On a bright winter day, after a brief snow storm, the whole of Brightmoor is outside enjoying the day of sun. You can hear the crunch of the fresh snow under the roar of bustling people.
The small town, usually bleak and covered in snow, is basking in the bright light. Young and old can be seen out enjoying the sun. Adults are running around everywhere trying to stock up on goods before the next possible snowfall, and children are busy playing in the snow. The market is teaming with all sorts of goods, a new trade shipment has arrived from the capital, Klippstad. All sorts of unusual trinkets and foods from foreign nations, as well as new gossip of the world. The smell of smoked meats and fresh baked breads fills your noses and add a warm homey feeling to the cold outdoor market.
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Beige tents are set up eveywhere in the center square. There are merchants of all types out in the market. You hear all sorts of merchants calling their wares out:
"Fresh Meat" from one end.
"Bread! Get your fresh baked breads" from around the corner.
Bards can be heard spinning tales, singing songs, and spreading rumor of war and monsters.
As you make your way through the tents, you see plenty of craftmen on the edge of the square, Blacksmiths working their metal on the anvil, Leather workers stretching and tanning fresh Alligator and boar hides. Of all the tents in the square, there is one that is left barren, all but the person manning it. The young half elf is dressed in a little more finer clothes than the ones of the people that rush by. The colors of his cloak are noticeable as those of the new Jarl of Brightmoor, young dwarf Kuseth Bloodjaw.
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
A man walks through the crowds, a pleasant smile on his face. He has bronze-brown skin and tousled black hair, with a bit of rakish scruff on his face. At first glance he appears human, but insightful eyes notice the almost iridescent, raven like sheen to his hair and his luminous eyes: devoid of much definition with pale white pupils and ever so slightly rose tinted irises. He is well dressed in a black velvet cloak, and there is a beautiful mahogany viol strapped to his back above a traveler’s satchel. He seems most interested in his fellow bards, filling the background noise with song and tales. Eventually he stops at one and listens until the end of their set. “Wonderful, truly skilled you are.” He drops a single gold coin for the busker. “I’m an artist myself, and I’m interested in drawing inspiration from any tales or legends you might spin me. Specifically local, and preferably dark.” He says in an almost purring voice.
Huffing and heaving his bottles around, Brunik puffs from a long stemmed pipe, mumbling about all the crowded conditions. He was strongly muscled and had a stylish beard, properly braided and adorned as a good dwarven beard should be, similar to the northernmen around him. He settles a few accounts he had open with his jars of jam, telling one "T'was a bit light lad, fer the goblins knew of us aye? But we showed them! Got a good many of them to make the best goblinjam. Best on toast now!" He laughs heartily at his own joke and continues, passing nearby the gathered bards, for he sometimes tried to figure out what attracted people to them.
The bard nods his head at the man that tipped him. He is rather tall lanky human, with brown hair and green eyes. His clothes are a little dirty and tattered, as if he had been traveling a few days. "Why thank you, sir. I just arrived in town today, but rumor has it that a hunter has been missing in the bog for a few days. My name is Uther. I can tell you many stories about Corthofjell." As Uther finishes, he gestures arms wide and does a spin. "The road from Klippstad was also littered with bandits, but that certainly isn't as dark as you are looking for I'm sure..."
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Ytriel swings his viol around to his chest and produces the bow from it's little sleeve attacked to his rapier's sheath. He begins to play an eerie melody that quickly picks up in tempo. "The hunter becaaaame, the hunted in the bog. Chased down through the fog. What could have gone wrong? Was the man slaaaain, or turned into a frog- by a hag- who lives in- a log?" he sings, grinning as he finishes the little tune. "Marvelous, I see it already. Tell me Uther, where is this bog? And was there anyone close to the hunter with whom I could have a chat?"
Robed and hooded, the Xeratriczs blends into the crowd well enough. Scaled hands and arms, along with a protruding snout belied her as not human, but in such a cosmopolitan place, it didn't seem to matter. Drifting through the stalls and scenes, she stops with particular interest at the craftsmen, admiring their work. Of them all, it was the tanners and tailors she admired the most.
She poked little questions at them when they could be spared to answer: Their preferred materials, particular oils to tan and cure hides, the best methods to strip excess material, stitching methods for strong yet subtle seals, etc. When she passed the mostly-empty tent, she couldn't help but ask, "Why is no one using this tent? It must be here for a reason, yes?"
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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
The young half elf gives the hooded figure a stern look, he stands up straight and clears his throat. "Well miss, I'm using it. on behalf of Jarl Bloodjaw. The Jarl wants to hear what the people have to say. Sometimes he is here himself, mostly he sends a delegate. My name is Bjorn, I am a Skald in the Jarls council. At this tent we also handle conscripts, there's a few things the Jarl needs done."
Uther looks at Ytriel, "Well most certainly, for a price. These tales aren't woven for free!" Uther chuckles and gives the strange man a good once over. "How about we trade... I tell you why the hunter went into the bog, and you share a story with me of your travels..." The lean man pulls up two stools from behind him and pulls out a flask, "Nothing like a good mead to share stories over, what do yah say?"
"Goblin jam... sounds horrid," Brunik hears someone say as he walks through the crowd.
Ytriel shrugs. "Very well," he says as he sits down, takes the flask and swigs. He as well hears the mention of goblin jam, and he smiles at the strange nearby merchant "Goblin jam you say? I'm reminded of a strange little town I passed through a month or so ago." He says as he turns back to the other bard. "There was a bakery there, quaint little place. The baker specialized in pastries, cookies, petit fours and such. As I came to this village, everyone in town was fawning over the baker's latest confections. Children and parents alike ran around with bugbear buns and gooey goblin rolls. 'Nomsters' she called them, such a clever name. You see these treats were crafted in the likeness of goblins and ghouls, honeyed harpies and chocolate iced imps." Ytriel begins playing a soft, dreamy tune on his viol absentmindedly. "As I'm sure you know, small villages are often the targets of attacks from ravenous hordes of beasts and monsters. I wasn't surprised when the very next week, such a host descended on the town. I guess it was odd that some of those creatures had banded together... bugbears, and goblins, and ghouls, and harpies, and imps. But what really struck me was the kind of carnage they enacted. While some of those creatures are known to eat their prey, they usually drag it back to whatever lair they reside in, like any self respecting carnivorous cretin would. But not these monsters, not this night. They feasted in the streets, in homes and in beds. They truly savored the unfortunate villagers: nibbling toes and fingers one by one, meticulously scraping marrow from bones, licking the blood off of organs... like frosting from a cake. The remains were scattered like crumbs around the town, though in the morning there was no trace of the nomsters. Such sudden tragedy, yet the survivors wasted no time in holding a vigil. The local priest gave a speech, as did the mayor and the farmer and his wife put together the best floral arrangement they could on such short notice. The baker really outdid herself though. She made little sugar and chocolate sculptures of all of the fallen and the survivors alike. A whole little town full of happy confections. Unfortunately I had to leave before they finished the service, I had an appointment with a haunted house a few days away. Did the nomsters return to finish off their leftovers? Or did the crumbs come back to devour the living as the living unearthed their dead to feast? I guess in the end it doesn't matter who ate who though. Just corpses gnawing on corpses." His little tune finishes with an abrupt screeching note. "That's one tale for you my friend. Your turn now."
A young man, in his early twenties, with black hair made up in a ponytail, wearing a chain mail crosses the market. IT seems that he has just arrived along, or perhaps following the caravan, and he is enjoying a mug of beer and some cheese while he walks down the market. He carries a mace on his left hip and a shield over one of his shoulders hanging from one of it’s leather straps.
On his back he also carries a backpack, and crossing from is left shoulder there is a bandolier with ens in a leather bag.
He walks down the srteets, looking around and takes another bit from the pieces of cheese he just bought from one of the merchants.
He stops at the Jarl’s tent and listen to what the man inside says. .
”Excuse me for interrupting “ he says “ but I cannot help myself but hearing what you have said, being here in the open at all. So.. Wich jobs needs the Earl to be done? “
Xeratriczs shies away from the newcomer a little, but stays for interest, "Yes, what is it that needs to be done? I am new here and would like to assist."
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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
The hunter walks into town, greataxe strapped to his back and a small doe elk carcass slung across his shoulders. Grey-skinned, tall, and lean with thick and ropy muscles, the hunter knows better than to come to town empty-handed. The townsfolk will never love the half-orc interloper. Most will find his thick tusks and black eyes and inhuman skin tone disgusting beyond their capacity to express.
But The Beast, as they call him in their moments of graciousness, brings good meat and clean pelts to town, and never charges for them. He simply carries the felled and field-dressed carcass to the Jarl's tent in the commons and leaves it for the Jarl's representative to portion out among the needy.
Today more than one other traveler stands at Bloodjaw's tent, so the half-orc barbarian known as The Beast stops along with the rest to listen to the available opportunities.
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Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid,Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions! I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
"Well, well, that is quite the story!" The bard claps slowly. "I bet those monsters came back to finish the job! I did promise a story for you. I'll tell you what that hunter was looking for in the Soundless Bog, just north of here... His name is Ilaziath Lowwalker Gathakiala, a Goliath hunter who helps Robert, the tanner over there. Legend has it, there is a great white Alligator hiding in the bog. Livestock have gone missing when they wander to close to the edges of the bog. The locals have named it Kjever. It has been taunting Ilaziath for years, destroying his traps, freeing his catches, even stealing the kills from him. Kjever has many scars and has probably lived in that swamp for centuries. Some locals believe it is the god Bane incarnate. You may even see shrines erected to honor the god and the beast. Ilaziath may have fallen to Kjever this time... who knows"
The bard takes a swig of his drink and chuckles. He looks over to the Jarl's tent. and see's there are quite a few travelers interested in what work there is in town. "If you're looking to make a quick buck though, I hear the Jarl pays better decent wages. More than an entertainer can make on the streets..." He starts to get a little louder, he is trying to make the passerby hear and notice him... No one turns around or pays the screaming man any attention.
The Skald shuffles through some papers on the desk in front of him, "Well there are the bandits that are making trade on the road north of here to Klippstad difficult, Jarl Bloodjaw, needs these vermin removed from the road.
The Jarl's scouts have noticed more goblins are amassing in the Soundless Bog, south of here. The Jarl would like someone to look into what is going on. Robert, the tanner, asks us to let anyone heading to the bog know that he is always looking for fresh hides."
Bjorn shuffles a few more papers and skims through a couple pages, "That seems to be it for now, do either of those jobs interest you lot?" With that, Bjorn looks up from the papers and notices the big grey half orc standing in front of him as well. "OH! Well, ugh, shit. You'll be the death of me one day Beast... put it down over there and get out of here... you know the townsfolk aren't a fan of your kind since the raids started on Hingham."
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
As Uther talks, Ytriel pulls out a small notebook and stick of charcoal to take notes. "Wonderful wonderful, thank you Uther." he says as he jots down the information. At the mention of the Jarl's tent, Ytriel eyes the eclectic group of armed and armored folks standing near it. "Well I don't ply my trade on the streets anyway, I'm more of an author by profession, this is just hobby and muse." he says and gestures to the viol in his lap. "But bodies between me and a pearly white maw are nice. As are more characters... investigators going to uncover the mystery of the lost huntsman. Riveting." he hops up from the stool and strolls over to the tent, catching the tail of the Skald's conversation. "An expedition into the Soundless Bog you say? Sounds lovely! Count me in.Tell me, what are your names, new friends?" he says this to the assembled group with clear assumption that they are all in for this plan of action.
Stopping by when questioned about his jams, and then only to hear of a nice pelt to be taken, he was game enough to think about what gator would taste like in his jams. Sure some bought them, and those that did always bought more, but what better way to expand the jamming but to keep the jamming going with new flavors? "We just be jamming!" He thinks to himself before the word comes forward to speak.
"I be Brunik Goblinjammer. Tis the best jam I make this lands around. Now this tale about gator would be a nice addition I be thinkin to meself. And seems you know about it enough to lead us aye? Just point me near him and I give him a few swings of me hammer! Make a great jam he will."
“I am Goodrich Wildestone and if I can be of service to the town I will lend my aid. I am an skilled healer, so please, take into consideration my help.” The young man says to the Skald and the rest of the group that is gathering in the tent.
He then turns towards the half-orc called Beast and says to the Skald
”this man seems to be recognized in the city and he is offering food to town. Who in his right mind would make him accountable for the deeds of others?” He says to the Skald.
Bjorn looks up at Godrich as he snaps at him, "Well.. I.. Uhh.. The Jarl is very thankful for the work that he does for us. But the people of Cortofjell are a tight nit people. They are weary of outsiders, and those who have shown a history of un-trustworthiness." The Skald looks at the entire group, "The orc tribes of the east have given the people of Corthofjell strife for a long time, but only recently has it escalated into almost an all out war. King Loroth is currently moving a portion of the army east to Hingham and Ulvfield to help repel the attacks." He shuffles back through some paperwork, and pulls out a roster. "If the Goblins in the bog interest you, take this. Return with information useful to the Jarl. The reward is 100 gold pieces."
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
"Might as well, self-funding research is the best sort." Ytriel says, mostly to himself. He takes the roster and tucks it into his notebook, then turns to address the whole group. "I am Ytriel Edgar Fletcherson, author and investigator of the paranormal. I look forward to getting to know you all. Does anyone have business that needs attending before we set off? We could travel for the rest of the day, or stay in town and get an early start tomorrow."
Bjorn points across the way, "If a place to stay the night is what you're looking for to set out early tomorrow, The Dryad's Dew is a great place to stay. Ask for Helga and let her know you're on business for the Jarl, she should help you out. Its just down the road that way."
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
"I no see an orc when I look at this man, but you have a point that sometimes people doesn't see what is in front of them "says Godric relaxing his tone but he nods to the half-orc
"Perhaps you could help us in the investigation of the bog. It's obvious that you know your way around this land..."
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PbP Character: A few ;)
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On a bright winter day, after a brief snow storm, the whole of Brightmoor is outside enjoying the day of sun. You can hear the crunch of the fresh snow under the roar of bustling people.
The small town, usually bleak and covered in snow, is basking in the bright light. Young and old can be seen out enjoying the sun. Adults are running around everywhere trying to stock up on goods before the next possible snowfall, and children are busy playing in the snow. The market is teaming with all sorts of goods, a new trade shipment has arrived from the capital, Klippstad. All sorts of unusual trinkets and foods from foreign nations, as well as new gossip of the world. The smell of smoked meats and fresh baked breads fills your noses and add a warm homey feeling to the cold outdoor market.
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
Beige tents are set up eveywhere in the center square. There are merchants of all types out in the market. You hear all sorts of merchants calling their wares out:
"Fresh Meat" from one end.
"Bread! Get your fresh baked breads" from around the corner.
Bards can be heard spinning tales, singing songs, and spreading rumor of war and monsters.
As you make your way through the tents, you see plenty of craftmen on the edge of the square, Blacksmiths working their metal on the anvil, Leather workers stretching and tanning fresh Alligator and boar hides. Of all the tents in the square, there is one that is left barren, all but the person manning it. The young half elf is dressed in a little more finer clothes than the ones of the people that rush by. The colors of his cloak are noticeable as those of the new Jarl of Brightmoor, young dwarf Kuseth Bloodjaw.
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
A man walks through the crowds, a pleasant smile on his face. He has bronze-brown skin and tousled black hair, with a bit of rakish scruff on his face. At first glance he appears human, but insightful eyes notice the almost iridescent, raven like sheen to his hair and his luminous eyes: devoid of much definition with pale white pupils and ever so slightly rose tinted irises. He is well dressed in a black velvet cloak, and there is a beautiful mahogany viol strapped to his back above a traveler’s satchel. He seems most interested in his fellow bards, filling the background noise with song and tales. Eventually he stops at one and listens until the end of their set. “Wonderful, truly skilled you are.” He drops a single gold coin for the busker. “I’m an artist myself, and I’m interested in drawing inspiration from any tales or legends you might spin me. Specifically local, and preferably dark.” He says in an almost purring voice.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Huffing and heaving his bottles around, Brunik puffs from a long stemmed pipe, mumbling about all the crowded conditions. He was strongly muscled and had a stylish beard, properly braided and adorned as a good dwarven beard should be, similar to the northernmen around him. He settles a few accounts he had open with his jars of jam, telling one "T'was a bit light lad, fer the goblins knew of us aye? But we showed them! Got a good many of them to make the best goblinjam. Best on toast now!" He laughs heartily at his own joke and continues, passing nearby the gathered bards, for he sometimes tried to figure out what attracted people to them.
The bard nods his head at the man that tipped him. He is rather tall lanky human, with brown hair and green eyes. His clothes are a little dirty and tattered, as if he had been traveling a few days. "Why thank you, sir. I just arrived in town today, but rumor has it that a hunter has been missing in the bog for a few days. My name is Uther. I can tell you many stories about Corthofjell." As Uther finishes, he gestures arms wide and does a spin. "The road from Klippstad was also littered with bandits, but that certainly isn't as dark as you are looking for I'm sure..."
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
Ytriel swings his viol around to his chest and produces the bow from it's little sleeve attacked to his rapier's sheath. He begins to play an eerie melody that quickly picks up in tempo. "The hunter becaaaame, the hunted in the bog. Chased down through the fog. What could have gone wrong? Was the man slaaaain, or turned into a frog- by a hag- who lives in- a log?" he sings, grinning as he finishes the little tune. "Marvelous, I see it already. Tell me Uther, where is this bog? And was there anyone close to the hunter with whom I could have a chat?"
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Robed and hooded, the Xeratriczs blends into the crowd well enough. Scaled hands and arms, along with a protruding snout belied her as not human, but in such a cosmopolitan place, it didn't seem to matter. Drifting through the stalls and scenes, she stops with particular interest at the craftsmen, admiring their work. Of them all, it was the tanners and tailors she admired the most.
She poked little questions at them when they could be spared to answer: Their preferred materials, particular oils to tan and cure hides, the best methods to strip excess material, stitching methods for strong yet subtle seals, etc. When she passed the mostly-empty tent, she couldn't help but ask, "Why is no one using this tent? It must be here for a reason, yes?"
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
The young half elf gives the hooded figure a stern look, he stands up straight and clears his throat. "Well miss, I'm using it. on behalf of Jarl Bloodjaw. The Jarl wants to hear what the people have to say. Sometimes he is here himself, mostly he sends a delegate. My name is Bjorn, I am a Skald in the Jarls council. At this tent we also handle conscripts, there's a few things the Jarl needs done."
Uther looks at Ytriel, "Well most certainly, for a price. These tales aren't woven for free!" Uther chuckles and gives the strange man a good once over. "How about we trade... I tell you why the hunter went into the bog, and you share a story with me of your travels..." The lean man pulls up two stools from behind him and pulls out a flask, "Nothing like a good mead to share stories over, what do yah say?"
"Goblin jam... sounds horrid," Brunik hears someone say as he walks through the crowd.
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
Ytriel shrugs. "Very well," he says as he sits down, takes the flask and swigs. He as well hears the mention of goblin jam, and he smiles at the strange nearby merchant "Goblin jam you say? I'm reminded of a strange little town I passed through a month or so ago." He says as he turns back to the other bard. "There was a bakery there, quaint little place. The baker specialized in pastries, cookies, petit fours and such. As I came to this village, everyone in town was fawning over the baker's latest confections. Children and parents alike ran around with bugbear buns and gooey goblin rolls. 'Nomsters' she called them, such a clever name. You see these treats were crafted in the likeness of goblins and ghouls, honeyed harpies and chocolate iced imps." Ytriel begins playing a soft, dreamy tune on his viol absentmindedly. "As I'm sure you know, small villages are often the targets of attacks from ravenous hordes of beasts and monsters. I wasn't surprised when the very next week, such a host descended on the town. I guess it was odd that some of those creatures had banded together... bugbears, and goblins, and ghouls, and harpies, and imps. But what really struck me was the kind of carnage they enacted. While some of those creatures are known to eat their prey, they usually drag it back to whatever lair they reside in, like any self respecting carnivorous cretin would. But not these monsters, not this night. They feasted in the streets, in homes and in beds. They truly savored the unfortunate villagers: nibbling toes and fingers one by one, meticulously scraping marrow from bones, licking the blood off of organs... like frosting from a cake. The remains were scattered like crumbs around the town, though in the morning there was no trace of the nomsters. Such sudden tragedy, yet the survivors wasted no time in holding a vigil. The local priest gave a speech, as did the mayor and the farmer and his wife put together the best floral arrangement they could on such short notice. The baker really outdid herself though. She made little sugar and chocolate sculptures of all of the fallen and the survivors alike. A whole little town full of happy confections. Unfortunately I had to leave before they finished the service, I had an appointment with a haunted house a few days away. Did the nomsters return to finish off their leftovers? Or did the crumbs come back to devour the living as the living unearthed their dead to feast? I guess in the end it doesn't matter who ate who though. Just corpses gnawing on corpses." His little tune finishes with an abrupt screeching note. "That's one tale for you my friend. Your turn now."
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
A young man, in his early twenties, with black hair made up in a ponytail, wearing a chain mail crosses the market. IT seems that he has just arrived along, or perhaps following the caravan, and he is enjoying a mug of beer and some cheese while he walks down the market. He carries a mace on his left hip and a shield over one of his shoulders hanging from one of it’s leather straps.
On his back he also carries a backpack, and crossing from is left shoulder there is a bandolier with ens in a leather bag.
He walks down the srteets, looking around and takes another bit from the pieces of cheese he just bought from one of the merchants.
He stops at the Jarl’s tent and listen to what the man inside says. .
”Excuse me for interrupting “ he says “ but I cannot help myself but hearing what you have said, being here in the open at all. So.. Wich jobs needs the Earl to be done? “
PbP Character: A few ;)
Xeratriczs shies away from the newcomer a little, but stays for interest, "Yes, what is it that needs to be done? I am new here and would like to assist."
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
The hunter walks into town, greataxe strapped to his back and a small doe elk carcass slung across his shoulders. Grey-skinned, tall, and lean with thick and ropy muscles, the hunter knows better than to come to town empty-handed. The townsfolk will never love the half-orc interloper. Most will find his thick tusks and black eyes and inhuman skin tone disgusting beyond their capacity to express.
But The Beast, as they call him in their moments of graciousness, brings good meat and clean pelts to town, and never charges for them. He simply carries the felled and field-dressed carcass to the Jarl's tent in the commons and leaves it for the Jarl's representative to portion out among the needy.
Today more than one other traveler stands at Bloodjaw's tent, so the half-orc barbarian known as The Beast stops along with the rest to listen to the available opportunities.
Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid, Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck
Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions!
I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
"Well, well, that is quite the story!" The bard claps slowly. "I bet those monsters came back to finish the job! I did promise a story for you. I'll tell you what that hunter was looking for in the Soundless Bog, just north of here... His name is Ilaziath Lowwalker Gathakiala, a Goliath hunter who helps Robert, the tanner over there. Legend has it, there is a great white Alligator hiding in the bog. Livestock have gone missing when they wander to close to the edges of the bog. The locals have named it Kjever. It has been taunting Ilaziath for years, destroying his traps, freeing his catches, even stealing the kills from him. Kjever has many scars and has probably lived in that swamp for centuries. Some locals believe it is the god Bane incarnate. You may even see shrines erected to honor the god and the beast. Ilaziath may have fallen to Kjever this time... who knows"
The bard takes a swig of his drink and chuckles. He looks over to the Jarl's tent. and see's there are quite a few travelers interested in what work there is in town. "If you're looking to make a quick buck though, I hear the Jarl pays better decent wages. More than an entertainer can make on the streets..." He starts to get a little louder, he is trying to make the passerby hear and notice him... No one turns around or pays the screaming man any attention.
The Skald shuffles through some papers on the desk in front of him, "Well there are the bandits that are making trade on the road north of here to Klippstad difficult, Jarl Bloodjaw, needs these vermin removed from the road.
The Jarl's scouts have noticed more goblins are amassing in the Soundless Bog, south of here. The Jarl would like someone to look into what is going on. Robert, the tanner, asks us to let anyone heading to the bog know that he is always looking for fresh hides."
Bjorn shuffles a few more papers and skims through a couple pages, "That seems to be it for now, do either of those jobs interest you lot?" With that, Bjorn looks up from the papers and notices the big grey half orc standing in front of him as well. "OH! Well, ugh, shit. You'll be the death of me one day Beast... put it down over there and get out of here... you know the townsfolk aren't a fan of your kind since the raids started on Hingham."
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
As Uther talks, Ytriel pulls out a small notebook and stick of charcoal to take notes. "Wonderful wonderful, thank you Uther." he says as he jots down the information. At the mention of the Jarl's tent, Ytriel eyes the eclectic group of armed and armored folks standing near it. "Well I don't ply my trade on the streets anyway, I'm more of an author by profession, this is just hobby and muse." he says and gestures to the viol in his lap. "But bodies between me and a pearly white maw are nice. As are more characters... investigators going to uncover the mystery of the lost huntsman. Riveting." he hops up from the stool and strolls over to the tent, catching the tail of the Skald's conversation. "An expedition into the Soundless Bog you say? Sounds lovely! Count me in.Tell me, what are your names, new friends?" he says this to the assembled group with clear assumption that they are all in for this plan of action.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Stopping by when questioned about his jams, and then only to hear of a nice pelt to be taken, he was game enough to think about what gator would taste like in his jams. Sure some bought them, and those that did always bought more, but what better way to expand the jamming but to keep the jamming going with new flavors? "We just be jamming!" He thinks to himself before the word comes forward to speak.
"I be Brunik Goblinjammer. Tis the best jam I make this lands around. Now this tale about gator would be a nice addition I be thinkin to meself. And seems you know about it enough to lead us aye? Just point me near him and I give him a few swings of me hammer! Make a great jam he will."
“I am Goodrich Wildestone and if I can be of service to the town I will lend my aid. I am an skilled healer, so please, take into consideration my help.” The young man says to the Skald and the rest of the group that is gathering in the tent.
He then turns towards the half-orc called Beast and says to the Skald
”this man seems to be recognized in the city and he is offering food to town. Who in his right mind would make him accountable for the deeds of others?” He says to the Skald.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Bjorn looks up at Godrich as he snaps at him, "Well.. I.. Uhh.. The Jarl is very thankful for the work that he does for us. But the people of Cortofjell are a tight nit people. They are weary of outsiders, and those who have shown a history of un-trustworthiness." The Skald looks at the entire group, "The orc tribes of the east have given the people of Corthofjell strife for a long time, but only recently has it escalated into almost an all out war. King Loroth is currently moving a portion of the army east to Hingham and Ulvfield to help repel the attacks." He shuffles back through some paperwork, and pulls out a roster. "If the Goblins in the bog interest you, take this. Return with information useful to the Jarl. The reward is 100 gold pieces."
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
"Might as well, self-funding research is the best sort." Ytriel says, mostly to himself. He takes the roster and tucks it into his notebook, then turns to address the whole group. "I am Ytriel Edgar Fletcherson, author and investigator of the paranormal. I look forward to getting to know you all. Does anyone have business that needs attending before we set off? We could travel for the rest of the day, or stay in town and get an early start tomorrow."
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Bjorn points across the way, "If a place to stay the night is what you're looking for to set out early tomorrow, The Dryad's Dew is a great place to stay. Ask for Helga and let her know you're on business for the Jarl, she should help you out. Its just down the road that way."
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
"I no see an orc when I look at this man, but you have a point that sometimes people doesn't see what is in front of them " says Godric relaxing his tone but he nods to the half-orc
"Perhaps you could help us in the investigation of the bog. It's obvious that you know your way around this land..."
PbP Character: A few ;)