grab anything on the way past either..

Red spins on his heel, takes a few steps backward just to prolong the viewing if nothing else. Gods, it would've satisfied that little tick on his shoulder pretty well wouldn't it? Even if she was small. He lets out a lingering wistful breath and puts his eyes back to that which was before him. The clamoring sea of asses attached to tall people. He needed to find one to take home if he could.. this was so much easier when he was taller.

He'd climbed lamp posts, shadowed people down alleys, but what was a three foot tall scoundrel to do? It's hard to clock someone over the head when you can barely reach their waist, and seduction is ever so much trickier when you resemble a child.

Except when it's not, which is a problem of an entirely different sort.

Red found himself back at a tavern as always when contending with such obstacles. If nothing else he could always get someone drunk and help them get home 'safely' right? After all, the little folk were trustworthy and nice.
Of course it's evil! Kill it!
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