The hollowmoons tribe, roleplay in the sharpteeth forest.

[DM Foresight]

// I have created this new page for those involved in and or around the hollowmoon lizardfolk tribe. This rp forum is intended for those whom have visited their village in game at some point, or been involved in a event involving the tribe of lizardfolk. As such this topic can be used to relay information to and from the Hollowmoon village, ask questions, or even rp with one another while visiting their home. I will be using the key characters of the tribe such as shaman Sazilus, chieftain Ssixus, spear commander Visakus, matron Sessa, and others to respond to any rp directed at the tribe itself. Do not be afriad to ask questions, if you want to know more about the lizardfolk involved simply ask them. I have a few rules I will list here, other then that, enjoy.
Rules -

1. This is IC only, any ooc questions required should be directed to me, dm foresight through a pm.
2. This rp is not considered to be private as there are no limitations on whom may read it, as well as no limitations on whom may walk into the village during your conversation there. So if you have things to ask or reveal you don't wish others to know, please keep that information for a in game event or pm me personally.
3. I will not stand for ooc arguments, on this page, or taken from this page to private. If you have a personal problem with a characters player, well bluntly.. get over it and dive into your characters rp. If you choose to ignore this rule and start a forum war with someone in a ooc manor, I will bar you from my events plain and simple.


As you enter the hollowmoons village the day to day life of the lizardfolk tribe goes on much like any other day. Younglings roam the land untamed and free spirited with nothing more that a loud EEE!! escaping their lungs before scurrying off to cause minor mischievous problems. Hollowmoons warriors patrol the village while others stand a stern guard, mostly around the entrance to the hatchery grounds. They are polite in their demeanor towards you, however most of them speak poor common, and a few, none at all. Shaman Sazilus sits in idle meditation atop the ridge near the moonshae well, while spear commander Visakus is running drills with the lizardfolk soldiers. A kind of peaceful awe is felt here while just staring over the settlement. A feeling everyone whom has visited here has gotten at one time or another. Looking down, chieftain Ssixus can be seen, his head is tilted reading a book titled the ecology of humans.

You sit atop the hill breathing in the atmosphere what do you do next?

[DM Foresight]

*Sazilus listens to Arorn and after he has expressed his upbringings with the earthmother he interjects a thought of his own.*

The earthmother hasss much to offer my tribessmen, your upbringing bringsss me much joy in the freedom it granted to you. Sssomtimess I wonder what it would be like to know oness birth parentss, ssomething the new younglingsss will alwayss know with our adoption of the human way of parenting. Ssixus will be both father and chieftain to many of the new hatchlingss. A knowing I have come to envy mysself if you understand. I have never been one ssoo enthralled in learning the human wayss, and I believe Ssixus doess such now to honor Hisazux in his passing, but of late I find my spiritual nature wanting to explore it more asss our people continue to exchange our cultural wayss. I wisssh to keep caution in doing ssoo asss to not lose Ssssight of my rootss... It iss asss your human ssaying goes "curiosssity has killed my cat" I wissh not thiss ssaying to befall me for I love all the feline creaturess. *he nods and hisses lightly*

[Leramak]

It is rumored that the Leader of the Order of the Blackrose, Amos Thistle has been accepted by the earthmother after undergoing the ritual. The most surprising
of it was that it seemingly looked like the earthmother spoke to the giant of a man directly.
What followed after all the rituals was a discussion on protecting the North and an accord to work together to deal with the Demona and undead threat was reached a group of visitors walked the villiage seeign and veiwing the preperations already underway.

[predrag]

*Sane Fensen has been observed to go through the Sharp teeth forest for a tenday , tending to the animals filled with fear he encounters , trying to comfort them without interrupting their regular behavior*

[sweetlikesplenda]

/// from the journal of Aaron Lyonaler. His thoughts and what he observed. Posting as it relates to the Hallowmoon tribe///

The Hallow-Moon

It had been good to meet with Chief Six, Shaman Sazilus, Matron Sessa, and all of the tribe again. The recent visit for Blake's attempt at redemption and a new path was not so long ago. While there, Chief Six spoke of an evil that threatened all nature. Something that had nearly destroyed the Moonshaes. Now, this thing could threaten this region. While visiting the village today, I noted a large number of animals being herded into the village. When I asked if it had to do with the threat he told me about, Six confirmed that it was. I need to seek out more on this thing that seems to make nature itself tremble. I know Ragefast to be quite the scholar, and with a library that is said to rival Candlekeep, and he is known to have an extensive knowledge of the history of the Coast. He may know of this creature or entity the tribe fears.

While in the village a dozen or so others also showed up. The ritual held in the Moonshae Well was conducted, in an effort to see if those coming in were friends or not. I am unsure why some who showed up even wished to perform this ritual? Perhaps they seek to gain from the tribe in some way? I understand the tribe's desire for balance, both good an evil find their way in to that balance. But, so many of the evil side that have taken the ritual would only seek to take or gain from the tribe. Rather then see them protected and guarded, they use the tribesmen to guard themselves. I wish that Shaman Sazilus and the Chief would see this.

While there, an interesting occurrence happened. During the ritual a man was rejected outright. In the past I had seen situations where special oaths were asked of the person partaking in the ritual. Others having what essentially amounts to a geas placed on them to ensure they stayed friends with the tribe. But, this man was utterly rejected and commanded to leave the village. Having seen some people be.. well, accepted, but under conditions, and knowing how terrible those people are, this man who was rejected must be of the most utter terrible of sorts. I will have to keep an eye on him. He was rather smug as he left the village, even. Though, I have a feeling he knew he would not pass the ritual from the beginning.

The tribe has grown. It seems Chief Ssixus has fathered well over a hundred new members of the tribe. And the Matron seems to have him often busy with more. It is good to see them grow, especially after seeing the tribe nearly wiped out by the Ogre threat. The merging of the Hallow Rock and Moonshae tribes was a good move for the tribe. Both having suffered terrible losses, their combined might has allowed the village to bounce back. A great many young play about the village. And they have turned their aged members in to fierce warriors, learning new skills in combat. I just hope that their willingness to aid against the Demons and Undead does not bring their numbers to a critical point, again.

I am finding it difficult to keep my mind from drifting to those who have come to the village, and have even been accepted. Many are utterly terrible and of the blackest of hearts. The sort who would use the tribe, though try to skirt the edge of seeming that way. I have, a couple of times, tried to mention this to Chief Ssixus, though he brings up the balance. I fear that I may be seen as the unbalanced one, for trying to keep these horrible people away from the tribe. I feel there is little I can do, but let things play out. Even though so many just want something from the tribe. Let things play out and, without pointing it out, just help the tribe when these others show their true faces to the tribe.

[Jepop]

Harjo walked out of the water not surprised that he had been exiled by the Lizardfolk. A satisfied smile on his face as he passed by the gaggle of onlookers on his way out of the village. His gaze would focus on the Lizardfolk younglings and villagers and for the briefest of moments his mask of humanity would slip and his face would convey his sinister intent and dark desires before the smile would return and he sauntered away from the village.

[DM Foresight]

*Sane Fensen has been observed to go through the Sharp teeth forest for a tenday , tending to the animals filled with fear he encounters , trying to comfort them without interrupting their regular behavior*

Fear can been seen as you pass through a small creek near the crossing to the elven city of Amar. A fully grown panther lays shivering by the waterside, her fur soaked, and her body appearing very malnourished as if she has not eaten in weeks, as you approach she looks to you and begins to meow rapidly as if in distress.
Despite your efforts to feed it, the feline simply won't eat, stuck in a loop of terror. Your attempts to heal it do remove its many small wounds, but the effects of starvation remain. You struggle with a way to remove her fear but find in the end you cannot save this one, the once beautiful feline is to far gone. Laying its head in your lap you stroke its fur, and like a child being reassured there is no monster in the closet the panther calms, and in as much peace as you could give it, the animal passes away.

In the wake of the panthers death a whisk of shadowy smoke leaks from its ears, eyes, and nose, a whispering can be heard as the smoke dissipates on the wind.

The fear..... it tastes.... sooooo.... good.....

[predrag]

*Sane would let out a sigh , seeing one lost but many left still around , he shrugs of the disappointment and pain and focuses on ones he can still help*

"Enjoy your bread crumbs while you can dark bird , he would murmur as the black smoke dissipated"

[CooCooCachoo]

Brianna finds herself among the lizardfolk commonly these days. She is likely shadowed by an unlikely protector in the form of a retired privateer. She seeks audience with the elder shaman most of all, but can routinely be seen just seeking peace and life away from her fellow humans. She seems troubled and distracted. She continually looks to the North and bites and her bottom lip. Oddly enough, the normally stoic shaman distracts herself with playing with the younglings. She is frequently into some sort of mischief with them; climbing trees and picking wild berries. A tracker and ranger by trade, she might also be found helping with lessons that include hunting and survival. She doesn't teach tracking for whatever reason. She looks to the ground at times for signs of prey, but for the most part seems to just sense where they are. Even the flight of her arrows seems guided buy some deeper spiritual sense, oft losing into the sky without looking and finding their target with unerring precision.

She does seek the counsel of the elder shaman, and in that counsel would detail her encounter with Kazgoroth. She utters to him her fears and the lingering tug on her spirit. Her uncommon blood red eyes had convinced many that she was evil, but the Earthmother herself had spoke on the goodness of her heart. It showed now as she confessed of a dark fate that has followed her, and lamented with softness and warmth, "I do not wish to be what is foretold, but I cannot deny the draw. When one spends a life time haunted they begin to see relief in surrender."

In her eyes and every cast of magic seen there is a dance. Motes of light swirl in tendrils of shadow, as if the forces of good and evil were actively fighting to claim her actions. She had maintained near perfect neutrality, helping members of the Radiant Heart, the Temple of Mystra, House Blackrose, and the Ebon Blades with no preference and absolute refusal to speak on any other house to the houses she served. Fate does not belong to the righteous, after all. There is good and evil in the balance. Good and evil like to know whose team you play for however, and tugging from opposite directions creates a point of tension centered on the one being pulled. At the same time there is tension there is also is beauty; the motes of light swim in the shadows reminiscent of the stars in their path through the void of the heavens.

[DM Foresight]

Brianna finds herself among the lizardfolk commonly these days. She is likely shadowed by an unlikely protector in the form of a retired privateer. She seeks audience with the elder shaman most of all, but can routinely be seen just seeking peace and life away from her fellow humans. She seems troubled and distracted. She continually looks to the North and bites and her bottom lip. Oddly enough, the normally stoic shaman distracts herself with playing with the younglings. She is frequently into some sort of mischief with them; climbing trees and picking wild berries. A tracker and ranger by trade, she might also be found helping with lessons that include hunting and survival. She doesn't teach tracking for whatever reason. She looks to the ground at times for signs of prey, but for the most part seems to just sense where they are. Even the flight of her arrows seems guided buy some deeper spiritual sense, oft losing into the sky without looking and finding their target with unerring precision.

She does seek the counsel of the elder shaman, and in that counsel would detail her encounter with Kazgoroth. She utters to him her fears and the lingering tug on her spirit. Her uncommon blood red eyes had convinced many that she was evil, but the Earthmother herself had spoke on the goodness of her heart. It showed now as she confessed of a dark fate that has followed her, and lamented with softness and warmth, "I do not wish to be what is foretold, but I cannot deny the draw. When one spends a life time haunted they begin to see relief in surrender."

In her eyes and every cast of magic seen there is a dance. Motes of light swirl in tendrils of shadow, as if the forces of good and evil were actively fighting to claim her actions. She had maintained near perfect neutrality, helping members of the Radiant Heart, the Temple of Mystra, House Blackrose, and the Ebon Blades with no preference and absolute refusal to speak on any other house to the houses she served. Fate does not belong to the righteous, after all. There is good and evil in the balance. Good and evil like to know whose team you play for however, and tugging from opposite directions creates a point of tension centered on the one being pulled. At the same time there is beauty; the motes of light swim in the shadows reminiscent of the stars in their path through the void of the heavens.

If asked why she seems to linger in their number she keeps her eyes downcast, never once making eye contact unless directed to. She explains, "I see all spirits, including the ones we carry. Emotions are powerful and the ones we feed become the spirits that direct our life. You hear them. . . Whispering. Humanity seems to choose to feed their darkest spirits, the more righteous seem to have the darkest most deeply seeded ones. In every sea of human faces I see six for every one living face and I am alone. . . And drowning in it."

You notice the younglings do not get much attention from the Hollowmoon tribesmen, often they are treated as a nuisance by the named lizardfolk. They are in a state of constant mischief always getting into something and often are hissed at by the adults in a less than friendly manor. As you enter into play with the younglings you begin to realize a part of their hierarchy and culture that the tribe lives by. It becomes quickly aware to you that though the younglings are protected by the tribe, they are not apart of it in a sense. A word that comes to mind is outsider to describe the adults attitude towards them. Though they roam the village with free will and protection, they receive nearly nothing else from most anyone else but Shaman Sazilus past their first year. They are only ever addressed as youngling, and through conversation you learn they are only ever called differently after their naming day, a ritual in which each year the younglings are given a single day to prove their worth. On this day they are treated as true tribesmen, should they succeed in being a functional member of the tribe, they are granted a name by the matron, or in some younglings cases their given mother come nightfall, and are shunned as a nuisance no longer. Should they fail, there day as a tribesmen is over and with the ending of the naming process they return to the status of a nameless youngling for another year. With continued conversation you learn of many different lizardfolks naming day, and how many years it took them to achieve the status of tribesmen. Along with that you also learn the oldest known youngling was also one of the rarest hatchlings of all. He was named during his 6th repeated year as a youngling when gnoll invaders ambushed the village in the dead of night. He found himself huddled with a group of younglings cut off from the remainder of the warriors, with only a weak, injured high shaman to protect them. The gnolls surrounded them, and in the moment before their strike the ground began to shake, giving both sides pause. The wind began to hurl and howl through the forest trees as if a great storm was upon them. In the confusion of events the high shaman turned to warn the younglings to flee, but his eyes met no fear from the children of the folk as they all stood behind their oldest nameless brethren. His eyes alite blue and filled with tears of pure anger, he closed them, allowing the tears to slip from his lids and fall to the ground....

In that moment the lizardfolk all around you go silient, in fact you realize everything goes silent, the birds and squirrels around, even the breeze cease as if they are listening to what comes next. With that the sound of a familiar voice come from behind you as Sazilus begins to speak.

I was sssso angry that day, sssomthing inside of me had awoken. The painss of my failuressss, sssurged my mind, the thought that I would die a oldfolk, all the while having lived only as a youngling ssseemed ssso real to me... As did the thought I would live and be elevated to the statusss of ssshaman only because our current one was about to die... Leaving me forever unable to achieve my name through acceptance of the tribe. It weighed so heavy on me in that moment... then a soft voice ssspoke to me from within... And when I closed my eyes to lissten I just.... Let it all go... Free of doubt I reopened my eyes, and tore asunder that which had invaded my home. I skewered gnoll after gnoll with the root ssssystem of the great foressssst, dragging them deep into the earth to be consssumed. Twisted growthsss around the necksss of gnollish warriors until the life drained from their eyes. I was wraithful, and incapable of control.. And in the end I ssstood powerful having saved my tribesmen from further death, Yet alone and full of regret... for the rootsss I had ussssed were to damaged to drink for the tree'sss that owned them... I was named in a short time after, not by a matron, nor a mother of my own. With the permission of young chieftain Hisazux I named myself so I would never forget the tree's that grow no longer because of me. Sazilus or in the common tongue, rootless.

[artemitavik]

For the first time, Derik Ranloss makes an appearance at the Lizardfolk camp and village to see what can be seen. As he often is, he is dressed in full battle and adventuring gear, but his stance is soft and his voice is friendly, even if his eyes are a bit... haunted as they have been since the autumn of last year.

He does not speak to the Lizarfolk though in Common, conversing to the guards as he approaches in fluent and smooth Draconic. <Greetings my friends and brothers!> And a flourish of a bow.

With him he would carry a bag, which would contain several packages of spiced and sweetened preserved meats, which he would then kneel down and offer to the younglings one by one in turn after they performed some sort of feat for him, be it a simple tumble across the ground, a feat of strength, or even a good "ferocious" roar. Eventually, every child would get such a treat, no matter how small their performance. Even the shy ones would eventually be sought out and get a treat. At least until he ran out.

After that, he would have quick meetings if he could with Ssixus and Visakus. <The Bladestone Foundation is not terribly far from here upon the road called the Way of the Lion. I am sure you know of it. We will soon be establishing, if we are successful, a fully functional trade station for those coming and going, both merchant and local farmers. It honors me to extend to your tribe the offer of also coming and trading and selling wares at this trade station when it is up and going, as well as then also obtaining any personal combat training or food at the Inn there, both adults and your younglings. Your people are strong and honorable, and it would I think be benefit both to area as well as your tribe.>

OOC:

the stuff in <> is spoken in Draconic, fyi.

[abousalif]

About every other days, Blake Hightower go visit the Hollowmoon tribe. He train with them, talk with chieftain Six and seeks wisdom with the Shaman Sazilus. He watches the children plays a smile on his lips and take walks around the village. After his training he usually bathe in the moonhae well.

[Roofshadow]

Lyra spent much of her time in the trees these days, scurrying up to a comfortable perch to watch, and listen, and wait. There was a tension in her wiry form that never quite disappeared, even when she offered her greetings to fellow tribesmen or strangers, helped with training, or observed Arorn's own work with the spearmen. She could find no peace at the Moon-well, no peace in the verdant calm of the wood. Her sharp green gaze was ever fixed on the visitors to the village.

It was no secret that the half-elf brimmed with mistrust on the best of days.

Certainly the Coast was no Luskan, even she could see that, but human nature didn't change from region to region, only laws did. The former gutter-rat was unshakably certain of these truths of life. Visakus may have demonstrated an iron-clad spine in asserting the Hollowmoon's independence and equal standing, but even with the massive spear-commander looming around, Lyra could not shake her misgivings. Still, she did not give voice to them; she simply kept a restless watch, and quietly asked Lady Luck that her pessimism, in this matter, at least, be proven wrong.

But hope was a fickle, transient thing, and fingers curled near blades offered the greatest comfort to a wary soul.

[Asterisk]

Brianna finds herself among the lizardfolk commonly these days. She is likely shadowed by an unlikely protector in the form of a retired privateer.

Hector would make his way into the village alongside the shaman and seer, keeping a quiet company in the next few days. When unattended, he would sneak a drink from a flask within his jacket as he watched the daily "routine" of the tribe, those playing and interacting with the young and those sparring and training with the tribe's warriors. Often enough, he would be seen walking around and taking in the village and way of life unusual to him. He is not social until interacted with, but is more than fine with small-talk or banter when approached. He wasn't a spiritual sort nor good with any young, lizardfolk included. When the shaman he accompanied was busy, he found himself without much to do, nor keep himself occupied. If he was going to stop by more often these days, maybe he could fix that.

After a few more visits under his belt, he would fix his one good eye on spear commander Visakus. When the lizardfolk warrior was not pre-occupied or busy, Hector would make his approach to introduce himself personally.

"Hector. I uh, noticed ye lot have quite a bit of land here. Lot of open land. An' the Sharpteeth 'locals' have never been a welcomin' sort, save yerselves. Just assumin', but ye don't take me as the kind to build walls fer protection." *He then added to clarify.* "Not that I'm sayin' ye can't defend yerselves. Just wonderin' if ye've seen to ways to makin' that easier. If ye've laid any pitfall traps or snares of some sort."

*He'd then look to those gathered in the village, tribe and visitor's alike before turning back to Visakus, noting the lizardfolk's claws.*

"I ain't got claws to dig with, but I've a strong back an' I can bring a shovel or two. I don't set traps, but I reckon some of this lot might know their way about it. Ye or yer tribesman can accompany, have 'em placed where ye'd like."

*He'd take a drink of the flask of Wyvern Whiskey, before offering it aside to the spear commander.*

"If ye find the want, that is..."

[CooCooCachoo]

I was sssso angry that day, sssomthing inside of me had awoken. The painss of my failuressss, sssurged my mind, the thought that I would die a oldfolk, all the while having lived only as a youngling ssseemed ssso real to me... As did the thought I would live and be elevated to the statusss of ssshaman only because our current one was about to die... Leaving me forever unable to achieve my name through acceptance of the tribe. It weighed so heavy on me in that moment... then a soft voice ssspoke to me from within... And when I closed my eyes to lissten I just.... Let it all go... Free of doubt I reopened my eyes, and tore asunder that which had invaded my home. I skewered gnoll after gnoll with the root ssssystem of the great foressssst, dragging them deep into the earth to be consssumed. Twisted growthsss around the necksss of gnollish warriors until the life drained from their eyes. I was wraithful, and incapable of control.. And in the end I ssstood powerful having saved my tribesmen from further death, Yet alone and full of regret... for the rootsss I had ussssed were to damaged to drink for the tree'sss that owned them... I was named in a short time after, not by a matron, nor a mother of my own. With the permission of young chieftain Hisazux I named myself so I would never forget the tree's that grow no longer because of me. Sazilus or in the common tongue, rootless.

“Wrath,” Brianna spoke softly, her expression distant, “Did you find the grace to balance it, or does it pain you still?”

The young woman’s eyes never ventured up to meet the eyes of those she spoke to, not even this elder shaman she sought the guidance of. She sat before him, a posture of listening and acceptance, ready to hear the wisdom he might offer.