DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE4: Supper

GM

A crescent moon waned high above the cove, and rippled in reflection on the calm sea below.

Children's stories said the Moon was made of blue cheese. Although creamy white, it had what looked like blueberry veins. In a few more days it would be gobbled up and not visible in the night's sky at all. The New Moon.

The stars blazed on that clear, summer night, and there was still a faint but warm glow in the west where the Sun had passed.

Framed by the headland either side, a tall caravel drifted at anchor with its sails furled and an orange lantern lit in the stern.

Below in the town, the streets were only just rousing from siesta. Here and there people gathered to chat and smoke whilst the evening meal was cooked. There was merriment on the seafront at The Fat Firkin, crowded as it was with local fishermen and sailors from The Issitia.

At the top of the ravine, above the town, yellow light shone from the windows of Rosencliff's keep.

***

The Baronessa's chambers were more intimate than the lofty great hall, but still remarkably airy, with a high frescoed ceiling, tall windows and interior arches. The parlour was comfortable, with fur rugs from across the Dragon Empire and upholstered furniture. The dining table was smaller but more ornate than the one in the great hall, with a polished finish and a top inlaid with marble.

A lemony incense burned next to the windows and light was provided by a variety of candelabras, each burning crisp, white Horizon candles. There were Corcordian silk drapes, purple-flowered vines growing up the pillar and along the coving and other decorations, but you were struck by the lack of trophies and militaria, as you'd expect to find in most baronial chambers.

The Baronessa wouldn't be enamoured with such things, no, but what about her late husband? If he was, his widow had cleared the lot out, family heirlooms and all. To you, it further cemented her reputation as no shrinking violet.

You were seated at the table, together with Captain Achelus and the Seneschal. Achelus had changed into a shirt and leather jerkin, whilst the chief steward still wore a black houppelande but had donned a chaperon. After the heat of the day, the cool of night was felt more acutely on the coast, where the refreshing sea breeze suddenly became chilling.

You'd travelled down from the north though, so frankly however chilly it seemed to the locals, it was a welcome respite for you.

Lady Morgen had received you personally, wearing a more modestly cut gown of brown satin only a few shades darker than her skin. Yet the high neckline was ineffective at hiding her luscious curves, because the shimmering fabric accentuated each one in a way even her earlier, more revealing rose-coloured gown had not. It was artfully done and her hair was now worn up in a cone-like hennin, showing off her neck and jawline too.

She was laughing in delight as Jex the Jester described his late arrival to the fight aboard The Issitia, and weighing up whether to strike the undead with a magic spell or blast them overboard with his vomit. Most noblewomen would be disgusted by such talk at the dining table, but Lady Morgen found it hilarious. (Perhaps it was Jexric's honest, unrestrained humour that had gotten him invited in the first place.)

So far the conversation had dwelt on the undead, or the haunted helm at least. Together, you'd deduced that the wraith had appeared on speaking the name 'Gorulon Gorehound' aloud, and that may have been enough to invoke it.

Magical artefacts all had their own personalities and it was common knowledge that they could influence, even possess the wielder and vice versa. It was often hard enough just handling these personalities, let alone piling on curses and hauntings. The wraith that manifested from the helmet had spoken in the third person. It might not have been Gorulon's ghost per se, but the ghost of Gorulon's ghost!!

Despite the situation, that had also roused some laughter and was what led onto tales of your encounter with the Squall of the Dead that morning.

You noticed Lady Morgen stopped circling her goblet with her finger when it was said that D recognised one of the zombies and she hadn't touched her wine since.

The meal had started with potato omelettes and was now followed by a delicious roast vegetable dish, topped with fried eggs. It was tasty and you could eat your fill. It wasn't a banquet, but such lavishness didn't seem to be the Baronessa's way and considering the town's recent troubles, frugality was well advised anyway. Nevertheless, the Seneschal looked disappointed and somewhat bored by the meal, whilst the Captain was drinking himself into a stupor. You could see his strategy, to skip passed that intermediate phase of drunkenness where a man became emboldened and might proposition a nigh irresistible woman, even if she was nobility and his employer.

From his ready adoption of this strategy, you suspected that Achelus had called upon it many times before when dining with Lady Morgen. (The man obviously needed a spouse or a few weeks leave in Axis.)

There was an ebb and flow to the conversation around the table as you ate and drank. What else did you learn?

[[Each player should reveal something new and interesting about their character, relating to their One Unique Thing, Backgrounds or Icon Relationships. It can be true or untrue, and 'comes out in the conversation'. You can also ask questions about someone else's reveal, or question the NPCs.]]

Tindarien

There has been general chatter during the initial course and he is now enjoying the vegetable dish, relishing the subtle but individual flavours within it when there seems to be a lull in conversation and an instinct makes him look up to find the Baronessa's eyes on him. It seems that maybe it is his turn to contribute something to the evening. He reluctantly rests his fork, clearing his throat ready to speak.

"I grew up mostly without the direct influence of my parents who died when I was small. But I did grow up in their shadow as I was told stories of their deeds and the type of elves they were. Since I was small I have wanted to emulate their lives and maybe make more sense of their deaths."

"My parents founded an organisation called the Aurenaur e Du, dedicated to eradicating undead, to ensure that people were kept free of its blight. I too have a similar goal though I also have an interest in nature and maintaining its purity where possible, so you can see why this quest of ours appeals to me. I have been considering reforming the Aurenaur e Du and am also looking for potential recruits of a like mind."

He smiles, wondering how much interest there might be but accepting that it could take many years to find the right people.

Zoltan

He chooses a seat near the Baroness. He is wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, open at the neck and fit closely to show his sculpted muscles. Black pants and boots complete the outfit. He has left his hooded cloak behind and the tips of his horns can barely be seen thru his thick black hair.

He samples the wine, carefully ensuring he does not over-indulge. He dislikes both being a sloppy drunk and sloppy drunks so he frowns at the Captain's gulping of numerous glasses in quick succession.

He listens to the Baroness' comments, interjecting pleasantries and compliments from time to time into the conversation with a soft smile on his face.

As Tindarien speaks, he turns his head to listen. As he finishes he raises his glass. "To the successful completion of your goal." He says in toast.

His comments bring eyes in his direction, so he feels obligated to continue. "I, myself, have no parents." He pauses, then realizing that sounds a bit odd he adds. "Or rather better to say I don't know them. Never did. I grew up an orphan. Living on the streets of the Golden Citadel, right near the Red Wastes."

He takes a sip of his wine. "My heritage is plain to see, so I know who, or rather what, my father was. My mother", he shrugs, "No idea, other than she was elvish."

<Weston>

He was doing the 'tourist gawk' as he walked the halls to dinner. There was architecture here that he had not seen before, there were all manner of new 'things' to see on the walls, in the corners and the like. There was a bit of gawking at their host as well, but he did his best not to ogle. He knew enough to know that was not the sort of thing that one did around people like her.

As he listened to the escapades from Jexric's perspective, he suddenly wondered if the attack on the ship was tied to the problems here. While he didn't have any proof, it seemed a not unreasonable possibility.

The food was reassuringly recognizable ... and tasty! He lost track of the conversations for a bit as he focused on enjoying the food. Ship fare had been decent enough, but this was =good=.

Hearing Zoltan's story, he nods sympathetically. But it was something of a new found sympathy.

"It's interesting. You didn't have parents. I had two sets of parents. The ones that raised me and the ones that gave birth to me.

"I never really got to know my real parents. They died when I was still a baby. I only found out about them later on from the couple that raised me.

"My second mother found me crying in -- whom she believed -- was my real mother's arms. She handed me over along with this", he pulled the chain around his neck and a ring came out from under his shirt, "and asked her to care for her son."

"The couple that raised me, the ones that I had assumed for so long were my parents, were great people. They had been afraid to tell me the truth.

"I thought about it for a while. It was not what you expect to hear. But in the end, I told them that most children have parents that had no choice since their children were born to them. But I told my 'folks' that they had =chosen= to keep me, raise me and love me when they didn't need to." He was silent for a moment then smiled. "I think that they liked that. And I think that their selflessness is the main reason I was drawn to The Great Golden Wyrm."

[Ghosted for Khamsin]

Jex

He performed, there in the baronial chambers, just as he would on the streets of Glitterhaegen. It wasn't a conscious decision. Although bards were generally noted for their social skills, Jexric was somewhat lacking in that department. He was the unrepentant comedian, a jester, a multitalented entertainer. He didn't give a feckle about sensibilities, he only cared about making them laugh, dance, sing or just watch and listen.

There was a time and a place for everything though, and he wasn't going to jump onto the dining table when people, namely him, were still eating.

He wondered about the Order of Averness. He knew they were founded in the name of the 2nd Age paladin, Gedrick Averness, and carried on his monster slaying work. Jex also knew their symbol, the mace in the sun, surrounded by the laurel wreath.

It was interesting that the Order of Averness as an ambiguous entity was so well known, making their existence prosaic in most people's eyes. Yet what did anyone know about them? Who was one? How did you join? Did they offer meal coupons?

Jex washed down a mouthful of bread and olive oil with a draught of white wine. He eyed Weston, Zoltan and the Captain.

"I've heard it said that before they send you on a quest, the Order of Averness take you to their secret armoury, where they equip you with magical, alchemical and dwarvish contraptions of matchless -- indeed never actually described -- ingenuity." He said with a quizzical expression.

For his part, Jex wasn't so different from the dark elf, D, in that he preferred to talk about other people. He waved off questions about his past good naturedly, taking no offence but pretty sure no-one wanted to hear his story.

He summed it up in few words. "Slave. Plaything. Dragon bait."

Heilbutt

"Nein, it is true!" He said, explaining to Seyja, "In the Wake Islands, our fathers name us after the last thing they killed before our birth, be it a man or an animal!"

<Weston>

He caught 'the look' but mostly ignored it. Instead he chuckled at the Jester's comment. "I wouldn't know. They fished me out of the city lockup ... to help keep you alive", he finished with a grin before he went back to nibbling on the great bounty spread before him.

[Ghosted for Owain]

Nestaron

He wiped his top lip on a napkin, frowning.

"Tindarien, you should be careful what flames you rekindle. Some die, or are snuffed out, for a reason." He said.

Nestaron was a half elf, some said he was a holy man. He had certainly lectured in the forums of Santa Cora, and sermonised in the Cathedral itself. But that wasn't who he was. His heart belonged to the wilderness, the less travelled paths, where every day offerred new perspectives and lessons to be learned. Where he was needed and could be of some use.

It was that last point he tried to get across over supper. If there was any term that could describe him, he wouldn't choose 'holy man', he'd say that he simply tried to be a "good friend".

[Ghosted for Khamsin]

Jex

He shook his head in mock disappointment at Weston's comments, twizzling the fork in his fingers.

"So that sword you carry doesn't sprout wings and attack foes at your command?"

Zoltan

He too chuckles at Jex's comment. "Must be a different group under the same name. Either that, or they do it for those who they actually like."

Unsaid, but implied is that his relationship with the Order is not completely happy.

[Ghosted for Khamsin]

Jex

He shrugged sympathetically at Zoltan's words.

"Well your heritage may put some silly doubt in their minds, but of course it's not your fault you have elvish blood." He said, putting a humourous spin on it.

<Weston>

"You are welcome to see if you can get my sword to fly. It would be great if it would. Then I could stand back and let it work while I was a safe distance away", he said chucking.

D

He listened and kept quiet for quite some time. At the baroness'es glance with regard to the zombie leader on the ship he just nodded simply. Digging into his food he sampled a wide array of the fare available. The only thing he didn't take much of, was the wine. He sipped it, but he kept his glass mostly full and only had one. He did however drink water a plenty.

When the turn came he offered "the name I carry now is Pale Dusk. It is as much an apt description as anything else. This is not my first life, nor will it be my last, I suspect. I haven't spoken of it much because many questions arise that I cannot answer. Thing spoken of tonight remind me of things in my past, vague memories of what might have gone before. What I do know is that I wasn't a nice person long ago. In this life I choose to not only learn of my past, but learn from my past."

He seemed content to stop there. But when pressed later he continued "one bit of life I do remember was that of being something truly horrific. An undead killer of great renown. I am glad to be alive now, and I will end the thing that held me to that life, no matter what it takes." His eyes burn with an inner fire that shows how fervently he believes his own statement.

Seyja


She'd made no effort to arrange her hair stylishly, having it clean was enough to suit her, and it hung down near shoulder length, not quite reaching the collar of her brown tunic which she wore over her knee-length leather pants.

"So your father killed the butt of a what? What is a heil?" Seyja laughed and looked back to her food.

Normally she cared little for fancy talk and fancy food, but, fancy or not, the food they'd been served was tasty. She refused the wine though, and requested ale instead.

She had almost finished her second helping of the vegetable dish, washing down a large bite with a pull on her ale and then rubbing her stomach and belching.

"My name is that of my grandmother, long gone, and means Storm."

Seyja's gaze grew distant, unfocused, and she looked around the room without seeing anything inside its walls.

"My kin are all dead... except a cousin or two. Maybe my uncle lives."

Tindarien

He smiles at Nestaron, knowing the man is only thinking of Tindarien's welfare.

"I will see where the path leads. It may take me in a very different direction."

He listens politely to everyone else, nodding, smiling occasionally until Pale dusk speaks out where he sits up listening intently.

"I would hear more later if you are willing to converse?"

He gets the impression that this is not a comfortable topic.

Heilbutt

The half-orc flushed red at the laughter, unsure how to respond. In his clan, to accept ridicule was to accept one's betters, and it wasn't something he did lightly. But then he had accepted Seyja as his better the first moment he saw her.

Maybe that was the true reason why he was blushing. So he explained in a mumble.

"Not a butt of heil. A heilbutt. He was fishing on the day I was born."

[Ghosted for Khamsin]

Jex

Although bantering with Weston and Zoltan, he couldn't help overhearing the enormous half-orc saying his was named after a fish!?

"You don't - you don't mean a large flatfish, with very juicy white flesh?" He quizzed.

Seeing Heilbutt shrug in agreement, Jexric's jaw fell open.

"So translated, your actual name is 'Halibut'!!"

This was the funniest thing he'd heard all day.

Captain Achelus
(to Weston)

"Did they e'er find your parent's assailants!?" He asked, having listened to the other man's story. By now his words were slurring slightly.

"I was a constable in Axis, you know! Oh sure, I've heard of you all right. Bit of a reputation with the law as a rebel-rouser and with the crims as a troublemaker.

"I'm just wondering, if your parents were the same way inclined *hic!* they might have fallen foul of some local villain.

"If so, I'll tell you one thing about that city, its dirty secrets are never forgotten.

"Am I right, Zoltan, old man, or am I right?"

D

He nodded in agreement to discuss things further. He wasn't sure what he would say or even talk about. But he had to come to terms with the past one way or another.

The pale dark elf looks annoyed at either the drunken buffoon's prying, or manners, or both. He remains his taciturn self and says nothing.

Seyja


Seyja looked from the half-orc to Jex and then back to Heilbutt. Then she laughed uproariously, spraying half her last swallow of ale around the table.

"So..." she choked, swallowed and tried again.

"So your father named you that just for the halibut?"

<Weston>

"I never found out who my birth parents were", he said sadly. While it =did= bother him in an intellectual way ... "But I was luckier than most in that I had 'parents' who loved me and raised me right. So, yeah, when I see someone taking advantage of others, I get involved. And, unfortunately, that has gotten me into trouble with 'the establishment' who, some times, seem more interested in minimizing the effort they have to expend."

D

"I find it interesting that so many of us are without a history in one form or another, parents, forgotten past." He waved a hand in a dismissive fashion. "Possibly it is our attraction to the adventuresome world, or righting wrongs. Just interesting."

Zoltan

He frowns as the drunken Captain talks to him. His respect for the man has dropped a few notches. He can see it is possibly due to unrequited love, or perhaps lust, of the Baroness, but to him that is no excuse. No one in a position of responsibility for others, armed responsibility at that, should allow themselves to become so besotted that their judgement becomes clouded.

"It is to prepare the world for heaven." He replies simply to Pale Dusk.

[Ghosted for Khamsin]

Jex

"H-Halibut the Barbarian!" He wheezed in laughter, wiping his eyes.

Captain Achelus
(to Weston)

He saw Zoltan's look and put his hand over his goblet when the Seneschal offered to refill it.

Trying to gather his marbles, he continued speaking to Weston.

"Well Weston, I'm glad you're here! And if you e'er need a man at your back in Axis, while you chase down the murtherers that... murthered your parents, I am your man!"

Seneschal

With a wickedly sharp eye on the servants, he ensured that the food and drink was served promptly and properly for their guests.

Once he had to turn a venomous look on one of the maids, who set a plate to the table too forcefully. The noise it made was uncordial and suggested an insolent household, which just would not do. He smirked when the barbarian woman had asked for ale. He knew one of them, either her or the revolting half-orc, would try to belittle him in this way. He was prepared and had a cask brought up from the tavern that afternoon. A localled brewed mild with a rich brown colour.

He was brought back to the moment by the Captain's refusal of drink. The Seneschal lowered the flagon in surprise, then disdain.

"I'm sure the good sir would find your investigative skills quite indispensible, Captain."