conversations.from: system
conversations.value: In Dunmore, a workers’ strike has led to an explosion, devastating the impoverished wards of the city and giving the forces of the Reignic Church the decisive upper hand. Striking manufactory workers have been forcibly detained and made to repair the damage to the city.
  
  In the Westmarch, druidic rebels have swept out of the desert and kidnapped the Duke of Kingsport, stealing him away to the deep desert and setting up an envoy in his place to rule over the city.
  
  In the South, the Inselgött has revealed itself a volcano, erupting with sudden and shocking violence. The blast likely annihilated the pilgrimage settlement atop the mount, and the lava flows down the south and west slopes sorely threaten Vandalia and many surrounding villages.
  
  To the North, the Elven Army has been rebuffed from the walls of Avalon by the Beleaguered, though it has not been destroyed. The Bastard God Úatar, called Ohtar, was defeated in combat beneath the field of Avalon, and a detonation of terrifying force blew apart enough of the Bloodrager vanguard to stall the assault. The Elves now wait in the Wolfswood, though what holds them back from attacking, when they do not know fear, is unknown.
  
  In the aftermath of the Battle of Avalon the Stone Council has been reformed, though the presiding Gods and their practical power are yet to be determined. Word has begun to spread of the return of the Old Gods, though, and as the Age of Fire begins, the choices of those usurped Ascendants will impact the fortunes of all of Tarras.
  
  
  
  [[Notes to Newcomers:
  This is a traditional fantasy story set in a homebrew world.  Looking for players who are serious with whatever amount of time they can commit -- if it's 2 hours or 20 per week, don't apply if you want to goof around and not get involved.
  
  Otherwise, everyone is invited and we're looking forward to sharing and expanding upon the world!  Many parts of the setting are not fleshed out yet, and players who give it thought will see their characters and contributions become a permanent fixture in the world.
  
  By player request, I'm adding this link for reference: 
  https://arilden-twilight.obsidianportal.com/
  Please check it before making characters, and while I'm happy to answer questions, a lot of them can probably be covered in that wiki.]]
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: First thing you did when you walked in here was spot the best way out.
conversations.prefix: Emergency Exit:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: You did something to break the ice, but it didn't exactly turn out well.  At least you tried, I guess?  Everyone noticed the effort, and that counts for... something.
conversations.prefix: Odd Man Out:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Kirkwood and his "nephews" have dropped just enough hints that you can tell something is going on that is bigger than just the Reign versus the Elves.  The Gods are involved here; you'll pry into this more when the opportunity presents itself.
conversations.prefix: Hokey Religions:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: This is what happens when you don't trust anyone on the team to do their job right -- you have lots of spare time to cover their asses.
conversations.prefix: Planned Ahead:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: A well-crafted short bow carved and shaped by Wildborn fletchers from the yew trees on the edges of the Sionian lowlands.
conversations.prefix: Yew Short Bow:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A well-crafted short bow carved and shaped by Wildborn fletchers from the yew trees on the edges of the Sionian lowlands.
conversations.prefix: Yew Short Bow:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: You did something to break the ice, make the gang feel better, or otherwise get everyone to bond a little bit.  Don't waste a chance to remind them all of how great you work together!
conversations.prefix: Team Spirit:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: You took an extra moment to give the Homeless Storyteller a copper penny, and are able to remember his face, and the out-of-place joy in his eyes, despite his situation.
conversations.prefix: Memory of a Happy Man:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Congratulations! For your actions in the field today, Fate has awarded you +2 to Awesome.
conversations.prefix: Badass Points:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Seriously, this can't keep happening.  Eventually one of these stray crossbow bolts is going to kill someone, and then what are we gonna do?
conversations.prefix: Injured:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Maybe you aren't the first to voice a course of action, but once you've set your mind to one, it is hard for others not to follow.
conversations.prefix: The Decider:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The Storyteller's brief and interrupted tale piqued your interest. By finding him or a good traveling bard, you are determined to learn more about this so-called "Pearl of the North".
conversations.prefix: Learn About Dunmore:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: You've made a good impression on a potential long-term friend and ally.  They, and those nearby, have noticed your collegiality, and you can work this notice in your favor later on.
conversations.prefix: New Friends:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: It's hard to see how this could be not objectively a bad thing, but people  rarely feel threatened by the crippled, and often actively avoid staring at them.
conversations.prefix: Injury:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Throughout time there have been certain men and women who are respected for their age, their wisdom, and their enduring longevity. These individuals are thought to be the last remnants of a grander age. They are the mystics in the wilderness, the village elder, and the soldier who has been fighting longer than anyone can recall. They persist, they survive, and they live on to tell the tales of the Ages.  You will be one of these great ones, or die in the attempt.
conversations.prefix: Yáradan Ilyavatar:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: You have decided, by virtue of either gregariousness or necessity, that you are going to befriend some of these new people you're meeting.  Life sucks when you're alone, anyway.
conversations.prefix: New Friends:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Whatever the outcome of your own personal "time-out", letting someone else deal with this situation has you more prepared for next time.
conversations.prefix: Took a Breather:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Now that the Tetrarch is gone and you have a minute, take the time to survey the other potential volunteers.  You won't forget faces any time soon, and maybe you'll notice something interesting.
conversations.prefix: Scoped Out The Mercenaries:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: You feel quite out of your depth, but something about that conversation gave you the impression that, should you need it, those boys would be able to provide you with almost any kind of assistance you can think of.  Use this knowledge wisely and only in the most dire of circumstances.
conversations.prefix: Favor:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Again? Is this going to be a thing?  Good luck firing that bow of yours any time soon... but hey, you get an authentic pity-party, so there's that.
conversations.prefix: Injured:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: I mean wow.  I didn't even know there was leather on these things -- I just spent years assuming they were made of moss and dried mud.
conversations.prefix: Horold Thrumm's Awesome Clean Boots™:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: It’s hard to see how this could be not objectively a bad thing, but people rarely feel threatened by the crippled, and often actively avoid staring at them.
conversations.prefix: Injured:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Golden, smooth, and like an ass's kick to the throat.  Whomever distilled this should be knighted and have a statue made in his honor.
conversations.prefix: Kirkwood's Mysterious™ Whiskey:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: This thick and sludgy greenish-black liquid is said to be what fuels the growth of the titanic Iceberg Whales.  It has done the same for the modern Reign.  NOT FIRE-SAFE.  HIGHLY FLAMMABLE.
conversations.prefix: Whale-Oil:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Though unintentionally earned and begrudgingly given, the respect of Jeremiah Kirkwood is not something that should be tossed aside lightly.
conversations.prefix: Respect:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Every Halfling needs an undersized bladed weapon!  That's why we've created the Shiny Halfling Sword! Too small for any normal person, this blade is named after an animal's natural weapon of your choice and inscribed with "custom" Elvish runes! This "one-of-a-kind" dagger is perfect for burgling, sneaking, and adventuring with overly risk-prone Dwarves and Humans.  (Not all models glow in the presence of bad guys)
conversations.prefix: Shiny Halfling Sword:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Probably you just poked a stick into a fire until it lit up, but maybe this has cloth and oil to stay lit longer.
conversations.prefix: Torch:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A series of failures have dimmed your reputation amongst the others, and wreaked havoc on your own self-confidence.  Redeeming yourself through your deeds has jumped to the top of your to-do list.
conversations.prefix: Redemption:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The third-largest city in the Reign, Dunmore is a recent arrival to the list of powerful cities, and it’s might derives almost entirely from proximity to the North Seas, where the lucrative whaling trade hunts down the massive Iceberg Whales for their oil.
conversations.prefix: Dunmore:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The old ways are dead. Those who deny that are fools, and those who embrace it thrive. The Battleborn are no longer deserving of that name, and the Southern Dwarves would have their entire race realize this truth. More polite, politically savvy, and cunning than their northern brethren, even those Dwarves who no longer reside in the South are generally regarded by other races as too clever by half. They prefer to avoid a fight rather than win one, and a victory that goes quietly unrecognized is a victory nonetheless.
conversations.prefix: Southron Dwarves:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Details
conversations.prefix: TBD:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The crater atop the Temple of Hood, left by the comet that brought the God Likos crashing down to the surface of Tarras.  Magical energies are chaotic and warped from the arrival of a Dying God.
conversations.prefix: The Fallpit of Likos:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The arachnid-aspected Lord of All Secrets.
conversations.prefix: Titus Arrakis:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A farmer and a father living in the Holy Desert district of Räkar.  He and his daughter Emilia own four camels and travel to the Capital twice a year to sell water.
conversations.prefix: Leo Erumen:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Guardian of the Beast-Throne, Warhound of Din, and Destroyer of Worlds
conversations.prefix: The Tarras'ka:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: There is only one true civilization in this world, and from it derive all others. That civilization is yours, and as a man or woman of the Reign you represent the leading edge of progress and culture to the other races. The policies and decisions of the Church can be polarizing, however, and so being of the Reign does not mean you are for the Reign. Indeed, in such a tightly-run society, dissent is to be expected — all the more so for how hard it is reined in when discovered. Ultimately though, your blood is of a conquest-driven theocracy, and blood is hard to escape.
conversations.prefix: Reignic Human:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The forests of the north, the deep swamps of the east, and the coastal cliffs of the west: these are the lands of the Wildborn, and woe to any man who treads there unwelcome. The Druidic leaders of the Wildborn hold keep at ancient temples in the wilderness, worshipping the spirits in their glory, but the Wildborn are not all fanatics. The remnants of ancient humans who refused to fall in line with the First Empire, at heart all Wildborn are simply man and women who will follow their own rules and live their own lives, free of the tyranny of government or organized religion.
conversations.prefix: Wildborn Human:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Whether you remain there now or not, your line comes from the Northern Battleborn Companies of old. The truest warriors and the proudest adventurers, your ancestors smile down on those who survive by the axe and the shield. Your people are a hardy lot, and remember fondly the days when the Companies were called upon by one and all to fight the great threats facing the world. Such days may be past now, but that does not mean they are forgotten.
conversations.prefix: Northern Battleborn:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: A great forest that sits in the northern half of the Northern Holds. Allegedly it was once much larger and covered most of the North. The closest major city is Vlorë to the South. To the East sits Markand, and south of Markand — Southeast of Vlorë — is Dunmore, a major port and industrial city.
conversations.prefix: The Wolfswood:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: This merchant has a quick eye and a thick coat, and the scar snaking up his neck points to a more... indelicate past.
conversations.prefix: Jeremiah Kirkwood:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Among the Southern Companies, a few of the smaller follow very peculiar methods of survival and styles of fighting. These Companies are often known as “Sappers” to outsiders, but within they are most often broadly painted as the Tinkers. Alchemists, physicians, and engineers, these Battleborn make a point of picking a subject area and knowing everything that it is conceivable to know about that material. In peacetime, they ward off disease, build new settlements for all the races, and keep the sciences alive within the Companies; and in times of war, they heal the wounded, operate the siege equipment, and have a special place in their hearts for all things fiery and explosive.
conversations.prefix: Southron Tinker:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Born and raised among one of the Northern Companies, you spent your early years being made to appreciate the only two sureties in life: death and discomfort. Your Company likely served during the Wildborn Wars, and the older men still remember and tell tales of the battles. Of late though your Company has begun to stagnate with a lack of true soldiering to do, and the fights of a more glorious antiquity are all that hold the families together against the sporadic fight with the Wildborn and the elements.
conversations.prefix: Northborn Soldier:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: While some Companies pride themselves on holding true to the ‘Old Ways’, and being pure fighting regiments, those that have flourished in the last century of little warfare have adapted their traditions to better suit peacetime. In your Company, this meant that many Battleborn became traders and merchants to fund the pursuits of the rest of the Company. Your parents were of this vein, and you grew up frequenting Vervlokt plots almost as often as you were in your own camp. You grew up to be a fine salesdwarf in your own right, and before leaving your Company to discover the world, you were an integral piece of the machine that kept it well-fed and running smoothly.
conversations.prefix: Southron Tailor:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Until recent events it was not even a confirmed fact among the other races that the Grey Company even existed. In Markand in particular, children have been told stories for two centuries of ‘The Grey’; a mysterious and silent killer that stalks the streets at night, cutting the throats of naughty boys and girls with a sharpened steel cable. In the last half-century these assassins have become more prominent, and both the Grey and Lion Companies are frequently hired in the feuds between the wealthy of the Vervlokt and Humans, both as deadly killers and quiet and efficient spies. In either pursuit, these Battleborn represent the pinnacle of their trade.
conversations.prefix: Northborn Spy:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Many civilizations have arisen over the long history of Tarras, and few remain.  Your ancestors may have been a strong people once, but at best they exist now as but a scattered remnant of their former glory.
conversations.prefix: Shattered People:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: You are a descendant of Reignic conquerors and soldiers. Your family has spent generations on the very edge of the Hinterlands, pressing the Wildborn further back from Reignic territory. You protect your people above all else, and you will always be leading the eternal onward march of civilization. You believe strongly in your superior racial heritage over other races and the Wildborn, and there is no shame in making that apparent.
conversations.prefix: Crusader Heritage:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Your years spent in temples or druidic groves reading every musty tome and holy book you could find about the traditions of the Spirits and the Five have given you insight into the natures of both mortals and Gods. Unfortunately, those years focused your attentions a bit too strongly, and you tend to lash out at those who doubt what you "know".
conversations.prefix: Fanatic:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: You bear the tattoos of the Wildborn Druids; a mark for all to see that you are a heretic in the eyes of the Church and the Five. These may be ancestral, or they may have been branded upon you by a vindictive Inquisition.
conversations.prefix: Tattooed Heretic:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Whether the Druids and Priests will admit it or not, many humans have no interest in dealing with divine powers, and simply want to live their lives, free from heavenly intervention. Whether this is from apathy or anger towards Ascendants matters little, as both Atheists and Agnostics laugh at the powers spoken of by holy men, and trust their fates to the sword in their hand or the tongue in their mouth before the powers of a divinity. This lack of divine concerns makes these men and women particularly vulnerable to branding as "different", as even in these times, power lies with the god-fearing.
conversations.prefix: Godless:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: It seems foolish and absurd that, in this time of advancement and enlightenment, so many of the people in the world still believe in Gods and Spirirts and childish myths of that sort. Or at least, that is what you believe. Having grown up in one of the few rising hotspots of invention and scientific advancement such as Dunmore or Kingsport, you have seen firsthand both the glory and power of the new Age of Industry, and it will not be stopped by Gods or men.
conversations.prefix: Industrial:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: You are the scion of a powerful noble family out of the south of Tarras, which, now or in the past, had great resources at its disposal. Perhaps your family ventured north, perhaps not. Perhaps they still hold power, perhaps it is lost. Regardless of the current situation, you have every confidence that your name will rise to even greater renown and glory than ever in the history of the Reign and Empire, and that you will be the one to make that happen.
conversations.prefix: Highborn:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A halfling's life - his true life - begins when he sails away from home for the first time on his (or her) Yarvalken (Year Walk). Something just didn't feel right about life before that day for you, and ever since you first hoisted a sail, you've been one with the sea and the wind and the open ocean.
conversations.prefix: Vervlokt Waverider:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Between the World-Spine and the Black Sea sit the Reignic lowlands known as the Sionian Moors, so named for Sion, the largest and only major city in the region. Filled with a diversity unseen elsewhere on the continent, the Moors are home to Vervlokt, Vagabond Dwarves, and humans of all stripes.  Despite a long history of occupation by the Reign, the fens have many scattered Wildborn settlements, and all the locals are skilled at moving discretely through the swamps to avoid any unnecessary confrontation with one another. Non-locals prefer to avoid the area, resulting in a general impression of Sionians as off-color in any of a host of different ways.
conversations.prefix: Sionian Wanderer:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: There's at least one face here that you haven't seen before.  Let's deal with that first, before whatever else is going on.
conversations.prefix: Who Are You?:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: These three are at best very confusing. Who are they? Why does Kirkwood have them locked up? What the hell was that look the middle one gave you?
conversations.prefix: Three Brothers:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Let's just take a breather for a second.  Consider what the hell is going on, perhaps? Breath slowly? Sit down and think about how in the name of the Gods you got into this mess?  Perhaps you actually enjoy being mentally prepared, in which case this can't hurt.
conversations.prefix: Hold up. What?:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: This must be where Kirkwood lives.  Or spends his time when he's in Dunmore.  You're not sure if you should be grateful that he's letting you stay here.
conversations.prefix: Kirkwood's Hideout:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A poor vagabond met on the streets outside of Fort Dunmore, telling stories for pennies.
conversations.prefix: Homeless Storyteller:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Appointed to the Tetrarchy only six weeks past, Caepio has much to prove in Dunmore after his predecessor was slaughtered by mercenaries; he is starting by taking out the anger of the Church and the populace on the violent -- criminals, mercenaries, and law-abiding citizens alike.
conversations.prefix: Tetrarch Caepio:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: You don't know these others -- most of them are likely here for the same reason you are, but what if one rats you out?  Maybe it's time to cover your own ass and let these strangers worry about theirs.
conversations.prefix: Other "Mercenaries":
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: A remnant of the once-mighty Wolfswood, Boyle Forest sits along the southern edge of the Easterly Road, stretching about 60 miles West from Dunmore.  These ancient pines are known to be full of memories and Wildborn ruins.
conversations.prefix: Boyle Forest:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: But like, not in the great, "this is an epic adventure" way.  They never tell you about how much walking-in-silence there is on Epic Adventures.  Let's liven this thing up a little.  Forest Exploring? Ask-Questions-About-the-Wilderness? Who-the-Shit-Were-Those-Kids?  All viable options.  Use your imagination!
conversations.prefix: The Road Goes Ever On:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: This monstrosity is tall enough that his shoulder is two feet above the tallest man's head.  Bony spurs project from across his body, and he rampages with an unnatural fury.
conversations.prefix: Oh Sh*t A Bear, Pt. 2:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Who built this place?  What is it's purpose, and why by all the Gods did Kirkwood bring you here?
conversations.prefix: The Temple of Draust:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Kirkwood has hired you to join him in what he calls  a 'Venture' to the Reignic city of Avalon, currently besieged by the Elven Army.  What could your purpose in going there possibly be, and how on Tarras could you possibly have any impact on a full-fledged war?
conversations.prefix: The 'Venture':
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Kirkwood's actions to this point indicate that he knows more than he is telling about... well, everything, but specifically the Gods and the recent heavenly upheaval.
conversations.prefix: Godfall:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Who is this guy? Why was he inside the camp?
  
  Okay: Option A) Help him get to safety; Option B) Who the HELL cares?! Run!
conversations.prefix: Newcomer:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Think about your life. All the good times you have and might still have. Good? Good.  Now be fast if you want to continue breathing. (Just for Dorna and Scorpion)
conversations.prefix: Run That Way:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Wearing a soot-gray, hoodless cloak over a suit of what looks like partial plate-mail, it's clear that whoever this man is he is not to be trifled with.  More striking than the armor or twin long-swords on his hips though, is the look in his dark-blue eyes.  This man has lost something of great value, and that loss haunts him.
conversations.prefix: Fentar:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: That hurt, and will continue to for a little while, at least.  If something isn't done to repair some of the damage, it's safe to expect long-term consequences.  Plus, we're all gonna call you "Gimpy".
conversations.prefix: Injured:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What in the Void is this?  There's some sort of ruined temple underneath the hill, and there are motifs of spiders and many-eyed faces everywhere. Too bad leaving the way we came in isn't an option...
conversations.prefix: The Sanctuary of Titus:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Slim for a Battleborn, this fellow wears the remains of some very complex and technical-looking armor.  He also drags behind him a staff that faintly glows in the darkness, but he assures you that prolonged exposure to "The Wombat Staff" has never been proven to have any ill effects.
conversations.prefix: Terim Oto, Gutbuster Co.:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: You are a child of one world, and a resident of another.  Having fought against your people and for peace, you now must decide what that means for your future.
conversations.prefix: Two Roads Diverged...:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A half-man, half-horse creature, Draust is the lord of the eponymous temple.  His origins are unknown, but he has claimed Boyle Forest as his own.
conversations.prefix: Draust:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: This tunnel is pitch-black, and Horold has what appears to be the only torch.  This should be fun.
conversations.prefix: Attack the Darkness:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: It’s hard to see how this could be not objectively a bad thing, but people rarely feel threatened by the crippled, and often actively avoid staring at them.
conversations.prefix: Injured (copy):
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Entering the tunnels beneath Titus' Hill has awoken something within you that is driven to explore the deepest caverns and discover the most hidden secrets of the Old Gods and their world.
conversations.prefix: Archaeology:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: There are many dangers in this world, and by your reckoning, the majority of them are beyond the comprehension of simple mortal men. You hold up wards against the darkness and disease as readily as you do an enemy on the battlefield, and complex rituals, charms, and potions seem sufficient protection from most dangers, mortal or otherwise.
conversations.prefix: Superstition:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The Great West Road begins in Sion and zigzags to Dunmore before turning West and running almost straight across the Northern and Western Holds, all across the Continent until reaching Volant on the far shore.  It stops in or branches to almost every city in between as well.
conversations.prefix: The Great West Road:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Connecting the many Sanctuaries of the Old Gods, this tunnel supposedly stretches across the whole of the North, if not the entire continent.  A legend among the druids, you are likely the first mortals here in many centuries.
conversations.prefix: Hall of the Gods:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The paths to either exit are slim and slick with dew and lichen.  Single file, nice and easy, and nobody falls into a pool of oil and lights on fire and dies.
conversations.prefix: The Slippery Slope:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Okay, so that's mostly not true -- BUT, I have a set of bandages and that looks like it hurts.  Let's just agree to disagree about whether or not I'm a doctor and- oh look!  Your ankle is all wrapped and ready to go.
conversations.prefix: Dammit, I'm A Doctor:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The safest place to be is where the enemy isn't looking for you, right?  So therefore the best way into Avalon MUST be the secret tunnel from near the Elven camp.
conversations.prefix: Sneak Attack:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Drakes? Cliffs?  Bah!  I eat drakes for breakfast and climb mountains to burn off the calories.  Best approach is to climb the mountains, and you're a whiner if you disagree.
conversations.prefix: Dragon-killer is my middle name:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: We've got injured fellows and a fat merchant with us.  Climbing a drake-filled mountain or sneaking through the enemy camp seem like REALLY BAD IDEAS.
conversations.prefix: The Front Door:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Home to the Duchon of the North, Avalon sits atop a high ridge, overlooking the edge of the vast and foreboding Wolfswood to the north. At the southern slope of the ridge flows the South Branch of the River Titus, supposedly named after one of the ancient kings of men who first ventured into the Northern Holds.
conversations.prefix: Avalon:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The primary military encampment for the mustering of Reignic forces to proceed North into the Wolfswood, this hill and fortress were both captured by the Elves just prior to the siege of Avalon.
conversations.prefix: Camp at Fort Titus:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A bomb is a bomb, right? Whether it's got fancy smoke, weird smells, or turns everyone into a newt, it has to explode and be loud.  This can't possibly be complicated.
conversations.prefix: An ACME-Worthy Contraption:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Suppose this goes south. Never happens, I know, but bear with me. Is anyone ready to fight off some bloodthirsty Elves while we run the HELL away (aboveground or below)?
conversations.prefix: Contingency:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: At least two guards have spotted you, and while one goes to get reinforcements, the other is readying to make a pincushion out of your Vervlokt with a series of crossbow bolts.
conversations.prefix: About those Guards...:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Possibly the oldest city in the Reign (the only other candidate being Dunmore, in the north), Vandalia is believed to have first been settled by the Vandals, the native druidic tribe in the region. The city is the capital of the Vandals’ District.
conversations.prefix: The City of Vandals:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Captain Hollowpot, as you have been instructed to call her, is the keeper of the Blue Dog.  She is a retired ship-captain, and one of the few Vervlokt who has earned a measure of respectability amongst the locals in Vandalia.
conversations.prefix: Calliope Hollowpot:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Oh come on, what harm could one game be?  I'll win some coins and buy you something nice with your share.  What? Me? No, I don't have a problem, and mind your own business!
conversations.prefix: A Game of Dice:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Just look at this character, sitting in the corner by himself, smoking his pipe and clearly just pretending to eat his food.  Look!  He just keeps awkwardly staring at us! And who the hell wears a hood indoors, anyway?
conversations.prefix: Mysterious Stranger:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: This shack is abandoned, run-down, and half the roof is missing, but there's something inexplicably interesting about it.  Time to investigate!
conversations.prefix: A Shack in the Woods:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Short of stature but wiry for a Battleborn, this Vandalian seems to have shown up from nowhere and speaks languages nobody understands.  Damn Southrons.
conversations.prefix: Brynn Burghard:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: If I can overcome my crippling fear of heights, flying, lightning, and magical, booze-induced dreams, I might be able to learn a few things from this whole "flying-around-and-being-invisible" thing.
conversations.prefix: Think Happy:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: This city seems like a place we could hang out in more.  Or maybe the opposite of that.  Honestly, I just want to know anything about where the hell we are.
conversations.prefix: Learn About Vandalia:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Discovered in a dream, and revealed by Jarvis the hog-butler, the powers of this lamp are probably immense, and completely unknown.  It's also very dirty.
conversations.prefix: Horold's Magic Dream-Lamp™:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Dreams are confusing, especially when they MIGHT be a prophecy and might just be a mead-induced hallucination.  I should find out what this lamp does, and who the "Council" and "Red Queen" are.  I think Vynn is probably the pig in this metaphor.
conversations.prefix: In Dreams:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Despite the Reign’s occupation, the Sionian Moors are scattered with Wildborn settlements. Living day in and day out in the fens has taught you how to talk your way out of a dangerous encounter. And in case things do not go your way, you keep your dagger close and catch your adversary off-guard.
conversations.prefix: Sharp Tongue, Sharper Blade:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Perhaps it comes from sharing a land with the Wildborn, but Sionian lowlanders tend to speak their minds plainly, much to the discomfort of Reignics. It doesn’t help that they tend to be shameless, blunt, and honest.
conversations.prefix: Off-Color:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Chaos? You prefer to see it as opportunity. For the skilled and the sharp, the world is up for grabs and you intend to get your piece of the pie.  
conversations.prefix: Opportunity, Ripe for the Taking:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Northern born and southern raised, you’re still seeking your place in the world.
conversations.prefix: Find Your Path:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: We must work together to thwart the evil that confronts...  Oh look!  A Chicken!
conversations.prefix: A.D.D.:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Horold comes from a long life of being told he was not good enough.  It is a difficult thing to shake off at times.
conversations.prefix: Proving Himself:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The son of a Wildborn chieftain, you were born into battle. Since you were a young child, your father has raised you to be a leader in times of peace and a hero in times of war. 
conversations.prefix: Wildborn Prince:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: You have been cast out of your home, all titles stripped from your name. You are a no one now, and the damage you have done may never be set right.
conversations.prefix: Disgraced:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Wether it be what you have done, or what has been done to you, you wish to fix what has gone array. You want to apologize for your mistakes, and expect some apologies made to you as well. You will make everything right.
conversations.prefix: Right the Wrong:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Wit and charm and meticulous planning are all well and good, but it never hurts to add a generous dash of luck to the mix. 
conversations.prefix: Good Luck Charm: