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<blockquote data-quote="Mahiro Satsu" data-source="post: 305018" data-attributes="member: 4970"><p>Episode XII <strong>Promises to Keep</strong></p><p></p><p><span style="color: blue">Characters: <strong>Aoth Sepret</strong> (human Rgr 1/Rog 3/Wiz 3), <strong>Kaemris Tencoin</strong> (human Clr 6/Aus 1), <strong>Lenet cor Tarak</strong> (genasi Ftr 3/Sor 3), <strong>Van Dyksun</strong> (human Rgr 3/Rog 2/Clr 2)</span></p><p></p><p><em>from the journal of <strong>Kaemris Tencoin</strong></em></p><p></p><p><em>16th of Ches, 1373 DR, Year of Rogue Dragons</em></p><p></p><p>Strange and wonderful things have always happened at the Fortunate Minotaur. Take today’s events for example:</p><p></p><p>As soon as the pair of travelers entered my taproom, I took interest in them. They claimed that they were seeking traveling swordarms for a journey into the forests east of Arabel.</p><p></p><p>Yet they looked more like a pair of boys. An unlikely pair, at that.</p><p></p><p>Boys who’d had their share of battles, of course–each bore a few blade scars–but for all that still young men. I put the polite and gangly white-haired archer at eighteen, and the other at just that or slightly less, perhaps seventeen. He was a forthright Southron with skin the color of rich tea and concentric circles etched into his forehead. </p><p></p><p>They took a table and ordered–as I recall–the mutton, with ale. The white-hair, who said his name was Van Dyksun, made it plain that he was touched by Selûne’s grace. He bore the crescent and Tear on a fine silver chain round his neck.</p><p></p><p>The other introduced himself as Aoth Sepret, the first part of which is pronounced like “Out.” He is Mulhorandi. Curious. They stayed for hours and hours by the hearth, drinking ale. They drank, and I drank with them from time to time, until finally Van commenced to speak about what he called their “mission.”</p><p></p><p>“We’re on a mission,” explained the white-hair amiably, “and we’re on an adventure to Hullack Forest.”</p><p></p><p>“An adventure, is it?”</p><p></p><p>“Well, that is…we’re keeping it under our hats.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah. A secret mission then. With what aim?”</p><p></p><p>“To put an end to these caravan raids. They say wild elves are to blame.”</p><p></p><p>Amazing! Two weeks ago the genasi, Lenet cor Tarak, arrives, and now this.</p><p></p><p>When they discovered my devotion to the Lady Who Smiles they urged me to join them. I protested that I was only an innkeeper, and had no interest in running pell-mell across the countryside, but no amount of excuses could deter them. </p><p></p><p>Finally I agreed that when morning came I would go with them. Even if it is just to see to their safety I’ll join them, but I admit I am also curious to know if wild elves are to blame. Whenever I have met them in my travels, the green elves have been shy, perhaps a little skittish at times, but never violent. Something is definitely amiss.</p><p></p><p>I told them that we’d also be taking Lenet along. She is the tiefling I mentioned earlier: a fire genasi from the Lake of Steam. She was, I told them, staying in this very inn. She seemed a competent warrior, with the strong scent of the arcane about her, her hair always wind-blown despite the stillness of the air. “Now isn’t that lucky?” I asked them.</p><p></p><p>Well, you’ll want to know something about me, I suppose, since this journal is, after all, a record of my journey to Hullack Forest. I am Kaemris Tencoin, of the Tencoins of Arabel, son of Danaan. Although I have traveled the lands all around Arabel–and fought the Grodd army at Hangman’s Court during the Ghazneth War–I am currently an innkeeper, helping my father, mother and sisters to run our family inn, the Fortunate Minotaur. </p><p></p><p>Recently I was inducted into the diplomatic and military Order of Auspicians, but only after I was lucky (and hearty) enough to survive the test of Tyche’s Blood. The poisonous draught sickened me for a night and a day, but it did not kill. By the Lady’s grace, of course.</p><p></p><p>Danaan Tencoin is prone to long silences these days, and is frequently away at Immersea bartering for supplies in the lake markets. This is particularly difficult time for my father–we heard recently that my Uncle Ulodrin was killed in the Haunted Halls last summer. Ulodrin was a traveling cleric of Tymora, like me, and my family is unlikely to take the news well that I am once again setting off on my own journey.</p><p></p><p>Selûne is waning…it will be dark on the trail. I sleep with Tymora’s grace within me.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mahiro Satsu, post: 305018, member: 4970"] Episode XII [b]Promises to Keep[/b] [color=blue]Characters: [b]Aoth Sepret[/b] (human Rgr 1/Rog 3/Wiz 3), [b]Kaemris Tencoin[/b] (human Clr 6/Aus 1), [b]Lenet cor Tarak[/b] (genasi Ftr 3/Sor 3), [b]Van Dyksun[/b] (human Rgr 3/Rog 2/Clr 2)[/color] [i]from the journal of [b]Kaemris Tencoin[/b][/i] [i]16th of Ches, 1373 DR, Year of Rogue Dragons[/i] Strange and wonderful things have always happened at the Fortunate Minotaur. Take today’s events for example: As soon as the pair of travelers entered my taproom, I took interest in them. They claimed that they were seeking traveling swordarms for a journey into the forests east of Arabel. Yet they looked more like a pair of boys. An unlikely pair, at that. Boys who’d had their share of battles, of course–each bore a few blade scars–but for all that still young men. I put the polite and gangly white-haired archer at eighteen, and the other at just that or slightly less, perhaps seventeen. He was a forthright Southron with skin the color of rich tea and concentric circles etched into his forehead. They took a table and ordered–as I recall–the mutton, with ale. The white-hair, who said his name was Van Dyksun, made it plain that he was touched by Selûne’s grace. He bore the crescent and Tear on a fine silver chain round his neck. The other introduced himself as Aoth Sepret, the first part of which is pronounced like “Out.” He is Mulhorandi. Curious. They stayed for hours and hours by the hearth, drinking ale. They drank, and I drank with them from time to time, until finally Van commenced to speak about what he called their “mission.” “We’re on a mission,” explained the white-hair amiably, “and we’re on an adventure to Hullack Forest.” “An adventure, is it?” “Well, that is…we’re keeping it under our hats.” “Ah. A secret mission then. With what aim?” “To put an end to these caravan raids. They say wild elves are to blame.” Amazing! Two weeks ago the genasi, Lenet cor Tarak, arrives, and now this. When they discovered my devotion to the Lady Who Smiles they urged me to join them. I protested that I was only an innkeeper, and had no interest in running pell-mell across the countryside, but no amount of excuses could deter them. Finally I agreed that when morning came I would go with them. Even if it is just to see to their safety I’ll join them, but I admit I am also curious to know if wild elves are to blame. Whenever I have met them in my travels, the green elves have been shy, perhaps a little skittish at times, but never violent. Something is definitely amiss. I told them that we’d also be taking Lenet along. She is the tiefling I mentioned earlier: a fire genasi from the Lake of Steam. She was, I told them, staying in this very inn. She seemed a competent warrior, with the strong scent of the arcane about her, her hair always wind-blown despite the stillness of the air. “Now isn’t that lucky?” I asked them. Well, you’ll want to know something about me, I suppose, since this journal is, after all, a record of my journey to Hullack Forest. I am Kaemris Tencoin, of the Tencoins of Arabel, son of Danaan. Although I have traveled the lands all around Arabel–and fought the Grodd army at Hangman’s Court during the Ghazneth War–I am currently an innkeeper, helping my father, mother and sisters to run our family inn, the Fortunate Minotaur. Recently I was inducted into the diplomatic and military Order of Auspicians, but only after I was lucky (and hearty) enough to survive the test of Tyche’s Blood. The poisonous draught sickened me for a night and a day, but it did not kill. By the Lady’s grace, of course. Danaan Tencoin is prone to long silences these days, and is frequently away at Immersea bartering for supplies in the lake markets. This is particularly difficult time for my father–we heard recently that my Uncle Ulodrin was killed in the Haunted Halls last summer. Ulodrin was a traveling cleric of Tymora, like me, and my family is unlikely to take the news well that I am once again setting off on my own journey. Selûne is waning…it will be dark on the trail. I sleep with Tymora’s grace within me. [/QUOTE]
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