conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Exegesis: [Cut.....]
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Torgarn: The humanoid with the spikes coming from his arms looks around at his current companions. They look a diverse group and he decides to speak up.   I think that if we are to work together on this mission, it is best if we all know at least something about each other. For my own part, I am Sarkan Mys. I channel the spirits of those heroes of the past to allow me to gain some part of their skill and abilities. It's good to meet you all. May honor and victory come to us all.  
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Qwertystop: The wisp flashes a sunny  yellow , revolves, and emits a few creaks and chirps.
  
   
   Spoiler: If you speak Sylvan 
    
  Certainly. 1234567 h
   123 Yes. 1234567 Greetings
  Agreement. 1234567 l
   12345678901234567 l
   12345678901234567 o
  
      1 Spirit 123 Channeller
   1234567 \ 1 /
   1 Hero 1 ----- 1 Vessel
   1234567 / 1 \
   12 Power 124 Borrower   
   12 Apologetic 123456 words
  Sorry 12345 Cannot 12345 make your sounds
   1 Unfortunate 123456 language
  
   1 self
  name
   1 I am 123456 air
   1234567 spark 1234 here? there?
   123456 wind 123 difference
   1234567890 pull 12 inwards
    
   
   Spoiler: Rough translation 
  Agreeing with and greeting Sarkan, apologizing for being unable to speak Common (nothing said about not understanding it), and giving its name. The name doesn't translate well as a name, as the best definitional fit is the-pull-before-lightning. The name sounds something like a soft crackling.
   
  
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Torgarn: Sarkan scratches his head sheepishly,   I may have simplified it more than I should for times sake. If you would like a better explanation, I am happy to give it. I draw from the soul energy of those who are alive, dead and even those who have yet to be born.  I mold this soul energy into a tangible form and use to grant me abilities beyond those of common men.  
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Jötunn: " The name's Faith, and this is Charity. We go where we're unexpected, secure the objectives and cause trouble for those in our way. "
  
  The red-headed halfling girl is grinning slightly as she speaks, and she balances the point of a sharp dagger on her outstretched finger.
  
  A moment after she finishes speaking however, she yelps quietly and fumbles for the dagger as it tumbles to the floor. A spot of blood wells up from her finger and she nurses it gingerly, eyes darting around the room as if daring people to comment.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Toliudar: Orwell blinks a few times, absorbing the idea that one of the people he was travelling with sucked the soul energy of unborn children.
  
  The youngish dwarf was clad in metal head to toe.  His beard and moustache are shorter and more sculpted than you saw on most dwarves.  His hands are large and gnarled, unusually so for one his age, and his hands shake with a clear palsy that makes eating a conscious effort.
  
   "I'm, um, Orwell Makepeace. By vocation, I'm a smith and healer.  I guess, if the orcs are still there, I'll have to fight too.  We all might." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Qwertystop: The wisp just observes for most of this, but chirrups at Faith's introduction
   
   Spoiler: Sylvan 
    style
   123 i
   123 k
   123 e
   123 y
   123 o
   12 fun  
   
  
  And arcs slowly downward at Orwell, like a bow, while whooshing
   
   Spoiler: Sylvan 
    
   123 h
  maker
  e 23 a
   1 n 3 l
   12 der
   123 r
    
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Exegesis: You are brought mugs. The hour that has gone by sips into night.
  
  Leaving in the twinkling small of before-morning they harness the oxen for the gates. Twelve hitched greatblack shadows are grinding the massive granite open. As soon as a hair of space is free you lunge through—and (“return the horses if you can”) your horsefleet sails into enemy land. Pulled through a scoured-enamel sky. Badlands chill on your arms. Steeds in line. Chill at your flanks. Tensed for the sight of approaching scouts. Your route is one that will take you past nowhere but the gathering rain. Nerves tensed for badlands troops. Atmosphere of cracked language. Break into full gallop. Your convoy fans out over the crags. Chewing in the saddle. Nightfall—you have to be there before then.
  
  [Cut.]
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Toliudar: Spoiler 
  Orwell would vote for the safer approach.  He is not a particularly daring 'leader'.
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Toliudar: Orwell gazes up at the path ahead.
  
   "Um.  What do you think? Tie up the horses and proceed  foot?" 
   
   Spoiler 
  Exegesis, some questions to help get our bearings:
  
   
   Do we have any idea of creatures that might be writing on a dwarven outpost attacked by orcs, but in the language of men? 
   Can we see any figures on the walls or in front of the gate? 
   Are there any dead in evidence? 
   About how far away are we? 
   Is the path even navigable with horses? 
   Are the gates open or closed? 
   If they're closed, did our briefing include any information about the staff at the monastery (names, titles, etc), or how to get the doors open? 
   Do we have any proof of our authority to be here, doing this? 
   
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Torgarn: I've no need for horses, we are certain to move with more stealth without them if we decide to move on without them.  
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Qwertystop: The wisp just traces quick arrows pointing onward, and flashes  yellow  at Sarkan's statement.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Qwertystop: A few visible sparks from the wisp serve for demonstration.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Torgarn: Sarkan draws his blade, which is shimmering with a blue light. He also points to his feet which have sandals made of a similar shade of blue in crystal.   I can walk on water and am able to hold my own in a fight.  
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Toliudar: Orwell nods uncertainly.
  
   "Okay, um.  We form up a double rank.  Those who think you're best at hitting things close up, take the front.  Magicky people in the middle.  Archers in the back.  And, um, wispy guy?  Just float where you want.  Um.  Let's go!" 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Torgarn: Sarkan heads to the front, pointing forward with his blade.   Let's get a move on.  