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Pledge of Tyranny (updated November 13)
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<blockquote data-quote="genshou" data-source="post: 2308595" data-attributes="member: 13164"><p>This time, I’ll introduce the second PNPC, Evendur Greycastle. Not much is known about him, even by his fellow party members, other than that he hails from Waterdeep. In metagaming terms, he is a 1st-level human male with a gestalt class combination of rogue and ranger.</p><p></p><p>10th Marpenoth (Leaffall), time approx. 0645</p><p>Location: Inside the stable at the same inn</p><p></p><p>“Evendur!” The voice sounded of frustration. “Evendur, hurry and get up!” In his half-asleep daze, he could barely feel someone’s hands on him, shaking him roughly. “The master will be angry if you’re late again!”</p><p></p><p>He rolled onto his back, opening his eyes slowly. The dim light from a nearby torch was all that allowed him to see the rotted and warped rafters above. Somehow, he managed to summon enough mental faculties to mutter quietly to the offending serving girl. “Go away, Mishli...”</p><p></p><p>The hands removed themselves from him, and he heard footsteps scurrying off toward the ladder and then the sound of Mishli climbing down. He rolled over onto his side and tried to sleep, but an offending piece of hay stuck into his side. Growling in truly formidable early morning anger, he heaved himself up and tore the offending hay from his body. Throwing it into the darkness, he dropped down heavily and closed his eyes...</p><p></p><p>Then, he heard it. She was still in the stable, down below. Drawing water...? Ah, well. It didn’t matter what the girl was doing. He was exhausted, and he was going to sleep. The master of the inn wouldn’t need his services until the patrons were drunk anyway. He sighed as he settled into a curled position on the hard wooden floor, already slipping into a deep slumber.</p><p></p><p>His sleep was interrupted when Mishli finally brought the bucket of cold water up the ladder and dumped it on his head. He was on his feet in what seemed an instant. Swaying back and forth as he fought off the sleepy haze, he half-opened his eyes, searching for the <em>stupid girl</em>. “You little... this time I’ll kill you!” He finally regained enough sight to spot her just as her amused expression turned to one of shock, and then a hint of fear. And then, he started running after her. Luckily for Mishli, he stumbled for a moment, giving her time to scurry down the ladder before he could regain his footing.</p><p></p><p>“Well, isn’t that <em>great</em>,” he mumbled sarcastically. Now that he had stood up, he definitely wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Sighing tiredly, he sat down and began his morning meditation. It was an important part of his self-training, and he awakened almost an hour early each day in order to allow himself the luxury.</p><p></p><p>Once he had sat in the darkness long enough to satisfy his odd desire for peace and contemplation, he stood up and walked over to the small cloth bundle that made up his wordly possessions. Aside from the new set of clothing he had saved up for to replace the tattered rags Mishli had found him wearing when they first met, he owned only a quarterstaff, three clubs, and a necklace he had been wearing for as long as he could remember. Picking the necklace up, he looked over its curious design once more. It was a flat copper disc, about an inch across. A small red gem in the shape of a teardrop was built into the center. All around it was intricate carving of a complex leafwork. Evendur did not know the meaning of the necklace, but he assumed the red drop to symbolize blood. He was about to toss the necklace back onto the floor–in fact, his hand was already in motion–when he noticed a faint glow permeating the gem. It grew ever so slightly in intensity as his arm moved away from his body, then faded as he brought it close once more. “Hmm, odd.” The necklace had only glowed once before, when he was searching for a place to employ himself. It had acted as a sort of “compass” then, leading him to this very inn. “Interesting... I wonder where it will lead me this time?” Remarkably, even breakfast–the thing he always did first after meditation every morning, no matter the circumstances–was forgotten as he retrieved his weapons and turned the necklace this way and that, finding the direction which was brightest and following the path to the ladder and then down to the floor below, where the light became as bright as a split torch as he stepped through the stable's doorway and into the morning light...</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>Shirl swung her arm in a surprisingly strong punch intended to hit the imaginary, burly man in front of her. Anyone underestimating her strength would suffer from quite the painful realization after feeling such a blow. Smirking in satisfaction at how her years of farmwork had paid off, she suddenly had an uncomfortable feeling, as though someone were watching her. She had to look around for a moment before she saw her spectator, watching her with narrowed eyes as he peeked around the edge of the stable’s large doorframe. He was a young man, probably around her own age, with startlingly blonde hair at least three inches in length and horribly messy. The fact that he was covered in hay and soaking wet didn’t help, either. He was holding a small disc-shaped necklace in his palm as he stared at her. She thought she saw a glow emanating from the necklace at first, but perhaps it was only her imagination, or a trick of the light. Once the young man realized she was looking back at him, he averted his gaze nervously. The necklace went into a pocket on his simple peasant’s clothing, and he stepped out into the light carrying what appeared to the untrained eye to be a walking stick. On the other hand, Shirl could see that it had been shaped to be used in combat. The way he carried it–and the way he carried himself–were proof that he was no mere commoner. And then there was that necklace. This young man was certainly a strange one...</p><p></p><p>He was tall and lean, and walked with the grace of one for whom every step was a carefully measured thing, never exerting more energy than was needed, nor moving in a way that would disrupt his balance even slightly. His walk was interrupted when he turned to regard her once more, and his callous words reminded her that she was now staring at him. “Do you make it a habit to observe others as they are trying to work? Or is it just that you’ve never seen another human being before?” She turned her head away, feeling warmth in her cheeks in reaction to his unkind remark. By the time she looked again, she was alone. The creak of the kitchen’s outside door closing behind him was the only sound aside from the distant ocean waves.</p><p></p><p>As soon as he was inside, Evendur snatched a plate and held it in front of the cook, whom everyone called Cookie. “Food... please...” His stomach rumbled mightily, causing him to place his free hand upon it. After Cookie–a tall, portly man whose stern gaze would have made most others flinch–had given Evendur a proper scolding with his look alone, he placed some food on the eager youth’s plate and shoved him away. “Now hurry up and eat, the master wants you in there as soon as possible. It’s a full house today, and we don’t want to see any more trouble here.”</p><p></p><p>Evendur swallowed a mouthful of potatoes without adequately chewing, and immediately regretted his hasty action. “That’s right... that Lander fellow is performing again this morning, isn’t he? He’s very good, from what I hear.”</p><p></p><p>Cookie grunted his agreement. “Less talk, more eat,” he grumbled as he turned to stir some soup. Evendur sighed and resumed eating.</p><p></p><p>When he was finished, Evendur set his plate next to the sink and started for the door to the common room, just as Mishli returned with several empty plates in hand. He could see the girl, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, better in this light. She was her usual self, clean and composed despite the dirty, tattered and patched dress she wore. She was pretty in a plain sort of way, with beautiful brown hair and green eyes, but she lacked the shapely form or striking, exotic features of one such as the fiery-haired young woman he had briefly seen outside. Mishli barely held a chuckle back as she saw his disheveled state. “Oh, Evendur, what to do with you? You’re covered in hay!” She set the dishes down and grabbed hold of his arm. “Come on, I’ll help you clean up!” The two of them stepped into the common room just as the sound of a mug falling to the floor preceded a fist striking and a muffled groan. Evendur gripped his quarterstaff tighter. <em>This can only mean one thing,</em> he thought. <em>Trouble...</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="genshou, post: 2308595, member: 13164"] This time, I’ll introduce the second PNPC, Evendur Greycastle. Not much is known about him, even by his fellow party members, other than that he hails from Waterdeep. In metagaming terms, he is a 1st-level human male with a gestalt class combination of rogue and ranger. 10th Marpenoth (Leaffall), time approx. 0645 Location: Inside the stable at the same inn “Evendur!” The voice sounded of frustration. “Evendur, hurry and get up!” In his half-asleep daze, he could barely feel someone’s hands on him, shaking him roughly. “The master will be angry if you’re late again!” He rolled onto his back, opening his eyes slowly. The dim light from a nearby torch was all that allowed him to see the rotted and warped rafters above. Somehow, he managed to summon enough mental faculties to mutter quietly to the offending serving girl. “Go away, Mishli...” The hands removed themselves from him, and he heard footsteps scurrying off toward the ladder and then the sound of Mishli climbing down. He rolled over onto his side and tried to sleep, but an offending piece of hay stuck into his side. Growling in truly formidable early morning anger, he heaved himself up and tore the offending hay from his body. Throwing it into the darkness, he dropped down heavily and closed his eyes... Then, he heard it. She was still in the stable, down below. Drawing water...? Ah, well. It didn’t matter what the girl was doing. He was exhausted, and he was going to sleep. The master of the inn wouldn’t need his services until the patrons were drunk anyway. He sighed as he settled into a curled position on the hard wooden floor, already slipping into a deep slumber. His sleep was interrupted when Mishli finally brought the bucket of cold water up the ladder and dumped it on his head. He was on his feet in what seemed an instant. Swaying back and forth as he fought off the sleepy haze, he half-opened his eyes, searching for the [I]stupid girl[/I]. “You little... this time I’ll kill you!” He finally regained enough sight to spot her just as her amused expression turned to one of shock, and then a hint of fear. And then, he started running after her. Luckily for Mishli, he stumbled for a moment, giving her time to scurry down the ladder before he could regain his footing. “Well, isn’t that [I]great[/I],” he mumbled sarcastically. Now that he had stood up, he definitely wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Sighing tiredly, he sat down and began his morning meditation. It was an important part of his self-training, and he awakened almost an hour early each day in order to allow himself the luxury. Once he had sat in the darkness long enough to satisfy his odd desire for peace and contemplation, he stood up and walked over to the small cloth bundle that made up his wordly possessions. Aside from the new set of clothing he had saved up for to replace the tattered rags Mishli had found him wearing when they first met, he owned only a quarterstaff, three clubs, and a necklace he had been wearing for as long as he could remember. Picking the necklace up, he looked over its curious design once more. It was a flat copper disc, about an inch across. A small red gem in the shape of a teardrop was built into the center. All around it was intricate carving of a complex leafwork. Evendur did not know the meaning of the necklace, but he assumed the red drop to symbolize blood. He was about to toss the necklace back onto the floor–in fact, his hand was already in motion–when he noticed a faint glow permeating the gem. It grew ever so slightly in intensity as his arm moved away from his body, then faded as he brought it close once more. “Hmm, odd.” The necklace had only glowed once before, when he was searching for a place to employ himself. It had acted as a sort of “compass” then, leading him to this very inn. “Interesting... I wonder where it will lead me this time?” Remarkably, even breakfast–the thing he always did first after meditation every morning, no matter the circumstances–was forgotten as he retrieved his weapons and turned the necklace this way and that, finding the direction which was brightest and following the path to the ladder and then down to the floor below, where the light became as bright as a split torch as he stepped through the stable's doorway and into the morning light... * * * Shirl swung her arm in a surprisingly strong punch intended to hit the imaginary, burly man in front of her. Anyone underestimating her strength would suffer from quite the painful realization after feeling such a blow. Smirking in satisfaction at how her years of farmwork had paid off, she suddenly had an uncomfortable feeling, as though someone were watching her. She had to look around for a moment before she saw her spectator, watching her with narrowed eyes as he peeked around the edge of the stable’s large doorframe. He was a young man, probably around her own age, with startlingly blonde hair at least three inches in length and horribly messy. The fact that he was covered in hay and soaking wet didn’t help, either. He was holding a small disc-shaped necklace in his palm as he stared at her. She thought she saw a glow emanating from the necklace at first, but perhaps it was only her imagination, or a trick of the light. Once the young man realized she was looking back at him, he averted his gaze nervously. The necklace went into a pocket on his simple peasant’s clothing, and he stepped out into the light carrying what appeared to the untrained eye to be a walking stick. On the other hand, Shirl could see that it had been shaped to be used in combat. The way he carried it–and the way he carried himself–were proof that he was no mere commoner. And then there was that necklace. This young man was certainly a strange one... He was tall and lean, and walked with the grace of one for whom every step was a carefully measured thing, never exerting more energy than was needed, nor moving in a way that would disrupt his balance even slightly. His walk was interrupted when he turned to regard her once more, and his callous words reminded her that she was now staring at him. “Do you make it a habit to observe others as they are trying to work? Or is it just that you’ve never seen another human being before?” She turned her head away, feeling warmth in her cheeks in reaction to his unkind remark. By the time she looked again, she was alone. The creak of the kitchen’s outside door closing behind him was the only sound aside from the distant ocean waves. As soon as he was inside, Evendur snatched a plate and held it in front of the cook, whom everyone called Cookie. “Food... please...” His stomach rumbled mightily, causing him to place his free hand upon it. After Cookie–a tall, portly man whose stern gaze would have made most others flinch–had given Evendur a proper scolding with his look alone, he placed some food on the eager youth’s plate and shoved him away. “Now hurry up and eat, the master wants you in there as soon as possible. It’s a full house today, and we don’t want to see any more trouble here.” Evendur swallowed a mouthful of potatoes without adequately chewing, and immediately regretted his hasty action. “That’s right... that Lander fellow is performing again this morning, isn’t he? He’s very good, from what I hear.” Cookie grunted his agreement. “Less talk, more eat,” he grumbled as he turned to stir some soup. Evendur sighed and resumed eating. When he was finished, Evendur set his plate next to the sink and started for the door to the common room, just as Mishli returned with several empty plates in hand. He could see the girl, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, better in this light. She was her usual self, clean and composed despite the dirty, tattered and patched dress she wore. She was pretty in a plain sort of way, with beautiful brown hair and green eyes, but she lacked the shapely form or striking, exotic features of one such as the fiery-haired young woman he had briefly seen outside. Mishli barely held a chuckle back as she saw his disheveled state. “Oh, Evendur, what to do with you? You’re covered in hay!” She set the dishes down and grabbed hold of his arm. “Come on, I’ll help you clean up!” The two of them stepped into the common room just as the sound of a mug falling to the floor preceded a fist striking and a muffled groan. Evendur gripped his quarterstaff tighter. [I]This can only mean one thing,[/I] he thought. [I]Trouble...[/I] [/QUOTE]
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