[d&d] Masin Campaign [full]

"Hera Ithos. 27 something years old."

A tall, amazonian built woman. Light brown/tan skin with bits of dust and dirt on it. Long, brown hair flows from her head. Very minimal amount of clothes and armor, most of it being strabbed together with rope and what not, but it does a fair job on protecting the body while still being nimble and agile.

 

I deactivate my armor, which somehow impossibly collapses and retracts into my mechanical limbs.

"Ordon Mignar, of the Crimson Torch."

 

“Nux.”
I say simply, no motion or flourish associated, except for the fact that I’ve stepped within running-and-punching distance of Red Cloak.

 

Piplue:"Piplue benaderi first captain of the army of the artificers"

 

"Charl... Lafrey."
I pull my cloak closer around me, uncomfortable with the situation. Take a step(or a few) back, to be at the edge of the group, furthest from the red cloaked.

 

"I'm Leafy."
Aaron barks and runs up and sits besides me.

 

In the middle of everyone's introductions, the red cloaked man continues his stare off into the waters.

"Is the outside world so ignorant to the conflicts within Masin? Why would you willingly come here?"

 

I look down.
"It's, er... Complicated... Although it's probably better than what I came from..."

 

“Money.”
I say simply.

 

"Duty."

"... and attachment to my homeland, I suppose, though it has changed much without me."

 

"Has your mind ever crossed the thought that wherever you came from needed you? That you abandoned it, a selfish decision to save yourself and run away from your troubles?"

"Have you ever considered that wealth draws from more important things, creating more voids than filling them? That greed won't save you from anything but real fulfillment, rather than temporary happiness?"

"And you. Ever wondered if doing nothing is often better than doing something? Could you fathom what could have been prevented had you not joined your flaming mess of an order?"

 

"Tradition, and commitment"

 

"Well, it's good to know how much of a negative being you are. What's your gambit, kid? It's been a long night, and I've still got a meeting to get to."

 

"Nihilism doesn't make you sound as wise as you seem to think it does."

 

"Negatives and positives. No in-between for you?"

“And the least I care about is your opinion, Torch. You thought about what I said, and that’s what’s important.”

The red cloak begins walking towards the plaza.

"Follow me. I'll describe my 'gambit' before sending you on your way."


(Assuming everyone follows. He continues walking and talking at a collected pace.)

“That thing that attacked you wasn’t the waiter, if you still believe that. It was the pen, or rather, what’s inside of it.”

He shuffles his arms around in the cloak.

“You see, there are souls trapped in various items around Masin. As unexpected as a boot you might find floating along the shore here, it could house a violent, hideous soul. You saw. Any being that touches this item is possessed by the soul within and is forced to house it. When killed, the soul that was possessed is dragged into the item too. And the cycle continues, the souls building up, coming back stronger when another unfortunate being touches the item once again.”

Now you’ve all arrived at the edge of the shores of Hope’s Dawn, where the grass meets the short cliffs dipping into the sands.

“These souls are under partial control of an immensely powerful entity, chained by a god that only wants Oblivion.”

“Is that a lot to take in?”
He turns, the mask-thing swirling colors of grass and sands.

 

I seem to get slightly more excited at the mention of powerful souls.
“Where do you tie into all of this, what with your gun and your mask?”

 

"No." I answer bluntly.

"As he says, I can't help but speculate that that thing you call a face seems to fit the bill of what you describe rather closely."

 

“I don’t trust any of you enough yet to disclose that information.”
He shifts his arms around in the cloak again.
“Perhaps completing a couple tasks for me will grant you this trust.”

“Of course! And I’m obviously telling you this so you can know that all of us are out to destroy you.”
An echo of laughs rings around him.

 

"Family. I don't really have a choice as to where I'm born."

 

"Earned trust is a two-way street."