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Kyssyt
03:05:25 PM 01/17/20
I agree about the absurdity of conversations that last two days and two nights. but in terms of age - especially long-term characters - passage of time throws up interesting questions.

Jandari
11:09:33 AM 01/17/20
Yeah, it's all subjective and based on the story being told.

Payne
10:11:19 AM 01/17/20
*Points to Dogberts comment*

This is the way.

Dogbert
01:11:39 AM 01/17/20
I prefer to use real-time, myself! I don't imagine any of my characters have really had 4 day conversations, for instance.

Cuchuwyn
08:29:10 PM 01/16/20
It should be noted though that time is a nebulous concept at best on Thain. The answer to any question about how much time has passed between two events is always "however much time is most interesting for the story".

Thranduil Greenleaf
08:18:58 PM 01/16/20
@Kyssyt,
I did the math on that about 10 years ago, and if it hasn't changed, 1 year RL is equal to about 30 years game time on Thain. So, 12 years RL would be about 360 years on Thain.

Kyssyt
08:05:23 PM 01/16/20
What's 12 RL years in Thain years?

Jandari
05:51:49 PM 01/16/20
code? Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Start?

Cuchuwyn
05:40:58 PM 01/16/20
You know, this Melphaecto woman may be a bit harsh, but she at least has a code.

Payne
03:31:27 PM 01/16/20
Vaurin is looking like the hero we all need after all.



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Cleric of Mystra
08:15:50 PM 06/16/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
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A figure sat within the depths of the Chultan jungle that evening. It was a damp and silent night; the kind of silence that manages to scare most; the kind of silence that signifies the end of all things.
The eerie light from the fire he was stoking up engulfed the nearby vegetation and his own face with crimson shades. That face, sharp features, charming yet rough in appearance.

He cast a glance at his surroundings, making sure yet again he was alone, although he knew all too well he was far from alone that night. From his crouching position, he rose to his full height and picked up a spear from the nearby tree, running a hand through the length of its shaft. His untied red hair flowed freely to his shoulders.

Now he could hear the steps; huge steps crushing the jungle. They were coming closer, the sound of them becoming clearer every time. Quickly, he put the fire out and walked a few paces into the dense vegetation, and waited, and waited.
The march stopped, and everything went silent again. He knew what it was: an aspect of Ubtao, his god at the time, but that was not a reason not to fear.
And the sound of the steps again. He snapped into attention, gripped the spear tighter, as if it would help in any way, and he kneeled, pressing his ear against the earth. The steps were walking away from him.
He stood up, darkness concealing everything in front of him. The only glint of light coming from his deep, green eyes.

[ Edited 12:10:39 AM 04/20/09 ]

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
08:16:58 PM 06/16/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
He opened an eye as the sun raised, only to see his master, his guide sitting before him. The one man that had always managed to find him within the confines of the jungle, and who would come back no matter how many times Ashan told him to disappear.

“How did you fare last evening, Ashan?”
He shrugged and replied with visible effort: “Dinosaur around here again. Ubtao want something”
“Maybe he wants something from you”, Farhir said dryly.
Ashan shook his head briefly “He not answer prayers anymore”
The master just tilted his head before speaking again, “Did he not give you your gift?”
Once again, the green-eyed man shrugged. “Not sure”
Ashan could feel Farhir’s piercing stare, one of a father to his son, and he lowered his head.
Finally, after what seemed like endless moments, Farhir stood up and started to make his way into the thick jungle.
“Have faith, my child”, he said and disappeared.

Ashan grumbled and rubbed his eyes.
Knowing that drinking water straight from the streams would probably result in disease, he drank what he could from the leaves all around him. Yet he couldn’t forget the short conversation minutes ago. What was that about Ubtao being a fair deity? No matter what Farhir would tell him, everyday was just further confusion.
He looked up warily, as if expecting punishment.

Nothing. Not even reprimand.

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
03:50:25 PM 06/17/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
((Some blood and gore))

The sun was at it highest when he started wandering for food. Not exactly skilled at walking unseen or unheard, he was aided by the jungle’s suffocating mass, as he made his way. He squinted, forcing his eyes to see what they first could not, and he caught sight of his prey. Ashan tilted his head at the monster: shorter than himself, a human body, but the head of a frog.

He approached carefully, hunger taking over him, not letting his glance divert from creature. It looked small, defenseless, and more importantly, it was alone. As an unconscious reflex, he gripped the spear and then wiped the sweat from his brow. But it saw him; he was not a hunter either. It turned and jumped away from him, too quickly for him to even consider following.

Ashan sighed and crouched, hearing the voices from afar. He knew they were territorial creatures, and would come from him, but it was too late to escape. He tightened the leather straps and adjusted the spear’s head, but not quite focusing on his work. Instead, he glanced every few seconds to where the half frog had ran, trying to determine any abrupt movement in the jungle.
It finally came.

A single creature attacked, running to him, but stopped dead in its tracks as the spear went through its chest. Another came, and suffered the same fate.
The predator was now the prey.
The silence of the jungle came once again for a fraction of a second, and then all launched against him. One went down, but the others did not, and they slashed, and they tore his skin, and they left him there. For dead.

It was a few hours later when he woke up to excruciating pain. The bright sun made him blink several times until his eyes got used to its burning light. But it did not help, the pain was still there. Still motionless on the ground, he glanced to his right and saw a pool of blood, his spear surfacing out of it. He still felt his fingers, yes, the pain was still there.
Suddenly, a scream of pain pierced the jungle’s apparent peace, as he noticed his hand was stabbed by his own weapon. His mind recognizing what was going on, the pain intensified and the human bordered collapse.

He did not know what would happen if he lost consciousness, and did not want to try. With a last effort, he gripped the spear with his free hand and pulled it out of the ground and his hand, suffocating the scream. Ashan stared at his mangled right hand and bit his lower lip in an attempt to mitigate the hurt, making it to bleed slightly.
Finally, he stood up, knees shaking, and he walked back to his encampment.

Failure.

[ Edited 11:03:50 PM 09/24/09 ]

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
12:35:44 AM 06/24/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
He had been thinking deeply the days after the hunting incident. The pain is his hand had been subsiding too, after he managed to stop the bleeding completely and applied a few salves. Still, he could not forget the episode… where was he when Ashan needed him?

He walked in circles, stretching his wounded hand every once in a while and looking up on occasion; sometimes, the jungle’s impenetrable ceiling would let him catch a glimpse of the blue sky. Hours passed, and he still walked, seemingly oblivious to the running time. Surrounded by his own thoughts rather that the vegetation, night came once again, as it did every time.

Ashan forced himself into sleep, like he had been doing the recent days; his thoughts were clouded with questions lacking answers.
Suddenly, he saw it. The huge beast towered over him, showing its teeth, each of them as long as one of his arms. A roar, and the creature clawed the air over the human, almost opening his chest in what seemed an outburst of sheer fury.
He blinked a few times, not daring enough to take his arms near his face to rub his eyes. Yes, it was still there, it was not a dream. Yet, it did not seem quite real to him.
The beast’s petrifying roar came to an end, and it fixed its reptile eyes on his, while the green spark in his gaze ceased to shine for that moment, devoid of life. However, he could not stop staring, as if something was forcing him.

Finally, the being looked away, grinned and turned. Ashan lay on the Chultan floor, still unable to move an inch, as the all too familiar sound of the steps faded away. And as he was, he fell asleep, only feeling he had nothing to do there.

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
10:07:02 PM 06/24/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
A single twig was moved aside as the rat made its way towards the coast -the gift was still there, but his once permanent presence was not anymore, making Ashan unsure of every step he took-. The rat ran, more than walked, afraid of what was behind, but also eager to reach its destination.

He felt he knew where he was, but was not all that sure. The Wild Coast should be that way, he thought, trying to convince himself. The rat continued its way through the jungle, moving swiftly between fallen and living trees and vines. It could hear nothing.
Sometimes, some foolish ship captain would brave the dangerous and jagged coasts, filled with whirlpools, storms and aquatic monsters, mostly looking for treasure, as all adventurers arriving in Chult did.

After several miles, the modest vermin set foot on the coast and cast a glance at its surroundings. The wind hit against the cliffs, producing a peculiar sound as they did; a howl, it thought. Restless, the sea twirled and crashed against the coast, causing the water to rise to the sky.
Its eyes maintained the faint green glint, which had been returning with every step it took towards the sea. They shifted nervously, glancing back every few moments, until they caught something of interest in the distance, and fixed on it.

The rat ran under cover of the green; an otherworldly glow bathed the spot for seconds, and he raised his head. A rogue strand of red hair was tucked behind his left ear as he moved forward. He closed his eyes and thought about Farhir, about the life he wanted to leave behind, about the life he would have to undertake. However, he didn’t think about him; no, he didn’t have the courage to do it.

He looked back again, as far as his sight could reach, then to the sea again. The boat moved gently from side to side, still far from the coast. Ashan wondered if it would be able to sort the increasing dangers, or if he would have to wait.
Finally, he sat and left his mind to wander. He waited.

[ Edited 11:03:10 PM 09/24/09 ]

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
03:15:38 PM 07/05/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
The boat approached the coast slowly and carefully, trying to avoid any dangers. It was a difficult task, soon realized its Captain. But he was stubborn, and he continued; Chult’s treasures were always attractive for their like.
Ashan still waited, oblivious to the standing Farhir above him on the hill. The guide watched his student meditating, and then glanced to the vessel. It was nearing the green coast with each second, until its crew could be distinguished: pirates, of course.

It stopped and a few of them descended, weapons in hand. Ashan looked from his sitting position, wondering what to do. Would they attack him if he just appeared? Would they take him prisoner? Or would they let him have a chance?

Too late. Soon, he was surrounded, a dozen blades pointing at his slashed chest. He slowly stood up, and glared at the men and women around him with the glint of a beast in his eyes. They exchanged looks but finally laughed at the human standing before them, closing in on him.
Ashan stood motionless and kept looking in their eyes, and they stopped, some tilting their heads, some just staring in confusion. Finally, one thrust his blade towards the human; a glow blinded him as he did, causing his stab to meet no flesh.
A bird of prey flew out of the circle of pirates’ reach and stood on a boulder behind them.

Apparently, he had impressed them.

*******************************

The Captain and his close friends were not doing what they were supposed to do, and the crew was not happy; they kept working, but only because they were ordered to do so. However, they murmured between them.

His shift finished, and he took the stairs down to the cabin. A few others were there, swinging at their ales and talking about forged tales of women they had in the past. Like any of those could even get near the kind of females they mentioned without chaining them to some post.
Ashan snorted and walked in the room, patting a few shoulders with a small grin. A bottle was offered, and he accepted quietly: “Thank ye”, he said. Years had allowed him to learn to talk almost properly, and he was glad.

The candle was blown, and all went dark. Their laughter stopped, replaced by barely audible whispers which died at the door: mutiny.

A few days later…

He was on the deck, pretending to be working. From below, he could hear a ruckus forming; the rough voices of men shouting at each other in a not so kind manner. Two were thrown overboard a few moments later, the gods know to what fate.
He looked impassively, thinking that the Captain had some ears around.

As expected, he ended up swimming too.

[ Edited 11:06:15 PM 09/24/09 ]

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
09:27:43 PM 07/22/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
Bastards…

His mind drifted free. Bordering unconsciousness, he thought about the inane, the implausible and the plain idiotic; maybe a byproduct of the cold, relentless water, or the feeling that death was as near as he had felt it in all his life.

They will pay…

His fingers gently lost grip of the plank of wood he had managed to find. But he cared not. He hated and he wanted to kill, but his body and mind did not have the strength to sustain those thoughts long enough to keep him awake. Who would think the sole desire of murder could be the only way to save a man?

… if I can make it.

**********************

Morning in the Landing, and a human male is seen walking along the coast. He keeps his sight fixed on the sand and red hair covering his face. The figure stops, picking up a pebble and throwing it to his old friend, the sea.

The ‘ells am I doin’?

Ashan turned and decided to do something for what was left of his life. Things to do, people to meet.

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
09:29:07 PM 07/22/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
He had met the half-elven woman once, during a trip to the Underdark. She was a shapechanger, much more advanced than he could possible imagine: one of the few to gain his respect on the island.
Anaskara, she said was her name.

Ashan met her once again near Raven’s Watch, when he was walking south. Out of nowhere, she appeared, and they engaged in conversation; she seemed to have some interest in him, he thought.

The woman asked about his abilities, how much he had learned and how he thought he had acquired them. The human rubbed his chin, avoiding her eyes out of esteem. She spoke of growth and gifts, concepts he agreed with, but had never considered in his mind.

They talked about strengths and weaknesses, joy and suffering, life and death.

Finally, they talked about their religious beliefs; if she wanted to arrive to this topic on purpose or not, he could not say.
He was still a faithless man: however much he tried to convince himself that he still followed a superior being, it was fruitless. A faithless, desperate man. An easy target, one would say.

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
09:14:37 PM 07/25/08

Registered Member #1083
Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
((Some blood and gore ahead))

When he met the female elf, he thought about getting an ally.
She had this strange idea that she was from nobility and deserved only the best. “’ells wit’ that”, he thought. To him, Mischa was just another elf, another tool to be used.

But things were not going well. She just had to make fun of him and his beliefs. Over and over, she managed to anger him, but he stayed silent and even gave her the opportunity to apologize.
And still, he could feel her eye on him at times, as if she desired something.

Days passed, and he arrived at the Watch. Some others stood about, minding their own business, while Mischa was curling near the heat of the fire to shield off the cold of that night. Ashan walked to her side and crossed his arms, as if giving her one more chance. She wasted it, falling back to the same insults.
He stared at the female, both of them oblivious of their surroundings. Mischa looked back at him, a similar glint in her elven eyes, but lacking the wildness of his. At that, she stood and left north, while Ashan followed her walk with his sight.
Upon reaching the turn west towards Hamley, a kobold made itself visible. The look of surprise in her face was one he would become familiar with.

“Hiiii! I want friends, I lonely”, the kobold whimpered, a frown set on its face.

She looked to the reptilian creature with a mix of compassion and fear. Yes, there was good in her soul, and he knew it. And he planned to use it to further his own goals.
The kobold made Mischa follow it towards the woods, away from the eye of any passerby. There, it was made obvious that the kobold wanted no friends. From a concealed spot in its belt, the little monster pulled out a wickedly sharp sword, while the elf quickly gripped her greatsword.

“You will pay, fool”, the frown replaced by a sadistic grin.

Easily dodging her thrusts and cleaves, almost making fun of her, the kobold fought. It stabbed several times, and then knocked her over. Beaten, Mischa laid on the soft ground of the Feywood, glaring at the reptile, her greatsword to her side. The kobold cackled and immediately mumbled a few words, its eyes losing all life for seconds. A moment later, the woods were bathed by an almost unnatural green glint, and Ashan stood there.
He walked over, sword in hand.

“I gave you the chance to apologize. A shame”

The human crouched and glanced about his surroundings, making sure they were still alone. Then, he held her arm to his eyes’ height, and dug the blade in it, blood running to the ground. She cringed in pain, but he continued with his work, pulling out a green vial from his pack. He studied its contents, smiling as he did so, and then poured part of it inside the open wound.
The poison, Talona’s gift, made its way through her system, attacking vital points and weakening the elf.

“Now go an’ pray, maybe Talona will help deal wit’ what you ‘ave inside you. If not, you can die ‘ere alone or try to save yourself. But I assure you, if’n such happens, I’ll be right there, waiting”

She resisted at first, but then gave in.

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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Cleric of Mystra
07:49:09 PM 08/09/08

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Joined: 02:29:11 PM 06/25/07
Location: Yes.
Posts: 1519
((A bit of blood, but not much))

The curved blade was thrust into the gnoll’s chest and then pulled back. He looked it over and then licked the blood off the now warm metal with a sadistic grin etched in his face.
Ashan stood atop of the hill, gnollish corpses scattered at his feet, all of them missing a few body parts. On the background, several chests and the weapons and armors he had piled up to take on his way back.

The human glanced towards the fort. He had been there a few times, but never alone. Maybe the fact that it had been too easy up to that point pushed him to try to breach the gates by himself. Or maybe the thought of taking over those docks for himself.

Perhaps not taking the necessary precautions, he neared the wooden palisade during the night. A quick glance let him know that they had been deploying forces at the gates, so he took the half hidden path to his left. This one lead him to the opposite side of the docks, where the fire pit always burned and the gnollish shamans gathered.
Unfortunately for them, they were slain with practiced skill and tossed into the flames. Ashan made his way towards the water, stepping over their pathetic attempts at agriculture, a dark chuckle escaping from him as he did so.

That port. He imagined what he could do with it and those bold enough to trade with gnolls. They would hardly care who ran the docks as long as they could get their profit, he thought. Weapons, equipment, illegal substances… the list was endless. But he could hardly take them by himself; after all, no man can hold a patch of land on his own.

He walked slowly towards the gates, satisfied with the evening. However, running down from the hills where the shamans were slain, four of the biggest gnolls he had seen made their appearance. Each of them held a polearm, engraved with arcane runes the weavers must have etched into the wood and steel themselves. Ashan took notice of them, a look of disdain in his eyes; he chanted a few words. Soon, a drow was in his place.
What was he thinking about? With the same practiced skill, he was cut down by the sharp blades of the gnollish weapons. Slowly, the human regained his original form as the last breath of life escaped his body. But he was pulled back and chained and his arms bound together; deeper inside the fort, a cage waited for him.

They learned he could speak orcish. A trait of the jungle, he thought, forcing a grin into his face. He was told that if he performed a task for them, he would be freed, provided he didn’t come back again. Ashan nodded, having no other choice.
He would have to lead a small party of gnolls into the elven fortress. Easy enough, except for the fact he was given only four warriors and two spell casters. Damn, he thought as he readied his equipment and supplies, waiting for the gnollish leader to finish his talk with the raiders.
He offered his own little speech, hoping to motivate his forces for what they would face. It was not exactly necessary, given the hatred between both settlements, but it wouldn’t hurt either.

They set out, cutting down every elf in their way. The spell casters proved an increasing difficulty, and were even able to take with them two of his own warriors. They were replaced by others who had been waiting in the background for such a chance and the party continued.
Elven numbers rose, until the gnollish offensive expansion was made slow and painful. Still, they managed to reach the fort and with the aid of a rope, sorted the ravine separating them from their true objective. On top of one of the tree stumps, a rope hung; the gnolls wanted to reach the canopy using it.
The commoners were alerted and soon the whole fort knew of their presence. Druids and scouts arrived to fend them off, but the deed was done: the gnolls had escaped their arrows, hiding between the thick leaves of the Feywood.
Ashan, on the other hand, was still inside the fort. He ran outside at full speed, in an attempt to loose the elves after him. Only one managed to keep up but was killed in no time. The human donned the elf’s armor and threw him down a ravine. Slowly and quietly, now as an elf using their own armor, Ashan made his way out of the Feywood.

Ashan
Disgruntled, dishonest, dismissive.
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