PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: clonkertink on 20-06-2019, 11:19:24</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>clonkertink</strong> on <strong>20-06-2019, 11:19:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;" class="bbc_font"><em><strong><span class="bbc_u">The Delian Tomb</span></strong></em></span></span></div><br><div align="center">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d6/e5/ed/d6e5ed4656c2745f70f00077909fecd1.jpg)</div><br>The Kingdom of Carrowynn has fallen. King Artur Greymantle has been murdered, and Crownhall is now ruled by the vengeful dead. The noble houses rose up in bloody civil war, to pick over the corpse of the once-great nation, yet little was gained while much was lost. Many smaller baronies bore the brunt of the bloodshed in the Dukes' feuding, and now find themselves with little more than few battle weary bodies with which to guard their holdings.<br><br>Elsin Keep is the seat of one such barony. Once a proud bastion of civilization amongst the lawless frontiers of Carrowynn, it now struggles to maintain law within its own walls, never mind the roads outside. Yet the people who reside in the surrounding village carry on much the same, too busy eking out the survival of the moment to pay the vagaries of the future much mind. And when the day's work is done, much like anywhere else, the townsfolk retire to the local tavern, a ramshackle affair known as the <em>Laden Mule</em>...<br><br><hr><br>It was early evening, and the <em>Laden Mule</em> was a little emptier than usual. A cold wind had been blowing off the moors all day, keeping many folks inside. Still, for those willing to brave the elements there was warm food and a mug of ale waiting. Merrick, a stout man with thinning grey hair, quietly minded the bar, though he kept a keen eye out for any patron whose tankard might run dry.<br><br>The tables were rough wood, and the chairs complained under the weight of the average patron, but it was still the best inn in town, on account of being the only inn in town. Apart from the howling wind and the chatting of the patrons, though, the place was quiet; Merrick was a bit too tight-fisted to hire any regular entertainers.<br><br>Nevertheless, the inn had its fair share of customers tonight, a few of whom were more notable than most...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>20-06-2019, 22:09:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A newcomer in black clothes was the origin of most of tonight's activity. He didn't necessarily cause a ruckus, but his constant stories he promptly boasted about weren’t that pleasant either. At every sip of his lukewarm beer his laughter and speaking volume increased. But the tavern didn't have that much customers and at least this capped stranger payed up quite a sum to indulge in alcoholism.&nbsp; <br>So, he gladly continued as no one protested and some even decided to join him at his table.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomglazer</strong> on <strong>21-06-2019, 00:38:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He sat there in the corner of the pub. His trusty sword was next to him as was his shield. He never parted from them, his shield would protect the innocent and his sword would punish all who did wrong. Sitting in a corner also had some advantages, he could overlook the entire in and would see all dangers coming. He had 2 walls next to him wich a possible threat couldn't come from so he was at ease.<br>A guy in black clothes was making a lot of noise but that was because he had a drink too much. As long as he didn't bother him he wouldn't intervene. He just wanted a peaceful drink and go to bed. <br>When Doomglazer entered the Inn he wanted to pay for his room, but the bartender wouldn't let him. He saw that Doomglazer was a Paladin from the Sacred Order. And he knew when a Paladin was a customer in an Inn nobody would try to do anything wrong because otherwise, he would intervene. So the bartender offered him to stay at the Inn for free.<br><br>As he overlooked the Inn he could see the drunk in black clothes and 2 other people at the table with him a dwarf and another human. He could tell by the clothes the Dwarf was wearing that he was a cleric. Doomglazer leaned back and took another look at his sword and his shield both in an arms reach.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pipaluk</strong> on <strong>21-06-2019, 17:41:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Evening Merick." Her voice was soft, and cheerful. Refined, but spunky. Any who heard her could tell she was of noble birth, but that she also rebelled against the expected stiffness of her noble birth. She moved with a certain confidence and grace; and yet still playful. "Quiet today." She noted and then moved through the small crowd. Smiling brightly and returning the greetings of the patrons she recognized, laughing occasionally when they mentioned something funny to her. Being a local noble, though not so haughty as all that, she often spent her time here at the only inn in town; keeping her finger on the pulse of the people. Besides, she'd made friends here with the commoners.<br><br>Tonight, she had planned to play cards with an old friend of hers. She made her way back to the usual table, but there was someone boasting about the war stories. She sat down initially, enjoying his stories. But the drunker he got the more outlandish and loud his tales grew. It started to repulse her. So she took her leave. That's when she noticed a paladin in the corner. <em>A genuine paladin of the sacred order!</em> She'd heard of them, but she'd never met one. <br><br>She watched him for a moment, noticing his calculating eyes as he looked over the room like he was everyone's protector. Or perhaps judging them. She turned a beat red wondering if he could detect any impurities in her soul or any wicked things she'd done. <em>No. There's no way. They can't do that.</em> The red evaporated almost as quickly as it came and she made her way over to meet the paladin near the fire. <br><br>Approaching him, her posture changed slightly; every little tidbit she learned from her mother on how to act as a noble lady ought to flashing through her mind. She was better off acting like a noble in front of paladin than her usual playful self. She non-nonchalantly, inquired, "So, what brings a paladin of the sacred order to this dull corner of the world?" She took a seat, sitting upright and stiff as a noble ought to sit. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Heinakori</strong> on <strong>21-06-2019, 22:12:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A set of scruffy eyebrows crunched from effort. The wiffy, puffy hair of the brow crunched together formed like a second set of mustache in the wide, thick forehead of a very concentrated dwarf. His forehead was like a miniature explanation from him: thick, wide, and rather short, framed by fluffy, scruffy and thick hair. <br>Two beady bright eyes were fixed in his calloused, rough (and whatnot stubby) palms. He recalculated, re-evaluated, recalculated once more and came in a conclusion: he was definitely not happy in the quality of the copper coin he had received as change. "This is a sacrilege.", his mustache-of-a-brow wobbled in the rhythm of the mustache veiling his upper lip. He was the kind of a dwarf whose mouth was seemed as a mystery: it was presumably a hole somewhere beneath all the beard.<br><br>The two dots beneath his thick brow darted at the intoxicated blabberer sitting at the far other end of the round table. Each time Pelgir heard his slurring slips spew out something that sounded valuable, he couldn't help but to check if something valuable had indeed appeared from the boasters mouth. He surely had a big enough mouth for someone whom should be nested in the warm safety of mother's arm. <br>Humans left home way too early, Pelgir had always said. Most of the issues in the human domain were a direct causality from sending kids into the cold world way too young. Men in that age couldn't appreciate the precious little things right beneath their noses, but always had their eyes in the horizon, dreaming from way bigger treasures. Only the ripe and old enough to be blessed with wisdom could appreciate the small miracles beneath their feet. <br>Men had their heads in clouds and eyes in the horizon, blinded by the speed of their short lives. <br>Peilr knew the other side of the coin as well: men accused that dwarves had their battered noses beneath their two legs and could never appreciate a proper view. And that, if you asked Peilr from, was a <em>point of view</em> question, and wittily added, that men didn't understand the <em>scale</em> of things. <br><br>Peilr Sorehands himself left home in the fresh age of fifty, and some dwarves thought that he was still too green to see the world. That felt like two eye blinks ago, even though many summers and winters had passed since he left his cozy mountain and traveled to see the wealth of the world. <br><br>"Hraumph.", he coughed like two stones cracking in a distant valley, and carefully put the coins into a small leathery pouch. The leather pouch was attached with the tiniest of chains into the thick belt orbiting the dwarf's venerable middle-area like a rim of a barrel. A hefty warhammer hung next to the pouch of coins, as a polite reminder for pickpockets, thieves and all the others who could be tempted with an act of disrespecting someone else's right for *very personal* property.<br><br>As the attention span of the chain-mailed cleric finally had enough capacity to take note of the surroundings, the human female that had entered the table had already left, but the black dressed youngling still kept going with his stories. Peilr's stubby fingers reached for the mug of ale. The mug arose to meet the thick beard, but just as he readied for a sip, two things happened. <br>The youngling mentioned "gold", causing the dwarf's eyes pop into the mouth that had mentioned such a beautiful word. His head craned towards the black dressed man. And right after, someone mentioned "Sacred Order", and once more the beady eyes rushed nervously into the other end of their sockets. <br>Peilr craned in his chair to take a glance at the noble girl, and the paladin cramped in the corner. A sacred man hiding in the dim corner.<br>He couldn't quite see the sigil of the paladin, usually stamped somewhere in the shield for all the evil to witness before the inevitable slam, but Peilr reckoned him to serve the same cause as he did: Order, prosperity, security (and wealth) of the region.<br>A good man in the proper place, the dwarf mused.<br><br>The storyteller seemed to gained second place in the attention race for the girl, the dwarf mused. He muffled a humm of a laughter that vibrated through his beard, mustache and brow all alike. He puckered his lips (under his beard that is) and craned his whole short body back to take that long craved quaff from the nice and <strong>golden</strong> ale.<br><br>Even though the realms were in chaos, the roads were unsafe and filled with peril, this was a good night. And the perfect mug of ale, also perfectly <em>haggled</em>, which made it all the better. The dwarf smooched his lips in anticipation of the first quaff.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>21-06-2019, 23:55:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tim continued his babbling, though almost ineligible a this point, words flowing out of his mouth like vomit, what he was about to eject from himself not long from now. Stepping on the thick roughly carved tables now, his sence of vision, smell and well... every other sences including the sence of balance where slowly fading away. This is the best feeling according to him, that feeling of numbness in your body as well as in your soul, laying it to rest and forgetting worries. That was the reason for men and especially him to drink tonight, although he was not sure what he was supposed to forget. This may also very be because he is very young, already feeling droozy after two mere little pints of beer. At this age one doesn't really drink for the taste of it, but for the feals of it, and quickly becomes incapable by doing so.<br><br>And what he fealt was wonderful, even when falling face down on the hard wooden-paved floor in a big and comicly well-timed thud, making the local furniture around him move just so very slightly under the sheer wheight of his jawbreaking drop. A tiny fraction of the poeple present were worried for him, in the end he was still a boy... but quicly turned back to their squabbles in an eye-rolling motion as they hear the laugh of an happy drunkard.<br>But his euphoric glee was cut short by an upcoming and disastrous event in his suffering stomach. He rapidly stands up, stiff as a plank, and runs up in a tumbling manner to the nearest exit where he swiflty throws up (no two ways about it). Luckily in his random aiming he managed to not drop any of the regurgitaded beer and other undentifiable filth on the tavern's floor, that would have been the end of him for sure.<br><br>In the end&nbsp; all he was was a disturbance, a rather common designation for many people out in an unbelievebly cruel world. And who can blame him for being just that, a nuisance, for at least he is happy, and isn't that what life's quest is all abo~aaand that black-caped little lucky devil is back again at the front door.<br><br>Believing himself completely rejunivated he dares to annouce :<br>"Anyone up for a card-game ? Bets included of course !"<br>His face is now more clearly visible under his black cap, apart from his livid tone that betrays his still-drunkeness, his toothy grin reveals a golden tooth amidst the others, miraculously intact given the previous fall.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomglazer</strong> on <strong>23-06-2019, 22:49:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Doomglazer overlooked the place and saw the young noblewoman leaving the table. Who could blame her, this young man who was clearly too drunk to even stand on his feet was making it way too bold. <br>The dwarf didn't mind at all he was probably laughing on the inside seeing the human that couldn't hold his drink.<br>Dwarfs were known for their capacity to drink large amounts of ale and that was the ale they brew themselves. This ale that humans brew probably tasted like piss for them. He did notice that the dwarf was a holy man, a cleric. "Another holy man" he thought to himself.<br>The young noble came to his table and pulled a chair away. At that very moment, he stood up. Whenever a woman enters a table a man should stand up to respect her. It didn't matter if it was a noblewoman or just a simple farm girl every woman would be treated with the same respect as it were your own mother. The woman who would give her life to protect you. That why all women should be treated with the utmost respect.<br><br>As the woman sat down Doomglazer looked at her and waited till she was seated, it was then when she was fully seated that he sat back on his chair. He looked at her with his clear blue eyes, his face freshly shaven from the night before. Wich didn't happen a lot. Since most of the time, he was on the road and only got a shave when he was in a bigger town. So most of the time his face was covered with a stubble or when he was on a long journey he even grew a beard. But not tonight. The beard did have the advantage of covering up a big scar which was running from under his left eye to is left bottom jaw. He was lucky to not lose his eye in that fight, it did come close but the evil entity isn't alive anymore to tell anyone. <br>It was his first fight when he got that scar and it would remind him for the rest of his life that evil lurks around every corner. But since that day he had a lot of training and he could sense evil from 60 feet away. No evil would have the chance to attack him unnoticed now he would be prepared.<br><br>"I go where The Light guides me" he answered the young noble woman's question. "I have taken an oath to protect the innocent with my shield, to fight off all evil in this world with my sword for those who cant" while he said that, the man dressed in black and was too drunk for his own sake stumbled outside to probably go puke. Doomglazer didn't give him the light of day. "If you dont know your own limits you won't get any pity from me" he said silently while observing the young man in black. <br>He turned his head to the young woman and started talking again. "After the big war and what I have seen on the battlefield, I swore to protect mankind from all forms of evil. I joined the Sacred Order and after vigorous training, I was sent out to eradicate all evil from this world and protect the innocent." He looked at her and smiled.<br><br>&nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>clonkertink</strong> on <strong>24-06-2019, 09:48:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b4/28/1c/b4281c36e030e67850adf2d59c604f9f.jpg)</div><br>Merrick's typically gruff demeanour had taken a turn for the surly this evening. Between the bumbling drunk, the paladin who wasn't paying, and the dwarf who was "too good" for a common man's coppers, the innkeeper had just about had his fill of quirky characters for the night. At least the drunk managed to make it outside, rather than make a mess of the floors. Still...<br><br>"Oi, you're cut off boy," the barkeep called. "And you're lucky I leave it at that. Your father's ham slicer can only buy so much goodwill around these parts!" That wasn't entirely true. The ham-slicing device had revolutionized Merrick's business, saving him hours of work. In idle moments he wondered, if it could slice other meats like roast beef or lamb, but worried that such experimentation might damage the intricate machinery.<br><br>Warning issued, he turned his attention to the other three "notable" patrons gathered around the table. He would never speak ill of Lady Thorn—her earnest nature warmed the cockles of even Merrick's stony heart—he just hoped she wasn't falling in with the wrong crowd.<br><br>The barkeep's reverie was interrupted, however, when the door swung open with a heavy crash. A man stumbled in, his hair a matted, windswept mess, his fine clothes slicked with rain and sweat. "Goblins!" he gasped, staggering forward a few paces, before collapsing at Cinthia's feet. "On the road! Ambushed my wagon... Took my daughter, Aria! Please... You must help!"&nbsp; The man seemed almost delirious with terror and exhaustion, his wide eyes darting frantically from one face to the next.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pipaluk</strong> on <strong>25-06-2019, 16:00:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The dark haired girl smiled as she listened to the paladin; her smile curving into a playful smirk as he mentioned the light guiding him, "So should I be worried? Are you often led where you are most needed?" <br><br>She waved her hand, dismissively; but even if this there was elegance in her movements, "He was interesting for a time. He spoke tales of wild adventures. Good deeds. You may have been proud. But... as the ale kept coming to the table, his head started drifting towards the floor." One of her shoulders raised in a shrug--as though there was nothing else for her to do, but seek other company. "The dwarf was also interesting. Though he seems a bit of a cynic. I suppose such comes from a long life of seeing the best and the worst of the world." <br><br>Her attention was quickly drawn away from the paladin as a man burst into the door. She recognized him! He was one of the local farmers.<br><br>"Jonathan!" She ran to him, trying to guide him to an empty chair; he was clearly in shock. "Where? Which way did they go?" She turned back to look to the paladin for help; but he was already there. She should have known he would respond to such distress quickly. What surprised her, though, were the others that were gathered around. "This man is a paladin of the sacred order. Slaying evil and rescuing women and children is kind of his job." She said, hoping to calm the man down a bit--so that he could at least offer a solid lead on where the goblins may have gone. "There are other adventurers here too tonight; I don't think you need to be concerned, Jonathan. Those goblins chose the wrong day to attack."<br><br>She turned to look to the others; the more experienced adventurers she'd met that evening. A hopeful look on her face; an unspoken pleading--asking if they'll be able to help.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Heinakori</strong> on <strong>26-06-2019, 20:44:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The heavy sound of a wooden pint crashing against a solid table vibrated through the tavern. It was a like crack of thunder after ominous news, or in this case, a statement made after a plea of aid. A figure arose from amidst those who were paralyzed by fear, or nonchalant against someone else's problems. The statement claimed echoed as a sigh of relief from the latter, and as a "shock" for the former. <br>Except that the figure didn't rise quite high. The tip of a fuzzy-haired head jarred slightly taller than the chair. The hairy cousin of a beer-barrel wiped his mouth with a long drag of his sleeve, and then inhaled like a bolstering balloon.<br><br>"Per'haps!", it claimed with a thick, almost rudely stereotypical accent. "I always tend ta take a wagon-assault a wee bit too pers'nally: but snatchin' and catchin' small human tallywaggles: but tha' being goblin's be only a mere bonus for their sins! So fear not, I mind yee! I'd beg 'em to consider <em>this</em> as my for-a-mostly last warnin' of crossin' ta last line!", a heavy warhammer rose significantly higher than the dwarf's fuzzy hair. Coarse hands squeezed at the handle and he waggled his weapon for all to see what he meant. "So lemme at 'em! Point ta bloody wee at 'em 'n ya wagon, and by Moradin's heavy hand aye'll teach 'em to stay in the filthy slag-pits thay belong in!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>27-06-2019, 19:56:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The swung door surprised Tim in a way that he leapt instinctively a few meters directly to the opposite direction, signaling his scare in a unmale (yes the opposite of male)” Eeeek” followed by a “What the ?” when checking what pushed him to such a ridicule reaction. Luckily no one cared about his reaction as the panicked man spewed his panic to anyone willing to do anything about it.<br><br>As he thought, every battle-able soul had to make their obligatary little comment and act on the matter. Funny how it is only the heroes that boast their readiness to defend the defenseless he thought. His detestable detachment of the situation translated well in his demeanor and facial expression. He huffed and calmly left the building, waiting for the best possible moment to say “what are we waiting for?”. He praised himself on his unwillingness to pointlessly chit-chat before action and what he liked most was interrupting a bad guy in his monologue, just thinking about it made him laugh.<br><br>And what about information ? would ask an annoying voice in his head. Firstly goblins aren’t really the most discreet beings, for him at least, and secondly he doesn’t ask but he does listen.<br><br>All that to say there he was, having an internal dialogue under the pouring rain, waiting for fellow “danger-bravers” to finally exit the darn tavern.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomglazer</strong> on <strong>28-06-2019, 00:44:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				While sitting on his chair, a man stumbled into the tavern. He couldn't stand up straight and there was obviously something wrong with him. A few seconds later he heard the words "Goblins, ambushed my wagon, took my daughter'. A sense of adrenaline coursed through his veins, heightening his senses. "So this is why The Light guided me to this place tonight" he mumbled between his teeth with a grim on his face. The prospect of slaying Goblins and rescuing an innocent girl made him smile. This is what he has been trained for. <br>Without the least hessitation, he stood upright, in his left hand his shield and in his right hand his trustworthy sword. <br>He walked over to the man in distress. He looked down at him put his sword on his back and reached for his hand. "My name is Doomglazer I am a Paladin of the Sacred Order you have my shield and my sword as your ally, point me in the right direction and I will wield them to strike terror in the hearts of those Goblins. I will do anything in my power to bring back your daughter safe and well so as The Light guides me"<br><br>While reaching out his hand he heard the Dwarf make a similar statement and also the drunk man in black was eager for adventure, he was already outside waiting... in the rain. And then there was the noblewoman who was also itching to go.<br>Doomglazer looked at her "The Light guided me here tonight to help this man" and then he looked back at the man with his arm still stretched out. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>clonkertink</strong> on <strong>28-06-2019, 23:52:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b4/28/1c/b4281c36e030e67850adf2d59c604f9f.jpg)</div><br>"Oh, thank you Lady Thorn! Thank you, all of you," Jonathan said. Merrick approached with a mug of water, and helped the farmer into a chair. The haggard man took a shaky sip before continuing. "My wagon was attacked an hours' walk down the main road to the keep, on the edge of the moors, before retreating back across the hills to the east. Please, find my daughter and I will see that you are well rewarded."<br><br>As Cinthia knew, Jonathan owned the largest, most prosperous farm in the lands surrounding Elsin keep, and with his growing fortunes had begun to dabble in more mercantile endeavours, a rare sign of growth and healing in the tumultuous days following the War.<br><br>Outside, the wind continued to howl, and the rain drummed heavily on the roof of the <em>Laden Mule.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Heinakori</strong> on <strong>30-06-2019, 10:52:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Equip: All Armor</em><br><br>(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/baldursgategame/images/f/f3/Helmet1.2.png/revision/latest?cb=20120110153648)<br><br>With some quick rummaging through a heavy backpack, Pelgir Sorehands coughed out a snort. <br>"Goblins! Gone wee too far - greenskins, for wee too little's been done. The Baron's, the Duke, tha have forgotten to reed the weed in their search for a pers'o'nal garden of treasure! <strong>But</strong>, there be a sayin': <em>"It's na use to cry in the reen (rain)"</em> - ro(a)ods left un-cheeked by men busy squabbling over who be tha next big man, but be there naything ta' govern' soon!", Sorehands shook and twitched that majestically thick beard of his. He slammed a simple, two horned helmet on his head. Mounting his backpack (or the backpack mounting on the dwarf), he slammed the sturdy fist of his against the wooden shield, adorned by a emblazoned with a holy, radiant mace in the middle of it.<br><br>"Tha goblin' breed like rats. Eech summer, eech winter, remind ye, must reeding be done, or tha weeds go wild - and this is wha' happen' when no reedin' be done!.", a sturdy warhammer rose to rest against Pelgir's broad shoulder. Two clear eyes fixated on Jonathan, Merrick, the <strong>Paladin</strong> and finally on <strong>Cinthia</strong>. "Goblin's be cowards, and fight like cowards. Tha ambush, tha hide after, runnin' cowards!.", the dwarf leant closer to Merrick with a conspirators lean. "Tha hide, wash tha'selves under rock before <em>goldrise</em> - erm, sunrise pardon mi - like filth hidin' from a lazy maiden's broom. <br>Tha be lazy, can't build, can't contribute ta' anyone anythin', unproductive like two halflings next ta' a warm anvil! But don't ye worry now..", Pelgir Sorehands streched his deft fingers around the shaft of the warhammer. <br><br>"Always trust a dworf when dealin' with vermin under stone! I Gu-a-ran-<em>thee</em> thee that ya' coin be goin' for tha' right address, there's no cave-business like a-dwarf-in-a-cave-business. Wee'l bring back ya gal. So tha goblins be hidin' not under reen (rain) and clouds aboveground, but underground. A cave - a tomb - a mine. Any of ya' happen' ta know any crevasses un-reeded at tha' hills?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>clonkertink</strong> on <strong>30-06-2019, 18:55:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Several of the patrons in the tavern lifted a mug to Peilr's speech, agreeing it was a fine speech, even if they weren't entirely sure what he just said. Exempted from this general cheer, however, was Tobly Hotfingers, halfling blacksmith, who glowered at the dwarf.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pipaluk</strong> on <strong>01-07-2019, 15:23:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Cinthia smiled at the dwarf's speech and lays a hand on Jonathan's upper arm. Her soothing demeanor hopefully comforting him.</em> "See, Jonathan, you needn't fear; there are good people in the tavern tonight. I have no doubt they'll be able to rescue Aria."<br><br><em>With that she looked to the others.</em> "Well gentlemen, it seems we have a bit of a run ahead of us." <em>She'd smirk playfully,</em> "I hope you can all keep up."<br><br><em>With that, the noble girl turned for the door and headed out into the cool, windy night.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>01-07-2019, 20:00:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The hooded rogue was slumped against the tavern outside wall, his arm crossed, listening to the diverse commotions inside. He did quite a pronouced huff when the Dwarf did his rather longish speeh in his very pronouced accent. Like he predicted one had the wonderfull idea to do a detailled monologue to a bunch of illeterate farmers. He was on the verge of bursting out laughing when the local peasantry cheered to something they clearly did not understand, but just ended up akwardly nose-exhaling.<br><br>When the noble girl showed her pretty face outside he let out a "Ah finally" and peeped his own inside again, pronoucing his planned "What are we waiting for !?" in a hidden inenthusiastic tone.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pipaluk</strong> on <strong>01-07-2019, 22:28:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh are you coming?" <em>The noble girl asks with a posh, but playful tone.</em> "Are you sober enough?" <em>She smirks, as though judgmental, but the sparkle in her eyes betrays her playfulness.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>01-07-2019, 23:00:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Nope !" <em>Tim responds after a small burp that betrays his after-drunk state, already betrayed by the livid tone.</em> "But thee greenskins ain' no match for my wee li'le da'ers" <em>He said mockingly imitating the dwarf's accent.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomglazer</strong> on <strong>01-07-2019, 23:56:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Equip all Armor</em><br><br>Doomglazer looked around the Inn and noticed all of the heroes were heading outside. He gave Jonathan a nod, took up his shield and his longsword and also headed outside. In full body armor and equipped with his weapon and shield he was a force to be reckoned with. Opening the front door he saw the noble girl and the drunk talking to each other. " I hope once we reach the Goblins hideout you sobered up or by the Light I will make you sober. There is no time for jokes, we need to rescue a girl and crack some goblin skulls." He looked towards the 2 "And my name is Doomglazer."<br>"Lady you from around this place do you have any clue where those greenskins could be hiding out?'" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Heinakori</strong> on <strong>02-07-2019, 09:25:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Pelgir Sorehands took his time bowing for the cheering crowd, nearly touching his thick boots with each lean. <br>So did the cleric beam out from Laden Mule, his chest swollen with pride, head held up high (*snicker* well, not really).<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> "But thee greenskins ain' no match for my wee li'le da'ers"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>A bucket growing a thicket of a thick beard stood in the middle of the door, and simply stared at the agitator. A rush of warmth gushing deep within the bowels of his gut. The warmth crackled in his chest, and the dwarf had to swallow to quelch the fire in his throat. This drunk whelp tried to roast a dragon with a tinderbox.<br><br>"Makin' fun o' me, welp? Ta wee aye talk be funny ta-ya? I git it, I git it: ya be wasted fro' drinkin' tha'two cups'o carrot-juice, ya even have chest-hair bushed out yet, pro'a'lly meed ya ass feel bi"er than an ais-giant's ballshack. I let it slip, just'is once.", the thicket of hair glared upwards. Rain clattered against his horned helmet. Two beads of eyes stared upwards and searched for the earshape. It was round. He kept his eyes peeled on the thief and raised one finger from the grip holding his shaft. "Now ya keep yer mouth stra"ed while ya'till haf kneecaps and both of yer buttplugs in'act: Aye 'am Pelgir Sorehands. A cle-rik, Paladin.<br>Wi' bi searc'ing fo a mound, a to-mb ora mine, no'far fro rood. Goblin's don'wander far under bare-sky. We oughta hur-ry, tha leg'o'mine ain't no sprinters. Wii have a gal to find."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>06-07-2019, 20:09:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tim's aim wasn't to be caught, obviously that was a failed mission. Strange...most of the time he is careful by being silent when making fun of someone, but then again this isn't most times. The trampling barrel of a dwarf was right on three points: he couldn't handle alcohol to well, indeed he had blossoming chest hairs, and he was cockier than a rooster having blue-balls. And he was proud of all three. Who wouldn't want to feel the "advantages" of strong beverages right away?<br>Anyway, he remained noiseless during the lesson Peligr gave him. He may be cocky, but he wasn't stupid, upsetting a dwarf was the last thing he would want to do right now. Maybe another time, but a lady in distress was just waiting to be saved by a handsome rogue.<br><br>"Our dwarfish friend is right on that point, let's hurry already you bunch of wannabe adventurers!"<br><br>He then ran towards the attacked cart with quite some haste.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>clonkertink</strong> on <strong>08-07-2019, 01:07:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The miserable weather made for equally miserable trudging along the muddy road, but just as Jonathan had said, the cart was found roughly an hour's walk beyond the walls of Elsin Keep. The cart's various goods were strewn about, sacks of grain torn and scattered, bags of sheeps' wool ripped open like overstuffed pillows. While the cart was obviously horse-drawn, there was no sign of a draft horse anywhere, save for a small green body sprawled around the torn harnesses, a hoof-print stamped into its face.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>08-07-2019, 19:04:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The first thing Tim did when finally arriving at the scene was carefully observe the situation as to see if anything the least bit valuable was still to rummage. The fact that his boots were hidden under 3lbs of mud, that he was soaked to the bone and that a woman was maybe in mortal danger didn't stop him in any way in his quest for valuables.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>12-07-2019, 08:30:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Tim found just the bare necessary to not be annoyed by the lack of riches, he couldn't believe his eyes as he squinted to read the&nbsp; drowned parchment. <br>"A...a bootleg, a fecking bootleg !? Those little basterds ! Who dared to sell my plans to those green whoresons !?"<br>He yelled in an mix of fury and despair, on is knees, defeated under the deafening weather.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomglazer</strong> on <strong>28-07-2019, 22:33:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The rain was still falling out of the heavens, it seemed like the Gods needed the cleanse this place with all that water.<br>Doomglazer arrived at the scene not much later than the rest. In full body armor and a shield and sword, he wasn't the quickest member of the team. <br>Opening the visor of his helm he looked around and saw the green body on the road "Mmm, that green thing had an unfortunate encounter with the horse, good for the horse or otherwise the poor thing would probably serve as dinner. <br>As Doomglazer came closer he went over to Tim put himself in front of him and looked down on him. "You can yell all you want and cry like a little child whos toys were just taken by an older one but that won't help you. The best thing you can do is take the anger and furry you have and put away in a little box inside of yourself. And when the times comes open the box and unleash that fury upon the green ones, that will benefit you more than crying like a little bitch in the rain" Doomglazer put out his hand waiting for Tim to grab it so he could be pulled up. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Heinakori</strong> on <strong>29-07-2019, 16:41:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Trailing few paces behind the paladin, Pelgir Sorehands sloughed through the downpour. Adequately-long-enough-legs, <em>thank you!</em>, ploughed a heavy trail in to the mud. A thick head covered in a thick helmet rattled under the heavy bombardment of rain drops, and long was the high morale brought by a warm hearth and good ale. Thankfully there was something positive on the site too. <br>"Looks like tha gob'er had had some wee fancey lig-work, ya keen?", Pelgir rested his adequately-long-enough-shape on his well-sized warhammer. His beard nudged in a soundless laughter, a smirk for a dwarf. The heavy head of the weapon sunk in the slouch, and Sorehands pointed an armored stub of a thick finger on the body. "Tha geezer ough'ta put a lig on it. Oi - ye all might think that 'tis was ta stomp ta would stop all'tha horsin' aroun'. Tis' be one of the rare cases where a kick in tha face actually made an improvement, ye keen?"<br>The dwarf gave himself a few good, well deserved strokes on the thicket of a beard while savoring the bright sight radiant against the dull an miserable sight of a civilization amiss: a heavy loss for the town, a heavy loss for a father, and an unfortunate gain for the green-skinned filth. <br><br>Pelgir glanced at the distant moors, misted beyond the pouring rain. The Paladin did a good job showing the kid what a proper backbone looked like. "Tha paladin's roight, ya know lad. Don't worry, tis' group has some proper change to pae fo'tha goblin's, alright. It's paper tha things sought - it's bloody iron what they'll find!", he shook his warhammer in the rain as a sing of a grim omen for the moors, but mostly to shake off all the mud from his weapon. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kit</strong> on <strong>29-07-2019, 22:57:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It would be extremely rude to refuse the put out hand of this canned remnant of past wars, thus extremely tempting. A part of him wanted to just get up and say something smug, and another part wanted to unleash that so-called "tiny-box" into a friendly and frankly unwinnable feud. But in the end he listened to that biter-sweet voice in his head called reason, much to his displease. A miracle he was able to make it out alive for the number of times in his short life he listened to pure instinct instead.<br>And so he got up to be part of a beautiful display of comradeship, the faces of both adventurers glistening in the downstrum unleashed by god or whoever, eye-contacting eachother in an oddly erotic brief moment.<br><br>"You mind if I use a part of that tiny box ?" Without admitting it he really liked that metaphor.<br><br>He then proceded to grab the leg of the smashed pathetic creature and yanked it in the decor, decorating the road and himself in goblin brains.<br><br>"Time to track some goblin tracks !" He said while advancing towards the cart, his hand in a rubbing motion.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>clonkertink</strong> on <strong>30-07-2019, 08:34:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The recent rains hand left the ground soft and muddy, and the goblins had not been subtle in their retreat from the wagon. There was barren, muddy swath cut through the short grass, where it looked like someone or something had been dragged across the soft earth. The trail wandered north, across the hills.<br><br>As the party followed the trail, darkness began to fall. The chill of the rain began to cut deeper, sinking to the bone and testing the mettle of all travelers this night.<br><br>Just enough light remained, however, to see a silhouette atop the highest hill. As they drew closer to the base of the hill, the silhouette resolved into a small stone structure, its entrance flanked by a pair of weathered griffon statues. At the feet of these stone sentinels, there was a flicker of indistinct movement and the sound of two voices bickering heatedly in goblin.<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">OoC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Due to the cold weather, I need a DC 10 Constitution Saving Throw. Those who fail will take a level of exhaustion until they can warm up. Until this level of exhaustion is removed, you will take disadvantage on all Ability Checks (this primarily means skill checks. It doesn't affect attacks or saving throws, unless you take further levels of fatigue).<br></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: PBP 101 - The Delian Tomb [IC]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomglazer</strong> on <strong>25-08-2019, 20:49:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The frigid air and rain penetrated Doomglazers armor and skin, chilling his blood, sinking into the marrow of his bones. <br>Doomglazer whispered "finally we found those bastards, the rain and the cold are getting the best of me" he looked back and saw the other members of this little rescue party behind him. <br>"The best we can do is wait here till the veil of darkness covers the land and wait for them to sleep. Then we can ambush them and ask where they took the Lady"<br>"Or we can barge in weapons swinging and knock the answer out of them, either way we need to decide fast because I'm getting cold and i need to warm myself up" looked at the other party members with his visor up.<br><br>He was hoping for the second option. That way his muscles would get some warming up and he didn't have to wait till the sun has set completely making him even colder. And they could start a campfire warming up everybody, also giving everybody the chance to rest a bit for the journey to come.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>