Alrighty. Sorry I wasn’t here, helping out @ local food shelf. Now we gonna start for real.
Ice wind dale has become trapped in a perpetual winter. Ferocious blizzards make the mountain pass through the Spine of the World exceedingly treacherous, and this land has not felt the warmth of the sun in over two years. In fact, the sun no longer appears above the mountains, not even in what should be the hheight of summer. In this frozen tundra, darkness and bitter cold reign as king and queen. Most dale residents blame April the Frostmaiden, the god of winters wrath. The shimmering aurora that weaves across the sky each night is said to be her doing-a potent spell that keeps the sun at bay.
Dalefolk live in a scattering of settlements know as Ten-Towns. The drop-off in caravans coming from the south and traveling between the settlements in this never-ending winter has left people feeling isolated. Although each town has resolved to appease the Frostmaiden with sacrifices of one kind or anotherm no respite from winters fury seems forthcoming. For adventurers as yourself, Ten-Towns is a place to test ones mettle and, in the spirit of hero’s who have come before, leave one’s mark on this frigid, blighted land.
Please describe your player entering the town- I apologize in advance to those who live in another town. Then, tell where they go, in as much or little description as you like. :)
"The half-elf rode upon her warhorse; she had finally arrived at good mead, Kimara loved all alchohol and a good friend had told her they brew only the most wonderful of mead there. She unmounted Nightingale, before telling him to stay, and headed to the nearest tavern"
Should I roll for animal handling for Nightingale to stay still?
If it’s a well trained horse, I’ll allow you to not need to.
Kimara enters the tavern to the loud, noisy, boisterous sound of drunken, rowdy men, and some women, of all races, despite the bad situation they were in, the never-ending winter. There are games of dice, with bets on them. A burly man with a finely polished goatee stands behind the counter, polishing a mug.
The path had been increasingly more difficult to navigate the longer Falser trudged ahead. His face cast in shadow from the fur-lined hood of his cloak that covered well-worn leather armor, a grimace hidden each time he fell nearly to his waist in snow. The thief swore loudly but it was drowned out by the howls of the icy wind. Why had that blasted woman suggest the best place to lay low was in Good Mead of all places? Hide in the cold. Ice was ice but this was something else entirely. With each step the halfling missed the port more and more but he kept pressing forward, it was better to endure the cold than experience whatever pain the high captains of Luskan could dream up for crossing them. Foolish was it to steal to from those with so much power. A mischievous smirk blossomed across Falser’s frost covered face. Foolish just so happened to be what he excelled at.
Soon enough the halfling stumbled up to the threshold of Good Mead’s tavern. The Mead Hall. Had his lips not nearly been frozen shut he would’ve laugh at the simplicity of it. No, instead he shouldered his way through the door and immediately basked in the warm that generally came with such a gathering place. Throwing his hood back and wiping the frost from his wild hair and eyebrows, Falser gazed around the room for only a moment before picking a place at the end of the bar that gave him clear sight of the entrance. It would be foolish to think that even the most frigid blizzards would keep the high captains from taking their pound of flesh. After this ferocious storm cleared it would be time to travel even further away from his home. It was the only way he could ensure survival, no matter how proficient he was at his craft.
Falser stood on top of his barstool and waved to the barkeep. Rude? Definitely, but it was better than getting stomped on by the other drunken denizens as they enjoyed themselves. ”I can only hope your mead tastes like gold if you’re going name the blasted town after it! Let’s put it the test, yeah?”
The burly man behind the counter is shaken out of his humming, a tune only he knows, as he is assailed by two simultaneous calls for honey mead.
”You there! Get off the chair!” he yells at Falser. “And you!” He exclaims, get over here if ye want to order a glass of the finest ale in Ten-Towns!” He then breaks into a smile. “Good to have some new faces around these parts. I’m Calamor, the barkeeper of this establishment. Might I ask what brings you two here, to these lonely towns?” he asks as you walk over.
He turns, and shouts at a skinny, stick-like young man by a large barrel you can only assume is filled with honey mead. “Jonny! Get two mugs of ale for these lads! And don’t hold back! Fill em’ much as you can without spilling, and top it all off with some fine cream!” He turns back to you. “That’ll be one gold each, or a story from both of you.” he says with a wink.
You walk around the tavern, casually drinking from your mug, and observing the various games in progress. You see many dice games, and other games of chance, with people betting on who will win, and money reluctantly shifting hands. But no dragonchess in sight.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
After making sure that my Shetland pony has been taken care of, I enter quickly, bundled in my cold weather gear. I look about to see who else is in the Mead Hall, then go to find a table to settle down at with my Travel log to write down today's occurrences.
Passive Perception : 18 Perception Check roll : 17
Falser holds his hands up in surrender when the barkeep makes his demands and so he complies, plopping down on the hard surface of the stool with a snort of amusement. Drunken patrons bump into his back but the halfling’s gaze never leaves the burly man behind the bar and what a comical sight it must have been. Falser was only visible from the chin up due to the low height of the stools. “Calamor, you say? A fine name for a fine barkeep I think!” The rogue proclaimed over the alcohol-infused rumble. He mulled the man’s next question over for only a split second. “Just passing through. This gods-forsaken snow storm makes it nigh impossible for a man of my impressive stature to travel.” A innocent answer for a innocent question.
The halfling could only watch and do his best not to slobber as Calamor’s helper poured up the tankard. It has been a long trip that sobriety had only made longer. “One gold is it then.” Falser says quietly as he passes the coin over for the foaming tankard. ‘My last gold piece..’ If only he would have had time to fence the emerald instead of tossing it into the ocean when he realized maybe a halfling against a dozen pirates wasn’t exactly a good idea. “My thanks, Calamor.” He turned the tankard up and drank hungrily from it. “And what a fine ale it is!” Falser could only smile as the alcohol spread warmth through his frozen extremities.
Deft hands flew to the hilt of one of his short swords at the name he was so used to. Shorty. Tiny. Little one. Falser took another pull from his tankard and turned to the speaker. “Dragonchess? Dice? Cards?” He slid from the barstool with a soft plop. “I play anything if the coin is right.”
sorry guys gotta go but I'll be back soon
Kay I'm back
Alrighty. Sorry I wasn’t here, helping out @ local food shelf. Now we gonna start for real.
Ice wind dale has become trapped in a perpetual winter. Ferocious blizzards make the mountain pass through the Spine of the World exceedingly treacherous, and this land has not felt the warmth of the sun in over two years. In fact, the sun no longer appears above the mountains, not even in what should be the hheight of summer. In this frozen tundra, darkness and bitter cold reign as king and queen. Most dale residents blame April the Frostmaiden, the god of winters wrath. The shimmering aurora that weaves across the sky each night is said to be her doing-a potent spell that keeps the sun at bay.
Dalefolk live in a scattering of settlements know as Ten-Towns. The drop-off in caravans coming from the south and traveling between the settlements in this never-ending winter has left people feeling isolated. Although each town has resolved to appease the Frostmaiden with sacrifices of one kind or anotherm no respite from winters fury seems forthcoming. For adventurers as yourself, Ten-Towns is a place to test ones mettle and, in the spirit of hero’s who have come before, leave one’s mark on this frigid, blighted land.
Starting town: GOOD MEAD!!!
Like being a player, love dming.
I AM YOUR DM! BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GODS! XD
Like being a player, love dming.
I AM YOUR DM! BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GODS! XD
Like being a player, love dming.
I AM YOUR DM! BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GODS! XD
Please describe your player entering the town- I apologize in advance to those who live in another town. Then, tell where they go, in as much or little description as you like. :)
Like being a player, love dming.
I AM YOUR DM! BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GODS! XD
"The half-elf rode upon her warhorse; she had finally arrived at good mead, Kimara loved all alchohol and a good friend had told her they brew only the most wonderful of mead there. She unmounted Nightingale, before telling him to stay, and headed to the nearest tavern"
Should I roll for animal handling for Nightingale to stay still?
If it’s a well trained horse, I’ll allow you to not need to.
Kimara enters the tavern to the loud, noisy, boisterous sound of drunken, rowdy men, and some women, of all races, despite the bad situation they were in, the never-ending winter. There are games of dice, with bets on them. A burly man with a finely polished goatee stands behind the counter, polishing a mug.
Like being a player, love dming.
I AM YOUR DM! BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GODS! XD
He served as Kimara's horse in the war so he is well trained
I would like to say "Oi! Can i get a mug of ale?"
The path had been increasingly more difficult to navigate the longer Falser trudged ahead. His face cast in shadow from the fur-lined hood of his cloak that covered well-worn leather armor, a grimace hidden each time he fell nearly to his waist in snow. The thief swore loudly but it was drowned out by the howls of the icy wind. Why had that blasted woman suggest the best place to lay low was in Good Mead of all places? Hide in the cold. Ice was ice but this was something else entirely. With each step the halfling missed the port more and more but he kept pressing forward, it was better to endure the cold than experience whatever pain the high captains of Luskan could dream up for crossing them. Foolish was it to steal to from those with so much power. A mischievous smirk blossomed across Falser’s frost covered face. Foolish just so happened to be what he excelled at.
Soon enough the halfling stumbled up to the threshold of Good Mead’s tavern. The Mead Hall. Had his lips not nearly been frozen shut he would’ve laugh at the simplicity of it. No, instead he shouldered his way through the door and immediately basked in the warm that generally came with such a gathering place. Throwing his hood back and wiping the frost from his wild hair and eyebrows, Falser gazed around the room for only a moment before picking a place at the end of the bar that gave him clear sight of the entrance. It would be foolish to think that even the most frigid blizzards would keep the high captains from taking their pound of flesh. After this ferocious storm cleared it would be time to travel even further away from his home. It was the only way he could ensure survival, no matter how proficient he was at his craft.
Falser stood on top of his barstool and waved to the barkeep. Rude? Definitely, but it was better than getting stomped on by the other drunken denizens as they enjoyed themselves. ”I can only hope your mead tastes like gold if you’re going name the blasted town after it! Let’s put it the test, yeah?”
I would like to try to find a table where they're playing dragonchess
The burly man behind the counter is shaken out of his humming, a tune only he knows, as he is assailed by two simultaneous calls for honey mead.
”You there! Get off the chair!” he yells at Falser. “And you!” He exclaims, get over here if ye want to order a glass of the finest ale in Ten-Towns!” He then breaks into a smile. “Good to have some new faces around these parts. I’m Calamor, the barkeeper of this establishment. Might I ask what brings you two here, to these lonely towns?” he asks as you walk over.
He turns, and shouts at a skinny, stick-like young man by a large barrel you can only assume is filled with honey mead. “Jonny! Get two mugs of ale for these lads! And don’t hold back! Fill em’ much as you can without spilling, and top it all off with some fine cream!” He turns back to you. “That’ll be one gold each, or a story from both of you.” he says with a wink.
Blast blackmailing people for their stories. ;)
Like being a player, love dming.
I AM YOUR DM! BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GODS! XD
Kimara walks up to Calamor, takes the ale, and walks around, trying to find a table of dragon chess.
“You better pay for that before leaving!” Calamor says with a chuckle.
make a perception check
Like being a player, love dming.
I AM YOUR DM! BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GODS! XD
I rolled a 5
You walk around the tavern, casually drinking from your mug, and observing the various games in progress. You see many dice games, and other games of chance, with people betting on who will win, and money reluctantly shifting hands. But no dragonchess in sight.
Like being a player, love dming.
I AM YOUR DM! BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GODS! XD
I sit down at a table and set up my dragonchess set before challenging Falser to a game
"Oi! Shorty! You know how to play dragonchess?"
After making sure that my Shetland pony has been taken care of, I enter quickly, bundled in my cold weather gear. I look about to see who else is in the Mead Hall, then go to find a table to settle down at with my Travel log to write down today's occurrences.
Passive Perception : 18 Perception Check roll : 17
Cats go Moo!
Falser holds his hands up in surrender when the barkeep makes his demands and so he complies, plopping down on the hard surface of the stool with a snort of amusement. Drunken patrons bump into his back but the halfling’s gaze never leaves the burly man behind the bar and what a comical sight it must have been. Falser was only visible from the chin up due to the low height of the stools. “Calamor, you say? A fine name for a fine barkeep I think!” The rogue proclaimed over the alcohol-infused rumble. He mulled the man’s next question over for only a split second. “Just passing through. This gods-forsaken snow storm makes it nigh impossible for a man of my impressive stature to travel.” A innocent answer for a innocent question.
The halfling could only watch and do his best not to slobber as Calamor’s helper poured up the tankard. It has been a long trip that sobriety had only made longer. “One gold is it then.” Falser says quietly as he passes the coin over for the foaming tankard. ‘My last gold piece..’ If only he would have had time to fence the emerald instead of tossing it into the ocean when he realized maybe a halfling against a dozen pirates wasn’t exactly a good idea. “My thanks, Calamor.” He turned the tankard up and drank hungrily from it. “And what a fine ale it is!” Falser could only smile as the alcohol spread warmth through his frozen extremities.
Deft hands flew to the hilt of one of his short swords at the name he was so used to. Shorty. Tiny. Little one. Falser took another pull from his tankard and turned to the speaker. “Dragonchess? Dice? Cards?” He slid from the barstool with a soft plop. “I play anything if the coin is right.”
The half-elf, with her hood still up, told the loud man
"We each bet gold, the one who wins takes it all ye got it Shorty?"