He snorts. "Even if there were, no-one take Onyx Moon seriously any more. No worries about that." He moves to stand up from behind your cover before he halts himself, his face turning shocked. "Wait! We are not ready. I have no weapons, they'll suspect something is wrong and will not let us past."

He holds a hand out towards you, palm up. "Here, pass me one of yours for now."

(Heh, who knows? Anything's possible in Anaia if you can persevere, so perhaps you'll find out :P)

Shootingstar looks over his shoulder at you, dwarfed by the adult towering over him. Your words reassure him, though you can see he is now starting to realise that this may be the last time he sees most of the group again.

In a gesture very foreign to his kind, he raises a wing and gives your group an awkward little wave. He won't be forgetting his time with you all any time soon.

The full-grown pegasus extends a wing to the young one, leading him away from your group and deeper into the forested valley. It stops just long enough to turn to you all, and after a reluctant pause serenely nods in what you can interpret to be a sign of gratitude. A moment later and the two have disappeared into the snowy wilderness.

Shootingstar's Path has parted from your own... for now. Only time will tell if they will cross again.

Quest updated: Finding the Families, 1/4 creatures returned

You've guided a friend through difficult times - charisma proficiency now level 3

(Hmz, a curious development :P
See when I have to make up all of these inn names, egh xD)

The Adventurer's Crossroads is the point were vastly contrasing cultures collide. It's predictable to find such a peaceful place in the busiest trading town in Anaia.

"Yeah," he agrees with a shrug, looking up at you. "Might take a lot of work to keep a room for a long amount of time, but it gives us a foothold."

The first inn you both come across is called 'The Topsy-Turvy Turnip'. Skywhisper's face scrunches up in an unreadable expression when he sees the sign, but he doesn't say anything as he turns to you to see what you think.

The inn is quite small, probably only with two or three rooms on the upper floor. It has a little cafe on the bottom floor which spreads outside. Half a dozen customers are chatting quietly at their tables as a short centaur delivers a tray of food to some of them. She's probably the owner of the place.

Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=74910&page=191#1901 Author: Falconetti Time Posted: 2/2/2021 at 10:42 AM He snorts. "Even if there were, no-one take Onyx Moon seriously any more. No worries about that." He moves to stand up from behind your cover before he halts himself, his face turning shocked. "Wait! We are not ready. I have no weapons, they'll suspect something is wrong and will not let us past." He holds a hand out towards you, palm up. "Here, pass me one of yours for now."

Nicot ehand shim his staff. He much prefers his bow anuways. "Jsut pass it back when we're done with al of this. Dont have much on me otherwise." He figures its fine-umles the orc wants hair dye, Nicoted not the best guy to mug.

Its still pretty funny to him his little play messed up a whole clan's braincell though

He nods. "Fine by me," he says, flicking an ear as he makes a couple of awkward first steps. "Don't reckon I'll be so welcome back in Elvenor anyways."

Brazentalons looks deep in concentration for a bit as the three of you start off. "Well, flying we would have gotten there maybe in a day or so. Walking? Twice that, probably." He casts a worried look at the skies, clear and cool blue at the moment. "Chillsky weather is unpredictable... let's hope the snows don't come in when we're only halfway there."

You journey through the day, having to take a break a couple of times when your centaur companion can't hide his exhaustion anymore. By nightfall your group has left the forests behind; the featureless grasslands now surround you.

The centaur isn't looking too great, and Brazentalons looks exhausted too. After a long day's walk, you're not doing too much better yourself.

Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=74910&page=191#1902 Author: Falconetti Time Posted: 2/2/2021 at 11:13 AM (Heh, who knows? Anything's possible in Anaia if you can persevere, so perhaps you'll find out :P) Shootingstar looks over his shoulder at you, dwarfed by the adult towering over him. Your words reassure him, though you can see he is now starting to realise that this may be the last time he sees most of the group again. In a gesture very foreign to his kind, he raises a wing and gives your group an awkward little wave. He won't be forgetting his time with you all any time soon. The full-grown pegasus extends a wing to the young one, leading him away from your group and deeper into the forested valley. It stops just long enough to turn to you all, and after a reluctant pause serenely nods in what you can interpret to be a sign of gratitude. A moment later and the two have disappeared into the snowy wilderness. Shootingstar's Path has parted from your own... for now. Only time will tell if they will cross again. Quest updated: Finding the Families, 1/4 creatures returned You've guided a friend through difficult times - charisma proficiency now level 3

(Okay)


Asteria gently nudges the two hellhound puppies, "Come on we have a lot further to go tonight. Who know maybe we'll see Shootingstar again. For now though let's focus on getting the others home."
She bites her lip hard to keep from crying this was just as hard on her as it was on the familiars if not more so.

Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=74910&page=191#1905 Author: Falconetti Time Posted: 2/2/2021 at 12:02 PM He nods. "Fine by me," he says, flicking an ear as he makes a couple of awkward first steps. "Don't reckon I'll be so welcome back in Elvenor anyways." Brazentalons looks deep in concentration for a bit as the three of you start off. "Well, flying we would have gotten there maybe in a day or so. Walking? Twice that, probably." He casts a worried look at the skies, clear and cool blue at the moment. "Chillsky weather is unpredictable... let's hope the snows don't come in when we're only halfway there." You journey through the day, having to take a break a couple of times when your centaur companion can't hide his exhaustion anymore. By nightfall your group has left the forests behind; the featureless grasslands now surround you. The centaur isn't looking too great, and Brazentalons looks exhausted too. After a long day's walk, you're not doing too much better yourself.

"I'm so tired..," I say and drop my pack onto the grass. I slowly clear up an area for the campfire and a place for us to rest so we wouldn't have to sleep on a bed of snow. I then place and light up the firewood.
I take off the snow on the grass I removed, heat them up a bit, before sprinkling them onto the fire like they were grated mozerella cheese and I was a senile old man fascinated with fire for some reason. "Yay, fire's done. Now time for sleep," I say and abruptly fall onto the ground. But I fall abruptly in a strategic way so I don't break something as I fall. Then I sleep.

(Can you tell I made this while my brain still feels like it's just the morning?)

(At first the name for your orc pal was a joke, but to be honest I think I'll just keep it :P)

The orc accepts the staff, testing it with an unimpressed expression by holding each end and bending it. It's like a toothpick in the giant orc's hands, but he says nothing.

He makes a show of marching you over to the 'Pass, prodding you every couple of steps with the staff. As you near the group of guards, who stop infighting long enough to bristle at the appearance of the pair of you, your companion growls loudly: "Come, prisoner! I don't have all day!"

"Halt!" one of the larger orc guards barks. He hesitates for a second, before adding: "Uh... who goes there?"

There's a second of confused silence before your travelling companion speaks up. "Spork the orc, and my unruly prisoner. I require passage to Boulder to deposit him for the arena."

The lead guard grinds his teeth, irritated, as he peers down to examine you.

Nicote pers up at the guard from udne rhis mop of hair, puttin on a mask of hopefuly realistic grumpiness. "I aint unruly, *#&^$&." He grumbles, letting his eues dart around as if hebwas looking for a way out thoigh hes more looking to see what the setup of the guards looks like.