GAME CHAT 1: PROLOGUE, Outpost Salvation

Near the end of the LAST WAR, the nation of CYRE was demolished in a cataclysmic event known as the Day of Mourning. The Day of Mourning was the event in which the nation of Cyre was destroyed in a magical holocaust of unknown origins on 20 Olarune, 994 YK. This event marked the beginning of the end of the Last War. Over a million Cyrans perished, including Cyre's Queen Dannel ir'Wynarn, along with military personnel from Breland, Thrane, and Karrnath within the nation's borders.

What remains of Cyre is now called the Mournland. In this Mournland the treasures of a dead nation wait to be claimed in this unpredictable and deadly landscape. Here in Breland on the border of the Mournland sits an outpost named Salvation populated by the desperate, foolhardy, all are seeking something. Survival in Salvation requires quick wits, a strong constitution, and a friend watching your back.

A new group has arrived... You stand on the lightning rail platform of outpost Salvation holding a brochure that reads:

"The Salvation Times Newspaper welcomes you to Outpost Salvation, a place of boundless opportunities. Join the many others here working to reclaim the heritage of Cyre from the Grey.

Outpost Salvation is a booming independent territory graciously granted by King Boranel of Breland. Outpost Salvation boasts an ever growing population of 400.

Accommodations can be obtained at the Salvation Hotel. Work can be found posted on the Salvage Board in The Grey Beyond. Sheriff Tenney keeps the peace."

A map of Outpost Salvation is on the back of the brochure. You take a moment for reflection: why did you come here? What is it you looking seek? Wealth? Power? Love? or perhaps something else in the Gray...

Fredo steps off the lightning rail, fingerless glove over his left hand, covering his mark.

Hell, it’s been a long time since I’ve been this close to Cyre, he recalls, thinking and monologuing internally to himself.

Maybe he can salvage some of his work there.

Ovak has been rather quite. She is well aware how people treat obvious Half-Orcs and a female to boot. Second class is usually the best she hopes for. She has had worse. She knows she has been eyed the whole way here is glad to get off soon.

Huge Ovak makes her own personal space and is obviously not a person to take lightly. It could also be that Half-Orcs are known for their rage and short tempers. Ovak looks does nothing to take away from that.

But she is here for a reason and that is to scavenge as that what she does mostly for a living. She has been in the Mournlands now for quite a while and is looking to do more work there. She is here for what the brochure promises. She thinks it has to be better than join in some rogue bunch just waiting to get caught. She would be lucky if they didn't killer her right off when it all falls apart.

Ovak is looking actually forward to this. Working perhaps with others instead of solo. She wonders how well the words of the King Boranel of Breland stand here. She eyes all that are abound and she notes many must be answering the brochure too. There is just too much armor and weapon among them although Mournlands does make one prepare oneself.

Her stride allows her to cover ground fast. That and she really doesn't have a lot of concern about others. The Salvage Board is her only interest. Coins are running short always and work here promise a lot. She can hunt for a place to hold up after she locates work. Although something to eat would be nice. She still has coins to rub together.

Gabrielle Blackwood slung her longbow over her shoulder and stepped down from the railcar, dust and grit crunching under her boots. She surveyed the outpost, trying to keep her expression neutral as some others shuffled around the platform behind her. From this vantage point, at least, Salvation seemed like yet another lawless grubby frontier town, with all that implied.

An enormous half-orc strode off quickly to the north, and Gabrielle gave her a wide berth as the orc lumbered past.

"Well," said Gabrielle, mostly to herself. "Time to see about accommodations, I suppose."

The crackle of lightning from the railcar punctuated her steps as she descended from the rail platform, and slowly was replaced by the soundscape of Salvation Outpost. Gabrielle walked slowly, reading the signs as she wandered, in search of a hotel or other lodging.

Kata spends some time clearing through the static of the last month or so. She volunteered for this. She's certain that she can make it. Mother has nothing to worry about, she will make her proud. Make her house proud.

She leans lightly on the metal figure accompanying her. The homemade defender was her light nod to mother's worries. "We've got this Vic. See, you were nervous for nothing."

The metal figure looked at her impassively, no expression crossing its face, not that the face itself had a lot of expressions to give. They extended their elbow gently. Kata took it, joining her sleek companion off the platform.

Mordaky backed off the train, his hands held up in defense as he sputtered, "No, no trick, jus' real lucky" he smiled, his sharp teeth bearing slightly. His tail flicked from side to side as he pocked the coin he'd just taken off some other passenger in a completely legitimate game of dice. He then gave a bow before he turned on his heels and faced Salvation from the train platform.

"Well...I ma'e it jus' like ya said" if there was someone he was speaking to, they were unseen around his person, but the look in his red and black eyes made it seem like it was more introspective than to someone externally. He seemed to take in the whole town, or as much as he could see, absorbing it, trying to get an idea of it, conceptualize it. "It's no Sharn...far from it." Four hundred people compared to thousands, upon thousands, small buildings compared to flying towers, this was about as far from Sharn as you could; and for the gambler in desperate need of a hideout, it was the last place anyone would ever look. "Guess I'd betta get to work, coin's not gonna ma'e itself"

A small goblin nimbly skitters around the legs of the other passengers and onto the platform. Her grey eyes dart around taking in the new surroundings. She’s not even certain why she’s here yet. She has travelled far, following the lure of opportunity. Maybe something will find her.

Moisie unconsciously runs her hand over the pouch on her hip, the sound of coin purses jingle in her ears. A smirk crosses her face, as she adjusts her axe and continues into the crowd.

Malbor gazed around at the new surroundings. He had traveled widely upon the ships of his house but had never come here. Most paid him no mind but those that caught his eye turned away quickly. Outwardly he seemed to be just another Khoravar member of House Lyrandar, if perhaps with a bit of drow blood recognizable from the tint of his skin and long black hair, but there was something in his eyes that was immediately recognizable as strange, perhaps crazed, and no one held his gaze for long. One might wonder why a member of House Lyrandar would not be arriving by airship, but no one asked.

He was not sure what he would do now that he was here, but it had seemed like the right destination. He hadn't been forced to leave his ship. Not exactly. But it was clear his shipmates preferred he not be on it anymore. Since the storm, they had grown increasingly ill-at-ease around him and his life on board had become ever more difficult. He did not blame them. Even he was not at ease with his own company anymore. Perhaps it was all the incessant whispering...
"Yes. I know my money is running low." he whispered to himself.
"Yes. I plan on doing something about it." he answered, to the question that no one had asked.
He endeavored to move away from the others on the platform. Too many people huddled together for too long..
"Too close.. too close." he muttered to himself.
He noticed everyone avoiding the large orc. He wished he looked like that. Perhaps people would give him a wider berth.
He moved to walk in her wake where there were fewer bodies and consequently thoughts intruding on his own.

Fredo sees the Storm-born, and he walks up to them.

He says, "So, why’d you choose the ground transport, then?"

He smiles and says, "I’m Fredo, by the way. I’m ‘gifted’, too."

He lifts his left sleeve, and the unmistakable colors of dragonmark crawls up his skin.

He says, "What’s your name? Maybe we should hang together. I’m sure we could help each other out, ya know?"

Malbor stops and turns gazing at Fredo. It is a bit unnerving. He puts his hand out to stop Fredo's approach.

"Not storm-born. Not marked. Malbor Loradin. Gifted. Gifted? Yes? No?"

It takes just a moment for Fredo to realize Malbor's mouth is not moving and the sounds are coming from within not without. It is very unsettling and more than a little intrusive.

"UhH! That's weird, friend! Here, maybe this will help."

He pulls out a vial with a yellowish liquid, unstops the top, sticks the tip of his right pinky into it, then into his mouth, and says, "This may help, but I'm not exactly sure what it does," he starts to laugh, and says, "but maybe it'll do the trick!"

Malbor gazes at the small man for a moment. Maybe he'll go away if he takes his gift. It appears to be safe. He hesitates, then snatches the vial quickly and downs the contents in one quick motion. Odd tasting with a distinct metallic taste. Not bad exactly, but not good either. He takes a self-assessment. He doesn't appear to feel any differently. He waits for the gnome to leave him alone.

The halfling smiles at the larger person drinking his concoction, and says, "Ah, doesn't that make you feel better?" Come on, let's head out there. I think you and I can be good friends. What do you say, Malbor? Let's find our destinies in Salvation."

He puts his arm out, indicating to the larger person to walk ahead of him, and he follows.

Ovak isn't the most observant person by looks but that is mistake. She has lived long enough to be rather observant and realizes Malbor is shadowing her. She was about to turn and address the matter when he appears to have fallen into a conversation with another from the railcar. So, she isn't concerned now and continues her stride with only moments break.

She goes where she believes they have the scavenging boards. If that isn't too apparent, then she will break down and ask someone who looks like they don't turn away from her sight. She has problems with this at times. Life of an ugly second class rare female Half-Orc. Her movements are getting a bit erratic from the crowds.

She is overly active and looking about. Truth is that she is getting spoked from too many people around her. She gets to thinking someone is going to attack her and it gets so bad she just bolts away from any crowd for safety. She has a rather suspicious nature about her. All she wants to do is get the boards and find a place away from so many people. She prefers to travel at night.

Marbol has no choice, the halfling entered the space he was trying to keep to himself, but at least there are still fewer people near, and maybe the halflings manner will drive off additional interlopers. He follows the Orc and hopes the halfling gives him a little space.

Fesilb steppes out of rail car just like many other people. Being a goblin meant not many people were actually paying much attention to him. "All the better" he thinks.
Carrying his backpack appearing too big from which a pick and shovel where somehow held in place he start to move along with the crowd and seeing a half-orc moving fast and who apears to know where she was going he decides to follow hoping to find a place to stay.

Mordaky watched as several people began to follow a half orc woman into the streets of Salvation, "Now dey look like dey know where the coin is, let's go and have a look see for our selves ya" he followed after the small goblin, staying several steps back as to not spook them into running.

Moisie watches the parade line up behind the half-orc. Her curiosity piqued, the goblin weaves her way throughout the crowd and sidles up to her.

"Hey Orc-lady, I know you’re prolly used to stares and all, but you’ve got some eyes on you.", she says. Her voice is very nasal and sharp with just a touch of raspiness to it.

"Don’t look! Just trust me, they’re there. I bet they’re following you ‘cause you look like you know where you’re going…", she tries to act casual, but Moisie is obviously just as curious as the rest.

"Where ARE you going, by the way?"

Ovak isn't too keen on talking to people and seems to be a wall but she isn't. She just listens well. Yes. She knows there is many following her, but she also knows they are form the railcar! If it wasn't for that she would have been even more spooked then she is. As she holds herself well together. She is actually less spoked as it like she isn't in a crowd of unknown people. It actually is giving her a buffer as she is sure they aren't a threat somehow.

She became less spoked when it became more than just 1 or 2. It was obvious to her that these people are acting like they don't know each other. They don't walk like a group mob, but like many separate people just keeping up with her! And it gives her a strange feeling and now this Goblin?!? She knows how people treat Goblins and especially a female. She has lived it.

Strangely she replies back in fluent GOBLIN as she moves, but she is moving a touch slower, "You are small. I go to promised scavenging boards. Those that follow me are strange and from railcar?." Perhaps she thinks your small legs can't keep up. It is even stranger that she knows Goblin and not broken like most. She also doesn't carry the heavy Orcish accent. She is strange that way.

It is very obvious now to Moisie that Ovak is alert to the others, but for some strange reason she hasn't let on to the fact. Could it be that they aren't the usual type of people you see. Is it the fact they are all carrying weapons and some armor. Not unlike her. Curiosity must be building as she realizes more of them are there. It isn't going to be long before they all realize to each other that they are all following her.

Moisie is startled by the Half-Orc’s Goblin response, but tries to play it off. She replies back in Goblin, "Of course I’m small! I’m a goblin! Never trust a tall goblin…", she says defiantly. Calming slightly with a huff, she continues, "We all came from the train. So many strange creatures. Making profit from nothing sounds like a good plan. Mind if I tag along?", she nudges Ovak’s knee with her elbow.
"Moisie LaBouche… that’s my name, I mean."