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About Eon Silvertongue

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  1. Eon nods in acquiescence, and with a deft twist of the wrist, the dagger seemingly disappears. "You're the boss. Lead on."
  2. "I find that a dagger through the heart is pretty immediately terminal. There'd be no "Oh, I have been stabbed, better slash my hand, daub this message, put my dagger away and quietly expire." There would be "Oh," and he would be dead. Particularly with the blade actually buried in his heart." Eon sighs. "Several issues with this. One; We both do not know this. Because people do. Not everyone is well versed in a blade to know the most efficient methods of killing themselves. Two; What you are talking about are what you would do were you trying to kill him. Not him committing suicide. Three; There is nothing hasty about his message. If it was, it would have been a fraction the length, the letters would have been different sizes and it would have faded in and out as he ran out of blood and continued on rather than going over everything clearly. Four; if it is as you say, he managed to turn around and barbecue his attacker without sustaining any other defensive wounds. Five: If that is so, I suppose he tore his own shirt to paint a bullseye on where he wished to be stabbed? AS I find it hard to believe that if there was enough of a scuffle to tear his shirt there are not other cuts or abrasions on his person, and what killed him was a single stab, not a slash, and further, a stab that was not pushed the whole way in.. Sooooo no. I sincerely doubt he was killed by this thing. Besides. Were he dying, why bother writing trapped in his message at all?" "In this regard, we are at least in agreement. Though I'd like to know why Shayuri thinks we shouldn't first." He leans back against the wall, one foot resting on it as he takes out the cloth and proceeds to at least clean the dagger of any blood.
  3. "Well shit." Eon mutters to himself. Placing a commiserating hand on Arturs shoulder, giving a light squeeze. As Delgath pipes up he responds "You'd be more useful by the door, actually. Stabbing anything that tries to lock us in. Again. But thank you." paying the irate warrior no more heed, he moves into the room. "For all that, though. It looks fairly straightforward. Toral was in here and was attacked. He killed him or it with fire, but the door had been sealed and he wasn't able to open it from the inside. He committed suicide rather than facing a slow death by starvation or suffocation." he pauses for a moment, eyes glancing over the message left behind and frowning. "Or possibly just in shame. About three days ago." he hunkers down, glancing in askance at the dagger still on his hip and the one lodged into his chest. "Though why the Dwarfs dagger is beyond me." He gestures to the pictographs displaying the Dwarf wielding a dagger and again at the Sarcophagus distinctly missing a dagger of any description. With a quiet "Pardon me" to the corpse, he reaches forward and, one hand splayed against the chest, withdraws the dagger with the other. Standing up and looking at the dagger, he grunts. "Well, it's a dagger, certainly. Of good quality. Dwarven, obviously. Beyond that, I've got nothing. Could be magic. Could not. You know anything about it, Arturs?"
  4. Eon looks askance at Dread, letting out a snort thick with scorn. A blade of ill quality indeed "I saw no mewling. And to claim as much speaks more to your own inadequacies than any potential fault of the rest. A paladin that turned away every undead within sight. I saw fire and lightning turned to our aid and I saw recognition of capabilities, where those that recognised an inability to outright kill struck in ways to deflect and delay. And then I saw a meathead railing about the injustice of it all. Your inability to recognise any contributions because they didn't result in an outright death immediately is ill becoming a warrior of your supposed tactical acumen. But then, why am I bothering. I'd be better served talking to one of the corpses. They might at least contribute something meaningful to the conversation. They're certainly more personable." He'd met Dreads sort time and time again. On both sides of the law. They kept going to a certain point, full of braggodocio. And then they're found face down in a canal with a dagger in their back and a belly full of poison, just to be sure. He inclines his head to the Paladin. "I'm a suspicious sort, at the best of times. Growing up as I did, I tend to assume the worst. It means I'm pleasantly surprised when they don't come about. Worst case scenario for me. Toral, in an attempt to contribute more to the village, summoned up something he shouldn't have and he's being used like a meat puppet. Option two: he somehow woke up this long dead wizard and the wraith is doing much the same. Both of these explain the potential fixation on Arturs as well as the use of the undead. But then, that's my knee jerk reaction, as I said. Option three: the wards were doing more than just keeping the shelter intact and protected, but were in fact acting as a prison of some sort. The danger seemingly past, Toral is not just maintaining the wards, but actively studying them and trying to make changes. Predictable results ensue and the end result is much like options one and two." there's a brief pause as he cocks his head in thought. "Actually, worst worst case is we're standing on top of a portal to one of the hellscapes and the entire world is about to be eaten by demons or the horrors are back. But I don't think that's happened. Far too little screaming so far. But anyway. The rest are more boring and or mundane. Those are the ones which fit what I know..... as well as making for a better story." The deadpan look he receives from some of the party has him chuckling. "Hey, I'm a Bard. Stories are my thing, and no matter how warped they may become, there's a grain of truth to pretty much all of them."
  5. Eon let out a small sigh, flicking some of the errant gore from the length of his blade, quietly running a cloth over the steel to remove any lingering traces of the rot. A moment in the field saves an hour off it. Or so his mentor had said, at any rate. Sliding the rapier back into it's scabbard with a whispering rasp, he turns to the Party. "Well. That went well, I think." there's a moment of stunned silence at his chipper declaration and he shrugs. "Yeesh. Tough crowd. But I think we learned a lot today. Really grew as people. Oh, and found out that our mysterious villain is some flavour of Necromancer or undead abomination and seems to have a fixation on our young friend here." he throws an arm around Arturs shoulder, all bright smiles with sharp edges. "So...... know any Necromancers you may have pissed off in the last ever? I'll admit, I have suspicions now. Or rather, some of my already established suspicions are looking more likely as time goes on. Cause that level of dedication isn't spawned on a whim. They really desperately wanted to kill you. So you either A) Pissed someone off royally or B ) Someone reckons out of all of us, you are the most dangerous to them, either by knowing something, or posessing something."
  6. Eon's gonna attack number 7 in the hopes of taking it out of the fight. Thrust: 1d20+5 25 Striking with superlative style! Follow Through: 2d8+3 16 Eon tisks in derision. "You know, Dread. I think I understand why you have to compensate so much. Maybe if you took some of the dick out of your personality, you'd have been able to satisfy some of those poor women." He casually steps to the side, the tip of his blade a flicker of glinting steel as it first tears the throat of one of the zombies and then pierces through the eyesocket and punches clean through the back of it's head. The zombie gives a briefly terminated groan as he withdraws the blade and it drops like a sack of potatos. "Besides. I thought your were supposed to be awesome? Am I supposed to be impressed yet? What stories I will be able to tell. Brave and mighty Dread. OF such skill that he was overcome by zombies and needed his party to bail him out. Tisk tisk." The derision in his voice was thick enough to be a physical thing. Could have been, if he had projected it a bit more. "Hurt is hurt, if it makes them easier to kill, stop bitching and fucking kill them."
  7. Eon is casting Vicious mockery on Zombie number 3, as it's the only one unturned and he's unlikely to be able to kill it in one hit. Vicious Mockery: 1d4 2 It needs to pass a wisdom save or suffer disadvantage on its next attack roll. Will fluff once I come up with something for it. For now, carry on. Turning to the Zombie doing his utmost to chew Artur's face off, Eon raises one eyebrow. "You know, Arturs, it's sort of alarming how they seem to be fixating on you a bit. Something we should know?" letting our a piercing whistle to catch the Zombies attention, he continues. "I see the gods really broke the mould when they were making you.... have you tried asking for your money back?"
  8. Attack of Opportunity: 1d20+5 8 -_-" This is why I hate DnD. D20's loathe me.
  9. Benefits to being a bard: General all round awesomeness. Good storytellers. Definitely literate. Do not need instructions translated into gorilla in order to understand them. Can post in the right place. Action: Casting Vicious Mockery at #1 Rolls: Vicious Mockery: 1d4 4 as well as suffering disadvantage on it's roll. Bonus Action: And Shayuri gets a Bardic inspiration dice. I will add the fluff tomorrow once I wake up. Fluff Eon felt a shudder of revulsion claw it's way up his spine as he landed in the corpses lap with a sound that he did not want to think to hard on the provenance of. He was no stranger to dead things, but sitting on top of them was not something he could claim any degree of comfort with. Feeling the corpse jolt underneath him, he closes his eyes in resignation "Of course, you wouldn't be as dead as you appeared. Of. Fucking. Course." Pushing off from the wall, he nimbly takes his feet, drawing his rapier at the same time. Looking down on his opponent he feels a sneer of disgust creeping across his face. "Ugh. I can't tell whether being left to rot for a week made you better or worse looking. Either way." he shudders dramatically, the corpse reeling under the force of his disdain. "Come on! They're only corpses. They've already died once. Just gotta make it stick this time! Come on Shayuri, talk about frying fish in the barrell!" the surprise at the sudden animations gives way under the force of his exhortation, his sheer belief in the parties capabilities bolstering resolve, and spurring them on.
  10. Initiative: 1d20+3 18 Well, better than what I rolled previously.
  11. Pffft. Not with my Acrobatics score I wont. (watch as I botch and have to go and create another character. xD) Reflex Save: 1d20+3 21 Acrobatics: 1d20+5 10 Well.... it wasn't a botch?
  12. Pulling up the half mask to cover the bottom half of his face and hopefully filter out some of the smell, Eon grimaces in disgust. "Well. I think we found some of the errant Villagers." He takes a step into the room, breathing shallow. Approaching one of the corpses, he hunkers down, the dagger a glint of steel in his hand as he uses the flat to raise the head. "Throats in one piece. No obvious wounds..... looks like they sealed themselves in. Might have suffocated if they couldn't get the door open again once they closed it. Which means that whatever we're looking for is likely elsewhere in the Shelter." He lets the head drop back down to the corpses chest. Standing up, he takes a look around the room. "How many people would you say have gone missing, Arturs? My guess is this lot is the group of villagers they sent in. No Women. No Children. Though given the room was sealed, what we're looking for is likely elsewhere..... although....." He focuses on the door once again. "You said only you three knew how to open the door, which would explain why they may have gotten sealed in in the first place, but that doesn't explain why the door was open to begin with. You said it's only opened for special events? I'm assuming the last one wasn't particularly recent." One of the corpses by the door catches his interest and he moves over to it, wincing in sympathy as the extent of it's injuries. "Ah. Mostly no obvious wounds." The corpse in front of him was just by the door and one of it's arms and legs was mangled beyond recognition. "Caught in the door maybe?" he winces in sympathy "Not a fun way to go."
  13. Eon stepped out the door, raking his fingers through his hair and putting on his hat, pulling it down to shade his eyes from the early morning sun. Blearily blinking against the light, he spies the rest of the group and approaches the table in silence helping himself to some food. Offering little more than a grunt in greeting. Unusual for the usually smiling and chatty Bard, it was something the rest of the party had had to get used to as they travelled. Eon was not a morning person. He'd perk up a bit once he had some food and drink in him, but wouldn't reach his usual effervescent self till mid-day. Quickly downing a glass of water, he sighed. Cool, sweet, Refreshing..... and not coffee. Gods he wished he had remembered to bring some along, but he'd been in a bit of a rush at the time. Nothing like it to put some pep in your step. When approached about the plan he grumbles something approaching assent before returning to his food, already looking much less like a corpse than he had been.
  14. Eon cocked his head to the side in surprise. Seeing the Paladins arrival with Wizard in tow. Still, he supposed. Saved him the effort of turfing them out of bed for their watch. The Paladin was probably used to it. Most religious types were, from his experience. Temples kept the strangest hours. Shrugging, he greets the two with a quiet "Morning" and a nod. As everyone else exchanged brief pleasantries, he drew his cloak tighter about himself to ward off any more of the nights chill. He was going to be glad to be back inside. His lifestyle was oft nocturnal as it was, but he still preferred being inside and in the.... not quite as cold, at least. "Been all quiet so far. Nothing of any particular note. Although, we did take a look around earlier. The scratches on the door seem to actually form sigils and carry at least a slight charge of magic. A curse of some description. We decided to leave 'em be for tonight and talk it over with everyone in the morning." he says, gesturing towards the front of the house, indicating the sigils. "just figured you'd like a heads up for your watch, so you can go ahead with everything in mind." He offers the two a small smile. "Now, if you don't have any questions, my bed is calling me." he nonetheless doesn't move, allowing them time to gather their thoughts and ask any questions they might have.
  15. Eon hummed in acceptance, but otherwise remained silent as they returned to the hall for the remainder of their watch.
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