Leif's 4E Adventuring in Encastulum [IC 01]

[Leif]

In the Tower

The creaking proves to be a wheelchair, which rolls into the room bearing a not-too-too-old human male whose legs are covered by a blanket, but whose upper parts are clad in the customary finery of what one might call a wizard. "Ahh, visitors. Come, come, you must tell me your names! Let's see .... You start," he says, pointing at Guard.

 

[Leif]

In the Tower

The momentary lack of response from Guard is almost deafening. The wheelchair-bound gentleman looks expectantly at the construct and then begins to twiddle his thumbs. "She must be in the middle of an internal diagnostic cycle or something. Anyone else care to introduce himself?"

 

[Scotley]

The momentary lack of response from Guard is almost deafening. The wheelchair-bound gentleman looks expectantly at the construct and then begins to twiddle his thumbs. "She must be in the middle of an internal diagnostic cycle or something. Anyone else care to introduce himself?"

"Rydan Braithwaite at your service." He performs his most courtly bow.

 

[Leif]

In the Tower

"Ahh, good. I can conclude, then, that the world has not completely abandoned its manners while I've been away. That is reassuring. Tell me, Rydan Braithwaite, do your mute companions have names, or do you just get their attention with grunts and gestures?"

 

[Scotley]

"Ahh, good. I can conclude, then, that the world has not completely abandoned its manners while I've been away. That is reassuring. Tell me, Rydan Braithwaite, do your mute companions have names, or do you just get their attention with grunts and gestures?"

"In truth sir they are most often more verbose than I. I cannot say what might have stolen their tongues this evening. Perhaps too many potent potables?"

 

[Leif]

In the Tower

"Yes, yes, good idea my lad! Let's have a wee dram, shall we?" With that, the old gentleman reaches deep into a mass of papers on his desk and pulls forth a black ceramic bottle. Only now do you all notice the small glasses on the nearby tables -- one for each of you. With a quick, subtle gesture that you couldn't quite follow, the bottle floats to each glass and pours a small amount of smoky gold liquid into each. An odor of ancient wood, charcoal, and brimstone wafts into your nostrils, if you care to snif. "By the way," says the old man in the wheelchair, "I am called Samwell the Younger, although 'younger' hardly describes my present state, I fear."

 

[Scotley]

"Yes, yes, good idea my lad! Let's have a wee dram, shall we?" With that, the old gentleman reaches deep into a mass of papers on his desk and pulls forth a black ceramic bottle. Only now do you all notice the small glasses on the nearby tables -- one for each of you. With a quick, subtle gesture that you couldn't quite follow, the bottle floats to each glass and pours a small amount of smoky gold liquid into each. An odor of ancient wood, charcoal, and brimstone wafts into your nostrils, if you care to snif. "By the way," says the old man in the wheelchair, "I am called Samwell the Younger, although 'younger' hardly describes my present state, I fear."

Having entirely too much experience with being dosed with experimental substances by wizards, Rydan picks up the glass hesitantly and takes a sniff. He looks to see what effect it might have on others before trying it.

 

[Leif]

In the Tower -- Samwell

Sensing Rydan's hesitation, Samwell is quick to reassure him, "Drink up, drink up, my boy, it's quite harmless, I assure you. Well, in moderation, anyway..."

 

[RavenBlackthorne]

Firil shakes his head, as if waking from a dream.

"Well if one must to be polite..."

he mumbles before taking one of the glasses and sampling the offered drink.

 

[Leif]

In The Tower -- Samwell

Firil finds the beverage to be a quite heady and potent one. The flavor of black currants is most pronounced, with a hint of something ... rhubarb?