Gripplegold shouts. "ALE! Keep 'em flowing like rivers o' amber!"
Kaiylin calls out, "Rivers. Flowing. Got it!!"
With that Cath sets to drinking like only a dwarf can. It isn't long before those sitting close by become impressed by how much ale one dwarf can put away. As the night progresses Cath walks about the room taking part in occasional conversations always trying to get some rumors or word of what is going on in the world, especially if it involves orcs.
The day progresses smoothly inside the Purple Wyrm. Customers come and go. A few linger. Kaiylin seems right at home and she's quickly making friends. Her children found audiences for their shadow puppets. By nightfall, though, the scenery takes a tragic turn. Patrons weary from the road gather round the hearth for a celebration of life. The renowned half-elf paladin Hyront (HIGH-rent) has perished.
"This is terrible news, adventurers." Gripplgold shakes his head, distributing another round.
"Damn orcs!" shouts a man by the fire. He punches the wall. "Dammit!"
OOC: I believe there are three on the roof behind her.
Perception: 6
(apparently Arutha is blinded by the sun when he looks)
As the last rays of sunlight disappear below the horizon, Arutha's adjusting eyes fail to notice the pirate's warning. No matter. You know the number. That may be enough.
Gripping the newly aquired swords hilt Arutha casually drew it and absent mindedly slid his sharpening stone along it's blade so that it would be already drawn to use in a parry if the 3 stalkers decided to attack from a hidden location. He prepared himself to drop the stone to draw the other sword in a moment's notice as soon as any potential combat would begin. Looking at the elf woman he smiled, "I would gladly take you somewhere for three hours and practice my swordsmanship if you would just show me the way." he spoke hoping she would understand his hidden meaning.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
Standing around the hearth Cath sees a human red-haired man in plate mail, a rugged human explorer in leathers, three human males in chain shirts, and the human who punched the wall, you recognize as Garrath. He's been coming to the Purple Wyrm for years. He's done well for himself. His armor glistens a bit more than it should. And his weapons flare with inner light.
"The worst news, friend. Our beloved Hyront has fallen." He snarls. "I warned him not to investigate the rumors. We knew not the orcs' numbers. We know now. Hundreds," he says, as his eyes go wide. He looks up and around the tavern, fear in his eyes. "Hundreds," he whispers.
"Aye, Garrath," one of the men wearing a chain shirt says. His name is Adelan (a-DELL-an). "Which is why old Hyront went out to investigate. See for himself."
"It's a sad day, be sure, Garrath," another man chimes in. His name is Durran (DOOR-an). "Hyront was a friend to all."
Garrath shakes his head. Clearly the men around him don't quite understand the situation. "Hyront was a Blessed of Tyr. He commands—commanded—great magic. He often sought the aid of the Lady Enduvielle, the eladrin diviner. She would not have led him astray."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Well, well, it would appear the merk's aim is better than the barbarian, Gramdal. The chair leg comes crashing down on the brute's shoulder. The damage should have been enough to send him to the ground, but the barbarian sneers and laughs, and then, howls with rage.
His attack is swift for a drunkard. How is his aim? He goes for a grab: Attack: 18 Damage: 7
With bloodlust in his eyes the barbarian grabs hold of the mercenary, hurling him across the room, sending him flailing into the table where five men were toasting their drinks. Ale and broken mugs shower the area.
"Aye, Garrath," one of the men wearing a chain shirt says. His name is Adelan (a-DELL-an). "Which is why old Hyront went out to investigate. See for himself."
"It's a sad day, be sure, Garrath," another man chimes in. His name is Durran (DOOR-an). "Hyront was a friend to all."
Garrath shakes his head. Clearly the men around him don't quite understand the situation. "Hyront was a Blessed of Tyr. He commands—commanded—great magic. He often sought the aid of the Lady Enduvielle, the eladrin diviner. She would not have led him astray."
"The Lady Enduvielle? Who is that? What rumors was he investigating?"
"They are friends, old traveling companions. She returned to the feywild years ago," Garrath replies. No one has seen her since, but the Lady Enduvielle always welcomed Hyront's requests for divination.
"They are friends, old traveling companions. She returned to the feywild years ago," Garrath replies. No one has seen her since, but the Lady Enduvielle always welcomed Hyront's requests for divination.
Cath remembers something that he forgot when speaking to Gripp.
"Me hears the wretched orcs be led by one called Gravva, rumored to be an Orc Eye of Gruums. But if one like Hyront couldn't stand what hope do any of us have? This Gravva must be mighty powerful. Well no matter to me, I'll be takin as many of the bloody buggers with as me can when I finally return to the Forge. By me axe I swear it. I'm off to see Omaha in the morn. He's recruiting to look into this orc problem and I'm signin up!"
The fire returns to Cath's eyes as he speaks of killin orcs.
Spinning in response to the warning call Arutha lifted the hilt off the drawn sword to head leavel as the blade dropped towards the ground in an attempt to deflect any attack while dropping his sharpening stone and drawing the second blade.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
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With that Cath sets to drinking like only a dwarf can. It isn't long before those sitting close by become impressed by how much ale one dwarf can put away. As the night progresses Cath walks about the room taking part in occasional conversations always trying to get some rumors or word of what is going on in the world, especially if it involves orcs.
The day progresses smoothly inside the Purple Wyrm. Customers come and go. A few linger. Kaiylin seems right at home and she's quickly making friends. Her children found audiences for their shadow puppets. By nightfall, though, the scenery takes a tragic turn. Patrons weary from the road gather round the hearth for a celebration of life. The renowned half-elf paladin Hyront (HIGH-rent) has perished.
"This is terrible news, adventurers." Gripplgold shakes his head, distributing another round.
"Damn orcs!" shouts a man by the fire. He punches the wall. "Dammit!"
Gripp shuffles off quietly.
As the last rays of sunlight disappear below the horizon, Arutha's adjusting eyes fail to notice the pirate's warning. No matter. You know the number. That may be enough.
Gripping the newly aquired swords hilt Arutha casually drew it and absent mindedly slid his sharpening stone along it's blade so that it would be already drawn to use in a parry if the 3 stalkers decided to attack from a hidden location. He prepared himself to drop the stone to draw the other sword in a moment's notice as soon as any potential combat would begin. Looking at the elf woman he smiled, "I would gladly take you somewhere for three hours and practice my swordsmanship if you would just show me the way." he spoke hoping she would understand his hidden meaning.
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
Your instincts prevail Arutha. Symaliea winks.
The four Grumblestones' wagons lurch to a stop. The pirates took note of their lookout's signal.
It's now or never. But, archers? Only? Where are—?
"Arutha! Behind you," Symaliea shouts.
Roll initiative.
13
Ooc: I certainly hope I can roll better when I actually reach combat.
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
Cath joins the group at the hearth, the mirth in his eyes gone . It's been a long day and the ale now lays heavy in him.
"Aye, too many dead, too many. Where did this happen? How be he dead? "
"
We've all been rolling terrible.
Standing around the hearth Cath sees a human red-haired man in plate mail, a rugged human explorer in leathers, three human males in chain shirts, and the human who punched the wall, you recognize as Garrath. He's been coming to the Purple Wyrm for years. He's done well for himself. His armor glistens a bit more than it should. And his weapons flare with inner light.
"The worst news, friend. Our beloved Hyront has fallen." He snarls. "I warned him not to investigate the rumors. We knew not the orcs' numbers. We know now. Hundreds," he says, as his eyes go wide. He looks up and around the tavern, fear in his eyes. "Hundreds," he whispers.
Cath looks at the man somberly. "Hundreds ya say? What rumors be leadin' to hundreds of orcs?"
"Precisely, friend. Surely someone would have noticed such an army." Garrath drops into a chair and covers his face, shaken by the news.
"Aye, Garrath," one of the men wearing a chain shirt says. His name is Adelan (a-DELL-an). "Which is why old Hyront went out to investigate. See for himself."
"It's a sad day, be sure, Garrath," another man chimes in. His name is Durran (DOOR-an). "Hyront was a friend to all."
Garrath shakes his head. Clearly the men around him don't quite understand the situation. "Hyront was a Blessed of Tyr. He commands—commanded—great magic. He often sought the aid of the Lady Enduvielle, the eladrin diviner. She would not have led him astray."
The angry mercenary takes one of the broken legs, brings the weapon down on the barbarian.
Maybe he'll actually hit? Let's see: Attack: 20 Damage: 4
Well, well, it would appear the merk's aim is better than the barbarian, Gramdal. The chair leg comes crashing down on the brute's shoulder. The damage should have been enough to send him to the ground, but the barbarian sneers and laughs, and then, howls with rage.
His attack is swift for a drunkard. How is his aim? He goes for a grab: Attack: 18 Damage: 7
With bloodlust in his eyes the barbarian grabs hold of the mercenary, hurling him across the room, sending him flailing into the table where five men were toasting their drinks. Ale and broken mugs shower the area.
The brawl has begun!
"Nicely done," Monduu says to you Gramdal, dropping into a crouch, moving low around the room.
OOC. He'll help you keep an eye on Wyrmhoof.
"The Lady Enduvielle? Who is that? What rumors was he investigating?"
"They are friends, old traveling companions. She returned to the feywild years ago," Garrath replies. No one has seen her since, but the Lady Enduvielle always welcomed Hyront's requests for divination.
Cath remembers something that he forgot when speaking to Gripp.
"Me hears the wretched orcs be led by one called Gravva, rumored to be an Orc Eye of Gruums. But if one like Hyront couldn't stand what hope do any of us have? This Gravva must be mighty powerful. Well no matter to me, I'll be takin as many of the bloody buggers with as me can when I finally return to the Forge. By me axe I swear it. I'm off to see Omaha in the morn. He's recruiting to look into this orc problem and I'm signin up!"
The fire returns to Cath's eyes as he speaks of killin orcs.
"Omaha, you say?" Garrath isn't impressed.
"It's true, sir," Durran says.
"Omaha hires from he gutters of Baldur's Gate. True adventurers seek out contracts here in the Wyrm."
One of the soldiers who's kept quiet until now says, "Hyront was ill-prepared, Garrath. Omaha won't take any chances. There's coin to be had."
"Not, if you intend to stay in my company," Garrath growls.
Spinning in response to the warning call Arutha lifted the hilt off the drawn sword to head leavel as the blade dropped towards the ground in an attempt to deflect any attack while dropping his sharpening stone and drawing the second blade.
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane