[Tavern] Tower's Shard 2010

[ryryguy]

After draining his mug following the toast, Harressh gestures at the empty stool. "Sure, join us. I am Harressh, and I suppose you could say I'm a wanderer. This is Vistrathis. What brings you to Sharn?"

 

[EvolutionKB]

Varak sits and wipes some remainder of moisture from the bare sections of skin opposite his mohawk. With some hesitation, the half-orc speaks, "My name is Varak. A demon escaped my home. It is my duty to find and destroy him. What sort of creatures are you? I have seen you only here, what is your origins?"

 

[ryryguy]

"I'm a dragonborn," Harressh says. "Yeah, I guess there aren't that many of us in Khorvaire, especially this far east. There are some in Q'Barra, but I'm from the isle of Seren off the coast of Argonnessen." The sorcerer stops, offering no more details. It seems clear that he doesn't want to speak any further about his home.

After a moment he continues. "Find and kill a demon, huh? That sounds like a pretty hard task. But duty should never be easy. If it were easy, it wouldn't be duty, now would it?"

 

[EvolutionKB]

"Q'barra? Argonnessen? I have heard of their name in passing, but I know little of them." Looking over the dragonborn's equipment the half-orc remarks, "You do not wield blade like I do, do you?"

 

[Kalidrev]

While Varak and Harressh spoke, Vistrathis remained quiet. That is until a blade was mentioned.

"I do not believe he does, though I do." Vistrathis takes an appraising look at both the Dragonborn and the Half-Orc, trying to ascertain exactly what they do.

[sblock=Insight]
Vistrathis crit his insight check for a total of 30[/sblock]

"Hrmm, well, it would seem that Harressh here is steeped in the elementary arcana of his ancestors, which would explain his lack of a blade. You, my good sir, however, do carry a rather large blade, but do not have the rigid mannerisms of one who was trained to fight by rote. This leads me to believe that you either were trained, but do not care for tactics or formation fighting, or perhaps you are more. Would you happen to be like some of the halfling on the Talenta Plain who allow spirits of nature to inhabit their bodies for a short period of time? Some would call them "barbarians", but I believe this is simply a vulgar term from those who have no understanding and plenty of fear, for that which they cannot explain. If that be the case, I would be honored to travel down the road of life with a companion such as you. As for your previous question... Vistani blood runs through my veins, though I was not born as such. My kind, though they are not like myself, hail from the Astral Plain and other extra-dimensional areas outside of Eberron, and are known as the Githyanki. From what I have ascertained in my readings, my kind tend to be a cruel race, something of which I think may be coloring peoples initial opinions of me." Vistrathis chuckles. "It seems as though both my race and my nature offend people upon first glance. Returning to the issue at hand, however... Yes, I wield a blade like yourself, but I believe our similarities end there. My art is a marriage of tactical swordplay and arcane spell, all channeled through this extension of my being," he says, indicating the intricately designed sword that hung, sheathed, at his waist.

 

[ryryguy]

"Q'barra? Argonnessen? I have heard of their name in passing, but I know little of them." Looking over the dragonborn's equipment the half-orc remarks, "You do not wield blade like I do, do you?"

Harressh seems to freeze for a moment before responding.

"No."

The dragonborn looks away from the others, the crest on the back of his head lowering slowly until it lies almost flat. The back of his neck features the same mottled scales that are visible on his snout, hands and arms. But the irregular silver and gold pattern is fading away. A new pattern appears, this one much darker, made from scales of black, purple and indigo hues.

Vistrathis takes an appraising look at both the Dragonborn and the Half-Orc, trying to ascertain exactly what they do.

It's obvious, even to one not so perceptive as the githyanki, that the subject of swords seems to be a sensitive one for Harressh; but Vistrathis is probably the only one who notices the quick glance of contempt that the dragonborn shoots towards his staff which leans against the bar.

As Vistrathis' disquisition continues, Harressh keeps his head turned and raises the hood on his cloak.

"...Yes, I wield a blade like yourself, but I believe our similarities end there. My art is a marriage of tactical swordplay and arcane spell, all channeled through this extension of my being,"he says, indicating the intricately designed sword that hung, sheathed, at his waist.

As Vistrathis winds down, the dragonborn turns back. The dark pattern covers his face now, too, alongside the shadows of the hood. The effect on his sunken features is skeletal. There is no hostility in his expression, just a deep pain. At the swordmage's final words, he lets out a quiet, wistful sigh. He leans forward, looking down at the blade that Vistrathis has indicated. He extends one claw towards it, seemingly unaware of doing it, and murmurs, "Swordplay and arcane spell..."

 

[EvolutionKB]

You, my good sir, however, do carry a rather large blade, but do not have the rigid mannerisms of one who was trained to fight by rote. This leads me to believe that you either were trained, but do not care for tactics or formation fighting, or perhaps you are more. Would you happen to be like some of the halfling on the Talenta Plain who allow spirits of nature to inhabit their bodies for a short period of time? Some would call them "barbarians", but I believe this is simply a vulgar term from those who have no understanding and plenty of fear, for that which they cannot explain. If that be the case, I would be honored to travel down the road of life with a companion such as you.

"Actually, I carry two," the half-orc says, rotating slightly so the hilt of the other blade can be seen. "I wasn't trained, not in the formal sense. I fought to survive, and I fought to defend. No nature spirits? Not yet at least. At times, in the fury of battle I hear the horns first, calling us to battle. Then I hear the charging footsteps and warcries of those that fought before me. I move with them, swept up in the memory of their cause. Barbarians? You can call me that, as long as I can call the rest here foolhardy. The Wastes are a dangerous place, and others come to loot my land for the dragonshards or come to stop the evil that pervades the land. That is what they call me. "Barbarian." Most never leave. They don't understand our goal. I like you though."

Looking down at his sopping clothing, he remarks, "These chill me. I should probably get a room and change."

Noticing the slight change in the coloring of the dragonborn, and his brief response, the half-orc says nothing else to him.

 

[thaco]

The dwarf lift his head up and notices that the paladin has left and the githyanki had left. He walks over to where the others have begun gathering. "Hi, Kirska's my name." the dwarf with the huge axe says.

 

[Kalidrev]

Vistrathis places a hand on the shoulder of Harressh.

"We all have our specialties, friend. Be not embarrassed by that which you cannot do, or cannot use, for the power that runs in your veins is something which most of us will never have the option to explore. I may be able to use both blade and spell, but my spells will look like a wyrmling in comparison to your elder draconian might. We all have a part to play on the roads we travel, and we each have different tools that we use in pursuit of our goals. This sword is an extension of my power as your staff is for you. I could not wield the implement of power that you possess. And of course, if we do travel together, I would be honored to show you a few stances and thrusts of swordplay. If that would please you that is."

Vistrathis turns back to the half-orc with a look that showed he was very impressed.

"Haha! My friend, now that is a feat that I could only but dream about. I could hardly lift one of your blades in two of my hands, let alone wield two at once. How do you keep from getting all tangled up in them? How do you keep from getting off balance?"

 

[ryryguy]

Vistrathis' words of reassurance don't seem to have their intended affect on Harressh. The dragonborn shakes his head. "You don't understand," he says dully. "Not all have the luxury of walking paths of their own choice..."

He remains seated at the bar, clutching his half-finished tankard, staring into space.