the Kyri Chronicles - last updated 22 Oct
- Thread starter Plane Sailing
- Start date
robberbaron
First Post
If anything, Trajan's consistent. It's one of his more endearing features. 
That and his muscles.
And his rugged good looks.
And his immense Presence.
Shame most of those around him have the thousand yard stares of the psychopathically driven. At least they don't drool. Too often. :\
That and his muscles.
And his rugged good looks.
And his immense Presence.
Shame most of those around him have the thousand yard stares of the psychopathically driven. At least they don't drool. Too often. :\
Plane Sailing
Astral Admin - Mwahahaha!
Darklone said:Looks like the Jazumai don't preach modesty
Darn right! Their credo is to lay down the righteous smack on the enemies of the state and religion. Do it with honour, but do it.
We're not talking namby-pamby Paladin city here
robberbaron
First Post
That's one of my less endearing features.
To explain more fully:
Trajan is a basically lad from the hills who has been thrust into the midst of a world he still doesn't really understand.
He is a Holy Warrior of Asura and, as he has just gained his first Rank in Knowledge: Religion, it is only now that he starts to see down the path before him. And he doesn't particularly like what he sees. He suspects that he will be seeing Asura again in the not too distant future.
He has been called Heretic and hunted by his "Brothers", without knowing the reasoning behind it (and it upset him no end). All he knows is that a number of years ago the Sword Saints were proscribed by the Singharese High-Mucky-Mucks.
His companions try his patience on an hourly basis with their incessant squabbling.
One of his friends is a Psychotic who is obsessed with the "Illithid Threat" in which almost no-one outside of the party believes.
Another is disdainful of anything the rest of the party does or says, but is handy in a fight, when he keeps an eye on where his allies are lying.
The third is a rogueish sort with his own network of contacts. Not sure what he is actually up to, but at least he doesn't moan.
The fourth is a "Black Mage". Now that in itself is unsettling, but Trajan can find no trace of "badness" within her. However much he looks. :\
And the fifth is an ancient (as in from an ancient time, not wrinkly) Priest who bows to Trajan's "greater knowledge" all the time, especially when he doesn't know what he is doing.
All in all, modesty is something for which Trajan doesn't have too much time. Everyone else seems to either love him and shower him with compliments or hate him and try to kill him.
To explain more fully:
Trajan is a basically lad from the hills who has been thrust into the midst of a world he still doesn't really understand.
He is a Holy Warrior of Asura and, as he has just gained his first Rank in Knowledge: Religion, it is only now that he starts to see down the path before him. And he doesn't particularly like what he sees. He suspects that he will be seeing Asura again in the not too distant future.
He has been called Heretic and hunted by his "Brothers", without knowing the reasoning behind it (and it upset him no end). All he knows is that a number of years ago the Sword Saints were proscribed by the Singharese High-Mucky-Mucks.
His companions try his patience on an hourly basis with their incessant squabbling.
One of his friends is a Psychotic who is obsessed with the "Illithid Threat" in which almost no-one outside of the party believes.
Another is disdainful of anything the rest of the party does or says, but is handy in a fight, when he keeps an eye on where his allies are lying.
The third is a rogueish sort with his own network of contacts. Not sure what he is actually up to, but at least he doesn't moan.
The fourth is a "Black Mage". Now that in itself is unsettling, but Trajan can find no trace of "badness" within her. However much he looks. :\
And the fifth is an ancient (as in from an ancient time, not wrinkly) Priest who bows to Trajan's "greater knowledge" all the time, especially when he doesn't know what he is doing.
All in all, modesty is something for which Trajan doesn't have too much time. Everyone else seems to either love him and shower him with compliments or hate him and try to kill him.
Darklone
Registered User
Hmm. Like this?
"I'm here looking for a job as Jazumai. Heard you'd be looking for young lads like me. What's in it for me?"
- "You'll be the greatest, bestlooking dude around, there's a nice shiny sword on your side, the chicks will love you and you'll be knocking out all evildoers."
"Where do I sign?"
"I'm here looking for a job as Jazumai. Heard you'd be looking for young lads like me. What's in it for me?"
- "You'll be the greatest, bestlooking dude around, there's a nice shiny sword on your side, the chicks will love you and you'll be knocking out all evildoers."
"Where do I sign?"
robberbaron
First Post
Darklone said:
Pretty much, yep. Only I wasn't actually looking to become a Jazumai. That was really a lead-in to the Sword Saint (Iaijutsu master).
More like "I've come to right wrongs. Who's got some wrongs to right? Look, don't all shout at once, one at a time please, aaaaarrrrggghhhh! Bad guy overload!".
And the stuff about being the bestlooking dude, etc., of course.
Plane Sailing
Astral Admin - Mwahahaha!
As RobberBaron says, Trajan was a poor country lad from a small village up in the mountains. He didn't have the makings of a proper farmer because he was always wandering up to the shack in the mountains were the mad old foreign hermit lived.
The hermit taught him and trained him in martial skills, and led him onto the path of the Jazumai. Eventually the old man decided that it was time that Trajan got out into the real world and sent him down to the priest in Knightsbridge, so that he might gain some more orthodox training down there. The rest, as they say, is history.
The hermit taught him and trained him in martial skills, and led him onto the path of the Jazumai. Eventually the old man decided that it was time that Trajan got out into the real world and sent him down to the priest in Knightsbridge, so that he might gain some more orthodox training down there. The rest, as they say, is history.
Plane Sailing
Astral Admin - Mwahahaha!
Magic Mushrooms?
Trajan is protected once again by the grace of Asura from the spores that settle over the party. The others cough once or twice and then start looking around quite surprised. For them, the air has become full of voices.
All except the sword saint hear words rising out of a general susurration - “we are the many, we are the folk, we are the we. Are you part of the we or part of the other?”. Tania responds, thinking out loud “we are separate, but friendly”. She along with the others that have been affected by the spores become aware that almost all the tiny toadstools now have eyes, as to several of the man sized toadstools and one of the huge, tree sized toadstools. It is hard to tell who is having the weirdest time – them or Trajan who can’t understand why they are talking to thin air and their eyes are almost bugging out of their heads.
There is a deep sense of sadness in the air.
“The we are fewer now (fewer)” the voices continue. “The we are coming to a time of melding. Would you come with us and participate in the melding?(melding?)
Three pairs of eyes turn to look at Garrick for an explanation. He shrugs his shoulders. “The underdark is a big place, I’ve never seen toadstool people like this before. My people generally move quickly and quietly, unseen through the darkness. Not tramping around like juggernauts and alarming all the locals”.
“Ok”, says Taran, “Lets go along with them for the time being. We might be able to learn something useful from them”. He explains to Trajan what the heck is going on, and they set off amidst a strange entourage of shuffling and hopping toadstools of all sizes. Around them all except Trajan can hear a continual whispering of conversation echoing in the caverns.
After an hours travel through an increasing blue phosphorescence, the party arrive in a small cleared cavern. In the centre of this is a particularly dumpy toadstool, which slowly shuffles round in place and two old yellow eyes open beneath its cap.
“We welcome you to the we (welcome, welcome). You are not of us yet you are welcome to share with us (share with us, share, share, share with us).
“Uh, just what would this sharing entail?” wonders Taran.
“The we form a circle, and we share spores with one another” It nods its toadstool cap sagely. “It is a very intimate and rewarding process (intimate, rewarding, pleasurable)”.
Thinking quickly, Taran replies “Ah, there is the problem. Much as we’d love to we can’t; we have no spores”.
“Ah, how sad (saaaad)” the old toadstool creature says. “All we must end sometime, and it is sad to meet those in their ending. We must give you gifts for your passing (gifts, gifts for the passing)”.
Taran’s ears prick up. “Gifts?”
“You are heading in the direction of the cavern of fire (cavern of fire, fire, cavern of fire say the echoing whispers.) You will need spores to protect you."
The toadstool men hand out small puffballs; apparently one needs to crush the puffball and allow the spores to settle over you. There are puffballs of Endurance, of Strength and of Protection from Fire.
After a few more pleasantries where neither side fully grasped what was going on, the company take their leave from the strange toadstool creatures and proceed further into the underdark.
An hour or so later Taran receives a whispered message from his friend Dominic who must be scrying him again.
“Hello Taran. I’ve got a couple of disturbing messages for you, and I don’t have any explanation of exactly what is going on yet. Your man Shinzin in Singh reports a flurry of activity and rumours of a dire emergency that threatens the entire nation. At the same time the your man in Morannon, Councillor Darryl reports that the Archmage of the Black Wizards of Morannon has appeared to the king of Morannon – an unheard of event”
He draws a deep breath.
“There are some powerful movers and shakers in this world who are getting ready to do some moving and shaking, Taran. Something big is coming up and I can’t divine what it is yet. I don’t like it. Keep your wits about you”.
“Find out what you can, old friend” Taran replies. “report in twice a day if you can. I don’t want to lose touch”
“I’m worried that we might be losing more than that if we’re not careful Taran. A lot more. I’ll call you tomorrow morning. Dominic out.”
Trajan is protected once again by the grace of Asura from the spores that settle over the party. The others cough once or twice and then start looking around quite surprised. For them, the air has become full of voices.
All except the sword saint hear words rising out of a general susurration - “we are the many, we are the folk, we are the we. Are you part of the we or part of the other?”. Tania responds, thinking out loud “we are separate, but friendly”. She along with the others that have been affected by the spores become aware that almost all the tiny toadstools now have eyes, as to several of the man sized toadstools and one of the huge, tree sized toadstools. It is hard to tell who is having the weirdest time – them or Trajan who can’t understand why they are talking to thin air and their eyes are almost bugging out of their heads.
There is a deep sense of sadness in the air.
“The we are fewer now (fewer)” the voices continue. “The we are coming to a time of melding. Would you come with us and participate in the melding?(melding?)
Three pairs of eyes turn to look at Garrick for an explanation. He shrugs his shoulders. “The underdark is a big place, I’ve never seen toadstool people like this before. My people generally move quickly and quietly, unseen through the darkness. Not tramping around like juggernauts and alarming all the locals”.
“Ok”, says Taran, “Lets go along with them for the time being. We might be able to learn something useful from them”. He explains to Trajan what the heck is going on, and they set off amidst a strange entourage of shuffling and hopping toadstools of all sizes. Around them all except Trajan can hear a continual whispering of conversation echoing in the caverns.
After an hours travel through an increasing blue phosphorescence, the party arrive in a small cleared cavern. In the centre of this is a particularly dumpy toadstool, which slowly shuffles round in place and two old yellow eyes open beneath its cap.
“We welcome you to the we (welcome, welcome). You are not of us yet you are welcome to share with us (share with us, share, share, share with us).
“Uh, just what would this sharing entail?” wonders Taran.
“The we form a circle, and we share spores with one another” It nods its toadstool cap sagely. “It is a very intimate and rewarding process (intimate, rewarding, pleasurable)”.
Thinking quickly, Taran replies “Ah, there is the problem. Much as we’d love to we can’t; we have no spores”.
“Ah, how sad (saaaad)” the old toadstool creature says. “All we must end sometime, and it is sad to meet those in their ending. We must give you gifts for your passing (gifts, gifts for the passing)”.
Taran’s ears prick up. “Gifts?”
“You are heading in the direction of the cavern of fire (cavern of fire, fire, cavern of fire say the echoing whispers.) You will need spores to protect you."
The toadstool men hand out small puffballs; apparently one needs to crush the puffball and allow the spores to settle over you. There are puffballs of Endurance, of Strength and of Protection from Fire.
After a few more pleasantries where neither side fully grasped what was going on, the company take their leave from the strange toadstool creatures and proceed further into the underdark.
An hour or so later Taran receives a whispered message from his friend Dominic who must be scrying him again.
“Hello Taran. I’ve got a couple of disturbing messages for you, and I don’t have any explanation of exactly what is going on yet. Your man Shinzin in Singh reports a flurry of activity and rumours of a dire emergency that threatens the entire nation. At the same time the your man in Morannon, Councillor Darryl reports that the Archmage of the Black Wizards of Morannon has appeared to the king of Morannon – an unheard of event”
He draws a deep breath.
“There are some powerful movers and shakers in this world who are getting ready to do some moving and shaking, Taran. Something big is coming up and I can’t divine what it is yet. I don’t like it. Keep your wits about you”.
“Find out what you can, old friend” Taran replies. “report in twice a day if you can. I don’t want to lose touch”
“I’m worried that we might be losing more than that if we’re not careful Taran. A lot more. I’ll call you tomorrow morning. Dominic out.”
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