Shades of Delusion: The Aftermath

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Chapter 1: Rise of Ruin
(OOC thread Here)

Disease, insanity, and death were the angels that attended my cradle, and since then have followed me throughout my life... ~ Edvard Munch

It has been three months yesterday since the star fell from above and smote the land of Edra for the first time in several generations. It hit no city, not even the brazen Banzaarians, but instead struck the Oraculus, home of the Seven Sages where futures were seen, and predictions were made. Only Thales is said to have somehow survived, and fled to Forest Heart where he remains in hiding. Storms swept across the continent, and forests were flattened for many miles. A muddy rain fell for weeks about the hills and frogs were said to fall from the sky. These were but secondary concerns to the true damage of the impact. Across Edra hundreds, if not thousands fell unconscious. Seemingly held in the throes of a fever, they ranted and raved, screamed and wept, stopping only once their bodies cramped from the exhaustion. A veritable plague it was, from which no clergyman or chirurgeon could awaken them. Even those that did not fall have suffered dreams to which their is no comparison. Some of the worst of these dreamers began to mutate, their minds and bodies altering into horrors or going mad, or both. Most of the fevered victims eventually died. Some from wearing out, others from aneurysms and brain cancers. Most though from fright. Those of sterner stuff or possessing a resistance were cared for by church and temple to be studied in hope of a cure. Of the most violent, strangest cases were sent to the Order of the Epiphanies in Forest Heart, a sect of St. Cuthbert.

If this wasn't enough, the followers of Ruin have risen up. Their raids are near continuous, burning out farmers and attacking caravans. Those captured refuse to speak, fearing more the one they worship than anyone or anything else, regardless of that which they may be threatened with. Trade is nearly at a standstill, only the most desperate or heavily escorted traders risking attack.
Many have revolted against them however, refusing to bow down to these Priests and Priestesses of Ruin. Banzaar itself has thwarted many raids and in defiance has planned a great holiday on the Summer solstice, when the powers of sun and sky are greatest. This rebellion many feel will focus the ire of those of Ruin, but others sickened and angered by the destruction have come to participate, to make a statement. They will not bow down before any of ground or sky, man or nightmare. All are invited to join their festivities and many traders, seeing a chance to make up for lost time, have gathered all of their caravans for this one trip to the great Roaming City. Others less brazen, but wiser, have filled ships and are currently sailing around the horn of the peninsula, out to sea where the priests never go. They will then dock and sell their goods and services.

Each of you, for your own reasons, have come to the festival, or have business in the city. Though it is not scheduled until the morrow many have begun early, and their is music in the streets, food on the grill, and much merry and lovemaking. Though clouds have built up on the horizon and the winds strengthening, the sky is clear, the sun warm, and hope and desperate joy can be tasted on the breeze.


Sarris Almodo IV

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It has been smoothing sailing this last week, with a steady breeze and a warm sun on your back. Even the clergyman privy to sea-sickness have felt a let-up of their symptoms the last couple days. The church voted almost unanimously to make the sea journey to Banzaar for both protection and retaliation of the Ruin attack they are certain will occur. There is the scent of horses from the hold, nickering anxiously to once again have firm land beneath their hooves.

Nearby you hear Domile, the Head Inquisitor arguing loudly with the captain in his quarters over some disagreement. Such has been common. Domile is a powerfully willful man, and his grievances are seldom spoken softly.

He shows none of it however as he merges from the quarters, unruffled and serene, if not a little red in the face. He is a tall, burly man in rigorous health despite his obviously advanced years, with bulging arms and a bull neck. His salt and pepper hair is long and straight to his back, with a receding hairline. His face is grizzled though hard, with a beard still dark. His eyes are a light gray and flinty. He wears loose gray pants and a long sleeved tunic with a leather breastplate. On his large hands are normally found a pair of metallic gauntlets with the symbol of St. Cuthbert on the backs, but for now they hang from a loop on his belt. He appears more as a captain of an army than a religious leader, though holds himself not pompously, but alertly. He takes a deep breath and looks into the sky as he exits, closing his eyes against the sun.

Somnium

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The sand beneath your feat rasps soothingly between your toes. Closing your eyes you try to imagine you are back within your home deserts, but the cry of a gull flying low as it passes your head ruins the moment. As well, it is far too warm, and the crash of the nearby ocean is something you've never heard before until you arrived in Banzaar. The smell... it is also something you never suspected. No, this is not a place alike to the desert.

You have wandered the beach for awhile now, and are about a mile from the artificial bays that Banzaar tends to settle down nearby. In the far distance you can see the outline of another. It seems that no matter how far you'll go there will be a dock to be camped nearby. Humans, halflings, and maenads fill the city, and even here, on its outskirts, you can't completely rid yourself of their mammalian scent. They are seen in the water, and in the sand. Some literally. Not too far stand a number of guards around what appears as a vicious game of tick-tack-toe. Grids of criss-crossing barbed wire stretch across the sands, pulled taught against deep-driven stakes. Spotted here and there within the clear boxes are tiny tents, far too small too hold all but a babe.

You have heard that those awaiting trial or being punished are kept there, buried up to their necks in sand and given only a tent to keep off the direct sun. Several times a day they are given a thin broth for both water and food.

You have run across quite a number of fascinating creatures upon the beach. It is low tide and their is a definite stink of flesh in the air, and most of the beach goers are keeping well clear of it. To you however such a smell is almost perfume, for it means the possibility of discovery. Following the scent you see a great lump of stream-lined grey flesh beached upon the low tide. It is enormous, though possibly exaggerated so by the process of heat-induced bloating.

Yamada Tarō

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You stroll beneath a tree-shadowed trail, the sound of cicadas loud and grating. As well is the continuous sound of the bees and wasps that cloud above. The trees are all manner of apple, most gnarled and enormous with age, though where one has died or a natural opening is found, a younger one has sprouted. The branches have been trimmed back so as to form a living arch of vegetation and budding fruit. Seen between the trunks is a vast prairie as far as the eye can see, the grass nearly to your head in places, but the trail itself is devoid of anything but low, hardy weeds. It is a living avenue of beauty and life, but you hardly notice this because it is also ambush-welcome. The morning sun is blocked by the canopy above as the planters intended, but it also casts the trail in permanent twilight, even at full noon. As well, many could lose themselves in the boughs, or duck within the wheat and weeds of the grasslands. This concerns you all the more, because something of beauty that you can appreciate has awoken within the plush gypsylike house wagon.


This is the second day since the battle and you are camped out to one side of the broad trail. You have a fire going and water boiling on a small kettle to prepare breakfast. A cream-colored clydesdales chews on the immature fruit and grass it can reach from the side of the trail.

Gearna finally emerges in a morning dress and smiles. She settles down on a cushioned stool she brought from within her traveling house and begins to braid her hair around copper wires. She is not what one would think of a wealthy traveling merchant. Her dark, strawberry blonde hair grows down to her waist, but you know it will shortly be put up in an elaborate, decorative do of braids. When you met her gems dangled from hidden hooks in the wires, but since the attack she has not attempted to display her merchandise. Hardly having spoken yesterday, she appears much more open and less brooding than she did before as the bodies of her guards were buried. She spoke of them being but temporary help, but still her heart bled for them. Except for special trade runs you know that she lives within the elaborate house wagon. Despite that her reputation precedes her, and you know she is wealthy enough to buy out half of Forest Heart. Instead she trades with dwarf in the mountains for gold and silver, maenads and darfellans for coral and pearl, and the odd molok people (molefolk) for gem and opal.

She also sales herself out as a piece of jewelry herself it is said. Though no whore she claims, she is found on the arm of many who can afford it, though what occurs after the social function she escorts says is nobody's business.

Such is the woman you have devoted to protecting.

Raynor Badrad

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Traveling down the trail you've met many an interesting trader or caravan, and are but half a day's travel from Banzar. It is well after daybreak, and you wake up from the hammock you strung amongst the branches. Even though it is not early, you might well have slept in later if not for the scent. There is the faint aroma of bacon being grilled nearby, and even more tantalizing, an under-scent of perfume. It seems to be coming from up the orchard trail a ways.

[The Antigamer]

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I believe raynor will speak in DarkOrange

Vorpal

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Raynor awakes slowly, wondering why he is doing so. It's not even close to noon, his usual wake-up time, and he had been up late stargazing besides. But then his nose finally penetrates the fog of sleep to thrust its information at his bain. "Bacon?" he whispers incredulently. He sits up in his hammock among the branches, and peers around.
And perfume? he thinks.
This is definitely worth an early wakening. He hops out of the hammock, quickly stuffs it in his haversack, shimmies down the tree, and heads up the orchard trail following the scent, whistling jovially so as not to surprise whoever's breakfast he intends on joining.

[Calenestel]

Yamada Tarō

Vorpal

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Sleeping in the field, is something that Tarō is rather used to. Usually he tends to sleep unarmoured, striving to feel the Earth with his own body. Even at home he often woke up with at least a foot out of bed, firmly placed on the bedrock floor, always to Yumi's amusement. The last night had been different though. First and foremost he was responsible for someone else's security now, not only his own. And second his usual tactic, to use his innate magic to hide the tracks to his resting place was just not feasible when there was a wagon like that involved. Thus he had slept in the padded clothes that was the innermost layer of his armour. Not much protection really, but better than none, and you didn't sleep any worse. Still, it felt odd to wake almost halfway armoured.
Lifting his gaze from the beginning of their breakfast the earth genasi notices that the merchant he has vowed to see safely to Banzaar had woken as well now. Quickly he stands, bowing respectfully. Her beauty as well as his duty made him slightly formal, not cold and distant but... proper. For she was beautiful, almost as good looking as his Yumi. But where his wife was of a appearance that he was used to in a human: almost golden in skin, black of hair and with dark hair, Gearna was far from ordinary, at least not in his eyes, fair of both skin and hair. And while her exotic beauty was something he couldn't avoid admiring from afar it also made him a tiny bit nervous (not that he would admit any such thing). Unsmiling but corteous the samurai gestures towards the fire. "Good morrow, mistress Gearna. Breakfast is almost done: Bacon, bread and cheese and the last of the eggs. I hope we are getting close to Banzaar now. For we are short of supplies." Most had been ruined in the attack.

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I can haz OOC threadz?

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Yamada & Raynor

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"We'll be there before evening." the bronze-haired Lady affirms, sticking her tongue out unconsciously as she loops a particularly difficult braid.
"Too bad it is not later in the year or we'd have applesauce along with it."

Not getting the stony warrior to open up, she tries another tact.

"I had an unpleasant dream last night. Something with... maggots? I think? It spun a cocoon and from it emerged the skeleton of a butterfly. I'm forgetting now what happened after... but I don't think I'd want to remember." she ends with a twist of her lips. "Anyways, can you pass the scuppernong preserves?"

The last bit barely registers with Yamada however as someone whistling an upbeat tune is walking up the trail on the Banzar side.

Raynor doesn't at first see the smoke of the cooking fire, the dry wood burning cleanly and stealthily, but the large house-wagon is difficult to miss. Nearby it are too figures, and tethered to a tree a large, pale-hide clydesdale.

OOC
Descriptions!

Also, OOC link posted on first page.

[The Antigamer]

Yamada and Vorpal

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A thin, whistling youth in a brown tunic, with messy, sandy blonde hair and smiling eyes rounds the bend to see the wagon.
At the sight of the two people, he nods his head at them, spreads his arms in a peaceful gesture, and asks loudly from a safe distance.
"Gran' day ter yer me friends! Wuld ye mind a bit 'av company as ye break yisser fast?"


((OOC something like this.

Vorpal

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Raynor is wearing a shirt and pants, but his tunic is actually his manifested glamered Mind Armor.

[Critical]

Vorpal

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As the nostalgic memories flew through the kobold's mind, he'd smile, if he wasn't already smiling, more so, he was smiling in all of his sharp, white teeth for no particular reason. Living in the abyss definitely had it's impact on the kobold. Although he was short, his impressive array of teeth and his big jaw did the job in making him appear quite large. It made him appear always cheery and, maybe, a little bit angry, although, those who knew Somnium for a while knew, that his true mood was reflected on his scales. Being nostalgic about his home desert made his scales turn, of course, to the sandy desert color, almost making him look like an ordinary desert kobold now. Pulling the reins on "Captain Socks", his good ol' trusty donkey, which was usually carrying some tied bodies to experiment later on and stuff that might just be useful in the long run, however there was nothing in it right now. However, there appeared to be a perfect opportunity at hand to get it filled. Or was it?
The kobold came close to the body he found, while leading the donkey in a such way, that he'd be hard to see for the guards, just in case. He then ordered the donkey with a hand sign to keep an eye out for anything fishy(maybe even literally!), while he did the work. He could get so distracted, so that a donkey would, literally, notice things better than him, and although Somnium was ashamed to admit it, he knew it as a fact. He then immediately got to work. Judging by the stinkyness and staying still, the body was dead, but the monstrumologist decided to check the pulse none the less. Vivisection would be a bit risky here, but hey, who would take a reasonable risk if it wasn't the risk-taking Somnium? But he was more worried about his Captain Socks, who has became a trusty companion and friend to him now.

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Checking the body out for life signs and anything unusual while using donkey and the cart as a cover from the guards. Also, rolling the necesarry knowledge checks and monstrous lore check, of course!

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Somnium

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The guards don't seem to have any particular interest in you, and none whatsoever show any signs of curiosity about your approach to the beached behemoth.

As you near it and walk its length you ascertain it is most certainly a cachalot. Though from a desert land far from the sea, you have heard many stories of this beast, which until this moment you had taken for tall tales.

It is over 25 feet in length, and as you inspect its head you recall another name for it. Sperm whale, some say, due to the waxy substance spermicetti collectible from its cranial cavities for use in candles and similar. In fact, it appears to have already been extracted specifically for such a gathering. Despite this it is your guess it was collected after the beaching.

It's long, toothed jaws are held stiffly open by rigor mortis. While capable of swallowing a human whole, you can literally walk within the oral cavity without much ducking.

Checking within, you notice nothing of note, aside from the end of a thick bit of leather leading down within its gullet.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Vorpal

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Sarris glances up at Domile as he approaches, but not up at the sky. He's been awake since before dawn--again--and has seen the sky before; no need to waste time with another glance upward. His bloodshot eyes are instead focused on the book he is reading and annotating while sitting in the shade from the sails.

"Again, Domile? Waste. Trivial difference of opinion," he opines without looking up from his reading. "What quibble now?"

[Critical]

Vorpal

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Well, it seemed that there was nothing for him here, aside from the scientific interest. But Somnium wasn't sure if an hour spent here would be truly worth it. Still, he decided to check out where did the thick leather end lead to, and what was it's purpose, or was it just an accidental food? So he grabbed that leather end and pulled, hoping to find out more. He really should be going, he didn't want to smell like a whale, even for the sake of science, surely, not of the non-benefical kind, but hey, he was already in he might've as well checked it out.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Sarris

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Domile's eyes snap down on you like a hand on a fly.

"Quibble? Keep that fool tongue within. The superstitious sot wants to set us down right now, still a day's ride away. Says he doesn't like the look of those clouds ahead. I assured him our divinations show clear skies for still another couple days. You know what he says to me? He says when it comes to the sky we are blind. It's CLOUDS I said, not a fornicating STAR. All of these skippers been skittish as a broody hen. I admit there is a certain cause, but Cuthbert blind me, we can't be jumping at ever breeze!" he says as much to himself as to you, venting for venting sake.

Somnium

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You pull... and you pull and you pull and you pull. Saliva and other excretions coat the length of leather and your hands as you haul on it. You have some 40 feet of belt around when it suddenly will come no longer, no matter how hard you pull. Then abruptly the leather snakes back inside, all 40 feet of it. You try to grab it back, but the slimy coating makes it impossible to keep a bracing grip. The last is engulfed back within, leaving not even a trailing this time to take hold of.

[Calenestel]

Yamada Tarō

Vorpal & Raynor

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Nodding slowly as his ward recounts her dream the genasi busies himself with the eggs, sizzling over the fire. His own dreams had been rather pleasant, for a change, but he was not scholar or holy man that could divine the future by interpreting dreams. So he only listens, nodding to show that he understood. Then he tenses, the sound of a stranger approaching putting him on the alert. He doubted that someone with ill intent would walk up to them whistling, unless it was a diversion, but he took no chances either way. Quickly he takes a few steps to put himself between Gearda and the whistling, putting his hand on the hilt of his katana. He puts his feet a bit apart and his breaths slowly, ready. Of course, the youth that walks up to them doesn't seem very dangerous and he quickly relaxes somewhat. Not entirely, but enough to take his hand from the hilt of the sword.

He is a big man, tall and still almost stockily built, and most obviously not entirely human. His skin is rough and pitted as if made of living stone, his eyes like two emerealds, with no pupils or whites to be seen and his hair is a metallic grey of steel. After he relaxes a hint of a smile can be seen tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well. It is mostly up to mistress Gearna. But as for me you are welcome to our camp."

[Critical]

Vorpal

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Raising an eyebrow, Somnium looked with surprise at the last place he has seen the belt. He was about to leave, but the curiosity overcame him. Endruing the bad smell, the kobold got out his surgical kit and slowly started making his way to where the belt came from.

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Hope you don't mind that I added the surgical kit just now, brcause I just noticed it when I looked over the Monstrumologist PrC. Sold Chronocharm of the Grand Master for it.

Anyways, making the way to that leather belt using surgical tools!

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Raynor and Yamada

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Gearna stands and looks the young man up and down.

"Do you have any intentions of performing loot, plunder or rape?" she inquires, hands on hips and an arched coppery brow.

Somnium

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You cutting from the outside or making like Jonah?

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Vorpal

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Superlative, simply superlative. A superstitious captain attempting to ruin our voyage on the one hand, and an angry priest with imperceptible amounts of self-control on the other, thinks Sarris, using proper diction and grammar in his thoughts, the only medium of communication fast enough to let him speak freely without feeling like he's wasting time.

"Ah. Superstition," he answers Domile aloud, sneering at the captain's primitive notions. "Worthwhile, then. Plans?"

[Critical]

Vorpal

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The second.

[Calenestel]

Yamada Tarō

Raynor and DM

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Surprised Tarō spares a glance at the jewelmerchant, momentarily taking his eyes off the stranger. That was probably uncalled for, not to mention an odd question to begin with. But he guessed it was understandable considering her previous misadventure. Who knows what vile entertainment the bandits had had in mind. Quickly he snaps his gaze back to the youth, his stony face an expressionless masque. Somehow he still seemed ready to draw that long, slightly curved blade he carried at his hip. Even if he didn't have his hands near the hilt.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Somnium

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It's pretty dark in the maw, but you've worked in darker, if not stranger, environs. Like an explorer cutting through a dense jungle, you take your scalpel to the rancid flesh to widen the gullet. It is a disgusting job, even for you. Without too much effort however you work into its digestive cavity, which appears to be partially gutted. You are knee deep in ichor and diluted digestive juices that burn your skin unpleasantly (1 point of non-lethal every minute).

Hanging to the ground in the middle of the cavity, within the remains of its tattered lungs, is a great wad of the leather, all tangled and knotted.

You also notice something in the recesses of the gut, what appears to be a crab taller than you picking at the wealth of whale meat.

Sarris

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From your relationship with the church and its Inquisitor you know that the captain can be utterly brutal and forward to friends and known ones, trusting on familiarity to forgive him.
When interrogating another, seeking information, or when dealing with the children or the sick he however is as unflappable as a stone and kind as a cool hand to a fevered brow.

He is serene now, the blaze burned down as he answers, "Compromised of course. He'll set us half a day's ride. It'll be good for the horses to have some exercise before we arrive anyways."

Rolls

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(1d20+9)[22]

(1d20+8)[14]
(1d20+8)[24]
(1d20+8)[12]
(1d20+8)[26]

(1d20-4)[-2]
(1d20-4)[-2]
(1d20-4)[14]
(1d20-4)[12]

[Critical]

Vorpal

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Taking an adamantine scalpel, the little kobold thrusted it into the side, making a hole out for himself, while grabbing the leather knot to lead it out, ready to cut it with his quickrazor strapped to his arm at any moment if it gets pulled back like the last time.

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So, doing all that, with a readied action to cut the leather if it gets pulled back.

Also, awesome song choice.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Somnium

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Though the widening of the already ragged maw was somewhat easy, the unmarred innards prove quite a hassle to cut into and the flesh is thick. This is more a job for a meat axe.

Though concentrating on your work of, there is a faint splashing sound behind you. Turning, you see ripples in the digestive juices, but no sign of anything that made them.

Rolls

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(1d20)[16]
(1d20)[6]
(1d20)[15]


(1d20-3)[2]
(1d20-3)[8]
(1d20-3)[3]

[The Antigamer]

Yamada and Vorpal

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Raynor raises an eyebrow.
"Nigh, why wuld oi be wantin' ter do 'at? Oi jist smelled yore grub an' thought ter meself, oi'm sure they want sum company as they travel ter de fair an' al', since that's de whole point 'av de fair. So naw, oi 'av nay plans for murder or rape, but if yer'll let me oi'll gladly loot sum 'av yisser meal. Oi 'arv a couple av apples ter add ter yore bounty too."
He reaches into his haversack and pulls out a small white bag of apples, and holds it out towards the two.

[Critical]

Vorpal

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"Uh oh." - he faintly whispered to himself. Why did he have to get into the whale in the first place? The curiosity seemed to be a blessing and a curse at the same time. The most logical conclusion he has come to is to run - he thought adamantine scalpel would be quite enough to cut a small hole, but it wasn't. Looks like he had to go all the way back now, ready to cut the leather the same way as he was before, although, he was coming out of the mouth now.

[Calenestel]

Yamada Tarō

Raynor & Vorpal

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The more or less literally stone faced fighter nods slowly as the young man speaks. There seemed to be nothing sinister about him, nothing... off. Bandits or minions of the Priests would hardly bother with anything more than an direct assault and this was dragging out. If the stranger was only there to distract them then the whole farce had gone on long enough already. Of course, he MIGHT be an assassin, Tarō knew too little about Gearna's enemies to rule that out. But... this one didn't seem like an assassin to the samurai. He was too brazen with his straightforward ways and strange dialect. An assassin would most probably be more... ingratiating, not to mention subtle. Holding up a hand to show that the man had spoken enough he turns to his charge. "Mistress, I do believe he has only friendly intentions. Well, that and edging in on our breakfast. What do you say? Shall he be invited?" His voice is a low rumbling of a bass.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Vorpal

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At the captain's calmer tone, Sarris raises a mental eyebrow. Not uncontrolled, then, simply erratic. I had heard such from Mother, but had not anticipated behavior chaotic to such a degree. This looks as if it will be a long voyage.

Outwardly as serene as the captain, Sarris merely nods in acknowledgment. "Alert me upon arrival."

[The Antigamer]

Yamada and Vorpal

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Raynor puts on his most charming smile, and tries his best not to look like an wily, lazy lout, and instead look like a free-spirited, insouciant rascal.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Raynor and Yamada

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"Pity." Gearna responds to Raynor, her face breaking into a grin. "I was just teasing him, Yamada. Come on over, and lets have a taste of those apples."

Somnium

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Surprise Round

As you turn you feel many sharp prods in your legs, though only one manages to pierce your hide (2 damage).

One of your attackers rises up from the water, a crab smaller than the one you saw earlier, but not by much. There is further ripples in the bile-water as well.

OOC
We're in rounds now.

Saris

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"Hold!" Domile calls. "Haakem is contacting us."

He stands still for a moment, and his hands tighten into fists. He opens his mouth to say what's on his mind but then closes it thoughtfully.

"We cannot return for two days. Haven't reached Banzar. Will return by Cuthbert's Way, dawn after Solstice. Keep vigilant! Out." he finishes. The entire conversation Domile was making silent hand gestures that you recognize as some sort of language, but were never schooled in.

"The church was under attack this morning by two intruders." he announces. "They are not certain what they were, but they were not of man or mortal. Apparently they were after a child born to one of the Dreamers being held in the sanitarium."

OOC
This man could legally execute you you know, if he wished, and is the commander of all the church forces of all the orders of St. Cuthbert in Edra, plus their allied religious affiliations.

He's not someone you give orders to

[The Antigamer]

Yamada and Vorpal

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Raynor flashes his teeth in a smile, pulls out a small, slightly wizened apple from the bag and tosses it to the woman as he approaches the fire. His gait is easy, relaxed, expending the least possible amount of energy needed to move.
"They're a tad teensey, not bein' quite in 'arvest time yet, but they're still sweet."
He sits down by the fire, eyes the cooking food, and proffers the bag to Yamada.
"Oi'm Raynor Badrad oi am, an' 'tis a pleasure ter meet yer, Yamada, wus it? An' yisser name miss?" he addresses the last to Gearna.

[Calenestel]

Yamada Tarō

Raynor & Vorpal

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Breathing a soft sigh and shaking his head with a rueful smile the samurai again notices that he isn't very good at understanding the strange woman he had taken under his protection. But her smile as much as the young man's non-threatening demeanor puts the earth genasi at ease and he actually relaxes. For the first time since Raynor showed up. With a friendly smile he turns towards Raynor and bows slightly, just a little more than a nod, back straight and arms straight along his sides. "Hello, Raynor Badrad. And it's Tarō. My name is Yamada Tarō, but Yamada is the name of my house, my family." The armed man keeps his tone civil and calm and in truth he does not feel offended. He's used to people getting it wrong. But it still feels wrong. "Welcome to our camp."

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Raynor and Yamada

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"Gearna Sheaux." the woman says, pronouncing the latter as 'show'.

She dips in a curtsy from her seat on the stool. "Lady, Ambassador, Guild Master, Merchant and a few other titles somewhere. You are in the presence of greatness, let it be known."

[The Antigamer]

Yamada and Vorpal

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Raynor nods at the gensai.
"Moi mistake, just heard te lady callin' yer dat. "
Tilting his head quizzically at the woman, Raynor asks her,
"An' ambassador from wha ter where?"
Privately he thinks the woman seems a bit on the haughty side, but he's not passing judgement on those who will share their meal with him.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Raynor and Yamada

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"To thief and thug, currently." she responds dryly and her lips twitch sardonically as she glances at her guardian. "Had a caravan of nearly forty men. None them survived. My guardian statue here kept the fatality from being total."

Yamada

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Knowing that while the lady legitimately possesses those titles, that she basically lives a wandering, almost vagabond existence in a home not much bigger than folk's kitchen, she is announcing them ironically. Most consider her eccentric at best.