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Post by Hawkeyes258 on Dec 30, 2021 2:55:39 GMT -5
(The Map is really cool! I can't wait to see what gets added!)
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Post by Brownie on Dec 30, 2021 14:11:32 GMT -5
- - - Same! Another good thing about a solo-style rp like this is that it's never really full. And since activity doesn't matter as much, we can just fill it up with a bunch of people that can all contribute their own things!
That's a long march ya got there, Hawk! Plenty of space for abundant side quests ;)
Here I am, hating when people put song lyrics in fantasy novels, and then going off and doing it myself at every opportunity. At least it's only one refrain, and not the pages and pages like tolkien.
tl;dr: Zeph talks with Liam about his nervousness and the upcoming battle. - - - Zeph Lover's Pass, Havenhome . Spears of Kor Dawn came slowly for the Spears of Kor as the sun struggled to climb over the mountain's peak, and their morning's march began in shadow. Rain had come through the night, pattering against the canvas as Zeph and Moe slept underneath, pulling Zeph from his dreams for a few, muzzy moments before he recognized the familiar sound and pulled the blankets over his head. Only a fine mist persisted in the morning, though even that was enough to cast a gloom over the camp as the Spears were forced to pack their tents wet and the acrid, sour smell settled over the Spears like a poisonous fog. At least they wouldn't have to carry the sodden pack; the food wagons, now empty after breakfast, were large enough to carry the Paladins' kit.
Which was good, because the rain had done the work of a thousand boots and even the first Spears' steps were weighed down by mud. Today, the entire column would have to suffer the slick slope. But with lighter packs and the assurance that they would surely make it to Havenhome's walls that night, Zeph found the second day's slog more tolerable.
"Hey, Liam," Zeph finally said to the man marching beside him, mustering the courage to reach out about how blunted the world had felt the night before. Liam had been humming, but stopped at the question, tipping the wide-brimmed hat up. "Is there a flu going around camp?"
"None that anyone I know has. Why? You sick?" Liam leaned away as if to distance himself from Zeph, but moving any farther than a few inches was impossible in the cramped block formation.
Zeph let the rhythmic march fill the silence for a few moments, then shook his head. "I don't think so?"
"You better sound more certain than that," Liam said, jokingly.
He paused for another moment, then pressed on. "My thoughts have been slow sometimes, like--"
"Marching uphill through mud?" Liam interrupted with a roguish grin. He laughed, a deep sound that echoed through the formation. Zeph found himself cringing away from the sound and the attention that had been drawn to them, suddenly regretting ever asking. Liam noticed him retreating and leaned in closer. Being as large as he was, that could have been intimidating, but Zeph knew Liam and could see the gentleness in his face and so his bulk felt protective, almost like a shield as they walked shoulder to shoulder. "It's the battle jitters, Zeph, it gets everyone differently, but it gets everyone all the same," he said softly. "It's your first real battle?"
It wasn't really a question, but Zeph nodded. "It gets easier. It doesn't go away, not ever, but you'll find a place for it somewhere in you that it doesn't ache as much." When it was clear Zeph wasn't going to reply, Liam started his humming again. Zeph recognized the familiar bars and the words played in his head.
Through the swamp and bog he marched
only a spear at his side.
The hanging moss sat and watched
while the old soldier cried,
"For naught," he called to the trees
The ancient crone had lied.
The war was done and won, you see
but dear Victoria died.
It was a sad song to a cheery beat, and the following refrains described the soldier's lonely journey home to the broken house and his dead daughter. The emptiness of loss was unfamiliar to Zeph, but in that moment, cresting the Pass and looking down at Havenhome and beyond, the opposing army, he felt a ghost of understanding flutter. |
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Post by Brownie on Dec 30, 2021 17:36:50 GMT -5
- - - Zzzzz boring day today. I wasn't going to do another one so quickly, but I have muse and there's no real reason not to continue on. I've also been fighting the urge to make another group, since I want to make a wandering trade caravan and maybe a traditional dungeon-crawling party :( That's too many though!!! I need to stick to what I have! My problem is that I love thinking about tabletops, but I absolutely hate playing them, so I have ideas and no real outlet for them.
tl;dr: Kell and Leif set out North towards the road, deciding to head East, where they may have family. - - - Kell Somewhere North of Torch Forest . Pair of Thieves This time, Leif woke first, but their brother wasn't trying to be quiet as they had and so Kell woke too when Leif tugged open the blanket, letting in a blast of morning air heavy with moisture and the promise of rain. Kell groaned and blinked themself awake, frustrated at being woken so abruptly.
Leif was sorting through the clothes near the fire, which had probably dried in the night, but were now coated in a sheen of dew. Kell's jacket had been protected by the blanket and was both dry and warm; they wished they had the foresight to save something of Leif's as well. They muttered a morning greeting to their brother as they rolled the blanket and put it safely in the pack. It, too, had been damp with moisture, but it shouldn't be too bad if they managed to dry it before nightfall. Hopefully the rain would be quick that day.
At least the insides of their pants were dried as they pulled them on. Their socks were also marvelously warm and they spent several moments wriggling their toes in the thick wool before they tugged on their boots. "No more wading in rivers," they said, mostly to themself.
Leif grinned. "At least not in our boots." His brow furrowed as he frowned. "Why didn't we think of saving our socks?"
Kell finished tying their boots and stood with a long stretch. "Because if one of us cut our foot or twisted an ankle, we'd be caught for sure."
Leif paused in tying up his hair in his dark bandana, a light of understanding brightening his sharp face. "Oh." Kell couldn't help but to smile at their brother's familiar expression and how it reminded them of when they were young. The twins had only been living on their own for a few short months, but already the plumpness of youth had been stolen from Leif's face, giving him places where shadows could be cast. This innocent curiosity peeled those sharp edges away, like a cloud drifting from the moon.
But as quickly it had come, it was gone. Leif's mood was still bright, but Kell could see the weight return to darken the skin around his eyes and crease his forehead, bringing back the harder mask Leif had worn ever since they stepped out of Tallbrook five months ago. The day they'd turned sixteen. The day they were no longer safe at home.
Thinking of that dampened Kell's own mood, and they were quiet as they helped Leif pack the rest of their supplies and strike all signs of their camp from beneath the pine. Dirt and needles over the ashes of their fire, more needles tossed over the impression where they had slept, a gentle shake of the boughs to dislodge the dew, so their passage wasn't easily distinguished from the surrounding forest. Kell led most of the changes, knowing after many months of practice how to quickly and easily erase their tracks. Leif didn't have that skill, but he followed instructions well enough and used whisps of magic to conjure a soft wind and cover their footsteps with stirred leaves until Kell judged they were far enough away from their original trail that it would be impossible to pick back up their subtle tracks, especially after the day's rainfall.
Hopefully, with their preparation, anyone who had found their tracks up from the river and followed it to the pine wouldn't be able to track which direction they had headed away from the camp. And with the rain, hounds would no longer be a threat.
"Where do we head now?" Kell put to Leif, once they had stopped trying to conceal their tracks and could hike easier. They had broken camp early, and only now was the grey dawn light struggling through the clouds to fight off the night's veil. Kell could taste the moisture in the air, even as the clouds grew dark over the southern horizon where in the far distance, the ocean would be feeding the oncoming rain.
Leif had his hood up over his bandana, his shoulders hunched as if the rain was already pouring down on them. Kell hoped it didn't storm for their brother's sake, he hated storms. "East?" Leif suggested. "They say there's elven cities in the East."
"Aldwynn is hundreds of miles away, uchann. We don't have the money to go that far," Kell said, amused at their brother's ambition.
"Not Aldwynn. Einmoira had family on the outer reaches of Torch Forest. Some... dwarven named village... I think." Kell was surprised Leif remembered any of the stories their aunt had told, they surely didn't, though it wasn't easy to understand Einmoira most of the time even when they had listened.
They nodded. "East it is then. We should probably take the main road, that's still North of us."
Leif turned to them. "Shouldn't we avoid the main roads?" he asked, pulling at the strap of his backpack that still held the stolen trinket.
Kell had been debating that with themself for a while that morning, and so had an answer ready. "I think we just need to stay ahead of them now and travelling cross country would only slow us down." It wouldn't slow Kell down any, but Leif would be a deadweight and he was always stumbling over thorn bushes. Besides, taking the road may give them opportunities to rid themselves of the trinket for good, if they could find a buyer. Kell didn't know how that worked, but they hoped Leif did from their time spent with the pickpockets of Osbreak. "As long as we don't attract attention to ourselves," Kell amended.
That would be difficult for Leif, as he often stood out. If not for his height, bright blonde hair, and elven lineage, then for his thieving fingers, which never failed to get him into trouble. Kell would try their best to keep him out of towns. They thought they could manage that much, at least until there was no longer threat of pursuit.
Rain began to fall in fat drops. Leif sighed and withdrew into his coat further, as if that would make the rain disappear. "I miss Osbreak," he muttered gloomily.
Kell didn't say anything. They wanted to say "we'll find someplace new" and "it'll be okay" and "I'll still protect you", but the only words festering in their mouth were "it's your fault."
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Post by mossecho on Dec 30, 2021 23:25:56 GMT -5
[[ I may want to run away from the orb, but I'll at least keep my eyes on it!
in other words this rp looks hella cool and I'd love to hop in
The Undeciphered Speakers || Mixecatli, Citsehuatl, Q'umchaa || A trio of two siblings and one stranger, all trying to understand each other and get somewhere safe that is not burning. (Their homelands were torched by marauding pirates.) || Somewhere safe from pirates, wherever that might be. So far they are heading towards Miir-a-Batn. || mossecho ]]
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Post by Brownie on Dec 31, 2021 0:12:19 GMT -5
[[ Welcome, Moss! I gotcha up on the list of groups, feel free to start adding to the map once you get their background down (;
-- I see you found the tokens ahhhh. it's so fun being able to see people add to it real time <3 And that means I don't have to edit it myself every time someone mentions a place.
I'm so excited you chose Miir-a-Batn, that was my favorite of the port city names and I can't wait to see what you do with it there~ ]]
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Post by mossecho on Dec 31, 2021 0:32:01 GMT -5
[[ I hope you didn't see me flailing around trying to delete all the sticky notes I accidentally created xD
I'm looking forward to Miir-a-Batn, for sure! I honestly chose it because the name is so great. props to you! hopefully I do it justice <3 ]]
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Post by Brownie on Dec 31, 2021 1:37:49 GMT -5
[[ I may have seen a blob of yellow, but then again I had to redo the entire thing twice and I used the program before... I'm surprisingly pleased with it! As long as I don't clear my internet cache, it'll stay there forever too, though I'll back it up once in a while so we can keep our progress. The only minor hiccup might be that I need to be in there as host for anyone else to join? Which just means I need to leave it running, which is fine, though I may try and figure out a server-host connection so I don't have to have my pc running 24/7
And thank you !! I really liked that one too; I try my best with fantasy names but sometimes it's really hard (hence like, Havenhome lmao). I'm excited to see it! And the pirates. Pirates are always a good addition. ]]
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Post by mossecho on Dec 31, 2021 2:38:00 GMT -5
[[ I'm just going to post this code here for now. I haven't written everything up, yet (obviously), but I'd rather post this now than risk deleting the code by mistake.
oof, it sounds really annoying having to keep the program running 24/7... wish I knew how to help, but me and computers have a pretty rocky relationship. best of luck!
oh yeah, I suck at fantasy names too. I always just end up choosing a language to base my names on. (I'm a linguistics nerd, that's basically my one personality trait.) It can help, but it's hard not to make it seem too gimmicky or like you're just copy-and-pasting the other language's phonology. I think it worked this time with Q'umchaa's name, but Mixecatli and Citsehuatl's language inspiration is pretty dang obvious.
on an entirely different note, could I change the group name of "the inadequate navigators"? I cannot seem to settle on a name, but that one is the least bad of my current options, lol ]]Mixecatli an inadequate navigator // definitely south of Tehnotxicanal, somewhere north of a place called "Sankatxahua"words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here
Citsehuatl an inadequate navigator // definitely south of Tehnotxicanal, somewhere north of a place called "Sankatxahua"words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here
Q'umchaa an inadequate navigator // definitely north of Sank'achhwa, by about 650,000 paceswords here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here words here
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Post by Brownie on Dec 31, 2021 3:15:12 GMT -5
- - - One more for the night okay... I don't want to leave Zeph off when he's sad...
--I'm not gonna change anything now, but if I ever edit these together imma move this dialogue to when they're in the city and write a better conversation about the upcoming battle here instead. It doesn't make very much sense that they have this lighthearted and trusting dialogue while in the middle of a march and also looking down on the battlefield. I do like it, but not the time or place.
tl;dr: The march is almost over as the Spears of Kor crest the Pass and begin the decent to the city of Havenhome - - - Zeph Lover's Pass, Havenhome . Spears of Kor He could see the city from the top of Lover's Pass. It looked like a spider clinging to the side of the mountains, its walls formed the legs as they forged outward in long triangles while the body was fat with rings of streets and packed with tall buildings. The city itself was full to bursting, covered in a smog of smoke near the far northern edge and already awash with light.
The Paladins of Kor were bottlenecked at the height of the Pass, both because of the looming mountain cliffs to either side funneling them in and partially because, Zeph guessed, the Spears lingered at the peak to admire the view. As it was, there was a lull in the march as the officers shouted overhead, trying to keep the column moving and only succeeding at a snail's pace.
"Reminds me of home," Moe said, getting Zeph's attention. He gave them a questioning look and they explained: "I grew up in the mountains near Rommdac. Was eight when my grandmother died and all us kids got sent to the Paladins." They sighed, but it was a sigh of remembering and nostalgia with only the faintest hint of a pain long since healed. "I miss looking down on the world. The plainlands are too flat. Boring."
"You never told me you had siblings in the Order," Zeph said, surprised it hadn't come up before in the few months he and Moe had been partners. All that time they spent together in their company, sharing a tent, even, wandering the plains under Hubert until they'd been summoned to muster for this march to reinforce Havenhome. On one hand, neither of them had brought up the past; that wasn't something one did lightly in the Order, and Zeph hadn't crossed into that territory yet. But he'd thought it should have come up by now, at least in passing mention, if their siblings were in Rommdac.
Moe looked amused as they twisted the spear's haft between their palms. "Of course. Two brothers, old, stuffy. Connie hasn't left the library in years, probably, and Ed isn't much better. He specializes in soil chemistry." They rolled their eyes at that, though they couldn't help a smile that poked through the mask of indifference. "They aren't very happy I joined the Spears either, Ed wanted me to study dirt with him." They stuck out their tongue at that. "I'm no good at reading, or studying, or the arts. The only thing that made sense to me was a bow, so I decided, smite it all, might as well see the world while I'm at it.
You must have some sibs too, Zeph. You're no Dove," they asked, turning the question on him. He guessed he deserved it, for prying into Moe's.
He shrugged. "I have a half-sister back at home. She was only two when I left with Kiki to join the Paladins, I probably have more sibs by now."
"You still send letters?"
"No. I didn't leave home with my mother's blessing. I doubt they want anything to do with me now, and even if they did, I don't want to have anything to do with them." Zeph remembered that day like it was yesterday. The two of them were going to sneak out of town that evening. Kiki had filched a sack of food from her Ma's bakery and Zeph had gotten them a pair of swords and his hunting bow. That's when Hubert had found them. He said Kor itself told him where to find them and he offered them a place with the Paladins then and there, which Zeph had followed ever since.
He recounted those main points to Moe, who listened attentively to the story. "Kiki did mention something about planning to run away before she found the Paladins," they noted. "I just didn't know you were there too!"
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Post by Brownie on Dec 31, 2021 3:23:18 GMT -5
[[ You can change anything on the form at any time. It's mostly for your own reference and so people can get an idea of what the group is doing without having to catch up on too many posts if they've been gone for a while. So yea, any time! It might take me a moment to update it on the main page, but you can always change it on the token on the map.
The code is so pretty! I've been too scared of making anything with a background since they always break when you're least in the mood to fix them zzz. I think I like Q'umchaa's green best <3 Dark greens are so soft.
I need to get off the latin syllable set tbh. I default to it so often even if I already have other resources for other patterns made. Just gotta use them instead of being lazy haha ]]
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Post by Brownie on Dec 31, 2021 13:15:42 GMT -5
- - - Also another good thing about an open ended rp like this, I don't have to follow perfect chronology!! Like Zeph is with the Spears and so is Mordelle, but I can still finish his little bit with Amara before he "catches up" with where the rest of the column is at in Zeph's parts. I really want to characterize them more but I didn't have an exact way I wanted to do that where I ended it, but maybe I can flail around and hit some good character and plot development this time around.
--Just working slowly and actually trying to make it sound good. idk it's really hard to think about speech patterns and characters still, I hate dialogue. Also I'm very mad that Lucy and Amara are both pink text!! I didn't expect them to interact in the same scene much so I didn't think much of only having five colors, but now I'll have to swap one of them or find a different shade or something because two characters with the same text is unacceptable.
---FINALLY ahhh this was long but I'm happy with it.
tl;dr: Amara and Mordelle have dinner and discuss rumors. - - - Mordelle Lover's Pass, Havenhome . Spears of Kor His tent was large enough to sit in, which made it bigger than the rest of the Paladins. It was also big enough, barely, to fit a desk in the center: a thin sheet of flat wood balanced a few dozen centimeters off the ground, nominally for paperwork, though Mordelle shoved those aside to clear a space for he and Amara to eat at. She swept into the tent, but was forced to waddle in a most unrefined way to accommodate for the long dress and the low ceiling, then plopped onto Mordelle's cot with a annoyed sound. "This dress," she picked up the blue-green fabric, "is a smiting chore."
Since Amara had taken the cot, Mordelle settled himself on the canvas tent floor, wincing as a rock underneath poked and prodded. "I do love it, really, but she's designed for parties, not this." Amara gestured to the tent, which she could easily touch on all sides, even sitting as she was. She picked at the ribbons along the arms of the dress, working to untangle them. "But I had to lay it on thick today and this blessed thing was the flashiest one I had, since Rosanne gifted it to me in Ettna."
"It is nice," Mordelle agreed, knowing nothing about dresses apart from the fact that Amara looked good in anything.
She sighed. "It is, isn't it?"
It was then that they heard a scratch at the canvas and Mordelle leaned over, opening the flap to reveal a halfling carrying their supper. She wore a bright red scarf that covered the bottom half of her face, only showing wide hazel eyes peeking between the scarf and a droopy hat over her head. Even for a halfling she was short, her head not much higher than their table, and had no trouble standing upright in the small tent as she entered. "Here's food, sir," she said softly, reaching up to deposit the tray on the table. Mordelle worried the tray was too large and heavy for the halfling woman, but she lifted it easily, and though the stew bowls were filled to the brim, not a single drop was spilled.
"Thank you, Lucy," Amara said with a kind smile that wrinkled her eyes.
The halfling gave a slight bow her direction. "'Course, Miss Bannlea." Her wide eyes took in Mordelle, then she turned away and left the tent, the canvas rustling behind her.
"Such a polite girl, though she rather needs some better fitting clothes," Amara commented afterwards. Mordelle was already appraising the food, however, pulling the bowl of stew closer and pushing the contents around with a metal spoon. It was made from the same ingredients as the rest of the Spears' meals, but the officer's pot was manned by Eddam himself and the dragonborn chef was excellent at bringing out the best of the shabby pickings.
He also assumed they got the best cuts of the meat, as the slivers of beef melted in Mordelle's mouth. On the tray was a full loaf of bread, as well as a kettle of steaming tea and two cups for them to share. Amara poured the tea before starting on her own stew, and though she was eating carefully as to not spill anything on her dress, she tucked in as heartily as Mordelle and their conversation ceased until both their bowls were empty.
Mordelle was cleaning up the rest of the broth with some bread while Amara sipped her tea. She scratched at the side of her head with a frown. "Do you mind?" she asked, but didn't wait for his response before unpinning the wig and settling the carefully sculpted pile of auburn curls on his cot beside her. She massaged her scalp, her fingers poking through the short blonde hair and her eyes closed as she sighed, letting go the remaining decorum she held as she made herself more comfortable in the privacy of his tent. "So many things that are beautiful are also horribly painful. Like roses."
Or like Amara herself, Mordelle wanted to add, her own beauty hiding her thorny wit. Though he didn't know how she'd take that and so kept the observation to himself as he sipped his own tea. "So, Jabbar?" he said instead, prompting her.
She pulled her hands out of her hair and into her lap. "Oh, that." Her demeanor shifted as the smile fled from her face, erasing the bubbly, airheaded woman and replacing her with the Amara only a few could see: sharp, bold, stubborn. Sometimes Mordelle wished she'd show that side of herself more often, but another part of him selfishly wanted to keep that part of her to himself. "As we guessed, Jabbar is going to be a troublesome prick."
Mordelle muttered his agreement. The tent walls were thin, and so Amara lowered her voice and leaned over the table as she continued. "He has his companies guarding the pickets closest to the road and the pass," she said softly, her green eyes narrowed. "It should have been LePeirre, but Jabbar changed the assignment personally."
"Sneaking someone out?"
"Or in," Amara noted. "Or maybe something. Whatever it is, he doesn't want any word of it coming to you."
Mordelle sighed and rubbed his temples, where he could already feel the pressure forming. "Which means its something I need to know."
"Obviously." She leaned back and waved a hand. "I already have someone on it. A few someones, actually. It's prudent to have as many eyes as possible. I was hoping you'd have someone magically inclined that you trust enough with the task, as my resources in that area are... limited." She pursed her lips, frustrated as he was at that.
Most people with magical affinity didn't join the Spears; their routine patrols were a dirty, physical labor when they weren't in battle, and even in battle, the closed formations and ranks of the Spears were poorly suited to wielding magic. Mordelle had a few such people, however, like Taliyah, who were trained in magic before taking up the spear. "I'll find someone," he said. He may have a few casters, but finding one he trusted with such a task was another question entirely. Perhaps they could do without and Jabbar would slip up enough that Amara's watchers would be enough, but Mordelle knew Jabbar was sly and wouldn't leave any trace of his meddling.
"The worst part," Mordelle said softly, still cautious of ears outside their tent even if he knew Amara's listeners would have cleared the area while they ate, "is that there's nothing to accuse him of." Amara looked fit to protest, but Mordelle pressed on before she could interject. "Switching the guard is obviously setting up for something. There's no chance he did it out of kindness, but it's certainly not enough of a reason to confront him or to stop... whatever it is, before it starts. We can only sit back and see what he does, maybe step in if we can. It's infuriating."
Amara barked a laugh at that, shocking him. "That's politics, dear Ashe."
He groaned and buried his face in his palms, muttering, "I wish I could trust my own Spears, that's all."
"You can trust a man that always lies to lie as much as you can trust the one that always tells the truth," Amara said, echoing the common phrase. "At least we know to keep an eye on him; think, if another commander did the same thing, we may have not caught it at all."
Unsettling as that was, it was true. They had been watching Jabbar closely, so they were able to notice the signs of potential treachery before the act. "The only truth a liar tells is in the silence between their lies."
"I should go," Amara said, working to replace the wig atop her head. There were so many pins, Mordelle didn't think she could manage it, but she at least stabilized it enough that she could cross the camp in twilight to her own tent without it slipping. "I don't think either of us will get much sleep tonight, so we should try and get some while we can."
Mordelle smiled humorlessly, a tight pinch of his mouth. "Of course we won't," he said as Amara dismissed herself, sweeping out of the tent in a flutter of ribbons and teal fabric. He rested his forehead on the desk in front of him, wishing to Kor that he could rest, then finally crawled himself to the tent flap and blinked in the dark night as his eyes adjusted. His legs were sore from the hard riding he had done that day, but he pushed onward to find a mage that would be willing to watch over Jabbar's men. Just in case. |
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Post by Brownie on Dec 31, 2021 20:05:19 GMT -5
[[ Hey mossecho Have you been able to access the interactive map the last two hours? I've been trying to check if it works without a "host" ]] |
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Post by mossecho on Dec 31, 2021 20:14:50 GMT -5
[[ hi Brownie! I kept the tab open, but I did not try to move anything around. I think I recall seeing a time earlier this morning when you weren't on and being able to zoom in and out, but I didn't try to use any of the features. does that help? ]]
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Post by Brownie on Dec 31, 2021 20:17:08 GMT -5
[[ super helpful! I think it would kick you out entirely if it worked how I thought, so if you could still zoom around that should mean it works when I'm offline too. Thanks!! ]]
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Post by mossecho on Dec 31, 2021 20:20:09 GMT -5
[[ that's great to hear! ]]
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Post by ♥.•°Insanity°•.♥ on Jan 1, 2022 0:59:53 GMT -5
Okay, I'm back. I was running around for the holidays and really digging into my characters on my downtime.
Also, Maps = Super cool! I didn't spend a whole lot of time on them but I will tomorrow when I have more time. Happy New Years! }}
Ehri
Ehri groaned, rolling his head back. A new pain was forming in his skull as his counterpart personality slid away. It was day three of no sleep and while he was mentally exhausted from battling to be on the forefront, so was the other. His bond to the spirits was strengthened with sleep, and the connection was growing weak without it. That was the goal, sleep-deprived and winning. A crick had formed in his neck from phasing in and out of reality. He felt like he had been dragged across the continent and back as he overcame the fog, his thought process slow and monotonous.
“Gah.” Ehri stood up from the ground with a grunt. Why did they leave him on the night watch when he was only half aware of his surroundings. Being an insomniac was probably one reason but obviously, safety was not a high priority for these people. Well, there was Realm, who really only thought about herself. Then Pasha, who Ehri did not know very well, but was probably just as centrally focused as the fairy. Considering Pasha was taking this trip for gems and coins, it wasn’t a bad assumption. Plus Half-orcs were known for being on the bad end of the scale, so there was that as well.
With this thought came a pause. Judging others based on their race wasn't any good. Ehri didn’t even fully understand what he was. He had simply labeled himself insane for the voices he heard and the split personality that developed like a nasty case of Shingles. It was all he had ever known and no one knew what to tell him. How could he be as he was with no explanations? Surely there had to be a science behind it...
"It's thinking like that, that'll get you in trouble." Realm yawned from beside him. Disassociating was common for Ehri, he hadn't even noticed that the night was lifting or that he had plopped himself down again next to the fairy. "If I have to save you again, it's gonna cost more than your life."
The red-headed man chuckled recalling their first meeting and why he was here. "Yeah, I know. I owe you my life and more already." His grey eyes lingered on Realm's face where a burn scar crept up from her neck and over her jaw. That was all you could see, but Ehri knew the true damage that he had caused. His hand traveled to his own scars that chewed up his left ear and hands. "I owe you everything," Ehri admitted and was astonished as always when Realm just rolled her eyes like it was nothing. Sometimes he wondered if Realm just saved him by accident. Why would someone, only concerned with themselves, help him? Loosing focus on the thought was easy and besides, why look a gift horse in the mouth?
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Post by Brownie on Jan 1, 2022 1:56:10 GMT -5
[[ Happy new year! Hope everyone had a fun time tonight! I sure did (though I regret eating so much sugar....)
The maps are super useful! I think they'll be a good way to keep track of everyone once plots start picking up. I can't wait to see where you add to it! It's starting to feel more lived in, esp that southern middle part, which is good since that'll be a central location for groups to find each other.
Poor Ehri </3 I love his name btw but three days no sleep sounds torture.
I need to finish my bit with Mordelle quick so I can sleep myself.
zzzzz I need to stop making simple conversations 1.5k each this is too much. I need to cause drama thoughhhh ]]
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Post by mossecho on Jan 1, 2022 5:30:52 GMT -5
[[ Brownie : I tried to add stuff to the map when you weren't on and it worked! Yay!
as a short note, since Mixecatli and Citsehuatl speak a different language than Q'umchaa, they will say his name differently. the same goes for Q'umchaa when he is saying their names. as such, I'm spelling their names differently as needed. the spoiler below contains all the name changes.
* marks the original version (so if we're looking at Mixe's name, * marks how she will pronounce her name, not how Q'umchaa would)
also (a/bee/cee) marks the syllable boundaries, so "example" = (e/xam/ple)
Character Names
- Mixecatli (Mi/xe/ca/tli)* = Mishicatli (Mi/shi/cat/li)
- Citsehuatl (Ci/tse/huatl)* = Citsiwatul (Cit/si/wat/ul)
- Q'umchaa (Q'u/mchaa)* = Cumtxä (****/txä)
Place Names
- Tehnotxicanal (Teh/no/txi/ca/nal)* = Tinuchikanal (Ti/nu/chi/ka/nal)
- Sank'achhwa (Sa/nk'achh/wa)* = Sancatxhua (San/catx/wa)
- Chhiñllaa (Chhiñ/llaa)* = Txinyä (Txin/lä)
Orthographical Notes
- Q'umchaa always writes "k," whereas Mixe and Citse write "c."
- In Mixe and Citse's language, /sh/ is written as "x," whereas Q'umchaa would write it as "sh."
- Likewise, where Q'umchaa writes "ch," Mixe and Citse write "tx."
- Both languages have long and short vowels (so /a/ and /aa/ are different vowels for them). Mixe and Citse write long vowels with an umlaut (or whatever that double dot thing is), whereas Q'umchaa just writes the letter twice. So where Q'umchaa writes "a" and "aa", Mixe and Citse write "a" and "ä."
- Mixe and Citse write "hu" for what we pronounce as /w/. Q'umchaa just writes "w."
- The apostrophe mark denotes a specific type of sound in Q'umchaa's language (an ejective) that does not exist in Mixe and Citse's. So if you see an apostrophe, it's Q'umchaa's language.
Misc. Notes
- If you have not already noticed, Mixecatli and Citsehuatl's names can be shortened to Mixe and Citse, respectively. I'm still trying to figure out how to shorten Q'umchaa. I don't want his name to be shortened in the same way, just to preserve some sort of distinct linguistic nickname formation process. Maybe Chaaq'? Q'aa? X'umshaa (X as in /χ/)? I don't know. To be determined, I guess.
- Mixe and Citse speak a language that has a glottal stop (that's essentially a built-in pause, like the hyphen in "uh-oh"), but Q'umchaa doesn't have that. (Mixe and Citse write the glottal stop as a "h.") (Not to be confused with "hu," which is a /w/.) (And what happens if you have a glottal stop before a /w/? I don't know.)
- Q'umchaa's language only has three vowels (/a/, /i/, /u/), whereas Mixe and Citse's has five (/a/, /e/, /i/, /o/, /u/). So wherever there is an /e/ or /o/, Q'umchaa says /i/ or /u/, respectively.
- In Q'umchaa's language, /q/ and /k/ are different sounds. However, /q/ does not exist in Mixe and Citse's language, so they just say /k/ (and write "c") for both sounds.
- Mixe and Citse's language does not let syllables start with a nasal consonant (/m/, /n/, /ng/, for instance) followed immediately by another consonant (/p/, /sh/, etc.). Q'umchaa's, on the other hand, does. This also results in some syllable shenanigans. So where Q'umchaa says his name as Q'u/mchaa, Mixe and Citse say it as Kum/txä. (Of course, the spelling is also different, because... yeah.)
- Q'umchaa's language differentiates between plain, aspirated, and ejective stops. Aspirated stops are indicated with an h after the stop (so "ph" is pronounced as /p^h/, not as /f/, and "chh" is not a typo).
- Q'umchaa speaks a language where syllables cannot end with more than one consonant, so that impacts how he pronounces words and names from Mixe and Citse's language, since their language does allow for multiple ending consonants.
my goodness it is obvious I'm a language nerd, my apologies xD if you are somehow curious (and I don't expect anyone to be, I'm just too far into this stuff for my own good), feel free to look up the phonological and orthographical systems for Nahuatl (Mixeand Quechua
anyhow, I got too lazy to write Citse or Q'umchaa's parts, so I'll save them for later because... laziness (: ]]Mixecatli an inadequate navigator // definitely south of Tehnotxicanal, somewhere north of a place called "Sancatxahua"She poked at the dying embers with a stick, moving them around lazily. They had made it all the way through the night by some miracle. Citse had never tended a fire before, and while Cumtxä clearly could, it was difficult to communicate everyone's responsibility. It was easy to say "keep the fire going," it was much harder to communicate that nonverbally without accidentally asking to extinguish it.
Whatever the case, they had all managed to keep the fire alive.
As long as it does not go out, we will be okay.
That did, of course, depend on one's definition of "okay." Mixe's definition had become very... generous over the past few weeks. Tehnotxicanal's corn fields were trampled, her priests were slaughtered, and her buildings set ablaze. The only "okay" thing going for Mixecatli and Citsehuatl was the fact that they, unlike nearly everyone they knew, were alive. They had no contact with anyone else, had not see anyone they had known for nearly a whole moon now. The only people they had seen were each other and Cumtxä, the stranger.
Both of them were now sleeping a few paces away. Citse was lying under the blanket he and Mixe shared, the only one they had managed to take with them when they fled Tehnotxicanal. Cumtxä had been more prepared, bringing an actual sleeping sack and a mid-size blanket he rolled up into a pillow.
Kneeling next to the embers, Mixe held her hand above them. They were still plenty hot, thank the Lord Sun. The farmer's daughter had already gathered some stray sticks, twigs, small branches, and stones. If there was something going for this nowhere land, it was its humidity. Dry air was so much kinder to fire. The humidity offered some level of control. Placing the stones to the side for later, Mixe set the smaller twigs atop the fire's center, where the embers were hottest. Slowly, ever so slowly, the fire coaxed itself back into existence. The flame was small at first, but Mixe fed it patiently. Eventually, the fire was back. Staring at its bold, dancing flames, she reached for the largest branch she had managed to carry. Once she had a handle on it, Mixe scooted back, still on her knees, and bowed her head forward to the ground. The head danced on the top of her head, as if teasing its painful kiss.
"Dear Lord Sun, thank you for your fire. Your blessing is a welcome sacrifice for us, the unworthy. Thank you, bless you, praise you," Mixe whispered. She raised her head toward the sky. The thick foliage blocked out most of the sky, but one could still see the faint traces of the rising sun out towards what Mixe supposed was the horizon.
Still on her knees, Mixe held the branch out into the flames. Its end caught fire, and Mixe stepped back. Her feet were bare, the basic slippers she had worn when she fled the city having been too flimsy to withstand the wilderness. She kept her makeshift torch away from her, reaching out with her feet to kick the stones onto the newly-made fire. The stones filled the firepit, smothering the ground flames. The torch continued to burn.
Mixe bowed her head as the ground flames died away. The embers would remain hot, but the flames would die.
Gentle gibberish filled the air.
Mixe turned around and bowed her head briefly. Cumtxä may be a foreigner, a man from nowhere, but he was still a man. In terms of rank, that would always set him above her. Lovely how that works. So very convenient it is for the hims. Still, gender roles aside, Mixe was grateful someone else was awake. She needed some company, even if she could not understand the company.
Cumtxä repeated himself more slowly, as if that would help her understand. Both Mixe and Cumtxä had tried that already, but speaking more slowly did not magically translate their respective languages. Still, it was nice to try. Maybe someday the Great Lords and Ladies would be kind.
"Good morning Cumtxä," she responded. Ordinarily she would use an honorific, a "mister" or "sir" at the least, but the more words she used, the harder it was for Cumtxä to understand. Still, he was doing better at understanding her than she was at understanding him.
The stranger smiled. "Gud muning Mixicatli," he repeated back. He said something in his language, and Mixe tried to replicate those sounds back. He nodded encouragingly, but Mixe knew that she had butchered it. Still, the kindness was welcome.
Anything was welcome these days.
[[ uh that was... not how I wanted my first post to go. but it went, and that's better than not going, so... I forfeit? idk. congrats for suffering through my poor worldbuilding xD ]]
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Post by Brownie on Jan 1, 2022 12:33:30 GMT -5
[[ Ahhh I love the phonetics you chose they fit well! And it's different enough from latin based to be exotic without deviating too far from the set of familiar sounds. Though you are brave for trying to show asperated consonants and glottals using alphabet to an english-speaking audience haha I can parse it and its still taking me a second to get 'em right.
I told myself no conlanging this world cuz tbh if I let myself I'd spend more time tweaking the conlang than the actual characters !!
I always love the characters don't have common language interactions <3 ]]
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Post by Brownie on Jan 1, 2022 17:07:24 GMT -5
- - - I keep tabbing over to this like I want to write something but I don't really want to do anything more with Mordelle (since I'm still figuring out what Jabbar is up to...) or Zeph (I don't want to get him too out of sync with the other Spears) or really the Aspenstorms (they're just walking; maybe getting into some sort of trouble on the road, but I kinda want to look around for some good d&d monsters they could feasibly encounter before doing anything more with them). Which leaves Autumn or Lucy, aka fight scene or not fight scene, but Lucy's part ALSO deals with Jabbar so it's all too much tbh
OR I just be so wordy that I can justify not having to figure out Jabbar by having Lucy wait for nightfall to send her message (; And yes, they're basically using lit stones to flash morse code over the hills, though I'd guess their "morse" is much less refined and polished than the actual morse, hence why it takes so long to even send short messages.
--LMAO I Forgot To Change the Summary it just said tl;dr: LUCY
tl;dr: Lucy returns from serving Mordelle's food, grabs her glowing rock, prepares to sneak out to send a message to the opposing army. - - - Lucy Lover's Pass Camp, Havenhome . Spears of Kor Lucy was amazed she managed to get inside Mordelle's tent. Not that it was helpful, she supposed, after she closed the flap on the Senior Spear and Miss Bannlea, as she hadn't seen or heard anything of note. In truth, she was surprised to see that Senior Mordelle's tent was almost as spartan as her own apart from the small table of papers and the fact that he didn't have to share with two other people like Lucy did.
She lingered nearby the canvas side, out of sight from the single guard at the entrance, hoping she'd catch a few important words from the Senior Spear. She'd never been this close! Someone cleared their throat behind her and Lucy startled, grabbing the tassels of her hat with her hands as she ducked lower to the ground, making herself even smaller than she had been. A broad-shouldered woman stood behind her, obsidian tipped spear in hand. She wordlessly pointed away from the tent and when Lucy failed to move, a stony look settled on her face and she pointed again for emphasis. "Sorry," Lucy squeaked and followed the finger, letting the woman resume her patrol around Mordelle's tent.
"Idiot," Lucy berated herself as she retreated through the maze of tents. Each section had its own culture and Lucy felt out of place here, where all the upper officers clumped their tents together so they could stick to their own fires and peers. She kept to the dark places between the firelight, wincing at the loud laughter, tidy uniforms and large soldiers that reminded her of how much she really didn't belong in the Spears, or anywhere outside of her cozy hamlet. "Just a few more days," she whispered to herself after dodging behind a tent to avoid two officers stomping down the row, pulling her hat tighter over her head and hunching her shoulders so the scarf hid the rest of her face.
She broke free of the neatly ordered officer's tents into the organic, strewn-about organization of the cooks' tents. At least the smell was better here, being so close to the food supply, the warm scent of spices hung low over the air. Sometimes it was strong enough to choke on, but the mountainside breeze carried enough of it away that it was a pleasant change from the stinky, muddy stench of an army on the move which dominated the rest of the camp, even those in the officer's section, though it was markedly less pungent there.
Her own tent was nearby and she quickly disappeared inside with barely a whisper and a sigh as she sat on the worn hatch of canvas that was the only thing between her and the hard stone below. Fortunately, neither of the women she usually shared the space with were here yet. Probably still cleaning up from supper, like Lucy would have reported to if she hadn't volunteered to take Mordelle his meal. In the rare moment of privacy, Lucy rummaged through her small sack of personal belongings --mostly clothes since anything of value was likely to be stolen away, and so she had sold those already, not that Lucy had much to her name. But there, a large, black and orange pattered sock. She pulled it out and reached inside, where a glowing stone had been stashed away.
The stone itself was small enough to fit in her fist and was oval and smooth. It wouldn't be out of place on the side of a riverbank, indeed, that's where Rowan had picked it up before imbuing it with magic that made it glow so brightly. A sheet of paper was also tucked away in the toe of the sock, crumpled from the long travel and the weight of the stone bouncing around in her pack, but after marching with the line for so long sending the blinking messages to Rowan, Lucy didn't need the code anymore and left it hidden inside as she put the sock back in her pack and stowed the stone in her pocket.
She'd have to go to the top of the Pass, she knew, if anyone was to see her signal. It was easier when they were on the plains, but now that the army was so close to Havenhome, the watcher who'd been sneaking her messages back to Rowan in the Tachinid camp would have retreated fully, they had said as much in their coded, flickering messages the last time Lucy corresponded with them outside of Ettna: "I GO B UP PAS BY DUSK ALONE GL". Lucy was often frustrated at the cryptic nature of the messages, but while her sending could be longer if she shielded her stone's light from the Spears with her body, the Tachinid scout's flashing light was exposed on the mountainside and they couldn't risk anyone from the Paladins' camp noticing, so they kept their messages as brief as possible, leaving Lucy to puzzle the meanings out after she'd returned to her tent.
Lucy dreaded ascending the rest of the mountain in the darkness. There were only a few more switchbacks to go, maybe two kilometers, and there was no doubt she could make it to the top and back before dawn came and someone noticed her absence, just as she felt confident that she could sneak out and in of the Spears' own perimeter as she'd done many times already on the march. But that didn't mean she wanted to spend the entire night walking instead of sleeping. Lucy grumbled and double checked that the stone's light wasn't visible from the outside of her jacket and settled down to wait until night fell completely, when she would be able to sneak away and start her own secret journey to the top of the Pass. |
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Post by mossecho on Jan 1, 2022 18:41:24 GMT -5
[[ I told myself "no conlanging" and then I decided to have characters who didn't speak the same language and then... conlanging happened. But I am keeping it only to phonetics, I promise you that. that promise will almost certainly be broken tbh ]]
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Post by Brownie on Jan 1, 2022 22:10:57 GMT -5
[[ I decided that all other languages, even loanwords, would either be from D&D or tolkien's elvish. Not even dipping my toe in that ocean of a time sink lmao. I'm ready to just appreciate your work on that subject (;
I'm slowly figuring out what plots I'm weaving into the Spears of Kor. Slowly. ]]
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Post by mossecho on Jan 1, 2022 23:57:29 GMT -5
[[ take your time figuring out how to weave in the Spears of Kor, I'm still trying to figure out what my characters are doing besides trapezing around and how to get them towards Miir-a-Batn
I have no D&D experience, but Tolkien (from my understanding) is a god among conlangers and I respect anyone who references Elvish <3 ]]
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Post by Brownie on Jan 2, 2022 0:32:48 GMT -5
[[ By boat would be interesting, since they'd have to follow the coast either way. Reasons that they could head that way might be:
- knowing family or friends or someone they trust that they think could help,
- perhaps rumor that some other people from nearby settlements that were also raided headed that way,
- they might try to solicit Miir-a-batn's navy to deal with the pirates
- perhaps Q'umchaa had reason to head that way previous and the siblings follow along
- or maybe citse wanted to leave to go to a big city (or mixe, but from your starter, she seems a bit meek to suggest somewhere outside their traditions)
- they could feel like they are being pursued and end up heading that way to escape
- or a traveler suggests it as a good place to make a new start.
- Something about a temple or religious center that's in Miir-a-batn is alluring or feels safe
- They board a ship to get away from some spontaneous trouble and that's just where it's headed.
- Less your characters in control, but someone powerful (group of people or a lvl 20 hero) could be rounding up survivors and shipping them that direction. This could be for good or bad reasons, and they could be treated well or poorly depending on how you want to twist it.
which is a lot, but spitballing ideas cuz character motive is fun. I made a similar list to figure out where I wanted my elven sibs to run and just took the easy but good "family or family friend is there" route.
I actually don't have much experience with D&D either, besides what my friends tell me about their campaigns and like, podcasts. I get so bored with the combat tbh I can't play myself zzz
I haven't read any tolkien either but his conlangs (or at least the fans' finished versions) are one of the most complete of any. ]]
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Post by Brownie on Jan 2, 2022 18:36:12 GMT -5
[[ Still trying to figure out what I want Jabbar's plot to be. I want it to be significantly scummy, but not downright traitorous. It would help if I aligned him some character motives, but I've come out with there would be a few main categories of why he would go behind Mordelle's back: (just thinking out loud here to get my ideas straight)
- genuinely thinks he's doing the right thing/Mordelle is corrupt/religious reasons "Kor told me"
- Greed. Probably some sort of smuggling or black market type operation, either sneaking goods into the Spear's camp or just taking bribes to let others sneak thru the Pass.
- Desperation. Perhaps someone he loves is trying to sneak out of the army, or away from Havenhome in some capacity? This one could border on treason, even if it is through blackmail rather than his own desire to help the enemy.
- Power. I think this fits his personality best: he's used to being the top dog and doesn't like having to work under Mordelle. How would this manifest? He's not stupid enough to threaten the entire army for petty reasons. Perhaps he's trying to orchestrate something that proves Mordelle isn't good enough to lead? Plant evidence against him? He wouldn't be second in line for the position, but he'd totally be charismatic and have enough power to leverage a good claim. Since we're on battlecats, literal ambitious Tigerstar-esque attempt at a coup? Why now, though? He probably doesn't have the power to do it once they get to Havenhome, so now is a last chance kind of deal and he's getting sloppy trying to get it done in the time crunch? He does need a personal REASON to try and take over, maybe one of the above? ]]
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Post by mossecho on Jan 3, 2022 6:39:14 GMT -5
[[ so I decided to see if I can write each character in a slightly different style. Mixe has longer sentences, and she's written in third-person. Q'umchaa's written more like thoughts would be, short and choppy. now as for Citse... I'll figure it out, still lost with him tbh xD hopefully this works out. Q'umchaa's style is definitely what I am most used to, so we'll see if Mixe and Citse's styles veer towards his. hopefully not ]]Q'umchaa an inadequate navigator // north of Sank'achhwa, in a state of remembrance, of mourningAll those years ago, the pirates started coming.
They were short raids, at first. Inspections. They would come in, take a few objects (never the precious ones, not yet anyway), write records. One time they had dropped something (that thin foreign paper, the type that fell apart if you pulled too hard), full of stiff lines and scattered dots. When traders came, Q'umchaa (my grandfather, my namesake) gave it to them. No one on the peninsula knew what it was, that much was obvious even before the traders came. It looked nothing like our writings: too stiff, too repetitive. So many of the characters show up over and over. You would never find that in our writing.
The traders left, promising to pass it along, to get back to us. We gave them an extra quarter sack of salt for their troubles, with the promise of ten more when they came back with a verifiable result. Any information was worth it, and we had the monopoly on peninsular salt. We could afford the information.
It was three years until information came, and another year before verification did. In that time, there were more raids. They became more aggressive. We held them back as best we could. The first raids happened before I was born, but by the time they came inland, towards our town, I was old enough to remember. I was tiny, barely eligible for school. I had seen my brothers sent to the shoreline villages, to set up the path brigades, the diversions. Unless you are from these lands, you need the paths to find your way from one place to another. If we barricaded them, if we hid them, if we made fake ones, then maybe we could save ourselves from the larger raids. It worked for a while, for the shoreline villages. Then the pirates learned to keep records, they memorized where those villages were, how to get there. Before long, those villages had to melt into the jungle, seek refuge with us inlanders.
By the time my brothers stopped going off to distort roads around the shoreline villages, I was in my second year of primary school. I was still learning to read, just learning to write. When my brothers stopped working on the shoreline roads, they started working on our own. After school, I went with them. Every day, it was a new path to be hidden. A new path to be blocked.
And still, the raids came.
It was years before they made it to my home.
And just a year before they did, we got the verification. Isanpu, the foreigners told us. By that point, the name had gone through so many languages, we did not know if that was even close to the original name. Still, it did not matter. We had a name, we had a story.
Organized pirates. Made their way by stealing from the outskirts, working their way in. They take what matters to them, what fits their whims. Precious stones, high-value spices, the occasional cash crop. People. Sometimes they take what they want and go. Sometimes its easier to burn it all behind them.
When I was a baby, we had plenty of stories about monsters. Prullas, Q'ichhipii, the Luruja. When my brothers were building new roads, when I was playing fort-builder with my other classmates after school ("playing," a kind word for "sloppily working"), we all swapped stories of the isanpu.
Isanpu. Even thinking the name is something awful. In my culture, we are careful with names. They are important to us. I have heard of people who do not care about their names. Who shorten them, who drop them. Who change them when they enter a new household, who change them when they dislike them too much. For us, names do not work like that. When you are close with someone, you do not cut their name up, like ripping the wings off a butterfly. You say it in full, you bless their name,
But if a name is cursed, then one may drop it. One must. Drop it, find a new one, something more noble.
When I was little, we told stories of the isanpu. But before they came, before they set us all ablaze, we dropped that name. It was cursed. It stung our mouths when we spoke it, it burned our eyes when we wrote it.
When they came, their name burned my mind. It hurts to think it now. My eyes tear up, they burn so much. The fire runs up my spine, it dances in my belly. It burns and burns and burns.
Even other words, similar words, bother me now. Ipuucha, tree root. Nusaphanuwa, small trading boat. Small pains, mostly. A toothache, a stubbed toe. Bigger ones too, sometimes. Sanipu is a dislocated shoulder. IIsanpa is a broken leg.
I lost those words when my village burned. When the trees exploded, when they incinerated our idols and killed our gods. When I ran out of my home, smoke stinging my eyes, to find my older brother. When I found his body by a road fortification. When I ran back to tell my namesake, dear grandfather. When I watched our house's roof buckle under flames, onto him, onto my parents, onto my other brothers. I lost all their names in that fire. When I think of them, flames engulf me, burning even brighter than isanpu.
My home is the word that hurts most. I thought it once, a long time ago, just after that cursed day. I fainted and woke up a week later, starving, dehydrated, barely alive. I never thought it since.
(The first syllable is the same as the word that dislocates my shoulder. The second is the word for our ancestor's word for salt, k'achh. The third is a small trading boat's final syllable.)
When the pirates came, I lost those words, those names. The only name I have left is my own, now. It is the only one still living.
[[ well that was all exposition, but it's fine, I'm going to bed ]]
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Post by Brownie on Jan 3, 2022 13:28:50 GMT -5
[[ For some reason I though Q'umchaa would be older </3 And I was wondering how you'd weave the pirates to be farther inland if even the bigger cities were hit.
and the names with fire and mixing the two works perfectly ahhh ]]
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Post by Brownie on Jan 3, 2022 17:43:05 GMT -5
- - - .-.
tl;dr: Lucy tries to sneak out, but one of Amara's watchers stands between her and the road. - - - Lucy Lover's Pass Camp, Havenhome . Spears of Kor It wasn't long before the other two women returned from cleaning to the tent. "Goodnight, Lucy," Renée said, her accented voice soft and lyrical as she drew out the vowels. She looked exhausted, her pale face drawn, and Lucy hardly had time to say her own greeting before she had slipped into the bedroll and fallen asleep with her fiery red hair plumed around the pillow like a candle flame.
Lucy's second tent-mate was far less kind and slogged mud in behind her as she took her boots off inside the tent instead of leaving them covered outside like the other two did. Lucy didn't bother complaining to Ygritte, who didn't change her ways no matter how sweetly Renée had asked or, later, how sternly the two had tried. So Lucy merely ignored the short, messy Ygritte, even after she pushed Lucy's things around and shoved half her bedroll into Lucy's own space and turned her back on the other two.
She waited a few moments longer, until Ygritte kicked at Lucy's things again, to which she pulled her pack away with a frustrated growl, secreted it in her bedroll, and pushed her way outside. She wasn't one to curse, usually, but she'd learned a lot from travelling in the army and for once she understood the kind of selfish people she'd use one on. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and took her irritation out by aggressively tying her boots as tight as she could manage and pulled her hat as far down around her ears as she could before sneaking out into the night.
It wasn't full dark yet, as the sun had far to fall over the plains below and still tinted the horizon pale yellow as eggshells. But there was plenty enough shadows for Lucy and no one ever really noticed the cooks anyways, even less so a halfling with overlarge clothes scurrying about as if she had somewhere to be. Sometimes it frustrated Lucy how invisible she was to the Spears, but mostly she was proud of it.
Except it was for exactly that reason that Rowan had thrown her into this mess in the first place, when she should have been safe and comfortable with her family in their small house on the hill, a beacon of rest for weary farmers and hunters of the nearby hamlet of Kirth, which, before she had been shoved into the Spears by Rowan, had been the biggest settlement the halfling had ever seen or wanted to see. Instead, she was scurrying like a mouse between the Spears of Kor's tents, her hand deep in her pocket cradling the glowing stone, hoping she could make it up the pass and back with a few hours to sleep before the march ahead.
Lucy took her time crossing the camp, avoiding as many guttering campfires and noisy tents as she could manage and giving any walking sentries space. They were camped on the mountainside, and while the entire army did manage to squeeze onto the flat ledge, it meant that the camp itself was long and narrow, settled like a farm terrace on the curved slope. Since she'd come in first with the rest of the food supply, their caravan had went to the back of the ledge furthest from the road so that the rest of the soldiers could fill the space as the tail end of the column marched in, like a snake squeezing into a tube. Which meant that Lucy was forced to sneak across the entire length of the camp, so even though she'd left her tent only shortly past sundown, the moon was high in the air by the time she could see the road and the line of torches that marked the sentry line.
She wasn't the only one sneaking about, either, which surprised Lucy. It was only because she was so afraid of being seen and moving so carefully that she noticed the watcher at all, clad in dark clothes and sticking to the sides of tents like she was. It looked to be a woman, crouched low behind a pile of firewood and barely presenting an outline. Even Lucy, who had seen her slip across the open gap like a specter, could only see her when she shifted. Her eyes weren't on the camp, but outwards towards the road, and didn't even look behind her where Lucy hid. Which was good, because she had the suspicion that the watcher would have caught her no matter how invisible she thought she was.
Lucy squeezed her hand tightly around the river stone in her pocket. She couldn't go forward, not into this watcher woman's line of sight, and she had a vantage that allowed her to look over the open land between the tents and the road clear as day. There would be no way Lucy could sneak out here. Perhaps she could climb the ridge above the camp and cross over to the road that way? It would be difficult, but maybe not impossible. It might have been easier to descend the slope below the camp instead and circle back around to the road, but the watcher woman was between her that direction, and even Lucy could see there was no place to hide once she was on the road itself, meaning she'd still have to cross the watcher's eye.
She found a hiding place behind the wheel of a wagon and secreted herself away, watching the watcher and the road, trying to find out what she was watching for. |
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Post by Brownie on Jan 3, 2022 22:11:52 GMT -5
- - - Fight scene! And yes, the Atmeri are basically dwemer from skyrim okay <3
tl;dr: Autumn and Lavender take down their first Atmeri construct! There's many more to go ;) - - - Autumn South of Lover's Pass, Mountainside . Dead Languages
She lifted her spear as the construct came into the spotlight Lavender hung from the top of the pipe. Autumn had never seen a clockwork creature before, but it looked exactly as she would have imagined. It had a bulbous body and several spindly legs, crawling spider-like across the pipe with a tap of metal on metal. It didn't have a head, or a face, but it did have several crystals jutting out from the front and a large, purple spike growing up from its back. It was about the size of a cat.
It didn't change pace when it entered the spotlight, and the two watched as it meandered on. "That's pretty neat," Autumn said. It had crossed the further light and entered the glow of the one that hung directly above Lavender, maybe three meters away. Up close, Autumn could see the whirling clockwork pieces of its joints and core, which gave a soft whirring sound. "He looks harmless," she said, as the construct stopped. She waved at it. "I wonder if it can see us now."
Suddenly the construct unleashed a cloud of steam and Autumn barely was able to get her arm up to shield her face as she dodged to the side. She hissed in pain; her arm stung, burned by the heat. "Hey!" she exclaimed, looking down at her forearm which was now an angry shade of red, though at least it wasn't melted. The construct had turned its crystals to face Lavender, but the Divine had leapt the opposite direction she had and was already several meters away. He said a sharp word and a bolt flew from his outstretched palm. It splashed against the construct's feet and quickly hardened into ice, trapping it.
[ He rolled a nat 20 to hit first try, go Lav ]
"Okay, you can use your spear," Lavender shouted over to her, though Autumn had already begun to advance again with her spear, not waiting for his permission to get back at the bastard for burning her arm. "Try not to smash it to bits," he pleaded as an afterthought.
Autumn grunted in response and lunged forward at the small clockwork spider before it could turn those crystals back at her. She bet that's how it had released the steam. Her first stab was in the center of its metal body and the obsidian tip was deflected with a sharp, painfully loud squeal as she scored a line down its flank. It was vibrating and struggling against the ice giving her another chance to stab, which she took readily, using her height to get above the creature as she changed her grip and drove the spear down into the mass of crystals.
[ An 8 and 20 respectively. All these crits lets go team! ]
Two of the bigger ones shattered, falling with a dance like shattered glass as they hit the metal pipe. She'd hoped losing the crystals would stun it, but she had enough training to jump out of the way after her hit. Her reflex was correct, and the construct pushed steam down the joints of its legs, forming a cloud around it as it melted the ice and freed itself, spinning in her direction with a hiss as the steam dissipated.
[ It rolled a 5 on attack so I had her dodge away, but it did get a 12 to free itself. ]
Lavender had gotten closer, creeping along the side of the pipe opposite Autumn. "Distract it," he said, "I need to touch it."
Autumn didn't know what Lavender could do, but she trusted the Divine had some sort of plan and she already had the construct's attention. Unfortunately, she also didn't know what it could do, other than the steam, which apparently wasn't hindered by her shattering the crystals on its face. The jagged ends were glowing with a faint pink light, however, so it must have done something since they hadn't been glowing before.
[ Construct rolled an 18 on attack. Sorry Autumn you don't have plate on this time. ]
She did not expect it to fire a projectile from its jointed leg, a spike of metal that buried itself in her side. She cursed even as she saw Lavender creeping up from behind it, breaking into a sprint as he threw himself at the construct's body and shouted a few words. Another cloud formed around the construct and Autumn shouted out, jumping into the fog with her spear at the ready. The cloud of mist broke over her and she realized it was cold, not hot like the other steam attacks. The construct fell to the ground with a bang as its clockwork carapace clattered against the metal pipe.
"How?" she asked as Lavender began poking the mass of metal. It didn't move, but Autumn watched the spidery legs warily, holding her burnt arm to her stomach and grabbing her shirt near where the splinter of metal still poked into her, bloodying the fabric.
Lavender didn't seem to notice her question, enthralled as he was with moving the construct's legs and brushing his fingers over the jagged ends of the crystals, whispering to himself. Autumn gritted her teeth and got in his face, kicking his side to get his attention, to which he fell back with a startled sound. "Look at it later. It's dead, right?"
He blinked a few times, then nodded. "Yes, yes. It moves from steam, right? So I pulled the water out of it. It may be able to condense more knowing the Atmeri, but that should take time to gather enough pressure even with the humidity from the rain." Lavender finally seemed to pull his attention from the science and took in her injuries. "Oh," he said softly, his eyes wide.
"Yeah, owch," Autumn said, deadpan. "You know any healing magic or am I going to have to bandage myself up the old fashioned way?" |
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Post by Hawkeyes258 on Jan 3, 2022 23:20:11 GMT -5
/(So apologies for not being descriptive about the building or surroundings. I mainly just wanted to post something about these two. Hope it's cool if I just made up a ancient god. if not I can use the official listed in Dnd)
BullHorn
Uriel and Daniel meet up with Marsha inside the village's local tavern and sit near the back. While grinning back at them, she leans back in her seat eager to begin speaking. Uriel and Daniel sit down and motion for her to speak. "So, what do you know about the Hall of the Ancients?" He asked curious to see what this woman knew. Uriel only knew by some rumors. Some said it was a cursed temple to a dead god; while others claimed it's a underground city filled with treasures and creatures lost to time. Uriel did not care either way. He and Daniel were told of a cult ,and their necromancer leader doing foul and terrible things within it's walls. Uriel hated the undead and wanted nothing more than to bring justice.
"I know a good deal! My gramps used to be an explorer and he told me about the Hall of the Ancients. Used to temple dedicated to really really old and powerful gods. According to him, the people ended up going mad and that something really big pulled the temple and the city underground. Some people seem to think one of the gods is guarding the city." Marsha was about to ramble on until Daniel puts his hand up. "Take a breath my dear. Your grandpa seemed to know a whole lot. I have to ask two things though. Do believe everything he told you and what was the name of one of those gods?" Marsha looked offended for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Trust me when I say my gramps was a honest man. No way he could make something like that up. As for the gods well, I think one of them is Costerria and the other is something super weird." Marsha pauses for a moment to think. "Something like Cythia wait no, Cyumu, no that's not it. Ugh, sorry I don't know for sure. All I know that it's apparently super crazy, has a bunch of eyes and could make you do really bad stuff."
Uriel and Daniel glance at each other before looking back at Marsha. The whole thing sounded rather outlandish, but could explain why a bunch of cultists would want to call that place home. Uriel figured they could still ask around possibly find a library or church and ask someone.
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