Following a conversation with @esraeh: TES OCs meet BG3.
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Hjolrin is a ranger. Trond is a fighter. Haaki might start off as a vengeance paladin... but probably changes class multiple times.
Out of the three of them, it would be Haaki who ends up with a tadpole - because of course it would - but I am toying with the idea of it being Amelie, who is largely unconcerned by this development and enjoys the chance for a big adventure with her family, even if she thinks their panic and insistence on guarding her is an overreaction at first. She could definitely explore on her own. She's ten years old! That's two whole numbers!
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Fria is a bard. Isn't she? Bards have eldritch blast, right? Yeah, that's normal.
She comes from a family of wizards, but was much less interested in her studies than she was goofing off to learn about puppetry and performance. Her parents gave up on trying to force her, or on paying her much attention at all, after her younger sister turned out to be a sorcerer.
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Frithjofr is a rogue who doesn't understand his class at all and usually rolls awfully... yet has an uncanny ability to roll nat20s when it really, really matters. He's convinced his pet chicken is a polymorphed dragon.
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Morinah is a wizard specialising in magical artefacts, which she collects and preserves. She and Gale DO NOT GET ALONG.
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The pirates are mostly rogues, of course, with a few wizards, fighters, and barbarians mixed in, plus Ethysil the cleric. Rumour has it there's also a bard among them. Anyone who accuses Vilayn of being this bard ends up mysteriously strangled to death by a spare violin string.
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((Iâm about six months late to the game, I know, but Iâve got the blues and canât sleep, so hereâs how the Boar-Chasers (and others) play Among Us.))
Trond tries to play the game seriously, but cannot resist screwing with people just a little bit, tends to commandeer the chat, and ignores his tasks in favour of tailing people. They usually turn out to be innocent. He hates playing an imposter, moreso because he's better at it than being a crewmate.
Hjolrin never says anything voluntarily. If forced, his answers are monosyllabic. This frequently gets him voted off early on, but he doesn't mind, he likes being able to do his tasks in peace.
Haaki is frequently the butt of Trond's suspicion, even when innocent, which annoys him so much he gets salty, goes on tilt, and throws the game. "Were you in electrical?" "WHO WANTS TO KNOW" "Everyone trying to work out who the imposter is." "MAYBE I WAS MAYBE I WASN'T NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS"
Frithjofr has no idea where anybody is, including himself, and when he's the imposter he doesn't appear to know how to kill people. When he finally manages it, he does it when someone is watching him on cams and then vents in front of whoever finds the body. On one occasion he accidentally self-reports, completely fails to make up a convincing story, and somehow gets away with it because nobody believes he would be cunning enough to self-report.
Fria tends to be somewhat vague about what she was doing, but has a very good memory for where everyone else was. She always sounds helpful and is the one trying to organise the discussion, even when she's the imposter. Especially when she's the imposter.
Hlenil will lie about everything just to confuse everyone regardless of whether he's a crewmate or imposter. Fear the times when he and Fria are the imposters: she will organise the discussion around his total lies, with the result that everyone ends up believing them.
Morinah is a good crewmate but a terrible imposter. She keeps careful tabs on people but hates lying, going very obviously quiet instead.
R'khan doesn't say a huge amount himself, but he watches people closely and notes their tics, when they go quiet, when they talk more, and so on. He might not be much of a threat in the first game, but as soon as he knows how someone's behaviour changes when they're lying, he is a formidable opponent, accusing with absolute authority and normally being proved correct. He lies calmly and convincingly as an imposter, too.
Vilayn is the master of barefaced lies. He considers someone witnessing him murdering a crewmate as an opportunity rather than a setback, and sounds so certain of himself when falsely accusing the witness that people usually go along with it and vote the witness off. On the flip side, he gets bored with being a crewmate and will dramatically accuse anyone and everyone, caring more about doing things for a laugh than playing properly. On the rare occasions when he does play properly, he gets so absorbed with his tasks and takes running the operation so seriously that he gets killed very quickly.
R'khan did not take much convincing, that was the first surprise. When Ethysil presented his idea to the captain, with Vilayn sat numb and mute beside him like a corpse propped up in the chair, he watched R'khan frown, the same way it did when the officer of the watch presented him with news he didn't like, then settle his brow into a familiar line of determined resignation.
'You sure this'll work?'
'No, relkhan. Not in the slightest.'
'Very well. Give me time to think on it.'
Three days later, the permanent crew of the Runaway Scamp crammed themselves into Casethar's cornerclub atop the hill. The last of the daylight clung to the walls long after the rest of Blacklight fell into darkness and shone on the river until it burned. The name Firewater for the club had been well chosen. Before anyone could settle in with a glass of its other namesake, however, R'khan stood up on the bar. Although the wood was still gleaming, untouched since the day of Hazil's wake, Casethar didn't bat an eye at the boots scuffing across it. He had an arm around Vilayn's shoulders and seemed oblivious to anything else, least of all the sailors sneaking towards the bottles on the shelf.
'Hold yourselves, lads, I want you clear-headed for this.' R'khan paused, eyes settling on a cheerful, patient smile in the front row. 'Mr Braskan, what is Mistress Morinah doing here? I made it pretty damn clear that this'd be crew only.'
After a long silence, presumably spent hoping his captain would forget asking the direct question, a nudge from Morinah's elbow finally prompted Braskan to answer. He threw in a lazy salute as well, clearly hoping this would win him some favour from R'khan's stony face.
'Well, R'khan... there's this rumour, see, that ya's gonna ask us ta sail inta Oblivion, an' I might a' mentioned it ta Morinah. Only as a rumour, like, but she said if we was then mebbe she'd be useful, seein' as she works with all that Daedric shit.'
Everybody else in the room leaned forwards slightly while Râkhan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Gossip spread through the crew faster than ataxia. It took the wind out of his sails somewhat, but then again, they had heard the rumour and turned up to the meeting anyway, which at least meant they hadn't dismissed the idea out of hand. He cleared his throat.
'I don't know how you does it, but you ain't far off. Most of you knows Farel Hazil, our own Mister Vilayn's husband, and his recent passing.' He paused, expecting Vilayn to flinch, or close his eyes, anything to show he was still alive, but no. Only stillness. 'And you also knows we can't go fishing every lost soul out of Oblivion, or wherever they ends up. But for reasons I ain't telling you 'cause it don't bloody concern you, this is different. Mister Ethysil believes that although the Oblivion Crisis sealed off paths from Oblivion to, ah--'
'Mundus,' supplied Ethysil, in an undertone. R'khan swept on as if he'd said the name himself.
'--there's still gates as go in the other direction, like the one Lord Seht used in 2920. There's reports of one underwater, out in the Sea of Ghosts, but with Ethys's magic and a bit of help from our... mutual friends, he believes we may be able to access it.'
He waited to see what effect his words would have. Perhaps he should have waited to make the announcement, let them get a good amount of the bar's contents down them before proposing such madness, but something had prevented him from doing so, in the knowledge that being tricked into an undertaking of this scale would kill their morale. Besides, he couldn't be alone. The years had been catching up to them recently, cold and relentless, and he knew no person could outrun them forever. Time and tide waited for no man.
So far the general attitude seemed cautiously positive. Most of the crew were talking amongst themselves, and there were heavy looks on all their faces, but only a few were glancing towards the door or outright scowling. One or two, most notably Braskan and Sham, were not excited, exactly, but already decided. They nodded unconsciously, settled, assured, eyes on their captain. Drasonval, sat beside them, seemed less certain, and as soon as the muttering died down he stuck a fist in the air.
âWhat about getting back again?â he asked. âLetâs say we find this gate, face whateverâs inside, and find what weâre looking for. How do we get home?â
R'khan stamped his foot on the counter until the whispers subsided.
âYou want the honest answer, Mister Drasonval? I donât know. Could be a one-way trip to hell.â
âYaâs always sayinâ ya wants ta get away from thâwife,â said Braskan. Somehow, faced with the prospect of his imminent doom, he still managed to maintain the lazy smirk. âHere ya go. Perfecâ chance.â
Before the exchange could develop into a scuffle or, even worse, a ruckus, Râkhan kicked the counter again.
âSome of you -- Mister Azareth, Mister Braskan -- you lived through the Oblivion Crisis, Iâm guessing âcause even the Daedra couldnât find a use for your worthless hides, so you knows what weâre up against. But youâve also sailed with me and Mr Vilayn a damned long time, and not once have you turned your backs on a challenge.â He lowered himself down so that he was sat on the bar. Although he spoke quietly, he had their attention now, even over the temptation of the bottles behind him. 'I don't think I need to tell you, my lads, that this ain't just about Mister Hazil. We've all felt it, and been feeling it for a while now. We been on the sea since the last era and that's a bloody long time. But if we're going to finish it, if it's got to end, I ain't retreating quietly into a comfy house where I can't feel the wind on me face. I'm going to die where I belongs, and that's on the deck of me brig, the sea beneath me feet, doing something outrageously bloody stupid just because people told me I couldn't. Now, I ainât making of you do this. Iâm telling you now itâs madness, so none of you is obliged to follow me, and there ainât no hard feelings for those as stay behind. But by the Three, those who do, weâre going to leave you a damned good story to tell and you'd better bloody tell it. So -- whoâs with me?â
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((...going with Morinah for ESO. I guess while hitching a lift with the Scamps, they crashed the ship so hard she got thrown back into the Second Era. GREAT JOB GUYS))
SCAMPS: :D
vvardenfellcat replied to your photoset:
[Whenever you get playinâ, lemme know, Iâll actually update n come meet you :D]
((Keep poking me! I am notoriously shy about this sort of thing, but once Iâm out of the tutorial and have got my bearings a bit, Iâll let you know.))
