Open Chronicles Recovery

A roleplay open for anyone to join
"i have few secrets, you are right about that. I am a man who publishes my life. Little is untold." Adius replies to Jourah and then nods his thanks to the man, before turning to the woman, listening to her. He wondered what she would say. Seems like she was the type of woman to have more secrets than him. She also seemed like she'd be telling her least hidden secret to start. He assumed she had a dark past.


Perhaps she was a murderer or an assassin, maybe even a black widow. It'd certainly explain her perceived aura of wealth in such a rundown place unfit for unaccompanied women. Adius would fine out soon enough though, so he prepared to listen and put his own secret behind him.
 
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As Adius confirms her suspicions of a man without skeletons in his closet, Jourah leaned forward and plucked the two coins between both of her thumbs and index fingers, turning them slowly in observation. She utilized what would be perceived as curiosity in the coins to mull over lies in her head. And then to turn over what truths would be appropriate for the occasion, if any. Adius set the tone for the level of truth to be revealed; one that held weight on the heart.

Perhaps she could playfully only provide her name, for while it is no grand secret, it has been untold to them thus far. Or perhaps she could delve into an elaborate lie, improvised on the spot to bring about a new game for her to play.

Setting the two coins back in their place where Flint had left them, Jourah sat back in her seat. "I can speak to the dead," she said. "It's brief, and it's risky, but it can be quite rewarding."
 
A silence fell over the table as Jourah revealed her secret. Flint stared in disbelief, trying to read whether or not she was serious. He'd heard tales of necromancers and psionics capable of communing with the dead, but had always thought such tales to be fictitious, cautionary stories used to scare children into not talking to strangers. He leaned forward in his chair.

What reason had the woman to lie? They didn't know her, so he failed to see how such a revelation could come back to haunt her in later times, for want of a better phrase. She spoke calmly, mentioning the risks and reward involved with such an ability, and Flint was practically willing to believe her. "No way. You can't be serious". He looked to Adius, the well-travelled man. "Have you witnessed such abilities before, scholar?"

Jourah Vergess Adius Alvawyn
 
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Adius shrugs. "Yes, I have heard of such abilities before. I have seen them too. It is not as uncommon as you make think. Though in my experience it tends to be developed and not a natural born thing." He had heard of such things. In fact in his many years he'd heard of almost all things. Nothing would truly shock him.

He scratched his beard. "Now, you've admitted to cheating. That means you owe us a secret. Get talking, boy." He said in a not too crass tone. He was interested to hear what the barber would say. What possible secrets did he have? He once cut someone's hair too close?

Regardless Adius politely waited to hear him speak, sipping his ale. He glanced at his work briefly. Seems like he'd be writing another time.
 
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As Adius coolly stated her reveal as commonplace, she smirked and pointed towards him as if to silently say he hit the mark. Providing the details as to how would call for another leg of the game. As would the validity.

The old scholar was quite pointed. It was a trait she appreciated in people, and it seemed she was in good company all around in that regard. Her smile brightened as Adius called for Flint to reveal a secret based on the parameters set between them.

"Do bear in mind Mr. Alvawyn and I have graciously told quite the truths for this game," she added. "Your contribution will be weighed!"

Flint Adius Alvawyn
 
Flint chuckled, raising his hands defensively as the pair demanded his secret. He had plenty to tell, though much of the secrets known to the barber belonged to others. Clientele had told him horrendous tales of death, debauchery and the bizarre. He was a generally trustworthy individual, and those only passing through Elbion for a short time usually had no problem disclosing their secrets with him.

Then there was his family. His father, once the image of health who suddenly became terribly ill, dying within days. In his final moments he'd urged the family to leave Elbion, to live with his brother. Flint's uncle, who'd always been insistent that he learned to protect himself, as though someone, or something was after them. He'd never questioned any of it, but always wondered why his mother had been so unwilling to talk of his father ever since.

Though none of these secrets were his. They were more mysteries than anything. No, there was one tale that would stand up to the secrets shared by the others. "When I was a boy, my uncle would take me hunting in the woods, show me how to catch and kill food, to live off the land. I guess it was a way of disciplining me, I was an entitled little noblechild, who had a penchant for setting things on fire".

The barber sipped at his ale, his smile dying a little. "I hated it at the start. I hated killing animals, it seemed wrong. But my uncle insisted, and after a while it got easier. One day, though..." Flint cringed. This was not a tale he enjoyed telling.

"A stray shot. I was aiming for a deer but something startled me, don't ask what. My aim was way off, and I ended up hitting some other hunter, a young man. Thankfully I did not kill him, but the damage done to his spine was irreparable. He lost sense of his legs, lost the ability to walk."

Flint's expression hardened, and for a moment he felt regret for agreeing to a game of secrets. He'd thought he'd made peace with that memory, but taking something like that from a man... It was terrible. He hadn't been the same after that day, was more careful of people. In some ways it held him back, in others it made him a better person.

"So yeah", he said, trying for another smile. "Not as dark or significant as yours may have been, but that's one of my biggest secrets.

Adius Alvawyn Jourah Vergess
 
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"What happened to the hunter? Unless he had another tradecraft, losing his ability to walk instantly made him and his family beggars." Adius says, sipping his ale. That was an unfortunate tale, though Adius felt worse for the huntsman than he did Flint. It was an unfortunate tale, though not surprising a noble brat wounded someone due to their poor performance. Adius saw it many times as a child.

He glanced between the pair, gesturing the barman for a refill of his ale. The man came over with a jug and refilled his cup. He sipped it and leaned back, running his hand through his beard. "Well, what now kids? Seems you'll have something else in mind for us to do, no?"

He chuckles sitting down his cup and crossing his arms, looking between them expectantly
 
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Flint's secret generated an internal debate within Jourah between fates as described between secrets. Adius had accidentally killed a man, extinguishing a life from this world for eternity and leaving behind a family without any indication of such fate. Flint crippled a man for the rest of his existence. The man would be unable to walk; unable to provide for his family. While they did not know what caused such a fate, it was an event that would impact their lives for quite some time.

Which was the worse fate?

Adius may have turned the conversation back to the more jovial tone, but Jourah's mind lingered on Flint's secret for only a moment longer, wondering how that former hunter fared these days. But the thought only remained brief as a distraction from present company and the prospects therein. A smile pulled at her lips.

"Well! We may continue the game, as basic as it may be," she said, motioning over to the cups. "Though I would vote Flint is not always the cup turner. Or, if you have no other secrets to tell..." She smirks at Adius. "...then we can go onto other ventures."

She motions to the map splayed across the table with her gloved hands. "Such as adventures! Tell of your best and worst adventure. What places you feel are the best to go, the worst to go, and why! We all look to be the adventuring sort... Well, Flint less so, but really, are you actually a barber?"

The question was presented less in curiosity and more to challenge the notion, giving the impression she had difficulties believing he was just a simple barber.

Adius Alvawyn Flint
 
Flint paused once more, his eyes fixed on a point on the oaken table. He'd met the hunter a number of times following the incident. Each time had been difficult for the barber. The hunter was a kind and honest man. He was not one to hold a grudge, or if he had been, he was damn good at hiding it.
"You'd expect such a fate to make a beggar of the man," he agreed. "Thankfully, he had a loving family. His wife worked in Elbion, his brithers tending to small plots of land near his home. The hunter helped where he could, but his life would never be the same".

Flint looked to the group again. To wise old Adius, to the bright-eyed secretive woman seated beside him. He hadn't expected to have any form of company tonight, but he supposed he was glad to have people to talk to with all that was going on.

Once more the woman lifted their spirits, egging Adius on to reveal more of his secrets, to detail the many adventures he'd had. She teased Flint, calling into question whether he even was a barber. Flint laughed, shaking his head.
"I'll have you know, I've been on... a few adventures. And yes, I am a barber! You need something to fund adventures, no? Adius has his books you have.... ". He trailed off, deciding not to finish the sentence. Partly because he had no idea what it was the woman did, but also because judging by her suggestion of swiping something from Adius earlier, he doubted such a means of funding wasn't exactly legal.
Adius Alvawyn Jourah Vergess
 
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