Our story begins on a cool, spring afternoon in the rolling countryside of a rural duchy, where six travelers are making their way down the road to the capital, Red Fern, about two days' travel away...

"...which is why you should never trust a gnoll, particularly at dice," Yatari explained, holding her hands palm up and shrugging.  "But these are things only experience can teach.  Ah!  But look at those flowers!"  She gestured to the expansive rosebushes growing merrily along the roadside, thorns the length of bodkins, flowers curling and blooming to their viney hearts' content.

She couldn't match Lani for stories, but Yatari tried to give as good as she got with The Antic.  It wasn't fair to compare yourself completely to a professional, after all, and the chronicler was a beautiful soul when it came to the written--and spoken!--word.  "I hope there aren't any spiders lurking within that bush," she added quietly, her accent curling each word she spoke with the desert flair of her homeland.

Lani laughed merrily at the end of Yatari's anecdote, all the while plucking her lute to give them a bit of tune on the long road. "I dearly pity any person who cheats you at dice, Yatari! Let alone at something with higher stakes. But darlings, she cast her gaze over the rest of their motley band, "we mustn't be too hard on them. They've an awful lot of living to get done in thirty short years. Dare I say, any of us might engage in a bit of poor gamesmanship with so little sand in the glass. Not very much time for experience, hey?"

The ersatz bard's smile spread and brightened at the attention to the roadside rosary, fearing she might have been the only of the bunch to spy them as they passed. The Antic's fingers stopped their careful plinks as she veered off the road, and pulled the dagger from her right shoulder to carefully cut one of the plentiful flowers from its thorny briar. "[Language unknown: Ble e ereel fo verwerhis,]" she whispered, and waved her hand over the rose. A breath of cool settled over the flower, which would keep the petals pretty and lively for at least an hour.

"All fine performances should be rewarded thusly," the elf beamed, then presented Yatari with the boutonniere-ready bud. With a swing of her hips, Lani resumed the tune she had been plucking. Although it bore no magic, she sincerely hoped it would keep the group's spirits up.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xD5H1o9oOOo

"Frankly, I'm still astounded that you found a gnoll smart enough to understand how to play dice." Towering over the bard and the scholar, Davor casts an imposing shadow which is enhanced all the more by the massive scythe strapped to his back. Next to the picturesque countryside, the brutish looking half-orc looks distinctly out of place; an impression which is not improved by the party pausing next to the rose bush. "My tribe would often skirmish with gnoll tribes over hunting grounds and the like. Their tactics made orc war chiefs look like masters of strategy."

The light behind Davor's eyes danced madly for a moment. "... whispers about roses in bloom. A reminder that life is fleeting." He almost mumbles the phrase to himself, but then grins. "All the more reason leave a more permanent impression, eh?"

He eyes Yani curiously. "We didn't have bards of course, but it all comes down to the same thing. Being one of the names in the stories that get told over and over."

Myre tilted her head as Yatari stopped by the rosebush. Myre had been doing that a lot lately, her head wobbling from side to side as her brow furrowed and she attempted to work out her travelling companions. She lifted a corner of her mouth in a confused smirk as the winged woman stopped by the flowers, "They're just flowers..." She softly wondered to herself, not like they were pretty mushrooms or anything. Although as Yatari continued Myre's smirk grew into a wide grin, "Oh, I'm sure there are lots of spiders in there."

She didn't know much about gnolls, or games of chance, but Myre couldn't help but return the smile as Lani cast her eyes over her. She had no answer for the songstress' possibly rhetorical question on the lifespan of gnolls so she was content that Davor was able to comment on the creatures.

"Very nice." She complimented Lani on her choice of flower. "Check it for spiders!" She played it straight, but it might have been a joke.

As Lani picked up the song again Myre remained by Davor's side, a thick grey tower looming over her slight frame. She, yet again, tilted her head as Davor half-mumbled a phrase about the blooming rose. Myre nodded sagely, apparently finding some sense to the words whether it was there or not.

Goon thought, by now, he certainly found his place in the greater whole of the group.

He was originally next to Davor; it was amusing to march alongside a fellow half-orc whom he could meet eye-to-eye. At least physically. It was habit for him to size the fellow adventurer up, but like most he's "worked with" in his experience, it was never the big ones that were the problem. They were often the solution. It would still take a while for Goon not to do that. They had some time.

Wonder what it's like, to be raised by orcs?

Davor's uniquely orc experience was much different than his own. Raised by his human father, Goon wasn't blessed with knowledge of orc history, of tribal acceptance. His respect, his income, had been gained through fear. This fear came more from his girth than anything else.

Goon never thought he looked too scary, but that wasn't good for business.

As the sun continued its gentle crest, Goon tried a spot near Yatari. He really tried not to stare too often. Really, she was a fascinating sight. Goon had seen all manner of kin as a working urbanite, but not a tiefling so...tiefling. How did she navigate the world with wings so...wingy? How did she hail from sands with skin so...pale? How was she, like Davor, nearly as tall as he was?

But Goon fought to avert his eyes. He remembered the exotic animals at his employers' abode, and always wondered how that would feel, to be used to tickle the aesthetic senses of visitors, to be gawked at by guests in a home not your own? Goon guessed Yatari knew exactly what that felt like.

By now, Goon had sided on his spot. Out to the side of the group, near the rear, where he could cast his eyes out to the countryside. So much grass. So much dirt. So much sky. When he had decided to become an adventurer, Goon had expected least of all to see so much of nothing, yet find so much wonder

It was still new, interesting, refreshing, to find one's self at being a part of a larger whole.

Like a bellows beneath the earth, Goon chuckled at Yatari's story. But he'd never seen a gnoll. That was the problem that came with little formal education. Maybe a gnoll was what you called a lady gnome? That couldn't be right; he'd keep that thought to himself.

"We mustn't be too hard on them. They've an awful lot of living to get done in thirty short years."

Goon smiled sadly at the thought. It was sobering to think he was nearly at the prime of his life already. It was a key reason in his getting on the road, out of the city, out into the world. Spending the rest of his years getting cut up in the alcohol-drenched, smoke-laden company of tavern hoppers and cushy aristocracy wasn't an ideal retirement plan. Surely Davor would have some opinions about the peak of life. Surely Goon had an idea by now where that direction would head with the death-talking cleric.

"All the more reason leave a more permanent impression, eh?"

Like clockwork.

Myre's eight-legged interest no longer seemed random to Goon. Never had he smelled someone so in-tune with nature. He compared her essence to what a beggar's alley would smell like in the country, but more real wet and less...well...the other kind of wets one finds in a beggar's alley. For all Goon knew, maybe that mudnure (which was it?) all over her was a skin treatment. She was nice enough at least.

This is adventuring, huh?

Goon was far from shy, but for now kept his thoughts to himself. The music, the view, the experience did something to him he didn't have the words for. Maybe this is the inspiration he's known bards to speak of. In a fit of this feeling, Goon pulled his hand drum from his pack, threw the strap across his thick shoulder, and played gently alongside Lani's lute-leading melody.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:38, Wed 05 May 2021.

Sakr walks in front of the others, listening to them chat behind him as they travel but contributing little to the conversation himself. He had been with them for a few days, mostly for practical reasons: they were headed to Red Fern, too. Also, while he didn't have much experience with people outside of the small community in the mountains in which he was raised, especially people so different than him, he knows that he will have to grow accustomed to being around others if he intends to explore the larger world. I wonder if Red Fern is full of these types of people... he thinks as they walk.

He has revealed little about himself to his current traveling companions since meeting them, but, though guarded and quiet, he has forced himself to be friendly with these strangers. They seem nice enough, if quite different than anyone he has met previously, and there's that old saying, "Safety in numbers," so he figures its best to stick with them, at least for now.

When Lani and Goon start playing a song behind him, he grimaces slightly, but keeps his eyes forward so as to not reveal his distaste, and says nothing.

Smiling brightly, Yatari accepted the prestidigitationed rose and held it gently in one hand.  "Although in that same vein, I wonder if I owe you and Goon something for your music?"  Either way, Yatari carefully appended the preserved rose behind her ear, careful not to smash it against her left-most horn while she got it into position.  Myre's comments about spiders being abundant in the bush brought about a pout, and she wagged her finger at the tiny druid.  "Now that you've said so, the Gods will have heard!  I hope they do not feel in a giving mood today!"

Davor's commentary made Yatari pause and consider.  They were an unfortunately stupid race, gnolls.  Whether that was because--as Lani indicated--they were shortlived, or because they relied on predator satiation, or whatever the case, it was a sad fact.  They made for awful participants in deals.  "Permanent impressions... the little moments that scream into the void: I was here!  I mattered!  Lani will sing about the five of us, I have no doubt.  Whether she does so as footnotes to her own story..."  Another palms-up shrug.  Gone was the pout--Yatari's tiefling smirk was back in as full a bloom as the roses were.

"But then, that's why we're on this road, isn't it?  We all seek something..."