Welcome to the Halmae (updated 2/27/07)
- Thread starter spyscribe
- Start date
spyscribe
First Post
Fajitas said:
*shakes head* You read that line and then just waited for me to post it, didn't you?
Angcuru, glad you enjoyed Lira's party trick. Her drinking habits are an interesting example of the dice defining a character. I didn't originally picture her as much of a drinker, but according to her con checks, she's got the best head for dwarven ale of anyone in the party.
At this point, it can pretty well be relied upon that if the party runs into a group of dwarves, Lira will have chilled the keg before the encounter ends.
A'vandira Silvermane
Explorer
Again SpyScribe made me come out and post
Awesome update, mylady and very funny as well.
Seems you are more and more getting the hang of ending with cliff-hangers.
More updates please
Awesome update, mylady and very funny as well.
Seems you are more and more getting the hang of ending with cliff-hangers.
More updates please
spyscribe
First Post
Part the Forty-Second:
In which: the party searches for answers—although not to life, the universe, and everything.
“Nobody move!” the man barks. Around the camp, five more armed men step forward.
See Boss! I told you there was somebody out there!
Mentally, Lira shushes him. Without turning her head, she looks around as best she can. The men, at least the ones she can see, all seem to be wearing similar clothing, with an insignia she doesn’t recognize on the chest. Behind, she can hear her companions shifting in their bedrolls.
The men still have their crossbows at the ready.
More seconds tick by.
“Okay…” Lira begins cautiously, “We’re not moving.”
“What are you doing out on the road this time of night?” the man demands.
Anvil does not move, but he calls out, “We could ask you the same question.”
Moira interjects, “I’m a Water-Walker. We’re carrying letters to Noran.”
At the man’s indication, Moira slowly pulls her holy symbol out from where it had slipped under her tunic. The head crossbowman examines it carefully.
“A Water-Walker? There’s a way-post two miles down the road. Why aren’t you staying there?”
“I didn’t know that. I’ve never been this way before.” Moira slowly lowers her hands. “Now, are you going to introduce yourself?”
The man lowers his crossbow just a hair. “Sgt. Paris. Noran Highway Guard.”
“Moira d’Ailleron. Pleased to meet you.”
The rest of the party is soon introduced and any lingering doubts the sergeant might have had are allayed by their letters of passage and the fact that they travel with a Justicar.
As the guards escort the party to the next way-post, Paris and Anvil spend the time discussing Justice and its application to the highway system. The rest of the group spends the hour waiting until they can go back to bed.
At the way-post, Paris takes his leave, but cautions the group they should not attempt to camp in open country again. “You’re two days to Noran, there’s another way-post at the half-way mark. The next patrol might be more nervous on the trigger.”
Moira thanks him for his advice.
Two days later, the party reaches the gates of Noran.
Anvil has to admit. He finds something intensely pleasing about the city. Its walls are solidly built, clearly designed to fulfill their function of protecting the inhabitants within from bandits, wild animals, and others who would defy Ketennek’s Justice.
At the gates, visitors are required to peace-bond all weapons, down to and including daggers; although he notices that spell components may be carried freely and openly within the city.
The surrounding lands are heavily forested, and so most buildings within the city are made of wood. The aesthetic of the walls carries over to the inner dwellings. Buildings are solid and functional, and while there are few indications of extreme wealth that one finds in the best neighborhoods of Dar Pykos, neither are there signs of extreme poverty. The party takes lodging at the local way-post of the Water Walkers, and sets about making inquiries as to where they can find a powerful wizard, and a reliable guide.
Anvil leads the party back to the city’s main road, and takes a moment to survey his surroundings. He turns to the party. “Excellent, we can begin a systematic— Where are you going?”
Eva, who is already halfway down a side alley, turns back. “I’m going to go find a card game.”
“We are on a mission of Kettenek’s Justice—”
“We need information, right?”
“Correct.”
“People gossip at the poker table.”
“You could have mentioned that before wandering off.”
“Sorry.” Eva actually blushes. “I haven’t been part of a group before.”
Anvil considers for a moment. “Your point is well taken. Proceed. Now, the rest of us— Thatch, Dennis! Come back here.”
“Um… We were going to help her with that poker thing.”
“No, you are needed here. As I was saying…”
As Anvil swings into his plan, Lira leans over and whispers in Reyu’s ear, “You know, at first I wasn’t sure if I was going to like her.”
When it comes down to it, Anvil’s plan consists of going to the local wizard’s shop and demanding, “Who is the greatest wizard in the area?”
Amiens, the owner of said shop, is slightly taken aback. “Well, I’m fairly… puissant myself… Is there something I can help you with?”
Anvil suspects that this mission is not going to be accomplished by merely walking into a shop. Still, in a quest one must leave no stone unturned. “We seek an archmage of such power that he is capable of drowning this entire block in a river of fire. Can you do such magics?” He follows the question with a penetrating stare.
The wizard shifts uncomfortably. “Well, no…” (Anvil ignores Lira pulling at his sleeve.) “I can’t think of any wizard who could.”
“Then you are of no use to us. Thank you for your time.” Anvil turns to leave.
“Anvil!” (Lira finally gives up on sleeve tugging as a means of communication.)
“What?”
The sorcerer sighs. “Arcane magic doesn’t make fire. It’s Ehkt’s element.”
“Ah, of course.” Anvil turns back to Amiens. “Well, then some equivalent feat, without the fire.”
Amiens still shakes his head. “I know of no one like that around here. I have heard a couple rumors though, some kind of great power among the Miyen elves, out in the wildlands.”
“Do you know how we can find these Miyen elves?” Anvil demands.
The shopkeeper shakes his head. “They don’t mix much with outsiders.”
“You mean humans,” Reyu corrects him.
“Certainly, but they don’t even like to associate with the other elven nations.”
After thanking the shopkeeper and taking their leave, the party consults as to their next step. If they are going to find this powerful force among the Miyen, they are going to need a guide.
Fortunately, this had been anticipated, at least indirectly. Since the group intends next to journey into the Ketkath mountains, Moira had already made inquiries as to whether there was anyone in town who knew those lands. The Post-mistress told her about a local Water-walker, currently in town, but a frequent traveler in the mountains. With any luck, he will be familiar with Miyen lands as well.
His name is Benedic, and although he keeps no fixed address in the city, Moira has been told that when he is in town, he can usually be found at a tavern called The Thirsty Watchman.
**********
Eva joins up with the party just outside The Thirsty Watchman that evening.
“Have you uncovered any information?” Anvil asks.
Eva shakes her head. “But I’m up 10 gold.”
The autumn night falls early and the tavern’s windows are already shuttered against the chill. Still, light spills from the open door out onto the neatly cobbled street. Sounds of laughter, talking, and eating can be heard from the outside.
Dennis grins. He realizes that of all the strange places he’s found himself with these companions, they’ve never all done something as simple as going out to a tavern. This ought to be interesting.
In which: the party searches for answers—although not to life, the universe, and everything.
“Nobody move!” the man barks. Around the camp, five more armed men step forward.
See Boss! I told you there was somebody out there!
Mentally, Lira shushes him. Without turning her head, she looks around as best she can. The men, at least the ones she can see, all seem to be wearing similar clothing, with an insignia she doesn’t recognize on the chest. Behind, she can hear her companions shifting in their bedrolls.
The men still have their crossbows at the ready.
More seconds tick by.
“Okay…” Lira begins cautiously, “We’re not moving.”
“What are you doing out on the road this time of night?” the man demands.
Anvil does not move, but he calls out, “We could ask you the same question.”
Moira interjects, “I’m a Water-Walker. We’re carrying letters to Noran.”
At the man’s indication, Moira slowly pulls her holy symbol out from where it had slipped under her tunic. The head crossbowman examines it carefully.
“A Water-Walker? There’s a way-post two miles down the road. Why aren’t you staying there?”
“I didn’t know that. I’ve never been this way before.” Moira slowly lowers her hands. “Now, are you going to introduce yourself?”
The man lowers his crossbow just a hair. “Sgt. Paris. Noran Highway Guard.”
“Moira d’Ailleron. Pleased to meet you.”
The rest of the party is soon introduced and any lingering doubts the sergeant might have had are allayed by their letters of passage and the fact that they travel with a Justicar.
As the guards escort the party to the next way-post, Paris and Anvil spend the time discussing Justice and its application to the highway system. The rest of the group spends the hour waiting until they can go back to bed.
At the way-post, Paris takes his leave, but cautions the group they should not attempt to camp in open country again. “You’re two days to Noran, there’s another way-post at the half-way mark. The next patrol might be more nervous on the trigger.”
Moira thanks him for his advice.
Two days later, the party reaches the gates of Noran.
Anvil has to admit. He finds something intensely pleasing about the city. Its walls are solidly built, clearly designed to fulfill their function of protecting the inhabitants within from bandits, wild animals, and others who would defy Ketennek’s Justice.
At the gates, visitors are required to peace-bond all weapons, down to and including daggers; although he notices that spell components may be carried freely and openly within the city.
The surrounding lands are heavily forested, and so most buildings within the city are made of wood. The aesthetic of the walls carries over to the inner dwellings. Buildings are solid and functional, and while there are few indications of extreme wealth that one finds in the best neighborhoods of Dar Pykos, neither are there signs of extreme poverty. The party takes lodging at the local way-post of the Water Walkers, and sets about making inquiries as to where they can find a powerful wizard, and a reliable guide.
Anvil leads the party back to the city’s main road, and takes a moment to survey his surroundings. He turns to the party. “Excellent, we can begin a systematic— Where are you going?”
Eva, who is already halfway down a side alley, turns back. “I’m going to go find a card game.”
“We are on a mission of Kettenek’s Justice—”
“We need information, right?”
“Correct.”
“People gossip at the poker table.”
“You could have mentioned that before wandering off.”
“Sorry.” Eva actually blushes. “I haven’t been part of a group before.”
Anvil considers for a moment. “Your point is well taken. Proceed. Now, the rest of us— Thatch, Dennis! Come back here.”
“Um… We were going to help her with that poker thing.”
“No, you are needed here. As I was saying…”
As Anvil swings into his plan, Lira leans over and whispers in Reyu’s ear, “You know, at first I wasn’t sure if I was going to like her.”
When it comes down to it, Anvil’s plan consists of going to the local wizard’s shop and demanding, “Who is the greatest wizard in the area?”
Amiens, the owner of said shop, is slightly taken aback. “Well, I’m fairly… puissant myself… Is there something I can help you with?”
Anvil suspects that this mission is not going to be accomplished by merely walking into a shop. Still, in a quest one must leave no stone unturned. “We seek an archmage of such power that he is capable of drowning this entire block in a river of fire. Can you do such magics?” He follows the question with a penetrating stare.
The wizard shifts uncomfortably. “Well, no…” (Anvil ignores Lira pulling at his sleeve.) “I can’t think of any wizard who could.”
“Then you are of no use to us. Thank you for your time.” Anvil turns to leave.
“Anvil!” (Lira finally gives up on sleeve tugging as a means of communication.)
“What?”
The sorcerer sighs. “Arcane magic doesn’t make fire. It’s Ehkt’s element.”
“Ah, of course.” Anvil turns back to Amiens. “Well, then some equivalent feat, without the fire.”
Amiens still shakes his head. “I know of no one like that around here. I have heard a couple rumors though, some kind of great power among the Miyen elves, out in the wildlands.”
“Do you know how we can find these Miyen elves?” Anvil demands.
The shopkeeper shakes his head. “They don’t mix much with outsiders.”
“You mean humans,” Reyu corrects him.
“Certainly, but they don’t even like to associate with the other elven nations.”
After thanking the shopkeeper and taking their leave, the party consults as to their next step. If they are going to find this powerful force among the Miyen, they are going to need a guide.
Fortunately, this had been anticipated, at least indirectly. Since the group intends next to journey into the Ketkath mountains, Moira had already made inquiries as to whether there was anyone in town who knew those lands. The Post-mistress told her about a local Water-walker, currently in town, but a frequent traveler in the mountains. With any luck, he will be familiar with Miyen lands as well.
His name is Benedic, and although he keeps no fixed address in the city, Moira has been told that when he is in town, he can usually be found at a tavern called The Thirsty Watchman.
**********
Eva joins up with the party just outside The Thirsty Watchman that evening.
“Have you uncovered any information?” Anvil asks.
Eva shakes her head. “But I’m up 10 gold.”
The autumn night falls early and the tavern’s windows are already shuttered against the chill. Still, light spills from the open door out onto the neatly cobbled street. Sounds of laughter, talking, and eating can be heard from the outside.
Dennis grins. He realizes that of all the strange places he’s found himself with these companions, they’ve never all done something as simple as going out to a tavern. This ought to be interesting.
Angcuru
First Post
Thanx for another good update.
I've noticed a few little things that, while minor and very easy to overlook due to the overall awesomeness inherent of the setting, just don't seem right.
This kinda seemed weird:
And poker in the Halmae? I expect this is more of a lack of player knowledge of every minute detail of a world's entertainment/gambling customs than an oversight on the DM's part, but it just seemed to stick out like a little black fly on the Mona Lisa.
[/detail freak-out]
BTW, I think it's just awesome that you've had it going this far without having them to to a tavern.
I've noticed a few little things that, while minor and very easy to overlook due to the overall awesomeness inherent of the setting, just don't seem right.
This kinda seemed weird:
It may be a bit of a stretch, but this seems too French for the Halmae. D'(insert name) and similar devices abound in european languages, but when the sergeant's name is Paris of the Noran(looks a lot like Norman) Highway Guard, I flinched.
And poker in the Halmae? I expect this is more of a lack of player knowledge of every minute detail of a world's entertainment/gambling customs than an oversight on the DM's part, but it just seemed to stick out like a little black fly on the Mona Lisa.
[/detail freak-out]
BTW, I think it's just awesome that you've had it going this far without having them to to a tavern.
spyscribe
First Post
As usual, I'll let Fajitas take major world questions, but not before I throw in my two cents.
Poor Paris. He spent his first 30 seconds of in-game life as "Lt. Paris"... until Fajitas figured out why I was looking at him so oddly, at which point he was summarily and retroactively demoted.
Keep in mind, every city state and region in the Halmae has its own naming conventions. Paris does make sense if you figure out what thematic link it has with names of other Noranians the party meets--Amiens and Benedic. It's not mentioned in the write up, but Lira also had a brief chat with a local sorcerer named Cassio.
As for Moira, I was just asking Fajitas about her last name the other night, so I'll let him provide illumination on that score. I actually think the logic behind it is pretty cool.
If loosing meant you turned into an iguana, it would probably have a different name.
Glad you're enjoying the story.
Poor Paris. He spent his first 30 seconds of in-game life as "Lt. Paris"... until Fajitas figured out why I was looking at him so oddly, at which point he was summarily and retroactively demoted.
Keep in mind, every city state and region in the Halmae has its own naming conventions. Paris does make sense if you figure out what thematic link it has with names of other Noranians the party meets--Amiens and Benedic. It's not mentioned in the write up, but Lira also had a brief chat with a local sorcerer named Cassio.
As for Moira, I was just asking Fajitas about her last name the other night, so I'll let him provide illumination on that score. I actually think the logic behind it is pretty cool.
Shrug. Not to be flip, but what should we call it, tongo? The big thing that hangs in the sky and gives light during the day is the sun, the green stuff that grows beside the road is called grass, and the game where you bet money on whether your hand of cards is worth more than the next guy's is called poker.
If loosing meant you turned into an iguana, it would probably have a different name.
We were all pretty amused too.
Glad you're enjoying the story.
Fajitas
Hold the Peppers
No reason for me to jump in when you've handled it pretty ably.spyscribe said:As usual, I'll let Fajitas take major world questions, but not before I throw in my two cents.
Sufficed to say, any resemblance between Noran and the Normans is purely coincidental. As spyscribe said, there is a naming convention for Noran, but it's fairly unconventional and it's cribbed from something a friend of mine did. Bonus cookies to anyone who figures it out.Angcuru said:
As for Moira, well, her surname may sound French, but there are surely people with French names somewhere in the Halmae (Italian, German, English, Greek, Norwegian, Japanese, and Arabic names have all been assigned already. I haven't figured out exactly where the French names are yet, but then, not every region of the world has been detailed yet).
Besides, Moira's last name is not necessarily the one she was born with. It's derived from her goddess's name. She was left as a child with the Alirrian Givers of Life. The Alirrian Church is more her family than anything else. When she gave herself a new name, it's perfectly reasonable to think that she adjusted it, based on customs she encountered in her travels.
As for poker, well, see the above conversation about months and dates.
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