Meta Ruins of Myvolia

This is the Play-by-Post
Instruction
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DM - Port Parlone - Blunt Nail Tavern
The Musings of an Old Man

The cold harsh winds of the North Sea skate over the Bay of Bangle and barrage the shores in Port Parlone. Grey and hard, the town is not much larger than a village; but, there is plenty of activity as it is the only major port of Parlone capable of housing the large merchant ships of the south. Square sails of the northern Grewhains, arrow sails of the thriving Empire of Sandoria, and the mighty spirit sails of the trade merchants of Thrayce speckle the extensive docks in the early morning.

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Sebastian - Port Parlone
Skeptical but interested

Sebastian rubs his chin thoughtfully and glances around the table. In Thraycian, loud enough for anyone who understands to hear, he mutters…

I think the old man is a few cups in…

Smirking, he looked around the table once more…

Still, it’s been too long since i’ve had any deeds worth singing about. Should we wander once more?

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Cora - Parlone
Cora joins hesitently

Cora looks at the old man to see if he is mad or just had one to many.

Who are you sir? How do you know us?.

I agree with Sebastian I grow weary of this town and seek more excitement!

Although he maybe leading us into a trap the chance of riches untold has tweaked my interest.

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Alma - Port Parlone
Resignation

Alma shares the rest of the companies interest in moving on and finding further adventure. He is a little hesitant to head further north into desolate frozen wastes, but decides to keep his reservations to himself. He instead starts to survey the room for a serving wench, preferably a pretty one. If the frozen north is the direction Alma intends to have his belly warmed by wine and his bed warmed by a fine woman.. Or two, could be a long journey.

North it is then… In the morning I assume

With that Alma excuses himself to corner the finest wench in the place and ply his charms, or coin if need be.

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T 'Alen - At the table
Cautious and curious

T ’Alen takes a slow pull of his drink, and leans forward towards the old man

What do you know of the lands beyond the spine old one? Have you any maps, or writings of the area?

T ’Alen leans back in his chair a bit waiting for an answer

And how do you know what we are?

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Sebastian - Still at the table
Ethusiasm growing

Sebastian picks up his banjo and begins to pluck… looking at T’Alen he says

Sacre bleu Wizard, we carry enough arms to raze this town twice over. What else could we be?

Catching the eye of the serving wench Alma is ogling, and indicating the old man, he shouts:

Madamoiselle! A drink for our new friend! Also mon frere with the big sword would like a word with you…

Grinning he picks up the pace on his banjo and begins to sing…

In the morn we march on the great white north, on our way to cut down any horrors that spring forth, I and my fellows we are the eight, for any who oppose us death will not wait…

Images

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Lornaal - Not enough to drink for this

Lornaal found the warmth and shelter of the tavern to be a welcome respite from the winds shrieking in off of the bay. The promise of ale did not hurt either.

While none of his companions would find Port Parlone to be anything more than a dreary backwater, to one who grew up in the shadows of the Spinereach it was as cosmopolitan a town as one was likely to encounter. The size of the southern ships impressed Lornaal, as they always did. The sounds of the slippery southern tongues were like worms in his ears.

The drab colours that made it difficult to know where the stoney shore ended and the grey surf began were unlike those of home. The deep, almost encompassing greens of the pine forests echoed in Lornaal’s mind. He pictured the high meadows in spring, bedecked with glorious blankets of flowers, then the hush that covered the land after a fresh snow-fall. There was a raw beauty to the Spine Gulch and its absence filled Lornaal’s heart.

Seated at the table with his companions, he turned his attention to the pressing need for beer. The battle with the mantacore had been trying and the long march from the Winter Woods had been taxing, even to a man with his size and vigour.

As the day began to slip away and Lornaal set his mind on getting drunk, he was drawn to the greybeard and his intimate talk of the Northreach. To be honest, he had hardly heard a word that his companions had spoken, or the telling and re-telling of their stories and exploits. Somehow, though, this grizzled man seemed to speak directly to Lornaal, making his heart sick again, in a strange and infuriating way.

When the man suddenly turns his attention to Lornaal and switches to the tongue of his people, he stiffened. He recognized the words as those that lived in his own heart. There was a warning there, or perhaps a recognition.

After that, however, the man’s words and their meaning were utterly lost on Lornaal. Instead, his mind soared to the north. Like a hawk he saw the foreboding entrance to the Boneshatter pass, still covered in snow, and the lost warriors of his tribe picking their way towards Lodd on their planned raid.

Suddenly restless, his great thirst made even more powerful by these ruminations, Lornall raises his voice in a tone often used to speak through the shrieking winds of a mountain pass,

Ale. And keep them coming.

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Cora - parlone
Cora gets into some mischief

Cora sit quietly listens to the old man tell of who he is and why he knows so much about us. She begins to look for the wine cellar.

If I going to be on a long adventure I’m going to need some wine to drink. LOTS of wine.

She say to herself as gets up to find the wine cellar.

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Terrence - And so it begins
Wants more......

Terrence leans as he take a sip of his wine. He’s eager to hear more from the old man.
__
Thoughts of this old adventurer kicking ogre ass back in his youth churns up a fire inside. Who is this old man? What has he seen? What does he know? Where is his house? What treasures lie within it?
(evil grin)

Time to apply my skills, he thinks to himself and when able he quizzes the old man and scans him closely looking for anything out of the ordinary

Gather Information:
Roll: d20+7
9 = 2[d20]+7

Spot:
Roll: d20+8
25 = 17[d20]+8

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