Age of the Guardians-Prologue: "The Gathering Heroes"

[Revenant Sorrow]

I look to both Vold and Rune puzzle by their gestures.

"I understand the need to be gracious to ones host but seriously no gifts. There is just no need for them here. Just be respectful and you may say a prayer to him if you would like but he often doesn't answer."

[Cowboy Centaur]

Vold regards Wingtip strangely, and shrugs to Runeblade.

"you city-bred folk have bizzare customs, so what do we just sit around the room and stare at him while killing small animals? My people typically pray through chants and dance,

He looks around a bit frantically and looks again to Rune

"I'll need an instrument of some kind, dwarf, can you play a drum?"

[Revenant Sorrow]

"Just be quite and wait while I attend to my business there. We should only be there a moment. Unless we find out selves trapped by another group of hostile people. What are the odds of that happening twice in the same day though really?"

[Cowboy Centaur]

I gently put a hand on wings shoulder, and put on a fatherly-like tone

"Look Wing, we all have problems with our parents from time to time, you clearly haven't seen your pa in  some time, don't cut your visit short on account of us, we'll be happy to wait outside for however long it takes to catch up and pay your respects, he'll, the rest of us can occupy ourselves for quite some time if you don't wish your father to meet with those of other races, we won't feel wounded in the slightest, will we war-chief?

His last address is bellowed at Dacien, as he waves off the whetstone salesman

"lets find a seller of strong drink! I don't think Wing wishes us to interrupt the reunion between he and his Father!

...or better yet,"

I look for an empty area and start politely (relatively?) moving loiterers out of the way,

"Lets you and I have a tussle Runeblade, I'd like to see the way you wield that axe, our turbaned ally can referee, can't you?"

[sliksham]

Dacien cringes as the non too subtle bovine roar of Vold's question echoes across the market plaza, and he raises a hand in confused agreement.

"Er, no offense at all Vold, no, none" mutters "whatever in the nether hells your talking about this time"
He then nods and smiles, in what he feels is a most placating manner, but probably looks more like I have trodden in something nasty.
Noticing Brin has moved on to the temple proper, he makes his way over to the out of breath Rellortnoc;

"Nearly there sir Dwarf, you know, I have a few simple exercises which will help you improve your core and lower body tone and will more than help to make up for your self confessed 'short legs', I can show you later if you'd like?
Anyway, it seems our erstwhile guide is getting impatient, again, we will be regrouping at the temple entryway, just over there"

[sliksham]

"Sparring?
Sounds entertaining, although I would caution the wisdom, of you" points at Vold, "fighting here, at this moment, maybe somewhere less public?
Our first port of call should be to fulfill Wingtips geas though, duty should never be lightly overlooked"

[DigiSam]

"Alas fellow dwarf I would love to purchase some of your wares but I have already spent this weeks stipend, I will keep your stall in mind for any of my needs in the future however."

Walking back to Vold, Runeblade listens to his request before he denies it. "Another time friend, another time, maybe if we meet before I leave the city we can find a spot to test our mettle against each other. Mmmm maybe I could bring Wing's father a drink or two" Runeblade ponders before plodding off in search of a drink. Eventually returning with his search in vain.

[Cowboy Centaur]

I shrug to Runeblade, and wander toward where Brin is loitering, and sit on the steps beside him, I turn to Dacien and let out a long frustrated sigh.

"This mornings brawl has whet my appetite for a fight, ive not had a challenging one in many weeks, and my muscles ache for battle.

my kind does poorly amongst inactivity.


After much fidgeting, I begin searching the area for a bully that needs humbling, or a conflict that needs my intervention. As I wait for Ultime and the others to finish their business outside the shrine

Reference: Vold rolls perception
You rolled 1d20+2: 20 | [ 18 ] 18+2

[Eothr]

{Vold, your keen eyes and attentive ears catch all manner of interactions: civilians haggling with merchants, craftsmen trading advice, wives sharing stories, and children playing throughout. You are probably disappointed, and somewhat mellowed, by the incredibly peaceful scene of the Avandra Market, reminding you a bit of happier times.}

[Cowboy Centaur]

As Vold surveys the market area, the happy people and their bustling interactions touch the Minotaur's heart. As the other members of his party are conducting their business and talking amongst himself, Vold finds a young unsuspecting beggar, and begins moniloguing to him.

"Ah, take these times to heart lad, we're but a soft gust swept away by a raging storm. one day you're a carfree lad making you're first kill, and the next, you're a broken bleeding wretch languishing beneith the corpses of your kin. The days of carefree hunts are gone, and there's only the Last hunt before you, and then the Queen of Winter's dispassionate embrace.

{from Vold's perspective its nothing more than a friendly comment, but from the beggar's its more like the scene in watchman where the Comedian is talking to Moloch on his bed.}

[sliksham]

Dacien chuckles inwardly as Vold's 'Ode to Better Times' washes over the distraught beggar, it is clear that if anyone other than a 7 foot tall maul wielding Minotaur was talking to him then the beggar would have slunk away almost immediately. As it is, watching the beggar squirm is a temporary distraction whilst the others conclude their market business.

He finds a convenient barrel or sack and perches upon it, leaning in to whisper to Wingtip, a large smile on his face;

"How long before fear overcomes confusion and yon beggar flees screaming by your reckoning? I'd give it another 2 minutes, maximum"

[Revenant Sorrow]

"Hopefully I can get vold away from him first. It's time we be off to my fathers temple anyway. I walk over to the beggar and address my ally. Vold it's for us to go."

With a quick motion to an ally way I lead my companions out of the market and onward to Corellon's Shrine.

{Hopefully they follow 

[Revenant Sorrow]

{The above should ready "Vold it's time for us to go"}

[Cowboy Centaur]

Vold pats his new beggar friend on the shoulder, (who flinches in terror) and gives his biggest friendliest smile, (which is interpereted as a hidious snarl) and follows his Paladin friend

[Eothr]

The heroes gather on the steps of the Temple of Avandra: Brin, keeping a sharp eye out; Wingtip, fluttering about in excitement and agitation; Vold, ambling along in curious contemplation; Dacian, diligently keeping track of their group; Ultime, nose stuck in his book; and Runeblade, catching his breath and looking around with interest.

Instead of entering the massive building, the Human guides his compatriots around the corner to a alleyway, shadowed by the Temple, however the morning sun is beginning to light between the buildings. At the end of the alleyway is an ornate white building, two stories tall and made of marble. Tapestries of blue hang down from a walled balcony, depicting the symbol of Corellon, an eight-point white star with a gold trim.

Entering the Shrine, the Six are pleased to be greeted by a soothing smell, a combination of fresh rainwater and spring flowers, obviously a product of the incense sticks burning in the foyer. The church is a vast space, the white marble and blue banners a gentle color scheme, with the roof supported by geometrically placed pillars; the pillars themselves are carved in a way that looks like a gentle whirlpool, similar to the eddies found in spring brooks and waterfalls. The sides of the room are decorated with murals, depicting many of the World-changing events of Corellon: the climbing of the Spiral Tower, the defeat of Gruumsh, the Elven Schism of Lolth, the pacification of the Feywild.

In the middle of the walkway leading to the alter is a humanoid figure, a female; she is wearing humble white and blue priestess robes, a holy symbol of Corellon draped about her neck. She has very long, fiery red hair, long pointed ears, pale skin, and opaque sea-green eyes; an Eladrin Cleric.

She smiles gently and nods in the general direction of the party, speaking in an accented Common, "Good Morn to you, fine Sirs. I welcome you to the House of Corellon, the god of spring, magic, and beauty, patron of Elven-kind. I wish upon you fair blessings in your travels. I am Sister Althaea, Acolyte of Corellon."

She takes notice of Wingtip, and gasps, before bowing more deeply, "Oh, Sir Wingtip! Lord Corellon has granted me a dream of your coming in my trance-sleep. It is so very good to finally meet the one whom our Lord would call Son. Please, Sir, how may I be of assistance to you?"