Game: Flotsam

Looking around, there seem to be a number of different small tuffed plants that grow sparsely in the rocks around you, meshing with the stones that surround you, pushing through for survival. These differ from the connifers and olive trees in that their leaves have a long, hair-like quality, curling and uncurling slowly, as if breathing.

Above you, the sky is a uniform grey-maroon, similar to the pallor of every tinted item in your space. Off in the horizon (it's impossible to tell any sense of direction without a sun, moon, or any knowledge of the area...), you see a large sphere of reddish-brown floating lazily away from your location. It looks to be massive, and very distant at this point. Periodically, you witness small explosions upon it's surface that must be absolutely massive - were you standing close to them... a great contrast to the eerie calm of the area that surrounds you, only the lapping of the river provides an underscore to the sound of your voices and your own breathing.

The only item that looks out of place here (besides you three) is a an obelisk of shale, forcibly implanted in the harsh rock of the crags that sprout from the terrain not far from the banks of the brackish water that makes up the stream. It points up towards the departing sphere, with a path that cut a swathe through a few of the connifers, crashing through branches that now rest upon the barren rock. This all looks to have happened recently...

At this point, I'm going to give you guys a chance to RP while I allocate your items, armor and weapons. If you have any questions regarding these, please PM me. For a little while, this will be open-ended and up to you to determine how your characters interact. When you've met and RP'd a bit, feel free to explore the area at your leisure... Just be sure to ell me what you're checking out. Use either post of flavor text for subjects.

Poking at the Obelisk does little, as it is wedged fast, deep in the earth. A great feat of strength would be required to pick it up and dislodge it, or several hours with the proper tools (which you don't have...) to whittle away at the rocks that hold it fast. It looks like it struck the rock with a great force - enough to produce several hairline fractures that rise up from the lodged end.

Coming closer to the stone, you notice several smaller markings riddled through the stone, almost minute to the point you would pass right over them unless your stick had lodged in one of them like a notch.

What languages does your character read/write, Lemming?

As the Lizard begins his ascent, some of the crag crumbles off, causing a slower uphill climb for the Aasimar, but the climb is not unharrowing - minor cuts and bruise or two, and you stand at a precipice overlooking the trickle of brackish water as it extends outward, flowing up inexplicably what must be thousands and thousands of miles, meandering like a double helix, as strange, bloated humanoids leap and dive between the surface in a cylindrical fashion. Miles away, they move up the flow of the black river , carried forth to the next of the great spheres which continues to slowly make its way from where you stand, floating lazily away.

As you scan the surface of your own surroundings, you see a small path, of sorts. Harrowed and worn, it extends to your left and right, with the left leading deeper into the olive trees which become more orderly, right to further outcroppings of rock and a distant wisp of smoke whose source is obscured by the dense rock.

As the three amnesiacs turn down, away from the wooded path towards the many crags of stone which jut and spur from the ground, the going gets truly rough. After several feet of manuevering, the path itself turns at oblong angles, sometimes coming closer than 2 feet of a tight squeeze of sharp, protruding slices of shale. As the pass gets more and more claustrophobic, you see the billowing smoke ever closer, and the sounds of a haunting melody and harmony being played on twin pipes...

Dex checks, please, or take 20 to take your own sweet time to get through unscathed. Just know that if you attempt to run through this tight pass, there is a very good chance you'll be cut by the many jutting rocks.

The haunting melody reaches a crecendo of quick beats and twittering notes, and the two fae lower their paired reeds to a chorus of groaning from the many carved faces behind them. You hear a mass hoarse whispering from each of the diminuitive heads carved within the rock, and a solitary olive grows larger from a single branch of the tree - the long haired muse plucks it from the branch and begins slicing it with a dirk retrieved from his waistband, splitting it with his acompanist...

They both turn to the amnesiacs as the groans begin to die behind them, and the long haired fae places one hand on his hip, his staccatto high pitched voice a stark contrast to the haunting breezy tune just completed. The fae's words are questioning, this position one of more amusement than fear...

Anyone speak Sylvan?

"Mmm... Yes. It has been long since we've spoke the common tongue of the planes..." the long-haired fae replies in a high-pitched, staccatto version of Planar Trade. His twin flits over and sits upon the same branch, smiling widely, and you now see several rows of needle-like teeth protruding at mismatched angles... They both stare at you with hungry eyes as they pack up their reeds without looking at them, as if this practiced ritual was as natural as breathing...

"You look lost, friends - of course, all cutters floating through the great prison are lost - to one thing, or another..." he muses. "We are known to many on this land as the Brothers Siim. I am Fleshtick, and this is my brother, Gnawnit, at your service." with that, they both bow low and deep.

"A favor for your pleasures, mesires..." Gnawnit smirks. "A trade, methinks..."