The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: HannibalBarca on 14-01-2018, 04:15:21</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HannibalBarca</strong> on <strong>14-01-2018, 04:15:21</strong>
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				Herein find the thread for placing any backstory that is RP'ed out, or backstory that is told only by one player.&nbsp; Posting header is the same as that in the primary posting thread:<br><br>Headers for posts in this thread will use the following convention:<br><br><div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[floatleft][img height=200 padding=5]your character avatar[/img][/floatleft]<br>[b]Name:[/b] Your name.<br>[b]Class:[/b] What you do for a living<br>[b]Time:[/b] Month, day, year, hour<br>[b]Location: [/b]Where are you?<br>[b]Tagging:[/b] Who are you interacting with?<br>[b]Content Warning: [/b]No surprises for anyone, warn if there are any contents that could trigger someone<br><br><br><br><br><br><br>[hr]</code></pre><br>So a post header will look like this:<br><br><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/3/30/666full-felicity-jones.jpg/399px-666full-felicity-jones.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Kirien Silverlark<br><strong>Class: </strong>Cleric/Mage<br><strong>Time: </strong>Patchwall 17, 577 CY, 3pm<br><strong>Location: </strong>The Forbidden Temple, first embalming chamber<br><strong>Tagging: </strong>Pansy, Melan<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong> None<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>15-01-2018, 21:44:43</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://www.nationalacrobat.com/Gallery/i.php?/upload/2015/01/31/20150131130633-f24c1729-xs.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Enastril Rixxle<br><strong>Class:</strong> Fighter/Mage<br><strong>Time:</strong> Harvester 15, 577 C.Y.<br><strong>Location: </strong>Highfolk<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Parents<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>Nothing Unusual<br><br>Yvannah and Celeros Rixxle had been patiently waiting for their son to arrive. He'd finished his apprenticeship with Master Evandine Theressial eight years ago, and then spent many years with the local sword master Andurain van Ymir learning the arts of swordplay. He'd been a natural with blades, and had insisted that once his apprenticeship in magic was complete, that he would learn the way of the blade, against their wishes. Now that he'd mastered entry level swordsmanship and magic, they had hoped that he would apprentice under one or both of them as an advisor and counselor for the High Council that helped direct the way that the elves who led Highfolk and it's regional elven enclave lived and prospered, but so far he had not indicated what he had intended to do now that he was, in essence, of age as an adult to dictate his own life. He had grown up in a typical high elven home, and had the education and lifestyle that his people had lived for thousands of years in his blood, yet they had noticed their son was different in many ways. He was somewhat close with his older sister Ci'ona, but they couldn't get anything out of her that he didn't want them to know, she'd been a very frustrating source of information for them regarding her brother. They were beginning to suspect that he'd already made up his mind regarding a few things, and that they were not going to like the answers they heard, which is why they had taken the direct step to summon him to meet with them.<br><br>The last time he'd been summoned by them in this manner had involved his ill-timed fling with one of the human noble's daughters who was studying magic as well. It was when she was being sought after as a marriage candidate that Enastril had engaged in several trysts with her, and while there was no doubt mutual satisfaction and encouragement, Lord Bessarib was not pleased, and placed the blame squarely on Enastril's shoulders, and by relation, his parents. <br><br>They had also found out through Master Theressial that Enastril had been writing and exchanging correspondence for years with Kirien Silverlark, lately of Beratana in the Vesve Forest, and that had them a little uneasy. While they had nothing against Kirien, in fact what they knew of her was that she was bright, intelligent and a wonderful young lady, they had recently been approached by House Lavorial regarding their daughter Fiorala, for a potential match in marriage. Enastril's parent's had been an arranged match, and so had his uncle and aunt, and it was well known that his sister likely would be as well. They were concerned that Kirien Silverlark was something that might interfere with the prospects, although that was the furthest thing from the truth. In actuality, he had met her by chance when they arrived in the same part of the arcane library in Olve Minrath decades ago, both seeking tomes to further their arcane apprenticeships. They'd had a good couple hour discussion, of things arcane and esoteric, and that had evolved into a decades long exchange of letters. In those letters they'd helped each other decipher formulas and encouraged each other when certain parts of their apprenticeship had gotten tough, and there was a friendship there that he'd not shared with his parents, for multiple reasons. In fact, they were about to find out that this friendship was part of the spark that was driving him now.<br><br>He was ready to get out. He was ruminating over what he was going to say to them when he sat down. <em>Highfolk is safe. It's nice, in fact quite pretty and idyllic, but it's safe. Too safe. There's not much to learn about the real world here as far as seeing, touching, tasting and feeling it. All I can do here is read about it, or hear tales from those who have been elsewhere. That doesn't help me experience it</em> he thought to himself as he made his way to his parent's study. His last letter from Kirien included a description, in minute detail, about Beratana. It may not have been a grand city but the way she described it, and how she felt about it, was conveyed. He wanted to see it for himself. He knew once he left, he would not come home for a very, very long time.<br><br>He'd already begun the process, moving out of Highfolk and up to High Vale, into a small cottage of his own. The change of scenery had done him good. His mother had come to visit a few times, but not his father. His mother had badgered him about not being in town much anymore, and had tried to find out his plans on multiple occasions.<br><br>Even out in High Vale he'd also heard rumors that his parents wanted him to marry. He was barely one hundred and twenty five years old. The thought of getting married in Highfolk were beyond crazy in his opinion. His sister had confirmed those suspicions.<br><br>Whatever they were discussing today, he was already late. It was pretty normal for him to be distracted on a long walk to anywhere really. He'd decided to take the long way to pass through a particularly lovely glade where late season flowers were in bloom, and he stopped smell a few, and pick a few, and imagined how beautiful of a painting the scene would be. An avid painter, he made a mental note to come back to this location and paint the scenery. It was truly beautiful. He'd then meandered through the town, and stopped to purchase a few sweetcakes, and then made his way to his parent's home. <br><br>He entered their study. They were formally dressed. It was going to be one of those meetings.<br><br>His mother got up and greeted him. 'Enastril, please, sit down' and as he did so, she moved to shut the door behind him. He took a seat. He was a little underdressed, with just a simple tunic and pants on, and sandals. He couldn't help but feel their eyes on him, boring into him.<br><br>'Glad you could come' his father said. 'We'd like to discuss your future with you' he said to Enastril.<br><br>'My future?' he asked, both curious and a bit annoyed. He held his composure however. It was indeed to be one of <em>those</em> conversations. The last time they'd had one, he'd left before it was finished.<br><br>'Yes' his father said, looking at his mother before proceeding. 'You have been done with your magical apprenticeship for over eight years, and you recently completed your training as an arms master, which we had assumed meant you'd enter either the Prince's Guard, or better yet, perhaps strive to the Knights of the Hart here in Highfolk, however, it does not seem to be that way. Have you decided to follow the path your mother and I chose, to serve on the High Council?' he asked.<br><br>'No' he said simply. 'Honestly, I have not. I am sorry to say, that thought has never really crossed my mind. I'm ill suited for spending day after day in meetings, diplomatic endeavors and pacifying angry or disappointed families and officials. You should know that, after all, I am your son. It was all I could do some days to make it through Master Theressial's lessons, but not for the love of magic, I would have likely been a bigger disappointment, but as such, the topic fascinates me, and reading about magic and putting it into practice is one of the joys of my life, so I managed to succeed there. It's not that I think it's a bad profession, but I have the feeling that were I to try to make it my life, it would not be as smooth a proposition as you think, and I think it would not end well' he said. There, it was out. He'd said it. Well, part of what he wanted to say anyway.<br><br>His father's face was neutral, but his mother's was not, she was both angry and saddened. He looked at his mother.<br><br>'Mother, please, you know I respect you both, and I am not saying anything negative about your positions. I recall one of your lectures to me about the freedom and individuality of our people, and the drive that we have to be independent and free spirited. If that is the case, then you should be proud that I'm deciding to forge my own path' he said to her. <br><br>'Don't patronize me, Enastril' she said to him. 'I want a secure, solid future for you. I want you to put your hard learned skills to use' she began.<br><br>'That's what I plan on doing. Why do you think that I spent years learning magic, and then five more years learning the art of swordplay and all that I could from the arms master. It wasn't so I could be a clerk or diplomat, we have enough of those' he said in a matter of fact tone of voice. 'I want to use my skills to make a difference, and to help people, and to get out of Highfolk. I dream of more than this' he said simply. <br><br>His mother frowned. 'That hardly sounds like a plan. That sounds like daydreaming to me' she said to him.<br><br>'Yes' interjected his father. 'Not chasing some fairy tales and stories that the humans and others in your classes have filled your head with' and now his father was upset. 'We know about the letters and correspondence. While we don't know about the details, I can only assume that you are intending to put your skills to 'adventuring' or worse, some common mercenary work. I was against you learning sword play, my main fear was that it would drive you to seek out some folly of an ideal to follow or believe you could follow some noble quest with a glorious reward at the end. You are better than that' he said to his son. 'You are throwing away your potential and ignoring a stable future for yourself.'<br><br>'Plus, there is the matter of marriage' his mother began. 'Fiorala Lavorial's parents have indicated that you and our house would be a good match for their daughter. Your father and I agree. It is a worthy match, and would benefit us all, especially you. Some stability in your life would be good for you I think' she said.<br><br>'Ah' he said to them. 'I see where this is going. My skills and training were to be for the benefit of whatever career or path you decided I should take, and that should include a wife, and not befriending those of other races. I am on track so far?' he asked. 'Was anyone going to ask me if I wanted to get married? I mean, I am young. I have a lot more to learn about myself and the world at large. Being married may not be the ideal situation for Fiorala to be in as far as that is concerned. I mean, I plan on traveling and seeing the Flanaess, and experiencing the cultures and places that lay before me. No offense to the charming, and lovely Miss Lavorial, but I can't see that lifestyle suiting her very much.' This time he was being serious, and actually thinking about someone else, yet of course, it came across totally wrong to his father.<br><br>His father frowned. 'Insolence does not become you.'<br><br>'Well father, I guess you won't have to worry about it much longer. I've decided to take a trip to Beratana, and then go wherever the trail leads. Unfortunately, that leaves Ci'ona in the unenviable position of having to listen to you complain about me and my total lack of awareness and other things. It also leaves Fiorala Lavorial needing another suitor. I am truly sorry about that, and I will convey that to her in person. You have fostered in me the desire to seek knowledge, and explore. You should be proud of that. What you have not fostered in me is the desire to conform. I don't see why you are so disappointed, but there we are. If you will excuse me, I have a few social calls to make before I leave'. Barely restraining himself, he bowed to his parents, and even kissed his mother's cheek.<br><br>His father was furious. 'You would throw it all way to traipse across the Flanaess with the gods know who, doing who knows what. If you walk out of this door-' and he was cut off.<br><br>'Yes, yes, I know. I'll regret it. I don't think so, and I think in a few decades, you'll see that you won't regret it either. Father, mother' and he turned to leave.<br><br>He was met by his sister outside, and she was not sure whether to hug him or hit him. 'Well, I think you've made my life a bit more difficult, but I admire your bravery. Here, take this' she said, handing him a small leather pouch. <br><br>He opened it and inside was a piece of shiny metal, of unknown origin. Ci'ona looked at him. 'It was supposed to be a research project for me, to figure out what it is, but I don't think I'm going to have time. I think Master Thesserial knew I'd give it to you. He said you'd know what to do with it' and she hugged him. 'Good luck. Try to write when you can'.<br><br>He grinned, and held the item. 'Interesting. Regardless of what Father and Mother say, you and that old wizard are both part of this whole conspiracy against them, you know' he said, winking. 'I'll see what I can figure out. Tell mother that she really shouldn't be disappointed. She is the one that inspired me to dream. She just doesn't see it. Anyway, I've got to go explain to Fiorala why there isn't a proposal, and then I'm off to the Vesve. Take care, and try not to be too upset with me.'<br><br>With that, it was time to finally leave Highfolk.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HannibalBarca</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 00:32:33</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/c/c0/Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg/450px-Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Kirien Silverlark<br><strong>Class: </strong>Cleric/Mage<br><strong>Time: </strong>Patchwall 2, 577 CY, 9pm<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village, Kirien's cottage<br><strong>Tagging: </strong>none<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>none<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/3/33/Bed-in-shakespeare-bookstore-in-paris.jpg/800px-Bed-in-shakespeare-bookstore-in-paris.jpg)</div><em>I am cold.</em><br><br>The words floated through the effervescent mind of the slender elven maiden reposing on a simple though well-constructed bed, surrounded by laden bookshelves in the tiny bedroom.&nbsp; She sighed through delicate lips, drawing her verdant eyes from the spidery text of the small, open tome beside her, and looked up, towards the top of the small wooden ladder leaning against another of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.&nbsp; There, atop a carefully balanced stack of books, leaned a tiny dragon with shimmering silver scales that reflected the arcane globe of light suspended over the now-attentive elf woman.&nbsp; The little beast had curled its tail--complete with miniature, pointy sting--around its trembling legs, and likewise enwrapped its opalescent wings around much of its body.<br><br>"You're always cold."<br><br>The elf brushed a lock of chestnut hair from her eyes, blinking away a single strand that had become entrapped in her long lashes.&nbsp; "And we're far from Olve Minrith...where it's already cold enough for snows on the treetops at night."<br><br><em>We did not live in the treetops.</em>&nbsp; The huge eyes of the pseudodragon stared at her dolefully, unblinking.<br><br>That elicited a sniff and a crooked smile from the lovely Spellmaiden.&nbsp; "I'm not wasting any more wood on the fire--it's stoked enough for the rest of the night."&nbsp; She gazed on her familiar for several seconds more, but if there was any reproach in her heart, it was not reflected in her entrancing eyes.&nbsp; Then she brought her attention back to her study of Lethchauntos' <em>Doors and Passages of Arcane Worlds</em>.<br><br><em>What if I die?</em><br><br>The elven woman paused in her reading once more, eyes glazed.<br><br><em>Will you weep for me?</em><br><br>And those elven lids with the thick, dark lashes closed, slowly.&nbsp; A single soft breath was taken in...also perceptibly slow.&nbsp; A slender arm raised, and a long, clever finger pointed towards the little creature, then curled back towards the palm of the hand that was outstretched.<br><br>The scaled complainer rose silently and quickly from its perch on paper-thin wings, darting with incredible speed and agility into the homespun blanket that lay over the elven woman up to her shoulders, landing and crawling up her arm, over her shoulders, until it was curled rather comfortably around her neck, with its little stinger-armed tail hanging down, over her exposed collarbone.<br><br>"Better?"&nbsp; The outstretched hand now glided over the fragile-appearing wings of her familiar in a warm and delicate caress, and the magical creature shivered in pleasure, stretching its neck for more touches, which her mistress indulged her in.<br><br><em>I will not die tonight.&nbsp; I think.&nbsp; From cold.</em><br><br>The elf chuffed out a single laugh, feeling the essence of her familiar's emotions within her mind and spirit fully.&nbsp; Despite its words, Kirien knew where her soulmate's concerns truly lay.&nbsp; There was no anger possible with her little Teria.&nbsp; She then continued her reading, turning another page of her book, engrossed in the wonder of what she would some day wish to explore: the realms of existence beyond her world...even so far as the lands the gods themselves abided in.<br><br><em>Brennisen likes you.</em><br><br>Kirien did not look up from her book.&nbsp; "She is my friend.&nbsp; I like her as well."<br><br><em>You should mate with her.&nbsp; I am sure she would let you.</em><br><br>"Teria!"<br><br><em>And like it.</em><br><br>"Honestly, Teria..."<br><br><em>But you should be the one to take the first step.</em><br><br>"Teria..."<br><br><em>She is shy.&nbsp; I do not understand your two-legs' feelings like this.</em><br><br>"My timid little Teria does not understand <em>shyness?</em>"&nbsp; Another caress to the mini-dragon's neck and wings.<br><br><em>I am not shy.&nbsp; I am prudent.</em><br><br>"Ahh...that's what you call it."<br><br><em>And Enastril.&nbsp; You should mate with him, too.&nbsp; But Brennisen first.</em><br><br>"I would not call it mating, with a female..."<br><br><em>You should couple with them, then.&nbsp; And your other friends.&nbsp; Yesqwyn would, I think.&nbsp; And Pansy.&nbsp; And her new friend, Taavia...</em><br><br>"You have quite a focus on coupling right now...is it your own mating season?"<br><br><em>It is always mating season for dragons, of any size.&nbsp; Elves and humans are the same.</em><br><br>"But why have you not sought out a partner then?"<br><br><em>I love </em>you<em>, Kirien.</em><br><br>The elf maiden's heart was suddenly smattered then with countless shards of bittersweet affect, and her eyes became soft and glassy.&nbsp; "Oh, my sweet flutterbug...you are <em>most </em>precious to me, as well."<br><br>The pseudodragon craned its neck, rubbing its tiny head against the underside of her mistress' neck and chin, large eyes closed in joy as she was stroked lovingly.&nbsp; Then it paused, and opened the lids of one eye until it was fully exposed, and gazing up.<br><br><em>But you should mate with Brennisen.</em><br><br>Kirien sighed, short and breathy.<br><br><em>Why have you never mated?</em><br><br>This brought the elf woman up short of a response.&nbsp; Why, indeed?<br><br>"I...I don't know."&nbsp; There was no hiding anything from a familiar, and she'd never even attempted to lie to Tera, but she had never considered such a reason...<br><br><em>Your mind is so often filled with images of it...</em><br><br>"Teria!"&nbsp; No indeed, there was no hiding <em>anything </em>from a familiar!<br><br><em>...so much that I dream of it often, as well.</em><br><br>"Do you?"<br><br><em>I am very curious.&nbsp; I would like to know what it is like.&nbsp; To share your feelings of it.</em><br><br>"Well, there would be no getting away from <em>that</em>, certainly, with our connection."<br><br><em>Will you think of it more?&nbsp; To try it?</em><br><br>"I will...especially if you continually remind me of it."&nbsp; A smirk, this time, appeared on Kirien's full lips.<br><br><em>And with Brennisen.&nbsp; She is pretty.&nbsp; And kind.</em><br><br>"I..."&nbsp; Kirien cut short her annoyed retort, and considered, feeling Teria's emotions, which let her follow her own oft-overlooked feelings.&nbsp; "She is very pretty."&nbsp; She nodded her head.&nbsp; "And very kind."<br><br>Teria fell silent for a few more moments.&nbsp; Then her telepathic voice echoed in Kirien's mind one last time, as the pseudodragon slid towards sleep.<br><br><em>And the two of you in bed would keep me from dying of cold.</em><br><br>Kirien bit her lip, stifling the sudden giggle that threatened to startle her familiar back to annoyed wakefulness.&nbsp; "Well...then it would be a great boon to all dragonkind."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Annisthyrienne</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 01:17:10</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/3/3c/Brennisen.jpg/478px-Brennisen.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Brennisen.<br><strong>Class:</strong> Ranger.<br><strong>Time:</strong> Patchwall 6 &amp; 7, 577 CY.<br><strong>Location: </strong>Beratana.<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kirien, Yesqwyn, Enastril.<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>None.<br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>When her mentor had his unfortunate accident, it spelled the end of her apprenticeship.&nbsp; Her master bade her to go out into the world and try to make a difference.&nbsp; He gave her his specially trained ranger horse named 'Ghost', the studded leather armor he had made for her, and the weapons he had trained her to use.&nbsp; She wasn't sure what gifts were the most valuable.&nbsp; The weapons and armor were nice, but the horse was something special.<br><br>Ranger horses were a unique breed.&nbsp; Bred from a stock of mountain ponies, the ranger horses were shorter in height, shaggier, and slower than standard riding horses or war horses.&nbsp; But they were bred for endurance.&nbsp; The small ranger horses would still be going strong long after most faster horses were winded and lathered.&nbsp; As a result, they could cover a lot of distance when the ranger needed to deliver crucial intelligence to the kingdom's forces or government.<br><br>And they were smart too.&nbsp; They were trained individually, for each ranger.&nbsp; Besides the usual riding commands, each horse was trained using a special code word that ensured only the ranger who was meant for that horse, or at least one who knew the code word, could ride for more than a few minutes without being bucked off.&nbsp; The horses were also trained to alert their ranger to the presence or approach of others, to move as stealthily as possible, and to obey hand signs and knee pressure commands as well as verbally spoken ones.<br><br>Brennisen loved Ghost and was frequently given the responsibility of taking care of the steed on behalf of her master.&nbsp; So the horse was already familiar with her when the older ranger passed the animal on to her, teaching her the code word and all of the commands.&nbsp; Now as often as not, Brennisen can be found in the horse's company.&nbsp; She feels like he is her connection to the master she was devoted to, and that the animal understands her, even when she talks to it.<br><br>When she left her master's service, the young half-elf's intention was to return to the small village where she'd grown up, and to the father she'd left behind.&nbsp; But fate has a way of changing plans, and hers were changed when she stopped on her journey in a small village called Beratana.&nbsp; While visiting the tavern there, her attention was drawn to a petite high elf woman, and through the rest of the evening, Brennisen found her gaze drifting back to the woman often.&nbsp; She didn't know why, but something about the woman fascinated her.<br><br>She stayed at the tavern late into the night, until at last the elf woman retired for the evening.&nbsp; When she left, Brennisen felt an odd sense of disappointment, and the tavern holding no further attraction for her, the young ranger returned to the small tent in her camp outside of town.&nbsp; <br><br>She found herself going back to the tavern again the next day...and the next...and again each night, hoping to see the pretty elf woman again.&nbsp; Brennisen was sure that the elf would have nothing to do with her, but she just wanted to see her, to watch her, and to hear her voice again.&nbsp; At last, she saw the woman again, and soon, her observational skills noted a pattern to the elf woman's comings and goings.&nbsp; <br><br>Night after night, day after day, the lure of seeing her again made Brennisen delay moving on from the small town.&nbsp; Days turned to weeks, to months, to years.&nbsp; Eventually, the young half-elf and the pretty little high elf woman met and became friends.<br><br>Over time, Brennisen and Kirien formed a close friendship.&nbsp; Brennisen enjoyed visiting Kirien's apothecary shop in town, bringing small bits of fruit or meat to try to entice the elf's exotic pet pseudo dragon out from hiding.&nbsp; In exchange, Kirien provided the half-elf ranger with sticks of a rare spice, cinnamon, which Brennisen liked to idly chew on, a habit she learned from her former master.&nbsp; It helped to calm her and gave her time to think, which she loved to do.&nbsp; <br><br>Spending as much time alone as she did, and being more inclined to stay on the fringes of a group or crowd, and watch instead of engaging with those she was not familiar with, gave her plenty of time to think.&nbsp; Though she was not educated, and could not read or write, the young half-elf's mind was always pondering some thought or another.&nbsp; She didn't shy away from esoteric subjects to ruminate on, though not many would've thought so based on the appearance she presented and the lifestyle she led.&nbsp; Those things suggested a simple person living a simple life, nothing of much interest there.&nbsp; But her friend, Kirien, knew better.<br><br>Whenever Kirien undertook a journey to a nearby town or village to spend time in the taverns and inns to learn of the latest gossip and news from travelers, Brennisen accompanied her.&nbsp; For protection, or so Brennisen likes to think.&nbsp; After all, the elf woman was small, delicate, beautiful in the half-elf's eyes.&nbsp; But hardly formidable, by the measure the ranger was used to.&nbsp; Still, no matter the reason she accompanied her friend, the two enjoyed spending the time on the road discussing deep matters.&nbsp; It was from these conversations that Kirien knew Brennisen was no simpleton.<br><br>It was also because of these small journeys that Brennisen had been introduced to some of the high elf's other friends.&nbsp; She even met another half-elf woman like herself, but that was where the resemblance ended.&nbsp; Yesqwyn was most things Brennisen is not: flamboyant, confident, flirtatious, outspoken.&nbsp; Brennisen liked her, though there never seemed to be a shortage of blushes by the young ranger whenever Yesqwyn was around.&nbsp; Brennisen was astounded at how Yesqwyn could be so audacious at times.<br><br>Another person that Brennisen met when she came to visit her friend Kirien one day was a high elf named Enastril.&nbsp; He was a handsome elf; Brennisen enjoyed looking at him right away.&nbsp; But he seemed so sophisticated, and it was clear that Kirien had more in common with him than she did with the young ranger.&nbsp; Brennisen felt intimidated and left out.&nbsp; Not only was he a high elf, and so handsome, but also highly educated and obviously from a noble class.&nbsp; 'Next to all that, what do I have to offer?' she thought to herself.<br><br>For a reason she didn't quite understand, she felt resentful that he had come into Kirien's home and seemed to be capturing all of the elven woman's attention.&nbsp; But after a while, she was surprised to find him trying to engage with her.&nbsp; She wasn't sure how to react, or what his intentions were.&nbsp; She was cautious and hesitant to open up to him, fearful that he only wanted to find out enough about her to use to mock her.&nbsp; <br><br>Her reluctance to respond to his overtures must have seemed like she was being unfriendly.&nbsp; Few others would have known that it was because she was intimidated and shy, but Kirien knew.&nbsp; She took the young ranger aside in private and chided her on the need to open up and come out of her shell.<br><br>"You've got to be more open with people, Brennisen." Kirien said. "Don't be afraid to let people in. Be friendly. Show them what is truly in your heart and they can't help but like you, just like I do."<br><br>Being scolded, no matter how gently, made the half-elf feel somewhat flustered.&nbsp; But her friend's words were sinking in....just maybe not in the way Kirien intended.&nbsp; The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the young ranger suddenly and surprisingly cupped the mage's pretty cheeks in her palms and pressed her lips to Kirien's in a kiss.&nbsp; For a long moment, she closed her eyes and lost herself in the feeling, but then she realized what she had done.<br><br>Brennisen broke away suddenly, stammering out an apology and blushing pink clear to the tips of her ears.&nbsp; She beat a hasty retreat from the apothecary shop, forgetting all about the curious piece of shiny metal she'd found and had come to ask Kirien about.&nbsp; But the next day, at the edge of town, the ranger was there, sitting astride Ghost and awaiting Kirien and her guests.&nbsp; She had recalled them talking about traveling to an inn called the Idle Boar, and although she wasn't sure Kirien wanted her along after what she'd done, she wasn't about to let her friend travel roads that might be dangerous, even if she wouldn't be alone.<br><br>To her relief, her friend didn't seem too upset, and nothing was mentioned in front of the others about the kiss.&nbsp; They seemed to welcome her accompanying them, and soon the four were traveling down the road at an easy pace.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxy DeVille</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 02:14:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/62/SexySorceress1.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Yesqwyn Haht (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=281310.msg13835622#msg13835622)<br><strong>Class:</strong> Cleric/Mage<br><strong>Time:</strong> A night six years ago, 571 CY<br><strong>Location: </strong>Some sleazy tavern in Greyhawk<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Dreks, an apprentice mage<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>Graphic sexual content<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>"Goddess! Goddess! Goddess!"<br><br>It was quite likely that Yesqwyn's cries of ecstasy could be heard throughout the thin-walled tavern but she was past the point of caring. Her attention was focused on her current position, which was on her back with her legs in the air as the young man on top of her rammed his cock in and out of her pale ass. One of her hands was stroking her own rod while the other clutched tightly at one of her small breasts. Yesqwyn opened her vivid blue eye to look at Dreks's face. It looked red and tight, a sign he was about to reach his climax. It was good timing because the pair had been pleasuring each other for the better part of an hour and that was all the time ;this tavern rented its room for. This was not the type of place where anyone would want to stay the night.<br><br>As Yesqwyn predicted, Dreks soon threw his head back and made that odd grunting sound of his as shot his seed into the half-elf's back passage. Moments later Yesqwyn's cock exploded in her hand and coated her firm belly with white sticky liquid. A few spurts even landed on the underside of her breasts. Dreks watched her orgasm with fascination before pulling his shrinking manhood and collapsing next to Yesqwyn. The two laid there panting, Dreks looking as Yesqwyn's pale but flushed face as she stared up at the rotting ceiling. There was a long moment of silence that was finally broken by Dreks.<br><br>"What're you thinking about?"<br><br>"That I hope those elven priestesses can cure me of whatever disease I'm getting from these blankets."<br><br>Dreks chuckled but there was a serious look in his eyes.<br><br>"So you're really leaving to live with your father's people?"<br><br>"Yes," Yesqwyn replied. "My parents decided that rutting with mages for training is unacceptable. I tried telling them I only rut with the best mages but that did no good."<br><br>"You think I'm one of the best mages?"<br><br>Yesqwyn turned to glare at Dreks with those unusually blue eyes of her.<br><br>"No, you idiot. Your master is. You were a preliminary cock, his was the main objective."<br><br>"Oh."<br><br>Dreks felt a bit hurt. He knew their affair was no great romance but it still cut a bit to know how meaningless it was to Yesqwyn. She seemed to pick up on that and let out a sigh of exasperation.<br><br>"Look, I'm here now because you were the best I've had and that's out of quite a few. The fact I'm spending my last night in Greyhawk with you should make you feel flattered. Or maybe not. I don't care because I won't be around. Now stop being boring and let's get dressed before the next guests come barging in."<br><br>Without waiting for a response from Dreks, Yesqwyn got off of the bed. She cast a quick cantrip that summoned small blue lights that roamed over her body, cleansing it of the remnants of their exertions. Yesqwyn watched as the lights did their work, pleased with her magic. Her hips and breasts could be fuller, she thought to herself. There would be plenty of time to work on her figure while stuck in some gods-forsaken forest. Maybe figure out something that would draw attention to her without having to show what she had under her skirt. Like a tattoo or something. Mother would hate that but she would be a long ways away. The lights finished their task and faded away, so Yesqwyn pulled on her blue dress. She glanced over at Dreks putting on his own clothes. He had let his belt pouch fall open and among the smattering of coins was an oddly shaped piece of metal. Curious, Yesqwyn picked it up and examined it. The object didn't seem like much but it somehow held her attention.<br><br>"What is this, Dreks?"<br><br>"That?" he replied as he finished dressing. "I really don't know. Found it on the floor at my master's. Guess it was something left over from when he was making some magical item or something. I just though it looked interesting. You can have it if you like. Give you something to remember me by.<br><br>Yesqwyn rolled her eyes but still tucked the piece of metal in the pocket of her skirt. The two made their way out of the room, squeezing by the next occupants on the stairs. It was a slim bearded gnome and a quite obese female half-orc, looking as if they wouldn't make it into the room before consummating their passion. Yesqwyn was tempted to stay and watch but it was already late and she had much to do before leaving the city. As she exited the tavern with Dreks, the apprentice mage turned to look at her. He was doing a poor job at hiding how heavy his heart was.<br><br>"I don't suppose I'll ever see you again."<br><br>Shaking her head, Yesqwyn giggled softly.<br><br>"Oh, cheer up. Maybe someday you'll become a wonderful mage and I'll rut you out of your secrets. Wouldn't that be grand?"<br><br>Dreks didn't answer, so Yesqwyn shrugged and walked away. He watched her for a while, wondering if she would look back. But of course she didn't.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HannibalBarca</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 02:38:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/c/c0/Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg/450px-Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Kirien Silverlark<br><strong>Class: </strong>Cleric/Mage<br><strong>Time: </strong>Patchwall 7, 577 CY, late morning<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village<br><strong>Tagging: </strong>Brennisen, Enastril, Yesqwyn<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>none<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>After patching up widow Leila's youngest son for his fall out of the old oak near their barn, Kirien guided them out of her home.&nbsp; The cottage doubled as the village apothecary, and with two extra beds crammed into the living room in the front and one in the second bedroom, it was as close to a true temple healing quarters as the tiny village would probably ever see.&nbsp; The Spellmaiden stood at the door and turned back towards the clutter of her home, gazing over the bunches of dried herbs hanging from the rafters, jars and bottles of extracts and essences, as well as the rolled bolts of various cloths and fabrics, unfinished dresses, and--always--books of limitless sizes, colors, and degrees of wear.<br><br>She valued the knowledge she'd collected, she really did...it just did not seem in her to ever wish to expend any time organizing or sorting all of her various interests and studies.&nbsp; After all, time spent organizing was less time spent actually reading or doing something like filling more vials with essences of herbs, or reading another treatise on the efficacy of turmeric versus blue-green algae on removing snake venom.<br><br>Teria remained lodged within the neckline of one of her almost-finished dresses, draped in amber and white layers over the back of a rocking chair next to the fireplace.&nbsp; "It's time," she spoke, too softly to hear...but with a telepathic and empathic connection, the spoken words to her familiar were always just a habit...and after two hundred and thirty-seven years of life, habits tended to stay deeply ingrained in an elf.<br><br>The miniature dragon dextrously extracted itself from the dress, flitting effortlessly over to the petite woman, and, with the ease of many years of practice, slipped under her dark green, travel-stained cloak.&nbsp; The hood was left down as she walked out onto the stepping stones before her door, closing it behind her.&nbsp; Freeday it was, and the first Freeday of the month--which meant traveling for pleasure, and that ultimately meant the Idle Boar.<br><br>She made her way to the back of her home, past the various rows of late-season herbs still growing in haphazard rows, or along trellises tied to the side of her cottage, breathing in the mixture of sweet and bitter scents.&nbsp; The lean-to that doubled as a shelter for her black mare and storage for the saddle and harness was against the back of the little building.&nbsp; Wissil had been a gift from the High Priestess of the Inner Circle back in Olve Minrith, and she had been a good friend as well the last three years, though she seldom rode her.&nbsp; Still, the gentle beast nickered and nuzzled her as she approached to pat her strong neck, and brush her mane.&nbsp; <br><br>"Ready for a little trip?" Kirien asked good-naturedly, and then got to the task of saddling the horse and mounting her.&nbsp; She didn't bring much other than what she wore, though she did bring her pack and a few items within it, including her spellbook.&nbsp; After two hundred plus years, she'd learned the sense in a mage always bringing the necessities with them.&nbsp; Her short but sturdy staff was stowed across Wissil's back as well.&nbsp; Also included in her kit was the odd little piece of metal she'd come into possession of in a most ominous way.&nbsp; She'd relate that story to her friends when they were all gathered at the Idle Boar, for certain.<br><br>Meeting Enastril and Yesqwyn at the village inn took only a short minute--her home was fairly close to the only inn in Beratana.&nbsp; She'd have gladly let them stay in her home, if she'd had the room...but being the village healer meant that the extra beds were often needed by the injured and sick.&nbsp; Her friends joined her on the journey, and they set out for Brennisen's tent on the outskirts of the village.<br><br>The thought of her closest friend brought a soft glow to her cheeks.&nbsp; It was only too apparent to her why.&nbsp; The kiss the day before had been a great surprise, especially coming from such a shy woman.&nbsp; A surprise, but very pleasant, and very welcome.&nbsp; Her own words to Brennisen had been about being open and honest, and yet here she'd known the ranger for almost three years, and never truly been honest with herself about her feelings for the auburn-tressed half-elf.&nbsp; She wasn't going to continue such faulty behavior, not any more.&nbsp; She could give more than half the credit to Teria for that, but when she thought about it, the very echoes of guidance she felt she received from Ehlonna for most of her life were pointing her in the direction she was now deciding to take.&nbsp; She was a mage, true...but she was spiritually a priestess of the forest goddess...and it was time for her to follow her heart just as thoroughly as her mind.<br><br>Besides, she'd bet that Yesqwyn would be tickled at her new attitude as well, knowing her personality.<br><br>As they approached the point near the road where Brennisen called home, she saw her friend already seated upon Ghost, waiting for them.&nbsp; A happy smile creased her lips, and she moved forward of the rest.&nbsp; When she pulled up next to the other woman, she reached a gloved hand out and softly rested it on Brennisen's muscular thigh, and her green eyes sought out the other's blue ones.<br><br>"You left too soon yesterday."<br><br>Her hand on Brennisen's thigh moved up to take one of the ranger's, and held it affectionately.<br><br>"Can we talk more of it at the inn?&nbsp; I have much I'd like to share with you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 02:58:02</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://www.nationalacrobat.com/Gallery/i.php?/upload/2015/01/31/20150131130633-f24c1729-xs.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Enastril Rixxle<br><strong>Class:</strong> Fighter/Mage<br><strong>Time:</strong> Harvester 30-Brewfest 2, 577 C.Y.<br><strong>Location: </strong>Verbobonc and Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kirien<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>Nothing Unusual<br><br><br>'Are you sure about this?' his cousin asked him. Sionell was older than him by about fifty years, and was a seasoned adventurer. His aunt and uncle's daughter, she was the closest thing to a black sheep that the family had, although Enastril was rapidly trying to overtake her for that honor. He'd made his way south, passing through Furyondy, Veluna and Verbobonc, and she had met him at the Silver Lyre Inn on the outskirts of Verbobonc as he made his way to the Gnaley Forest. <br><br>'Of course. I've wanted this since I was old enough to understand the world and it's ways. In some ways, mother and father, and your parents, instilled the idea of wanderlust in me. Also, and this will sound blasphemous to some, I'm sure, Corellan doesn't sit on his ass and wait for the evil to come to him, he's a guiding hand, and those of us who follow his way, should seek out opportunities to do good and help others. It's what he stands for. I don't see why others who follow him don't see that, or either I'm misinterpreting something. At any rate, all those tales the elders wove as a child, and all the written tales and tomes during my apprenticeship, showed me there was more out there. I want to see it, and experience it. I couldn't imagine my life if I was to stay shut up in Highfolk. You left, so you know what I'm talking about. I've heard of some of your adventures. Don't tell me that it's not the same' he said, taking a long pull from his tankard.<br><br>'No, you're right. I'm not going to argue with you' she said, laughing. 'It's the same. You've got the same spirit, I get it' she said, laughing some more. 'Do you have a destination in mind, or are you just wandering?' she asked, curious.<br><br>'Beratana.'<br><br>'What's there? A friend or a job?' she asked him, even more curious.<br><br>'A friend, an old friend that I haven't seen in a long time, well a long time by human standards. Still, it's been awhile, and I had decided after my last correspondence to her that I'd leave home and she'd be the first person I'd visit. She gave me counsel on the whole arranged marriage thing. I'd needed a perspective that wasn't from anyone in the family regarding that. As you can see, the counsel I received caused me to open my eyes and look at things in a new light. Which means, I'm not getting married any time soon' he added.<br><br>'Good. If you stumble into a job, it's good to have friends who can help you. Trust me on that'. <br><br>They finished their drinks, and shared some more stories, before parting. He'd been glad to see Sionell, and the few hours they'd spent made him realize he'd made the right choice. She'd experienced the same, and had struck out from home, and had made her way, on her own terms.<br><br>He'd made it to the Gnarley Forest, and the village of Beratana on the second day of Brewfest, and the village looked exactly as she had described it. He'd had no trouble finding her home, and approached the door, and knocked. The first part of his journey was done.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxy DeVille</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 04:24:42</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/62/SexySorceress1.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Yesqwyn Haht (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=281310.msg13835622#msg13835622)<br><strong>Class:</strong> Cleric/Mage<br><strong>Time:</strong> Late morning, Patchwall 7, 577 CY<br><strong>Location: </strong>The Beratana Village Inn, your home away from home<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Enastril, Kirien, Brennisen<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>No smut... for now<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>The angry glances from the innkeeper's daughter was making it difficult for Yesqwyn to enjoy her meal. She wanted to have a bite before an evening of drinking at the Ilde Boar but she was fairly certain her food had been spat it. Casting a cantrip to freshen up her feel did little to get that thought out of her mind. So the next time the girl walked near, Yesqwyn commanded her to stop. Not the right circumstance to wield divine magic but it was more ladylike than trying to grab her. More effctive too, as the lass froze in place.<br><br>"All right," said Yesqwyn. "What's the problem? I thought we had a fun time last night."<br><br>"I can't believe you asked me to do those things!" hissed the innkeeper's daughter angrily.<br><br>"Really?" the half-elf replied with a raised eyebrow. "As I recall you were an enthusiastic participant."&nbsp; <br><br>"No! After that!"<br><br>"You mean when I told you to fetch me some clean sheets and empty my chamber-pot?&nbsp; That's your job, dearie."<br><br>The jaw of the innkeeper's daughter dropped. <br><br>"After what we shared you expect me to act like a servant!" <br><br>Yesqwyn pondered this for a moment.<br><br>"I do, most assuredly. That is what I'm paying your father for, not for the use of his bonnie baby girl's cunny. Now I won't judge you if you wish to be a whore. Goddess know I've peddled my own fine arse many a time. But I won't be part of a transaction I didn't agree to. So now that my spell has ended, stop being a brat and fetch me some pepper."<br><br>Instead the innkeeper's daughter let out an exasperated howl and stomped away. Yesqwyn simply shrugged and used a cantrip to bring the pepper to her. None of the other guests in the common room raised an eye at this. They had gotten used to Yesqwyn's gratuitous use of magic. It was one reason why Yesqwyn was wanting to move on from the little village... people just didn't notice her as much anymore. By the Seven Hells, she had been reduced to diddling the help for entertainment. While at least Beratana didn't have her father and a bunch of priestess reprimanding her over everything she did, it was still boring. Her friends were nice enough, maybe too nice. She wished a couple of them would just stop dancing around and get naked already. Yesqwyn had offered to help them over that hump but they all insisted that the first time should be special. Her first time had been with a local street tough back in Greyhawk in exchange for a bottle of rotgut. And she needed that bottle to get over how awful he had been. But at least it taught her not to drag her feet when she wanted something.<br><br>Right now she was wanting a night at the Idle Boar. At least that place was interesting. Plenty of men that were rough around the edges, just the way Yesqwyn liked them. And she could get drunk without someone asking her if she was doing all right. The people of the village meant well, just that sometimes they were more rustic than Yesqwyn could stand. Fine, most of the time. This is what she gets for trying to avoid her parents...<br><br>Since she still wasn't sure about the quality of her meal, Yesqwyn got up and left the inn. She paused at the doorway to blow a kiss at the fuming girl squeezing the corners of her apron out of anger. Once outside, Yesqwyn put a bit of halfling pipeweed in a piece of paper, rolled it up, and placed it in her mouth. A cantrip lit the tip on fire and Yesqwyn blew out a cloud of smoke. This technique was much more chic than smoking a pipe, she just needed to come up with a name for it. Whatever she called it, it was a good way to pass the time while waiting for her friends. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HannibalBarca</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 05:11:54</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/c/c0/Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg/450px-Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Kirien Silverlark<br><strong>Class: </strong>Cleric/Mage<br><strong>Time: </strong>Brewfest 2, 577 CY, afternoon<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village, Kirien's cottage<br><strong>Tagging: </strong>Enastril<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>none<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>It had been a fortunate, quiet afternoon for Kirien...not even a minor injury, poisoning, or pregnant mother needing a remedy for morning sickness.&nbsp; It had given her time to patch a cloak she normally wore into the forest on her near-endless rounds of herb-collecting.&nbsp; Now, it seemed, she would have a bit of time to practice her slight variation on the <em>armor </em>spell she'd been attempting--giving the invisible barrier a touch of color, so as to make her look like she actually was wearing a suit of ghostly leather plates...<br><br>A knock at the door brought her attention around, as well as Teria's, who was lazing around her neck and shoulders.&nbsp; Opening the door, she was overjoyed to see her longtime friend Enastril, just as he'd promised in his last letter.&nbsp; Having lived in the more rustic Beretana for a few years, she'd shed some of her more stoic Olve Minrith mannerisms, and she reached up to him, embracing him warmly.<br><br>"You're here, and safe," she smiled.&nbsp; The lands that were under the protection of Greyhawk--and the Vesve and Furyondy, for that matter--were well-guarded and generally not dangerous...but one never knew, in the world they lived in.&nbsp; There had been rumors enough of war and strife in far-off places, and Kirien's studies of history had shown her that what was far-off could grow all too close to where things were supposedly safe.&nbsp; "Come in, please."&nbsp; She took his hand, leading him into her warm (perhaps a bit too warm) and snug cottage.&nbsp; On Kirien's shoulders, Teria's head swiveled up to look at the male elf with wide, expressive eyes, and a look of what could only be described as matter-of-fact objectivity.&nbsp; She opened her mouth and gave a tiny cough of welcome herself, as her telepathy only worked with her mistress.<br><br>Once Enastril was seated by the fireplace, given something to drink in a wooden cup, and Kirien had seated herself across from him in her own chair, she placed her hands in her lap.&nbsp; "Well could I say this was a fated meeting, my friend...I've had many dreams of late about you, and others I care for.&nbsp; Whether they come from my Lady Ehlonna, or are just emanations of my own worry...I am not wise enough to reveal."<br><br>Teria rose from the Spellmaiden's shoulders, to settle silently on the mantel of the fireplace, between two large glass jars of finely powdered green herbs.&nbsp; The pseudodragon let her head hang over the edge of the finished walnut board, and if she could have, she would have purred at the warmth rising from the crackling fire in the hearth.<br><br>"How are things with you?&nbsp; Are you still happy with your decision to leave Highfolk?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 05:45:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://www.nationalacrobat.com/Gallery/i.php?/upload/2015/01/31/20150131130633-f24c1729-xs.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Enastril Rixxle<br><strong>Class:</strong> Fighter/Mage<br><strong>Time:</strong> Brewfest 2, 577 C.Y. in the afternoon<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kirien's Cottage<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>None<br><br>'Thank you' he said, entering the cottage. It reminded him of his cottage that he'd left behind in the High Vale. Oddly enough, Fiorala Lavorial had agreed to watch over it for him, and to tend to the garden. He would not be surprised if she took up residence there while he was gone. The conversation that he'd had with her had been most...revealing and led to an afternoon that he'd not forget for awhile, and coming into a quaint, cozy cottage had brought that back to him, reminding him of his own home, only this cottage was better kept than his unruly mess of a home.<br><br>He returned the hug, not at all stuffy like their high elven cousins. <br><br>'It's lovely. Reminds me of my own cottage in the High Vale, although I bet the winters are milder here than they are up there' he said as she led him inside and he took a look around. He heard Teria's coughing sound and smiled. 'Welcome indeed, a pleasure to meet you as well, finally. I have heard much about you' he said to Teria, and he reached into his cloak pocket, and pulled out a few of the sweet breads he'd saved, and offered them to the small dragon as way of a small gift.<br><br>'Dreams?' he said, intrigued. 'I wonder what they mean. You know, just before I left, my sister gave me this' and he pulled out his unusual piece of metal 'that she said Master Theressial gave to her, but she suspected he meant it for me. I was given the message 'you'll figure out what to do with it' from him. I thought it odd, but if you have had dreams, well I guess anything is possible' he said, showing her the metal piece.<br><br>'Very happy. It was a necessary decision and one I would make a thousand times over. I fear it is time for our people to stop staying behind their imaginary boundaries and become a vital part of the world, and the wheel of time as it moves. I've said the same for our brethren in Celene. The world around us moves, whether we choose to be part of it or not, and there is so much life to live' and he took a sip of the offered drink. 'Plus, I am not made for being behind walls. My travels have been wonderful, I visited my cousin in Verbobonc, and I've escaped the dreadful prospect of an arranged marriage. I'd say it's good. How about you?'
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>LizzieV</strong> on <strong>16-01-2018, 19:35:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/02/MelanSongsteel.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Melan Songsteel<br><strong>Class:</strong> Paladin<br><strong>Time:</strong> Coldeven, 11, 575 CY, late night - Blood Moon Festival<br><strong>Location: </strong> Gnarley Forest, Bandit Fortress<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> The Horned Society, Open<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong> Battlefield aftermath (blood, bodies, etc), violence<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>The silver disk of Luna shone down in the cold cloudless night bathing the area in an unearthly glow. The air was still save for a few men moving about, calling a few orders and getting to work under the direction of the sergeant under her command to gather the bodies in the fortress to burn. Left alone for the moment, Melan sat atop of barrel in the cool air with puffs of her breath lingering in the night. Her blade rests in its sheath again, freshly wiped down, and in her right hand rests the solid chunk of strange metal with a strange reddish tint on one side and the odd inverted 'V'. It was a keepsake, a good luck charm, from the mine in her home town. She'd gathered it one day hauling tools when one miner let her have a single swing of the pick, her first one ever, and even keep the weird looking chunk that had fallen from the wall. The first mined piece a person mined was always special. "Another battle done." She says quietly as she stared at the odd chunk and let her mind wander over the recent events while her thumb rubbed against the 'V'.<br><br>It was her first real command, not a permanent one, but a valuable test for her training to show the investment could make returns. It was supposed to be a simple job, take a small contingent of soldiers on her command to root out a particularly troublesome group of bandits to show a sign of good faith for an ongoing negotiation between the Furyonde and Greyhawk. She didn't know the specifics of what the diplomats were up to but it didn't matter; What mattered was the cleansing of the fortress once it had been found with the help of whatever local woodsmen or rangers she could convince to locate the place. It was supposed to be a simple task.<br><br>Her thumb traced along the indentations in the metal hunk in the chill of the air, sweat cooling and freezing on her forehead. Her left arm remained numb and her fingers barely moved although it didn't hurt at least. There would need to be a trip to a real healer done when she made it back to town and had her report written up to send. Her eyes moved over the center of the fort, looking over the story the battlefield had told from the desperate rush that had left few in the way of survivors and half her own men laying still on the cold blood soaked earth.<br><br>The gate was finally partway cranked open, the sight of it bringing a remembered burn to her arms. They'd not had much of a choice in their haste to cleanse the camp before midnight; She'd lifted the heavy palisade gate upwards in both hands just long enough for her men and herself to get in, sealing them inside until the dead was done. Arrows stuck into the back of the gate from where they'd streaked into it and against her lacquered armor, wooden slabs broken and shattered in places hanging from threads where they had deflected the arrows streaking towards her trying to halt the entrance of her soldiers.<br><br>The heavy boot prints on the dirt soon mixed with blood and bodies, the cooling corpses of the bandits that were closest laying on the ground. A heavy hammer drew her attention, laying next to a particularly large leather clad body missing an arm several feet away. He'd been a tough on, rushing in with both hands on the haft of the great weapon and swinging it wide against her heavy oak shield. The potentially head splitting blow had cracked and broken the thick barrier, a few splinters of it still in her hair, and removed her arm from being of any use for the rest of the battle. She could almost still feel the resonating hit in her limb pushing her backwards and the confusion of it not listening to her when she tried to shift it to her blade. The high overhead swing had cost him in return though, the crimson streaks across her armor and soaking through to her clothing was mostly his when she'd opted to disarm him more directly.<br><br>"A simple task." She muttered to herself again as the body she'd been staring at is moved to the pile and the severed arm tossed atop it like cordwood. They had found the place easily enough, she recalled, and everything had been going according to plan when the report of the mage inside wearing a particular horned helmet and mask had reached her ears. Plans had to be discarded in favor of quick action with the mention of runes being carved into walls and dirt, preparations for a blood moon sacrifice to draw demon servitors in; preparations had been done to bring enough into the realms to shift from attacking merchants to burning villages. The horned society wasn't supposed to even be down here, far south of their territory although with it looking like only one was an actual society member it was possible it was just to stir up trouble. She'd not get the chance to question them though.<br><br>A thick line of dirt streaked across the battlefield from the mass of bodies towards where the mage had been. A single foot standing upwards and a fragment of the broken helmet was all that remained not pulverized. In desperation the mage had pulled out a thick scroll and chanted, earth forming and binding into a massive creature that would have been more than enough to wipe out her entire contingent on its own. Well, if Melan wasn't what she was at least. The mage had directed it to crush her but the holy aura had halted the summoned creature's blows before they could get near, the protection of her god a constant companion against things not of this world. Stalling it had been difficult but it lasted just long enough for someone, she wasn't sure who, to get an arrow or a rock into the mage and disrupt the control. Like all who dabble with the dark forces out of their capabilities the creation crushed its former master before melding back into the earth and vanishing once again.<br><br>The rest of the fight had been a blur, blood and blade mixing as body after body fell to the ground with increasing desperation from the defenders after the loss of their leader. All that was left was to burn out any hint of demonic corruption in the place and... well there were letters to be written. A report to be sure but there were five that would be returning on their shields rather than their legs.<br><br>"The pyre is ready, ma'am. Shall we light it?"<br><br>The voice snapped her out of her preoccupation of the battle, a curt nod offered. "Yes, proceed. Have those not watching the blaze begin making camp outside the walls. We head back to the village in the morning." The hunk of metal is pocketed again as the sergeant gives a snappy salute and her men get back to their tasks. Closing her eyes for a moment the coolness of the air washed over her, sending a shiver down her spine. It was supposed to be a simple task and while the battle was glorious there were five who had to be remembered. It wasn't the worst though, she mused, to fall clearing out a demon worshiper and bring a bit of safety back to the roads certainly isn't a bad death as far as such things go. She had expected her heart to be heavier with the loss of the men in her first command, expected to feel more than a mild remorse at the loss of her companions, but instead it was a quiet contentment with having done a deed in the name of Heironeous flooding through her. It was a satisfaction at cleansing a bit of darkness for the land.<br><br>"May peace find you in the bosom of heaven." She said quietly, following it with a soft prayer for the fallen. They had gone to a better place and now it was up to her to see that at least their physical remains made it back to their families. They had been brave. They had fought. They had done away with evil. They would be remembered. Her eyes opened once more and she rose, staggering a bit and taking heavy steps out towards where camp was being pitched. There was still time to get a little more sword practice in with the arm she could still use.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Annisthyrienne</strong> on <strong>17-01-2018, 02:47:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/3/3c/Brennisen.jpg/478px-Brennisen.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Brennisen<br><strong>Class:</strong> Ranger<br><strong>Time:</strong> Patchwall, 6 (am and pm), 7 (am), 577 CY<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley forest near Bertalana<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kirien<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>None<br><br>Brennisen woke with the dawn, as was her habit.&nbsp; She yawned, stretched, and crawled out of her tent.&nbsp; She smiled to herself as she thought of her plans for the day.&nbsp; First, she'd forage for some breakfast, as she usually did.&nbsp; With luck, she might find some tasty nuts, or some wild crabapples to munch on.&nbsp; If nothing else, she could hunt for a rabbit or squirrel with her sling.&nbsp; <br><br>It had been nearly a week since her last fresh meat, but she didn't need much just for herself.&nbsp; And what she couldn't eat right away, she could dry and smoke for later.&nbsp; If that was still more than she needed, she knew a certain high elf friend of hers who might like to share some venison or wild boar.&nbsp; Most smaller animals, while enough to feed her, wasn't really much of a bounty to share.&nbsp; <br><br>Except with Teria.&nbsp; Brennisen loved to bring little tidbits to the diminutive dragon.&nbsp; She was pretty sure Kirien's exotic pet liked her, and she always got a smile from the way Teria pretended to be shy.&nbsp; The ranger grinned at the thought of seeing the pseudo dragon again.&nbsp; But more than that, she wanted to visit her friend, Kirien.<br><br>Since they had become friends, the young ranger made it a point to visit the mage about every three days.&nbsp; It wasn't that there was a set schedule for her visits, but she'd found that three days was about as long as she could go without longing to see her again.&nbsp; Brennisen imagined it was just because of the nature of their friendship.&nbsp; After all, Kirien was a pure blooded high elf, and yet she wasn't stuffy, wasn't aloof or condescending like some of the other high elves Brennisen had met in her life. Kirien didn't hold the fact that the ranger was a half breed against her.&nbsp; She was definitely a very special friend.<br><br>As the ranger moved silently through the forest, her attention was drawn to the gurgling of a clear running branch nearby, reminding her of how thirsty she was.&nbsp; At this time of year, the water would be cold and fresh, and she found herself looking forward to the feel of it trickling down her throat.&nbsp; A few moments later found her lying belly down, lifting a palm full of the refreshing drink to her lips.&nbsp; <br><br>As she drank, a peculiar sight caught her eye.&nbsp; There in the gravel bed of the stream, an odd gleam shone, the light refracted through the clear water making it appear almost to move on it's own.&nbsp; Brennisen arose and slipped off her boots, then stepped into the cool water, gasping at the bracing effect it had on her.&nbsp; Wading quickly to the spot where she'd noticed the gleaming object, she bent to retrieve it.&nbsp; Closer examination of it revealed it to be an oddly shaped piece of gleaming metal.&nbsp; It struck her curiosity.&nbsp; It wasn't gold or silver, so far as she could tell.&nbsp; She didn't know what it was, but it occurred to her that perhaps Kirien would know.&nbsp; In any case, it was one more reason to look forward to visiting her friend.<br><br>That thought brought another smile to her lips.&nbsp; She put the little metal object in her belt pouch and returned to the stream's bank, put her boots back on, and headed back to her camp, whistling a jaunty tune.<br><br>+++++++++++++++++++++++<br><br>Oh that had not gone well, not at all!&nbsp; She couldn't' believe what she'd done.&nbsp; What had gotten into her?&nbsp; Kirien probably wouldn't want to have anything to do with her now.&nbsp; The thought that she might have ruined the most important friendship in her life made her feel hollow and empty inside.&nbsp; Worse, she ached inside, and wasn't sure what to do about it.<br><br>She crawled into her tent and sat, chin in her palms, letting the upset she felt inside bring the mistiness to her eyes.&nbsp; Why had she kissed Kirien?&nbsp; And why did the thought of losing her to that other high elf make her feel so sad?&nbsp; Was that the reason she'd acted so impulsively?&nbsp; The mage had told her to open up and let others know what was in her heart, and the next thing she knew, she was kissing her best friend.&nbsp; It wasn't normal.&nbsp; Not the kiss, and not the way she was feeling about Kirien since it all happened.<br><br>But it had felt so wonderful!&nbsp; Brennisen wiped her eyes and lay down on her blankets, remembering the sweet pressure of those warm lips on hers.&nbsp; She looked up at the roof of her tent, but her eyes were seeing a beautiful upturned face haloed in soft brunette hair, and pretty green eyes like summer leaves.&nbsp; She lost herself in thoughts of what she wished she'd said, what she should have done.&nbsp; She imagined herself slipping her arms around the petite high elf and holding her close enough to feel the warm press of her body to her own.<br><br>Those thoughts made her feel funny inside, all fluttery deep down.&nbsp; The half-elf virgin didn't equate the feelings with lust, more like a naive notion of romantic feelings she didn't fully understand nor could explain. But she knew one thing for certain.&nbsp; She had to see Kirien again.&nbsp; She couldn't let one mistake ruin their friendship.&nbsp; And after all, the little mage still needed her protection.&nbsp; Brennisen knew Kirien planned to leave the next morning on one of her frequent excursions.&nbsp; Indeed, she'd asked Brennisen to come along before....<br><br>Brennisen shook her head in a decisive nod.&nbsp; She wouldn't let it end like that.&nbsp; She'd be there for her friend.&nbsp; She wouldn't let the high elf out of her life without at least trying to make amends.<br><br>+++++++++++++++++++++++<br><br>The young ranger sat astride Ghost, reaching down to pat the shaggy little horse's neck affectionately.&nbsp; It was to calm the animal, she told herself, though it wasn't Ghost's nerves that needed calming so much as hers.&nbsp; Brennisen tried to distract herself from the upcoming confrontation she imagined was inevitable.&nbsp; Idly, she noted the call of a distant bird, identifying it by it's song.&nbsp; A rustle in a clump of grass nearby resolved itself in her mind as a small hare.&nbsp; She noticed that the leaves were beginning to show signs of turning, though it would be a month or so before the full color hit.<br><br>Then came the sound of voices she was expecting.&nbsp; She heaved a long sigh, blowing the air out slowly to calm herself.&nbsp; Glancing back up the road towards town, she let her gaze come to rest on the shorter figure of the three riders, and felt the slight fluttering feeling from the night before return.<br><br>Even from a distance, she felt as much as saw the bright smile on her friend's lips.&nbsp; It was as if the sun had come out from behind clouds to shine on her.&nbsp; A similar feeling of warmth crept through her. She couldn't help returning the smile with one of her own, accompanied by a blush as the remembrance of the kiss flashed through her thoughts again.<br><br>She was about to attempt to offer some apology as Kirien came close, riding ahead of the others.&nbsp; There would only be a moment to make her pitch to save the friendship, but before she could say anything, Kirien surprised her, coming close enough to touch her thigh, then moved to clutch her hand.&nbsp; The gentle warmth blossomed into a heated spark at the high elf's soft words.&nbsp; That voice had never sounded so wonderful to Brennisen, and the promise implied suggested possibilities between them that Brennisen scarcely dared to hope for.<br><br>"You feel it too?&nbsp; Kirien, I....Y-yes, I want to talk about it with you.&nbsp; I realize you are promised to Enastril.&nbsp; I heard you mention the arranged marriage yesterday, before... Well, I-I suppose I overstepped my bounds." She lowered her gaze contritely, but a gentle squeeze of the gloved hand in hers communicated her feelings better than her words seemed to be doing.<br><br>But the moment passed all too soon as the other two companions came abreast of them.&nbsp; Brennisen had to content herself with the anticipation of the conversation to come later that evening as they rode throughout the day.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HannibalBarca</strong> on <strong>17-01-2018, 04:45:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/c/c0/Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg/450px-Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Kirien Silverlark<br><strong>Class: </strong>Cleric/Mage<br><strong>Time: </strong>Patchwall 7, 577 CY, late morning before hitting the road and meeting Brennisen<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village<br><strong>Tagging: </strong>Yesqwyn, Enastril<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>none<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>As Kirien rode Wissil towards the inn, she could already see Yesqwyn outside, with smoke rising from her lips.&nbsp; The diminutive elf almost chuckled.&nbsp; There were more than a few things similar between her and the half-elf, but personality was strictly not one of them.&nbsp; The curious habit of smoking pipeweed outside of a pipe, for instance.&nbsp; The sweet-smelling leaf had few medicinal purposes, and there were more than enough halflings who lived in the village and grew supplies of it for their own use that kept Yesqwyn's own herb pouch full...but it seemed to be quintessentially Yesqwyn to smoke it in such a way.&nbsp; She was more unique than unique, if that was possible.<br><br><em>Yesqwyn is very unique.</em><br><br>"You can't be very unique," Kirien corrected Teria.&nbsp; "I was just thinking out loud.&nbsp; She's just...charming, in many ways.&nbsp; Frustrating sometimes, but never moreso than charming."<br><br><em>I do not think you understand me.&nbsp; She is unique in many more ways...</em><br><br>"And how would you know, you silly dragonfluff?&nbsp; You spend all your time huddled under my cloak."&nbsp; The elf playfully ticked her familiar's ribs through the fabric of her cloak.<br><br>There was a tiny cough; the pseudodragon equivalent of a giggle.&nbsp; <em>Perhaps I should tell you.&nbsp; Perhaps because she is part elf and part human.&nbsp; Her body is different.</em><br><br>Kirien giggled.&nbsp; "You spend more time looking at her than me."<br><br>There was a pause.&nbsp; <em>I know you do.&nbsp; She is very pretty.</em><br><br>"You think all my friends are pretty, female or male."<br><br>Another pause.&nbsp; <em>Are you sure there are no other ones?</em><br><br>It was Kirien's turn to pause, confused.&nbsp; "Other what?"<br><br>But they had just reached the inn, and Kirien dismounted, just to give her taller friend a warm hug.&nbsp; She couldn't resist squeezing the blue-clad woman, as the press of the others' considerable breasts against her always gave her a pleasant tingle.&nbsp; "Good morning!&nbsp; Are you ready for some fun?&nbsp; Is Enastril ready as well?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HannibalBarca</strong> on <strong>17-01-2018, 04:57:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/c/c0/Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg/450px-Fd5e741b1b90361f6a2643d2aad8e6d3--felicity-jones-hair-photo-pro.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Kirien Silverlark<br><strong>Class: </strong>Cleric/Mage<br><strong>Time: </strong>Brewfest 2, 577 CY, afternoon<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village, Kirien's cottage<br><strong>Tagging: </strong>Enastril<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>none<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>Kirien nodded to her friend.&nbsp; They had so much in common in their outlook on the world at large.&nbsp; While she knew elves as a species tended to be quite free-spirited compared to other races, they still had their conventions and beliefs, and a good share of them were simply outdated.&nbsp; It didn't surprise Kirien, after her long studies of history, that elves were so.&nbsp; Living so long tended to make some races more ossified in their beliefs.&nbsp; Traditions were more liberal with elves compared to, say, dwarves or humans, but still fairly conservative compared to gnomes or halflings.&nbsp; Those halflings, though...she so loved to spend time with some of them here in Beratana...such lively, pleasant livers of life.<br><br>While Teria did her closest imitation of a purr and reposed on Enastril's shoulder, gleefully accepting his offered morsels, Kirien squinted at the piece of metal her visitor revealed, then frowned.&nbsp; "That is the strangest thing..."&nbsp; She took it from his hand, turning it over in her slender palm.&nbsp; "This metal...I should know what it is.&nbsp; I never studied metallurgy...but it almost feels...magical."&nbsp; She then looked up at Enastril.&nbsp; "And that is not all."<br><br>She bent towards a small, dark-grained curio box on another shelf, and opened the lid, reaching inside and sweeping some other objects aside, before drawing out another small bit of metal.&nbsp; She rolled both of them around in her hand, watching them intently, her elven sense of curiosity piqued greatly.<br><br>"They are not the same shape, but almost the same in size.&nbsp; And...they look as if they are the same metal."&nbsp; She looked again at him.&nbsp; "Where did you obtain yours?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>17-01-2018, 16:54:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://www.nationalacrobat.com/Gallery/i.php?/upload/2015/01/31/20150131130633-f24c1729-xs.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Enastril Rixxle<br><strong>Class:</strong> Fighter/Mage<br><strong>Time:</strong> Brewfest 2, 577 C.Y. in the afternoon<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kirien's Cottage<br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>None<br><br>'To be honest' he began 'I am not sure. Master Theressial has a tendency to roam across the area near Perrenland, and into Ket, as well as up near the foul lands to the north, collecting information and items. He's usually pretty tight lipped on his travels. I know though that he would not have asked my sister to give it to me, were there not some reason for it. He always said out of all of his students, I was the worst as far as curiosity went, and he meant that good as well as bad. I think he knew that I'd try my hardest to figure out what it was. By not giving it to me personally, he was ensuring I'd try to figure out on my own. The metal is unique I think, and until today, I'd not seen something to compare it with' he said.<br><br>'My guess is there are more of them, if you have a similar one. The question becomes are they small parts of a larger sum, and if so, are they to be connected some how. Aside, of course, from the usual questions of where is it from, how did it get here, and so forth' the elf added.<br><br>'I hope you will allow me to escort you to at least one Brewfest event here. I imagine it's quite festive this week, and I'd love to see it firsthand'.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Chosen of Greyhawk -- History</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>17-01-2018, 17:06:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://www.nationalacrobat.com/Gallery/i.php?/upload/2015/01/31/20150131130633-f24c1729-xs.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Enastril Rixxle<br><strong>Class:</strong> Fighter/Mage<br><strong>Time:</strong> Patchwall 7, 577 C.Y. Morning<br><strong>Location: </strong>Gnarley Forest, Beratana Village<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kirien, Yesqwyn, <br><strong>Content Warning: </strong>None<br><br>They were already standing outside when Enastril appeared, a large cinnamon roll in one hand. Sleeping in was one of his favorite things to do. Getting up early was not, but he'd managed, although he'd stayed up way too late the night before and his ruffled hair and breakfast in his hand were obvious signs that he was sort of taken off guard by having to move so early.<br><br>'Morning ladies, I trust you are both well this morning?' he asked, always smiling and always pleasant. 'I must say, I was sleeping so hard I almost forgot to rise this morning. Were it not for Yesqwyn knocking on my door, I'd likely still be in bed' he said, grinning. 'Anyway, It's a lovely day for traveling, especially in such fair company.'
			</dd>
		</dl>
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