conversations: human
conversations:  GIANTSLAYER    
      Battle of Bloodmarch Hill    
  The town of Trunau is an armored fortress atop a hill; wall after wall ring each level of the plateau, each one more and more austere. From the wooden walls ringing the buildings at the base of the hill to the high stone walls guarding the acropolis, the town all but dares the surrounding orcs to attack. An imposing monument to humanity's hubris.
  
  And attack they have. Many a member of Trunau can tell tales of a battle they bore witness too, and none have more tales than Chief Defender Halgar, the grizzled leader of the town. But even for her hope springs eternal, and on this day the town celebrates the twelfth birthday of Halgar's daughter, Ruby.
  
  Jubilation fills the evening air in the normally staid town of Trunau, for it is the twelfth birthday of the Chief Defender’s youngest daughter, Ruby, and the townsfolk have been preparing all day for the ceremony and festivities to follow. A throng of spectators has amassed at the town Commons; the buzz of the crowd subsides as the weathered town leader, Halgra of the Blackened Blades, takes the stage and begins to speak.  “Thank you all for joining us this night. I take immense pride in my responsibility as Chief Defender, especially when it comes to the honor of the hopeknife ceremony. It is always a great
  privilege to bequeath Trunauan youths their hopeknives as they come of age.”  Halgra stops speaking long enough to open an ornamental case and retrieve a slender, ornately decorated dagger hanging from a silver chain.  “But tonight is a special occasion, for the recipient of this hopeknife is none other than my youngest daughter.”  Once again, Halgra pauses, but this time she turns to talk to the child beside her.  “Ruby, by the traditions of our town, you have
  come of age. This hopeknife represents your responsibilities as an adult and defender of Trunau. You must be willing to use it on yourself, your fellow
  Trunauans, and your family—even me, should it come to that. It will be a far quicker death than that which the orcs will offer, and providing it is your duty.
  Do you swear to guard Trunau from all comers, and to use your hopeknife only for its intended purpose?”  Ruby—dusky skinned, black haired, and painfully shy—nods her head in response to her mother’s question.
   “If the orcs come, and there is no other option, this is where you cut—here, here, and here.”  Halgra demonstrates which arteries to sever while Ruby watches. When she is finished, Halgra sheathes the hopeknife and places the necklace around Ruby’s neck before turning back to address the crowd.  “Tonight, Ruby becomes a full member of our community! Let us welcome her, and celebrate her passage into adulthood! Trunau forever!”  The crowd echoes Halgra’s last words in unison, signaling the end of the ceremony.
  
  The entire crowd starts heading towards the various games and festivities prepared for the ceremony, with Ruby at their head.
conversations: caesar193:
conversations: human
conversations:  Sveti arrives in town with Khaz, she is here by coincidence, this town simply being the next stop in her search for further information on artifacts. While a bit disappointed that she probably won't be able to obtain much information with so much energy being devoted to the festivities, she does enjoy a good party, and she has been on the road for a long time. She decides to quietly follow Ruby and the rest of the crowd, hoping that the rest of the celebration isn't as depressing as the lecture on ritual suicide and mercy killing.
conversations: Therumancer:
conversations: human
conversations:  Lokar Aklarus  
  
  Lokar claps and smiles politely as he bears witness to the Chief Defender's young daughters birthday. In all honesty, he didn't really know either of them too well nor did he care all that much what with being from out Korvosa way, but being in a town surrounded by savage and hated orcs while himself being half-orc he figured it was in his best interest to seem enthused. Even if only slightly. Truthfully, coming to Trunau, and Belkzen in general, had been an eye opener for him. He'd never seen his ancestral home, for what it is, and now that he had he felt the worse for it. Growing up an orphan and only hearing tales that he was originally from this area had piqued his interest. When he became old enough, and he no longer had reason to stay in Korvosa, he decided to make the journey here and perhaps discover his heritage. The only heritage to be found here though seemed to be one of war, blood, and desperation. He was watching a birthday ceremony that involved informing a girl, who was far too young, how to commit suicide once she'd been capture by orcs... his half brothers... his kin. As the ceremony continued on, Lokar was happy he hadn't grown up here but he couldn't shake this sense of implicit guilt for the hardships of the people of Trunau. Maybe he could do a little good here and make a little coin before moving on to someplace a little less dour.
  
  The crowd erupts in applause as Halgra's speech comes to and end and Lokar snaps out of his introspection.  "Well done, Ruby. Congratulations"  he calls out half-heartedly loud but not so much so as to not be lost amongst the sounds of the other revelers.  "Well, I wonder if they serve beer at a little girl's twelfth birthday party..."  he says to no in particular. He takes a look around the festivities, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, and looking for a place to get a drink.
conversations: Slurm:
conversations: human
conversations:  Khaz'rha: 
  
  During the ceremony, the uncomfortable looking half-orc spends most of her time leaning up against a nearby building, arms crossed over her chest in clear disapproval. Muscular and curvaceous, with thick physical features, this youthful-looking orcish woman stares ahead with a dull, almond-shaped eye of dark green, like the color of a forest after heavy rain. An irritated scowl can be seen bare upon her rugged, jade-colored face, causing her small, white tusks to appear particularly prominent. Pitch black tribal paint can be seen below and around the woman's eyes and painted over her thick, scarred lips, causing her tusks to stand out in contrast. Her poorly cut raven hair is clipped short and messily, shaved on the sides, exposing her large, pointed orcish ears, decorated with piercings of metal and bone. The relaxed, athletic figure maintains a slightly slouched posture, her muscular arms crossed over her broad chest, her able-bodied frame perfectly chiseled and maintained due to having spent a life training rigorously within a small monastery dedicated to Irori, the Vudrani god of self-perfection. Jagged scars of all shapes and sizes race across her calloused skin, the wounds never fully having healed due to poor self-stitching, giving her a particularly fierce appearance.
  
  The orcish monk can be seen clad in a weathered and worn training garb composed of loose brown leather pants and a gray top, painted in the colors of her local monastery. Her well-worn training garb is partially hidden beneath a battered set of studded sparring gear, crafted to hug at her curving frame and expose her muscular abdomen while supplying as much protection as her aggressive fighting style can allow. A tribal leather choker lined with the severed fangs of various wild animals protects painted with orcish symbols can be seen worn around her neck, while a crimson rope bandoleer can be seen worn over her right shoulder. Ragged pouches, jade Tokkuri decanters of strong sake, and tinctures of unpleasant, grayish-looking liquids hang from the bandoleer. Her scarred fists appear to be covered by rows upon rows of torn, blood-spattered bandages and scraped knuckle-plate gauntlets of thick leather and metal, held together by thick ropes soaked in alcohol, pulled taut.
  
  A pair of thick crimson robe belts lined with pouches and decanters hangs down over her waist, the first held in place by a large, circular buckle inscribed with dozens of tribal symbols and runes. The second belt, lined with fangs and bits of bone, is held by little more than a metal clasp, and droops slightly over the orcish warrior's broad hips, exposed due to the her loose training garb. A long strip of yellow cloth hangs low over her hips. As an attempt to appear somewhat festive, Khaz'rha wears a ribbon over her gauntlets.
  
  After the ceremony ends, she glances over to Sveti.
  
     "We have to stick around, or?"   
conversations: Hattish Thing:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Trunau forever!"   Feather shouts the final lines with the rest of the crowd, having watched the ceremony with a smile stretched over his face like vellum stretched over a parchment frame. Putting aside his... personal feelings about certain Trunauan customs, the strength of their spirits is undeniable. The courage to live so freely in the face of paralyzing terror is to be celebrated, just as the town is gathered to do on this day.
  
  And just as he has gathered to do on this day. Giving one last smack to a signpost labelled FORTUNE-TELLING in Varisian with crude depictions of the Harrow suits, Feather turns to the incoming throngs and motions to beckon people over to a tent behind him. The locals eat this stuff up - polished crow mask, a few incense sticks, magic lighting, and what would normally be a casual after-breakfast reading is now an exotic highlight of someone's day. A nice little way to give back to a community that's done at least a few favors for him over the past month.
conversations: Foryn Gilnith:
conversations: human
conversations:  Svetlana 
  
   Sveti wants to keep a fairly low profile for the moment so she doesn't join the cheering. Responding to Khaz she says  "Not quite what I expected to find here either, but this town is the next step in my journey. I need to find out what people know about the artifacts I seek. Besides, I've been travelling a while and would like to relax a bit before deciding on my next destination" 
conversations: Therumancer: