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Visitor :  Dice Roller| Game Info| The Cast |
| 2.0 The Sea is Dangerous, and the Storm Terrible. Posted by The GM. | Group: 0 |
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| Author | Message | Page: 2 1 [all][bottom] |
Whatever Wulfric thought of fish, the fishing was good. Not just considering the number of flopping, scaled reef fish he could pull in. That was secondary to the feeling of calm and serenity that welcomed him when he sat down on the pier that extended out from the beach. The storms came, and they passed, and when the calm returned there was the warmth of the sun and the soothing susurrus of the waves lapping the sand. The Tulita had become good at building the huts, of necessity, when they were evicted from the city in the last of their attempts to rise up against the Stormlords. Cast in defeat and disgrace, they fled past the walls, the fields, into the jungle. They lived in the jungle, gazed at the splendor of their former city, and built huts. Wulfric knew something about living in the wilderness. At the edge of wilderness, anyhow. He also knew about losing one's home. He remembered when the storm that was the Last War finally reached the hamlet on the outskirts of the Wolfwood. Two separate armies, each moving through the woods to disparate destinations and by chance they crossed paths at Havenglen. To historians, the battle would be one of little consequence. They would say that no one really won or lost; both forces being depleted enough that they each needed to swiftly fall back and regroup. But Wulf knew there were losers. He saw the villagers cut down in the crossfire. He saw Maddie, the blacksmith's young daughter, trying to wake her father as the forge burned. It didn't seem fair that Wulfric should be enjoying the sun and the beach, when poor Maddie had never even seen the sea. But Ulfrinn would remind him that was not a productive way of thinking with his "It is what it is." The worst of it was when the Aundair forces had realised that some of the villagers were shifter-born. They no longer only fought the opposing forces, but instead began doing harm to the village itself. A knight, clad in silver armor pursued Ulfrinn, and Wulfric rushed to intervene. After a brutal struggle, the man lay dead by Wulfric's hand, which hand bore the knight's own sword. After the battle Ulfrinn suggested they find another place to live, he'd heard that some shifters had migrated across the Thunder Sea to Xend'rik. And so they had. Wulfric did not like to dwell on that journey. The crossing was not as cruel as the Continent, but it was enough to leave scars. And then they landed here, with the Tulita. They were strange, but had good hearts, which from what he'd heard of drow was curious. But they said they were not merely drow; they were Tulita, but that did not clarify things for him. Wulfric kept apart from the Tulita, he didn't want to establish new bonds that would be cruelly broken once more. The Tulita were still suffering from the war they had lost; their morale broken, and their numbers were waning. The only earnings they had were from dangerous expeditions into the jungle, and sometimes they came back whole, but sometimes they didn't. Wulfric watched the expedition leaders; there were several kinds, and none of them seemed particularly interested in the Tulita's well-being. There was on Tulita who would not respect Wulfric's desire for solitude, though. Olou was a youth, but Wulfric could not judge age in a child such as this. Olou would come sneaking out of the jungle trees, or be perched atop a boulder when Wulfric roamed. Olou would ask about where Wulf had come from, what it was like who he had seen what was the Continent like. Olou's questions were never-ending. Ulfrinn had a similar problem; the old kahuna of the village had decided that he was to be the repository of all of the gossip in the village. She would come with a basket of fruit, and more news than the old shifter wished to hear. He'd shrug when she left. "It is what it is."
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Having fled to Xen'drik, Wulf and Ulfrinn met the Tulita people. Although they were suspicious of outsiders, they were kind and helped build a hut for them to live. Despite that, Wulf was ambivalent about interacting with them. He longed for the feeling of community and familial bonds like what he had in Havenglen but he had also learnt of the Tulita people's plight and much preferred seclusion to the possibility of experiencing the same heartache of loss. His life had grown routine; every so often he'd go hunt for beasts to trade in Stormreach, spend the rest of the day drinking and the night with some promiscuous woman, before returning to the woods the next day. Although his new life was simple and peaceful, he'd still fill with an immense rage and hatred every time he sees and holds his sword. It was a reminder of the bloodshed and atrocities and Wulf couldn't let it go no matter how much Ulfrinn bade him to. For the most part, other than Ulfrinn, Wulf doesn't have much company from other people. Other than the occasional trip and interactions in Stormreach, he'd have few and limited correspondences with the Drow. But at some point he became hounded by a small Tulita boy, Olou. Every time he went out hunting, the boy would be there pestering him with questions that he didn't want to answer. In the beginning, Wulf tried to make Olou leave by means of intimidation, threats and later plain requests. Unfortunately, the boy was much too curious to comply, so at some point Wulf just started ignoring him. He'd go about his business as if Olou wasn't there and to his surprise, Olou wouldn't hinder his hunting much at all. When they needed to be quiet, Olou made nary a sound and he always seemed to keep up with Wulf somehow. Eventually after ages of pestering, Wulf finally relented and sat the boy down to answer his questions. He'd rarely even talk to Ulfrinn about the past, but somehow, he found it cathartic talking about it with Olou. He didn't tell the boy everything though, he completely glossed over what happened to Havenglen and its people, but even so just talking about the past gave Wulf a sense of relief. After that he started enjoying Olou's company. It was refreshing for Wulf to talk to someone with such a fresh, young and optimistic personality even if it's a little naive. Now, it was a bright clear day, and Wulfric was up early doing chores after a little bit of training and exercise. He was chopping firewood when the wise old Drow woman, Milliauka, came to visit. She didn't visit that frequently, but it was often enough for Wulf to notice the certain degree of interest she has in Ulfrinn. Though she seemed to have some other reason for this particular visit. Nodding to Ulfrinn, he listens to her request and has a glum expression when she finishes. Now he knows why he hasn't seen the kid recently, and to top it off, he lost his parents... That's something Wulf could relate to quite easily. Replying to the elderly woman, Wulf nods, "Alright... For the kindness your village has shown us, I'll accept your request and escort you through the jungle, though will the village be safe with no warriors left to defend it?" though he says it's to repay their kindness, Ulfrinn just smiles to the side because he knows Wulf himself actually wants to go see Olou. | ||||||||
Ulfrinn took up what supplies he thought they would need; some food (fish mostly) and water, and he took up his bo-staff, and inspected it carefully. This message was lightly edited by the GM at 14:33, Mon 15 July 2019. | ||||||||
Wulf didn't know why, but he felt so compelled to help. He had thought he wanted that calm simple life, away from all the rage and all the fighting and maybe one day be able to let go of his past and then his sword. However, every time he saw that silver blade etched with all the symbols of the Silver Flame, hatred and rage welled up inside and he could feel that darkness inside him wanting to kill, to destroy everything the Silver Flame had built, just like what they had done to him, but somewhere in the back of his mind, his upbringing and his conscience whispered to him that that was wrong. He knew he mustn't give in to that urge no matter how deep it ran. Perhaps he really cared for this village and the Tulita people, or perhaps he just really needed to do some good to offset the darkness; whatever the case, he wanted to help. He had no idea what Milliauka was talking about, he has no knowledge of their beliefs, but she had asked him for help and he wasn't going to turn her down. Shifting his baldric so the sword sheathe lay at his hip instead of his back, Wulf gets down on one knee, still with his back facing Milliauka. He knows how slow her elderly body can be and so he says, "If you need to rush, it will be faster on my back." This message was last edited by the player at 17:31, Mon 15 July 2019. | ||||||||
Jungle Theme Music Entering the jungle was like pushing through a curtain, and stepping into a darkened theater. Green was the color, all of the greens from a damp dark rot to a vibrant yellow-green on the wings of a butterfly that rose effortlessly from a tree trunk. The moist heat buffeted Wulfric, and he began to sweat. His lithe form took easily to the strange jungle though, bounding over the tangles of tree and vine. Miliauka would sometimes point, and sometimes just say: 'left at this tree,' or 'climb up over,' or 'duck under', in between chuckles. After an hour it crossed Wulfric's mind that this all might seem to be a practical joke. It seemed like they were going in circles. There were no landmarks, and nothing seemed the same, but nothing seemed different. Ulfrinn and Tonk'lata were not as nimble, but they were unladen, and so they all kept pace. The mosses and plants were sticky and bits of jungle clung to Wulfric as he moved, small clouds of flying insects invisibly harassed his face and neck, and always there was the pressure of the stifling heat. Noise was everywhere: the cries of birds and unseen animals that only stopped when Wulfric sought their source. And there was an ever-present melange of smells. There was mold, and spice, and sweet nectar smells that drifted down from flowers that bloomed forty feet above them, and must have been a foot in diameter. There was a blend of animal smells, predator and prey, but none that gave wulfric pause; too faint to be an immediate threat. They continued on. Another hour of travel was also the sound of a huge crashing tree. It was either relatively close, or tremendously large. Milliauka patted Wulfric's shoulder, "Wait." There was an odor in the air, and it was the smell of rotten sick, and ordure. | ||||||||
Having hunted in the woods so much, moving through the jungle did not prove difficult for Wulf, even with Milliauka on his back. The heat however, was incredibly uncomfortable. His thick, fur-like hair plus the heat and humidity did not make for a good combination. He was drenched in sweat, attracting swarms of insects and bits and pieces of the jungle stuck to him like glue. At some point during their journey, Wulf started breathing more and more heavily, not because of exertion but because of the sheer heat. It made him miserable and irritable and at some point, seemingly walking around in a circle for the twentieth time, Wulf moved with a scowl on his face. He did not voice any complaints however, he was much too prideful for that. He was frustrated and irritated and even after his hearing and sense of smell grew numb due to the constant cacophony of jungle noises and perpetual assault of the mixture of smells, he did not complain. He just followed Milliauka's directions, without question. Why? He couldn't say, but his instincts told him that Milliauka is trustworthy, and he did slightly want to see Olou again. Another hour in the near-suffocatingly intense heat, the loud crash of a tree resounded through the jungle. Both that sound and the invasive smell of decay broke Wulf's senses out of their inured lull. Stopping at Milliauka's behest, Wulf listens out for anything beyond the ordinary that might indicate what the cause of that crash was. He'd also try and smell for anything identifiable beyond that repugnant stench. OOC: Today: Wulfric rolled 11 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 8. Perception. Damn This message was last edited by the player at 21:20, Fri 19 July 2019. | ||||||||
OOC: Milliauka helps and you get another roll. 17 So, what do you hear or smell? |
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