Aio stood and made her way to the table with the others once Lady Bizmaria had arrived. She nodded at each person as she approached, starting with the Lady.
A barbarian? Interesting.
She said nothing, but sat down and looked to the Lady with interest.
What is it that she's keeping from us?
Aio sat with her back to the door, intent on the Lady. She studied her, head slightly cocked to the side and eyes fixed onto her face. It wasn't meant to intimidate or prompt answers, it was just the way of her people. It was hard to break a habit after a hundred years.
Erdan will stand and pull out a chair for the Duchess as she approaches. He gives her a wide grin. "Duchess Bizmaria, you look as radiant as always! Although..." Erdan eyes her bow. "You do look more... cautious than the last time we met. Is there anything we should be concerned about?"
((How do I change text color on the mobile site?))
((@Joe As far as I know, you can't. Switch to the Desktop View using the dropdown on the top right, post and then switch back to mobile is what I've been doing when not near a PC or tablet.))
The Duchess returns Erdan's smile with a well practiced one of her own, accepting his courtly manners with the automatism of a born noble. She endures too, Aio's scrutiny, seemingly unphased by the avian gaze glued to her features. She is either very controlled or simply too distracted to allow the scrutiny to phase her.
She frowns before answering, casting glances at the door. "The fundamentals remain the same," she begins, "the Withering is fading, and my lands in central Lavash have been too long without a leader."
There is a long pause, and another long glance at the doors and windows before she continues, "there has been some... resistance, to our project. The word has been circulated, from those whose pronouncements carry weight in these streets and many others..."
"Is there... A problem outside?" Dahme'dre reaches out and her Mage Hand tosses her staff to her.
(I don't usually post in color because it can be a hassle on mobile. When I do I write in the campaign notes of the campaign I DM then copy the text (and format) into my post. The campaign notes gave the desktop tools while viewed on Mobile.)
She does not answer immediately, pausing to thoughtfully stare into the middle distance as if pondering the question. "I saw nothing on my way overhear to trouble us, but the streets have a resonance I do not like," she explains with the vagueness and inscrutability only an elven noble can truly muster. "Truth be told," she adds, "the sooner Haseren arrives and we can begin putting leagues between us and this festering wound of a city, the calmer I'll feel." She shakes her head ruefully at that, the irony of a noble of Marator more concerned about a night in a Thar tavern than a perilous journey into the Withered Lands clearly not lost on her.
Dahme'dre narrows her eyes toward the door. "I'll set a lookout... Someone I can trust." She summons an Unseen Servant and sends it to patrol the building and its alleys, and to raise alarm if there's anyone... Skulking around. With the spectral hand, she pulls something from the bar to help in the task (a pot to bang, or bell to ring if there's a problem)
"My lady, I will take the room above the front door tonight. Should I be woken by any alarm, I will fill the building and street to make Thar believe it midday." Valen raises a hand from his shining mug. It flares for a moment before snuffing out.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
These folks aren't very skilled at listening, are they? The lady just told us that we would be leaving as soon as our fifth arrived. We shouldn't be here long enough to get a room or set a sentry. Perhaps they're just eager to show their talents.
The Aarakocra listened to the Lady share her concerns and took heed, despite what she thought of her companions' reactions to them.
That woman is proud as a peacock. There's no way she would hint at weakness or danger if she didn't think it was necessary. It likely won't begin until we set out, however. Best to remain calm, but alert.
Aio shifted to a more comfortable seated position and resumed her meditation. She was getting better at it, only having recently begun practicing the technique. It was helping to keep the nightmares away. At least during the day.
((OOC: Haseren has created his character and so I'm sure he's on his way. If the four of you end up leaving the inn before he can post in, it's not a problem. I can work with him on an entrance that makes sense. Haseren, no pressure at all. Just jump in when you can. ))
The air shimmers faintly, as if from a heat-haze as the unseen servant floats out on its patrol. Garrock lets out a startled yelp as a decorative drum is seized by the mage hand and delivered to the invisible patrolman who swiftly whisks it out the door. There is no immediate sign of alarm, indicating that at least initially, the guardian has not spotted anyone skulking in the shadows around the tavern.
Turning to Valen, Lady Bizmaria frowns and says, "We may need that light before long."
Aio, your meditative state and deep focus allows your senses to sharpen and you pick up a faint sound from the south. It is coming from well beyond the Tavern's walls or immediate surroundings and can best be described as a rumble, a combination of many noises joined together, overlapping and mixing together to form a general din which renders any individual sound indecipherable.
Erdan smirks. "I guess we might as well prepare for the worst."
He makes a show of taking out and loading his crossbow, light, then places it on the table within reach. While doing this, he subtlety makes sure his arcane focus is within reach of his free hand, just in case. He never really liked people knowing of his magic, until they got a fire bolt in the face.
"Now that we have our alarm set," he gives a nod to Dahme'dre "shall we get to business, my lady. What is the plan once our muscle arrives? Shall we set out at once, and to where? Or do we wait till morning? Do you have any transportation prepared?"
The regal elf looks slightly comforted as Erdan so visibly prepares his weapon, more by the sight of the party being ready for action than from any thought a single crossbow will make the difference in whatever she fears. His question makes her refocus, visibly gathering herself.
"Yes, yes, business," she says, "I had planned to begin our journey an hour before dawn. In my youth, a march to our destination in central Lavash could be completed in a week, with many a town or waystation along the way to stop and resupply. After more than seven decades of the Withering however, few know what condition we can expect to find the roads in or who we will encounter."
She is about to continue when Aio makes her pronouncement, startling the woman. "Soldiers..." she whispers to herself, "no, impossible, the royal guard would not have left the palace unprotected..."
Suddenly, all color seems to drain from her face and she leaps to her feet, snatching her bow. "That's not an army, it's worse, much worse."
The sounds are closer now, perceptible to everyone in the group and to the taverns staff and few patrons who begin to cast increasingly nervous glances at the door and the south wall. It sounds like a large group moving chaotically closer, with drumbeats and the eerie howl of woodwind instruments occasionally breaking through chants and the stomping of many feet.
Valen beams a smile across the table to the Duchess, "Madam, you've brought an offering. How generous of you. My Order styles itself healers and protectors - not to say we arent', that is - but in truth we are as much glorifiers of battle. If we were promoting peace, the Hands would be sitting comfortably in camp with bandages and saws while the Walls armed themselves with quill and quip in a royal court. No, in truth we are an Order of War and purpsue it with fervor. Those we save live to fight again and those we cannot die in glorious combat."
Rising with his shield, Valen calls to the room, "Bar the windows and block the door! War comes and seeks to test the mettle of yoir hearts. Do not be ashamed if death in battle is not your desire. Protect yourself; it is just and true to do so. But if you wish to stand and fight, then take up the blade - by the heavens and hells, take up whatever you can - and join me!"
(Persuassion 15? Not ny intent at first, but realized now that conscripting support through holy fervor falls into the category)
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"It's not an army; it's a riot... We may need to get out of here quietly." She looks to Garrak, "Is there a back door?" She humms to keep her Guidance ready.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
(Insight: 17)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
((OOC: Note, going to be experimenting with how I DM, very new to this. Switching to 2nd person narration. Let me know via message if something is working better, worse or just getting annoying.))
Valen, you are in the middle of your fiery speech, trying to rally the few drunks in the room sober enough to stand to the fight.
Erdan, you ask your question of the Duchess and glide across the room to peak through the southern window. This takes you from the western corner where you reserve table sat, past the door to the kitchens and the stairs to the second floor, both located on the north wall of the Tavern common room. You do not however reach the eastern wall where the door to the streets of Thar stands closed and beyond which the unseen servant patrols.
The Lady Bizmaria has a white knuckled grip on her bow and her fingers flicker rapidly over intricate scroll-wrapped arrows in her quiver, but she answers nonetheless. "Jurists," she explains, spitting the word as if it were a particularly vile curse. "Fanatics of an uncaring god who confuse fidelity to law with fidelity to justice," she continues, "you must have seen them rabble rousing in the streets, preaching that the Withering is a punishment from Thratos the Judge, for the chaos and disobedience of mortals."
Dahme'dre, your question pins Garrock in place but the man is visibly on the verge of panic. He is about to answer, when the sound of a small drum being beaten furiously reaches you from the northwest side of the building. The sound continues for three seconds and is abruptly cut off, and you feel the slight arcane feedback of your unseen servant spell being unwound.
The Duchess removes a scroll case from within her armor and hands it to Aio. She turns to you and extols you with a quiet intensity, "My friend, this is the deed to the keep at Salvadar, its village and its surrounds. If we are overrun you must take to the skies and reach Salvadar. The people have been too long abandoned, and there is more besides..." she trails off, clearly deciding there's no time. "Please, you must, this rabble will not have fine shots and your jet black feathers will be all but unseen against the night sky," she pleads with you, one hand clutching your arm with a fevered strength.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Aio stood and made her way to the table with the others once Lady Bizmaria had arrived. She nodded at each person as she approached, starting with the Lady.
A barbarian? Interesting.
She said nothing, but sat down and looked to the Lady with interest.
What is it that she's keeping from us?
Aio sat with her back to the door, intent on the Lady. She studied her, head slightly cocked to the side and eyes fixed onto her face. It wasn't meant to intimidate or prompt answers, it was just the way of her people. It was hard to break a habit after a hundred years.
Pit of Vipers: Watl Wiggins - Halfling Rogue(10)
League of Improbable Adventurers: Alan Quatermain - Human Fighter(3)
Erdan will stand and pull out a chair for the Duchess as she approaches. He gives her a wide grin. "Duchess Bizmaria, you look as radiant as always! Although..." Erdan eyes her bow. "You do look more... cautious than the last time we met. Is there anything we should be concerned about?"
((How do I change text color on the mobile site?))
(OOC: Swap to desktop view to type. )
Pit of Vipers: Watl Wiggins - Halfling Rogue(10)
League of Improbable Adventurers: Alan Quatermain - Human Fighter(3)
((@Joe As far as I know, you can't. Switch to the Desktop View using the dropdown on the top right, post and then switch back to mobile is what I've been doing when not near a PC or tablet.))
The Duchess returns Erdan's smile with a well practiced one of her own, accepting his courtly manners with the automatism of a born noble. She endures too, Aio's scrutiny, seemingly unphased by the avian gaze glued to her features. She is either very controlled or simply too distracted to allow the scrutiny to phase her.
She frowns before answering, casting glances at the door. "The fundamentals remain the same," she begins, "the Withering is fading, and my lands in central Lavash have been too long without a leader."
There is a long pause, and another long glance at the doors and windows before she continues, "there has been some... resistance, to our project. The word has been circulated, from those whose pronouncements carry weight in these streets and many others..."
Dahme'dre's eyes glow faintly with a quiet intensity. As she stands. "Duchess, we will not faulter. What new concerns have surfaced?"
(Sorry that was meant to post sooner.)
Extended Signature
"Is there... A problem outside?" Dahme'dre reaches out and her Mage Hand tosses her staff to her.
(I don't usually post in color because it can be a hassle on mobile. When I do I write in the campaign notes of the campaign I DM then copy the text (and format) into my post. The campaign notes gave the desktop tools while viewed on Mobile.)
Extended Signature
She does not answer immediately, pausing to thoughtfully stare into the middle distance as if pondering the question. "I saw nothing on my way overhear to trouble us, but the streets have a resonance I do not like," she explains with the vagueness and inscrutability only an elven noble can truly muster. "Truth be told," she adds, "the sooner Haseren arrives and we can begin putting leagues between us and this festering wound of a city, the calmer I'll feel." She shakes her head ruefully at that, the irony of a noble of Marator more concerned about a night in a Thar tavern than a perilous journey into the Withered Lands clearly not lost on her.
Dahme'dre narrows her eyes toward the door. "I'll set a lookout... Someone I can trust." She summons an Unseen Servant and sends it to patrol the building and its alleys, and to raise alarm if there's anyone... Skulking around. With the spectral hand, she pulls something from the bar to help in the task (a pot to bang, or bell to ring if there's a problem)
Extended Signature
"My lady, I will take the room above the front door tonight. Should I be woken by any alarm, I will fill the building and street to make Thar believe it midday." Valen raises a hand from his shining mug. It flares for a moment before snuffing out.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Aio contained her mirth.
These folks aren't very skilled at listening, are they? The lady just told us that we would be leaving as soon as our fifth arrived. We shouldn't be here long enough to get a room or set a sentry. Perhaps they're just eager to show their talents.
The Aarakocra listened to the Lady share her concerns and took heed, despite what she thought of her companions' reactions to them.
That woman is proud as a peacock. There's no way she would hint at weakness or danger if she didn't think it was necessary. It likely won't begin until we set out, however. Best to remain calm, but alert.
Aio shifted to a more comfortable seated position and resumed her meditation. She was getting better at it, only having recently begun practicing the technique. It was helping to keep the nightmares away. At least during the day.
Pit of Vipers: Watl Wiggins - Halfling Rogue(10)
League of Improbable Adventurers: Alan Quatermain - Human Fighter(3)
((OOC: Haseren has created his character and so I'm sure he's on his way. If the four of you end up leaving the inn before he can post in, it's not a problem. I can work with him on an entrance that makes sense. Haseren, no pressure at all. Just jump in when you can. ))
The air shimmers faintly, as if from a heat-haze as the unseen servant floats out on its patrol. Garrock lets out a startled yelp as a decorative drum is seized by the mage hand and delivered to the invisible patrolman who swiftly whisks it out the door. There is no immediate sign of alarm, indicating that at least initially, the guardian has not spotted anyone skulking in the shadows around the tavern.
Turning to Valen, Lady Bizmaria frowns and says, "We may need that light before long."
Aio, your meditative state and deep focus allows your senses to sharpen and you pick up a faint sound from the south. It is coming from well beyond the Tavern's walls or immediate surroundings and can best be described as a rumble, a combination of many noises joined together, overlapping and mixing together to form a general din which renders any individual sound indecipherable.
Erdan smirks. "I guess we might as well prepare for the worst."
He makes a show of taking out and loading his crossbow, light, then places it on the table within reach. While doing this, he subtlety makes sure his arcane focus is within reach of his free hand, just in case. He never really liked people knowing of his magic, until they got a fire bolt in the face.
"Now that we have our alarm set," he gives a nod to Dahme'dre "shall we get to business, my lady. What is the plan once our muscle arrives? Shall we set out at once, and to where? Or do we wait till morning? Do you have any transportation prepared?"
Aio cocks her head to the side at the sound from the south.
Jingling, rumbling, overlapping... If I didn't know better, I would say that was an army...
"Soldiers. Perhaps a large group. From the south." She says softly, looking to Lady Bizmaria.
Pit of Vipers: Watl Wiggins - Halfling Rogue(10)
League of Improbable Adventurers: Alan Quatermain - Human Fighter(3)
The regal elf looks slightly comforted as Erdan so visibly prepares his weapon, more by the sight of the party being ready for action than from any thought a single crossbow will make the difference in whatever she fears. His question makes her refocus, visibly gathering herself.
"Yes, yes, business," she says, "I had planned to begin our journey an hour before dawn. In my youth, a march to our destination in central Lavash could be completed in a week, with many a town or waystation along the way to stop and resupply. After more than seven decades of the Withering however, few know what condition we can expect to find the roads in or who we will encounter."
She is about to continue when Aio makes her pronouncement, startling the woman. "Soldiers..." she whispers to herself, "no, impossible, the royal guard would not have left the palace unprotected..."
Suddenly, all color seems to drain from her face and she leaps to her feet, snatching her bow. "That's not an army, it's worse, much worse."
The sounds are closer now, perceptible to everyone in the group and to the taverns staff and few patrons who begin to cast increasingly nervous glances at the door and the south wall. It sounds like a large group moving chaotically closer, with drumbeats and the eerie howl of woodwind instruments occasionally breaking through chants and the stomping of many feet.
Valen beams a smile across the table to the Duchess, "Madam, you've brought an offering. How generous of you. My Order styles itself healers and protectors - not to say we arent', that is - but in truth we are as much glorifiers of battle. If we were promoting peace, the Hands would be sitting comfortably in camp with bandages and saws while the Walls armed themselves with quill and quip in a royal court. No, in truth we are an Order of War and purpsue it with fervor. Those we save live to fight again and those we cannot die in glorious combat."
Rising with his shield, Valen calls to the room, "Bar the windows and block the door! War comes and seeks to test the mettle of yoir hearts. Do not be ashamed if death in battle is not your desire. Protect yourself; it is just and true to do so. But if you wish to stand and fight, then take up the blade - by the heavens and hells, take up whatever you can - and join me!"
(Persuassion 15? Not ny intent at first, but realized now that conscripting support through holy fervor falls into the category)
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
(Insight check please, Valen, with advantage).
Erdan slowly rises from the table and grabs his crossbow, throwing it over his shoulder.
"My lady, do you know who is coming? Are they here for you? Is this a fight we want right now?"
Erdan goes to the southern walk of the tavern. Is there a window and door on this side? If there's a window, he'll do a perception check outside. 20.
"It's not an army; it's a riot... We may need to get out of here quietly." She looks to Garrak, "Is there a back door?" She humms to keep her Guidance ready.
Extended Signature
(Insight: 17)
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
((OOC: Note, going to be experimenting with how I DM, very new to this. Switching to 2nd person narration. Let me know via message if something is working better, worse or just getting annoying.))
Valen, you are in the middle of your fiery speech, trying to rally the few drunks in the room sober enough to stand to the fight.
Erdan, you ask your question of the Duchess and glide across the room to peak through the southern window. This takes you from the western corner where you reserve table sat, past the door to the kitchens and the stairs to the second floor, both located on the north wall of the Tavern common room. You do not however reach the eastern wall where the door to the streets of Thar stands closed and beyond which the unseen servant patrols.
The Lady Bizmaria has a white knuckled grip on her bow and her fingers flicker rapidly over intricate scroll-wrapped arrows in her quiver, but she answers nonetheless. "Jurists," she explains, spitting the word as if it were a particularly vile curse. "Fanatics of an uncaring god who confuse fidelity to law with fidelity to justice," she continues, "you must have seen them rabble rousing in the streets, preaching that the Withering is a punishment from Thratos the Judge, for the chaos and disobedience of mortals."
Dahme'dre, your question pins Garrock in place but the man is visibly on the verge of panic. He is about to answer, when the sound of a small drum being beaten furiously reaches you from the northwest side of the building. The sound continues for three seconds and is abruptly cut off, and you feel the slight arcane feedback of your unseen servant spell being unwound.
The Duchess removes a scroll case from within her armor and hands it to Aio. She turns to you and extols you with a quiet intensity, "My friend, this is the deed to the keep at Salvadar, its village and its surrounds. If we are overrun you must take to the skies and reach Salvadar. The people have been too long abandoned, and there is more besides..." she trails off, clearly deciding there's no time. "Please, you must, this rabble will not have fine shots and your jet black feathers will be all but unseen against the night sky," she pleads with you, one hand clutching your arm with a fevered strength.