Pandora’s Abyss: Chapter 1

[Dabir]

Name: Sir Impressio de Victoire
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Background/Description: As one of the most difficult of Lord Armand Victoire's knights to get on with, Sir Impressio was sent straight to the front line at the first opportunity. Sir Impressio considers himself the most important figure in any given situation, and is only occasionally right. He stands nearly seven feet tall, covered in muscles and quivering with barely-restrained machismo. His short black hair and oversized moustache neatly frame a pair of watery blue eyes and a large Roman nose. He could, perhaps, be called handsome, if anyone could find the time between calling him a reckless fool and an overbearing incompetent.
Profession: Knight
Rank: 0

HP: (6)
MP: (4)
STR: (8)
REF: (0)
INT: (0)
PSY: (6)

HP: 15/15
MP: 10/10
REF: 0
ATK: 16
DEF: 10
MA: 0
MD: 5

Weapons and armour:
Sword (4/d8)
Dagger (3/d4)
Plate Armour (5)
Shield (Gives ability Parry)

Equipment:
Lantern, flint and tinder

Skills:
Parry

Gold: 25
XP: 0

Sir Impressio looks at his new team, disappointment battling with the joy of being in charge for control of his face. Bossiness wins the day, and he puffs his chest out, eager to assert his authority.
"Right then!" he barks, moustache a-bristle. "Lady Guinevere, head out to resupply. See if anyone here knows anything about the monsters that might be useful. Don't feel you have to report every time one of these rural hicks calls them scary, that's to be expected from peasantry. You two, lead me to my highest-ranking subordinate, and I'll need a name" - he points at Waldemar - "from you."

[AlexMdle]

Any sort of respect he might have had for the noble sank down like a stone in a river.

"Name's Waldemar."Waldemar wondered if the disdain came through with the tone or his expression.

[Ex-Rumia]

Name: Guinevere Freer
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Background/Description: A travelling healer, born and raised as a nomad along with her seven other siblings, Guinevere stood out in the arts of healing and potion making. Travelling throughout Leccenia, offering her services to the sick and wounded, she found herself in a particular town when the attacks started getting more frequent.
Profession: Sorcerer
Rank: 0

CHP: 11/11
CMP: 9/9


HP: 11
MP: 9
REF: 4
ATK: 9
DEF: 4
MA: 15
MD: 7

Weapons and armour:
Wooden Staff (3/d6)
Dagger (3/d4)
Padded Leather Armour (1)

Spells:
None.

Equipment:
Lantern, flint and tinder
2x Small Potion of Healing (+5HP)
1x Small Potion of Replenishing (+5MP)
1x Small Potion of Dexterity (+2REF)

Gold: 16
XP: 0

"Y-Yes sir, I'll get right on it." Quickly making her way from the group with a smile, Guinevere makes her way to the town square, heading straight for the "shops".

[ShadowSpectre]

Guinevere takes the street on the right to head to the town square, in the direction of the various trading places there. As she does, she notices the eerie quiet that doesn't seem anything like an orc attack. She enters the town square and notes the presence dozens of weapons lying on the ground. One nearby is a pike. There are several blades and blunt weapons around. There are no bodies.

All the shop windows are boarded up (most of them) or smashed in (only a couple, both near you), and there is a distinctly oppressive atmosphere about the place. She notes she can still hear her companions' voices, despite being a street or two away, as quiet as it is otherwise. It's as if they're the only people left in the town.

The shops nearby with broken windows appear to be fairly old ones; one is a bakery, and another a tailor's shop. Both of these seem to have been ransacked, perhaps by disloyal townspeople taking advantage of the chaos.

Otherwise, there appears to be nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Except for a single, marble white statuette in the centre of the town square.

[Ex-Rumia]

Name: Guinevere Freer
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Background/Description: A travelling healer, born and raised as a nomad along with her seven other siblings, Guinevere stood out in the arts of healing and potion making. Travelling throughout Leccenia, offering her services to the sick and wounded, she found herself in a particular town when the attacks started getting more frequent.
Profession: Sorcerer
Rank: 0

CHP: 11/11
CMP: 9/9


HP: 11
MP: 9
REF: 4
ATK: 9
DEF: 4
MA: 15
MD: 7

Weapons and armour:
Wooden Staff (3/d6)
Dagger (3/d4)
Padded Leather Armour (1)

Spells:
None.

Equipment:
Lantern, flint and tinder
2x Small Potion of Healing (+5HP)
1x Small Potion of Replenishing (+5MP)
1x Small Potion of Dexterity (+2REF)

Gold: 16
XP: 0

Noting the silence, the utter lack of people, the weapons lying around, and the single statue in the middle of town, Guinevere gulps. Shaking a bit as she takes another quick look at the area, keeping the statue in her sight at all times due to a small gut feeling, she does her best to gather at least four of the left behind weapons, going for the blade and pike specifically. Having gathered those, she inspects the statue more closely.

[ShadowSpectre]

Guinevere retrieves a mace, two shortswords, a battleaxe, a cudgel and a pike. The pike seems very familiar. There are quite a few more weapons here, but a lot seem damaged or battle-worn already.

The statuette in the centre is about a foot tall. It is of a woman in a toga, pointing across the town square, roughly in the direction of where Sir Impressio, Waldemar and Hector are, beyond the buildings that block Guinevere's view of them. It doesn't look like it was made by anyone in the town.

[Ex-Rumia]

Name: Guinevere Freer
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Background/Description: A travelling healer, born and raised as a nomad along with her seven other siblings, Guinevere stood out in the arts of healing and potion making. Travelling throughout Leccenia, offering her services to the sick and wounded, she found herself in a particular town when the attacks started getting more frequent.
Profession: Sorcerer
Rank: 0

CHP: 11/11
CMP: 9/9


HP: 11
MP: 9
REF: 4
ATK: 9
DEF: 4
MA: 15
MD: 7

Weapons and armour:
Wooden Staff (3/d6)
Dagger (3/d4)
Padded Leather Armour (1)
2x Shortsword (3/d8)
Mace (4/d6)
Cudgel (3/d3)
Battleaxe (6/d8)
Pike (5/d10)

Spells:
None.

Equipment:
Lantern, flint and tinder
2x Small Potion of Healing (+5HP)
1x Small Potion of Replenishing (+5MP)
1x Small Potion of Dexterity (+2REF)

Gold: 16
XP: 2
XP to next level: 3

Guinevere looks to the direction the statue is pointing at after she finishes arranging the weapons with a fair bit of concern. "This... is an omen. Has to be..." Picking up the statue to place in her bag, she rushes back toward the others, hoping nothing has happened to them.

[Dabir]

Name: Sir Impressio de Victoire
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Background/Description: As one of the most difficult of Lord Armand Victoire's knights to get on with, Sir Impressio was sent straight to the front line at the first opportunity. Sir Impressio considers himself the most important figure in any given situation, and is only occasionally right. He stands nearly seven feet tall, covered in muscles and quivering with barely-restrained machismo. His short black hair and oversized moustache neatly frame a pair of watery blue eyes and a large Roman nose. He could, perhaps, be called handsome, if anyone could find the time between calling him a reckless fool and an overbearing incompetent.
Profession: Knight
Rank: 0

HP: (6)
MP: (4)
STR: (8)
REF: (0)
INT: (0)
PSY: (6)

HP: 15/15
MP: 10/10
REF: 0
ATK: 16
DEF: 10
MA: 0
MD: 5

Weapons and armour:
Sword (4/d8)
Dagger (3/d4)
Plate Armour (5)
Shield (Gives ability Parry)

Equipment:
Lantern, flint and tinder

Skills:
Parry

Gold: 25
XP: 0

Sir Impressio is getting annoyed.
"Well?" he snaps. "Is anyone going to follow my order? Who was in charge here before I arrived?"

[AlexMdle]

Name: Waldemar Nische
Gender: Male
Age: 76
Background/Description: Waldemar's life is best described as being boring, barely worth of description. His early life was a shelter, demanding parents have made sure to crush his youthful, imaginative mind under the weight of responsibilities, damnating his every error and conjuring up low self-esteem that would later prove crucial to the young wizard's career.
Having learned all he could have been offered, Waldemar joined the academy, where his craft would be put to test. Under the strain of constant labor, trying to prove himself to others, but most importantly, to himself, Waldemar managed to aquire a respectable position of a mentor in only 10 years, a position which he would hold for the next three decades.
Now decrepit and racked by his tired mind, he is to face, what is very probable to be his only journey.

Being a mage his whole life, hell, teaching magic as it is to the future generations, Waldemar was a versatile spellcaster with a wide array of various conjurations at his disposal. He proved to be especially frail due to his old age, but the wisdom that came with such, more than made up for it.

And yet his wisdom did not aid him when dealing with a legendary Sphinx he met by chance on his way to the town of Aereo. The sphinx threatened to attack him, and Waldemar was more than happy to slog it out with the beast. However, he chose instead to take its offer of answering its question. He did so, and was correct, and the Sphinx offered him a single wish in addition to his freedom. This is where Waldemar made a major error. He was getting old. He was tired. He was nearer the dark embrace of death than he cared to be, and he asked the Sphinx to make him "youthful again".

This was his mistake. Youthful again. The sphinx reverted him to a body of a 29 year old, and the mind he had before he joined the magical academy as a mentor and teacher in that far off land all those years ago. He had lost everything; his skill, his knowledge, his proficiency.

It has been one year since he made his crucial error. His personal age has begun to bleed through, and he is not as skilled at picking up the magical art as he once was, much to his chagrin.

Profession: Sorcerer
Rank: 0

HP: (4)
MP: (6)
STR: (2)
REF: (1)
INT: (7)
PSY: (4)

HP: 10
MP: 12
REF: 1
ATK: 10
DEF: 4
MA: 17
MD: 5

Weapons and armour:
Shortsword (3/d8)
Dagger (3/d4)

Equipment:
Lantern, flint and tinder
1x Small Potion of Healing (+5HP)
1x Small Potion of Replenishing (+5MP)
1x Small Potion of Strength (+3ATK, +3DEF)

Skills: None.

Gold: 18
XP: 0

"I recall the captain of the militia was giving out orders when the defense was being set up. Not sure where he is since, probably at the gates... if they still hold."

[SnipeHeart]

Stats:

Name: Hector Cook
Gender: Male
Age: 42
Background/Description: He started out as a serf for a higher lord, where he worked long hours harvesting crops for little, and sometimes no, compensation. It was this trait that taught him how to live off of what others gave him, both willingly and not. When the first invasion of the "mythical" beings came from the gap, he was forced to fight using what little armor and weapons he could spare, despite being horribly inept with physical combat where he became infected by what made the mythical beings mythical. Thought to be dead, he wandered around and hid from civilization of any sort, but quickly came out of hiding during present day.
Profession: Sorcerer
Rank: 0

HP: (6)
MP: (6)
STR: (1)
REF: (1)
INT: (5)
PSY: (5)

HP: 12
MP: 12
REF: 1
ATK: 8
DEF: 3
MA: 16
MD: 6

Weapons and armour:
Wooden Staff (3/d6)
Dagger (3/d4)
Padded Leather Armour (1)

Spells:
None.

Equipment:
Lantern, flint and tinder
1x Small Potion of Replenishing (+5MP)
1x Small Potion of Healing (+5HP)

Gold: 22
XP: 0

Hector shrugs, not having payed much attention to what went around him during the battle and not really caring about anything other than dealing with the Orcs at the time.