renau1g's Fort Belurian Adventure [Pathfinder]

[renau1g]

It has been nearly a week since your vessel, The Sea Minotaur, has departed from Baldur's Gate with you as its most precious cargo. So far the skies have been clear, the sea relatively calm, and no signs of pirates who frequent these waters. The captain, Morgan Freegrove, has been running up and down the Sword Coast for over a decade and has the confidence of his crew. You are still three days from arriving at your destination, the jungle island of Chult. Even the name itself is ominous and the depths of that island are regarded as possibly the most dangerous place on Toril. What few survivors that returned from that dark place tell tales of ancient ruins dedicated to unknown deities, gold idols and other treasures, and even hidden arcane rituals that unlock previously unknown spells.

Whatever your reason for wanting to help the Flaming Fists, gold, fame, reputation, admittance, or knowledge, you are here now, alongside the five companions that you have only recently met, feeling the motion of the water as the ship's bow plows through a small wave.

It is nearly noon, the sun reaching its zenith and you can feel the heat intensifying as you sail futher south. Meals have just finished and the crew are busy with the task of maintaining the vessel. You are exempt from such duties, and if you try to assist, the first mate, an older gnomish chap by the name of Grieko, tells you to stay out of the way, you're too valuable to lose.

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Feel Free to introduce yourselves and RP amongst each other. I'll have difficulty updating between now and the end of the weekend.

http://www.enworld.org/forum/talkin...2-pathfinder-rules-recruiting-closed-ooc.html
http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/256180-renau1g-fort-belurian-adventure-pathfinder.html
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[Rhun]

Baelor stands at the rail, the wind whipping his long silvery-white hair and beard about his head. The dwarf puffs contendly on his oddly-shaped meerschaum pipe, fragrant smoke billowing into the air, as he stares out over the sea. He shakes his head and grumbles between puffs. "Damnable heat. Dwarves are meant for cooler climates. At least we Shield Dwarves."

 

[Shayuri]

"Then," came a soft, amused, female voice from behind the dwarf, "this would be a good time to start adapting to the heat, yes?"

Barefoot on the deck, the elf Maighan was standing there with that damnably smug little smile of hers; the one that made it seem like she knew the answers to everything but wasn't telling because watching everyone strive and work was too entertaining.

"After all," she went on, "there's only three days left. And it will be even hotter on the island."

Maddeningly, she seemed perfectly comfortable. She didn't wear her armor around ship, it was true, and similarly neglected other overgarments to wear just her vest and a short wraparound skirt, but even so she didn't sweat and the exposed skin of her face, arms and midriff and legs never burned or even reddened despite being very fair.

A bad word for it, because it wasn't fair at all!

 

[Maidhc O Casain]

Mourn Braegan

"Now, now Maighan, it's not nice to tease!"

Mourn's smile as he speaks is genuine, and it would be difficult to take offense at his comment even if looking for an excuse.

The tall half-elf lounges contentedly in his out-of-the-way corner, watching those of his new unit on the deck. His sword Death's Edge, long and slightly curved at the tip with a single full edge and the reverse sharpened a foot back from the point, is by is side as usual but otherwise he is dressed for comfort - stripped to the waist and barefoot.

 

[Scott DeWar]

A tall human, seemingly in his mid 20's strides along the deck. he is armored and armed. He bears a talbard of the balder's gate city guard on his person and a composite long bow of exotic materials in his hand.

"he seems to be listening to the three talking in a not when he approaches, " no heat is too much. I seek my brother's ate at the fort. he is a flaming fist, you see." he then looks to the dwarf and says, think of this as being a rescue mission for someone's lost loved one and you may find the heat more bearable."

he sits on the deck and takes a deep breath, the sun on his skin showing signs of taning, the squint inhis eye seems to always on the lookout and his nose twitching when the aromatic smoke of the pipe reaches it.

"tell me master dwarf, what tobacco do you smoke in your pipe there?"

 

[Leif]

"Iffy" P. Quackenbush

The smallest member of the group, the boyish, towheaded Iffy, climbed down from his perch in the rigging, his irrepressible grin firmly emblazoned across his youthful face. (He had already been scolded for this a time or two: 'And don't ye be monkeyin' about in the riggin' anymore, ye little devilish scoundrel,' said Grieko.) Leaping the last few feet to the deck, Iffy draws himself up to this full 4 feet, 1 inch height (pretty tall for a gnome), and says, "All I can say is that I'd much rather be hot than cold! Although perpetual comfort is truly almost a necessity."

 

[Shayuri]

Maighan glances at Mourn with a lift of her youthful-seeming brow, then she shrugs in a 'suit yourself' fashion and pads off towards the aft, where she's known to haunt to watch the wake of the ship.

 

[Rhun]

Baelor ignores the quips about the heat, and turns his one bright blue eye upon the Balduran guardsman. "Tis from Saradush, in Tethyr. Blended with a hint o' cherry and vanilla. Would you like t' try a bit...um, sorry...didn't catch yer name?" While seemingly well-spoken for a dwarf, he still has a bit of the typical dwarven accent to his common speech.

 

[BigEye]

Sialilyth

Standing at the aft of the ship, watching the water churn with the ships passing, the young woman seems to be daydreaming. She prefered to watch where they had been, rather to where they were heading. For some reason, looking ahead on this journey made her feel... uneasy. Uncomfortable.

Glancing over her shoulders, she noticed the others congregating on the deck. Shooting a longing look out over the seas, seeing in the far distance a school of flying fish soar through the air, she heads down towards the rest.

Her heavier leathers shed due to the heat, she is wearing only a leather west and trousers. Her tanned skin reveals a network of tattoos. Those who har seen her undressed knew that from her waist up, most of her skin was adorned with an intricate tattoo. At her lower back and belly, it was in the shape of flowing curves and lines, and as it climbed upwards it seamlessly transformed into a pattern of wines and brances, with the occasional leaf and flower. Reaching her neck, it transformed yet again to a pattern of thorny wines, climbing up her neck and across the left part of her face, ending in a half-moon dead-center on her forehead.

At the center of the moon, a pale violet gemstone was fastened by a thin silverchain to her hair.

Reaching the others, she remains silent while listening, and winks at Iffy when she catches his eyes. For some reason, she had instantly grown fond of the little man, thinking of him like a mischevious cousin of sorts.

 

[Scott DeWar]

Baelor ignores the quips about the heat, and turns his one bright blue eye upon the Balduran guardsman. "Tis from Saradush, in Tethyr. Blended with a hint o' cherry and vanilla. Would you like t' try a bit...um, sorry...didn't catch yer name?" While seemingly well-spoken for a dwarf, he still has a bit of the typical dwarven accent to his common speech.

MY appologies Master dwarf. Vernon Mandison of the balder's gate guard. as a matter of fact, that would be appreciated. i smoke something called harvest crinsom of Kone tiacut (real name: october crinsom from conneticut, usa. he he he).

he produces a elegently plain briarwood pipe...shakes out any leftover leaf and show it to the dwarf.